#and choosing to include the events going down

[mv1simp]

Earned It ♥️ - Part 2 of 2?

Max Verstappen x Wife! Reader

cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it, and you deserve it (the way you work it)

PART ONE HERE ♥️

Once you and your loving husband, Max, are finally ready to start trying for a baby, you face your next challenges as a couple navigating pregnancy. After a tricky conception, the two of you are ecstatic to now be five months pregnant. But lately, you can’t help but worry that your husband doesn’t find you desirable when you notice his behaviour changing. You have no idea how wrong you are until Max finds out about your insecurities…and is determined to prove you so very wrong.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, goddamn where do I even begin with this one, BREEDING KINK GO BRRRR, size kink, dom! Max, pillow princess! Sub! Reader, lots of emotional pregnancy hormones and max being the perfect husband, explicit mention of pregnancy and infertility struggles, 7K WC

Resting your cheek against your hand, you stare at your husband, who’s too focused on his current task to notice his pregnant wife’s annoyed expression. The 6 foot blonde Dutchman in question is dutifully serving up a perfectly balanced dinner for you, all macros and vitamin groups carefully counted as per the personal nutritionist he’s hired. Setting down the plate of smoked rosemary chicken breast, garlicky herb potatoes and sides of sautéed broccolini in front of you, Max stands back to admire his work. You can’t resist a petty Stop looking so proud, I know you hired someone to cook this.

Max pouts rather adorably at you. Surely it counts if I still paid for it, right schat? Rolling your eyes moodily at his antics, you stab a potato with your fork and munch on it, unable to resist the pleased hmm that escapes you at how flavourful the meal was. Noticing your reaction, your husband uses it to try gain your good favour again. You like it, schat? I taste tested five different cooks before I chose this one, he makes the best chocolate brownies, exactly how you like them with double fudge!

He tilts his head earnestly, looking the very picture of a cute golden retriever with his sparkling blue eyes and soft blonde locks. You sigh, putting your fork down. Normally, your darling husband’s devotion has your heart fluttering and cheeks flushing. But not today. No, today, your husband had gone too far - and you were going to make sure he made up for his mistake. When he nudges you to resume your eating, you needed the extra energy after all, you pointedly choose to ignore him. You instead pat the heads of your two Bengal cats and dog, Arlo, who curiously weave in between your legs hoping to get a taste of the fragrant dinner.

Groaning, Max slumps against the dining table in the seat next to you, his own plate ignored. I know why you’re upset, schatje, Max admits, conceding defeat. Finally, you mutter, picking your fork back up to resume dinner. You were mad, sure, but doesn’t mean you weren’t also going to eat the delicious dinner now that he had started his confession! It’s about today, isn’t it? Your husband continues. When you came into the paddock and I started creating a scene? I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it when I’m being too paranoid with your safety but I had to tell those reporters to fuck right off!

You put your fork back down and stare at Max, your brows scrunched in bewilderment. He continues talking, completely unassuming of his wife's growing annoyance as he explains. The "scene" that your clueless husband was referring to had been your attendance at the Monaco Grand Prix earlier that day. The paparazzi had gone positively wild at the rare sight of the retired World Champion with his arm around his obviously pregnant wife - whom he very rarely brought to F1 events for her own safety these days. He still attended races regularly, given how he coached and managed his own racing team now - but that certainly didn't mean he was going to make his beloved wife suffer the stuffiness of the paddock. But you’d insisted on coming to this particular race, pleading at him with puppy eyes, matching your shared golden labrador Arlo’s identical ones as you held the dog up to double your bargaining power. If your friends and family said Max Verstappen was whipped for his wife before, then they'd say he'd ascended into stratospheric levels of devotion once you became pregnant. He could never say no to anything you asked when you flutter your thick lashes up at him.

So even though he hated the idea of nosy reporters and fans getting up in the space of his adorable pregnant wife, he conceded by taking the self anointed role of your bodyguard. He certainly looked the picture of an ominous guard dog, smiling fondly down at you when you chattered to him or tugged his swollen bicep to pull him towards some food - and then icily glaring at anyone who tried to get too close to his wife. Everyone respectfully maintained their distance, scared off by the Dutch Lion. But towards the end of the race, some of the reporters hadn’t been able to resist coming in close when you’d taken your pearl buttoned cardigan off in the heat. The flowy cream-coloured long sleeved, short dress you wore underneath showed off your gentle baby bump. Paparazzio's eyes gleamed at the hot commodity, their hands twitching to their cameras to snap a highly demanded picture. Your husband’s overzealous efforts during the entire pregnancy to buy out publishing companies before anything could reach print and affect your privacy had left the F1 gossip pages begging for a rare photo of Max Verstappen’s pregnant wife.

So when Max turned to speak to one of his old race engineers, some of the reporters eagerly came a bit too close to you. They startle you with the mic suddenly in your face, asking if you were far along enough to know the gender and had you thought of baby names?

Max notices immediately, of course, his metaphorical guard dog ears swivelling in the direction of the intrusion to his wife’s peace. He’s about to interrupt when someone stumbles at the back of the group - a very common occurrence e in the crowded paddock. Unfortunately, that results in the reporter’s mic nudging against your pregnant stomach.

It hadn’t hurt, just a brief push, really! You were just caught off guard and slightly stumbled back yourself, a hand on your belly instinctively. The reporter is already sincerely apologising to you, and you’re waving them off, saying it was not a problem-

But your husband most certainly isn’t on the same page. He steps in front of you, his tall and broad frame completely blocking you away from the frenzied group, and uses a broad sweep of his muscled arm to push the reporter back. You watch in awe as he snarls at the group, reminding everyone of why his nickname was Mad Max, telling them all to fuck off or he’ll have them banned permanently from the paddock.

So this was the apparent scene that your passionate husband thought was the source of your ire, and was earnestly trying to apologise for now. He'd thought you were upset with him hovering over your shoulder, and making a dramatic scene. But he had no clue how wrong he was about the way you truly felt.

Sure, his protectiveness was something you’d talked about a few times - but that was because of how over the top Max had gotten with his security measures when he found out you were pregnant. Anyone who visited your home who dared to so much as politely cough was immediately tossed outside and told to come back when they didn’t have pneumonia. All of your meals were carefully preplanned and cooked for you, and the new motion activated aircon was always running at the right temperature for "optimal blood flow to the baby" (That's a scam, Max you told him blandly, I'm literally a doctor, trust me.) He wouldn’t let you lift anything heavier than your phone for weeks until you'd triumphantly opened a medical textbook to show him the chapter on importance of exercise in pregnancy. But he would still sometimes grab things off your unsuspecting hands after eyeing them dubiously. Your protests fell upon deaf ears - Seriously baby, I love you, but I’m strong enough to carry my own purse - I specifically took the pink Chanel bag today to match my fit!

You’d drawn the line when he had broached the topic, quite early in the pregnancy, of you taking time off your demanding schedule as a doctor and department head of the Emergency Department. But he’d quickly conceded when you firmly told him there was no way in hell you were going to sit at home, bored out of your mind when you were capable of working the first 2 trimesters at least - even 2 and a half?

It was almost comical how rapidly the blonde Dutchman’s face paled at the idea of his heavily pregnant wife running around the overcrowded hospital. So he hastily agreed to your compromise of working the first 5 months, albeit sulking rather cutely. You'd had to gently remind him to ease off, that the baby wasn't due for months, to which he replied that was good because he needed time to install the 12-point alarm system inside the house. You'd rolled your eyes fondly in response, but run a reassuring hand through his blonde locks, making him exhale and lean into your comforting touch. He nuzzles his face into your neck as you rubbed gentle circles to diffuse the tension in his corded back muscles, enjoying the way he’d almost purred contentedly like a cat. You’d reminded him gently to look after himself, too, and not you and his future child. I’m here to take care of you both as well, liefje, you say warmly.

So yes, you suppose one could say Max had been having some trouble…relaxing during your pregnancy. And why he now thought you were frustrated with his overprotective tendencies again today at the Monaco Grand Prix. But the idiot was being completely oblivious to your true feelings.

Because the truth was that you’d found the way he’d defended you fiercely, both in words and action, extremely attractive. And you’d wanted him to know that too, blushing as you look up at him in awe, biting your lip as he guided you into the car to drive you home with a clenched jaw. There was something about seeing your already gorgeous husband look ready to go to commit manslaughter to protect you that made him even goddamn hotter. By the time you'd gotten back home, you were ready to drag him to the luxurious Californian King bed and beg him to have his way with you. You’d always had a very active sex life as a married couple, sure - but this past year it had gone to new levels when you were trying to get pregnant. It was so exciting to tease out new sides and interests in each other, even after so many years as a married couple.

And now that you were finally pregnant, you found yourself thinking about Max’s gorgeous smile, his big and strong shoulders that led to swollen biceps, his broad chest and thick, muscular thighs that you loved to sit on. You had all the usual food cravings in your pregnancy that your husband would be up at odd hours to go get - including a 2 hour drive to a neighbouring Italian town for a tub of strawberry gelato you insisted you needed that very same night. But the strongest craving by far was your desire to have Max on top of you, inside you, fucking you during the warm, lazy afternoon and then again in the cool night and then repeating it all in the morning with sleepy sex to start the day off. And you were sure Max would have no reservations about fulfilling this particular craving of yours - after all, your husband normally went feral at invitations to have sex, with your coy suggestions and sultry eyes and teasing smiles.

So it had been very unexpected that for the last month or so, Max had stopped having sex with you completely. You’re not sure when you first noticed it, because he did a great job of distracting you at first - initially redirecting you to some other interesting activity when you’d flutter your lashes up at him. And when that failed, he wouldn’t hesitate to make you quickly reach bliss with his gentle, experienced large fingers or his skilled tongue playing with your soaked pussy. He knew just how to tease you for long enough that when you finally went over the edge, you would happily fall asleep cuddled against his warm figure, completely satisfied. His strong embrace would hold you protectively against him, running circles along your swollen stomach as he watched over you as you fell into deep sleep.

But as the desperate need to properly get railed by your husband grew as more days passed, you knew you had to do something about it - or risk going crazy from the intensity of your horny pregnancy cravings. You hadn’t realised how much he’d been redirecting your attempts until today, when you came home from the race. Max still looked furious, scowling about how those reporters needed to learn some goddamn respect in an annoyed tone. Meanwhile, you had moved onto plotting far more pleasurable activities - starting with smiling sweetly up at you husband as you took a seat next to him on the sofa. He sighed, tension easing from your comforting touch, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he wrapped a muscled arm around you.

He was still yapping about some media circus or other when you’d teasingly moved your hand over his bulge, playfully squeezing and seeing if your desires would finally be satisfied by something very thick and hard of his. Max stilled at your ministrations, relaxed body tensing again, gently burying his face into your curls as he took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. Giggling as you felt his cock respond to your touch within seconds, you took that as an invitation to slide a small h down the front of his jeans. You knew your husband must be as pent up with sexual frustration at you, and you couldn’t wait to return his favours. As you tuck your dark curls behind your ears in anticipation, bending at the waist towards his lap, you're rudely interrupted by your now rather large tummy in the way. You instinctively winced at the uncomfortable stretch across your bump, which was getting larger each week and catching you off guard in inconvenient times like this. Pouting in annoyance, you swayed your hips back to accomodate the swell of your waist. Then you lowered your head to Max's impressive semi erection, parting your eager lips widely, pink tongue darting out-

When Max had placed a gentle hand over yours and pulled you away from his pants, gently but easily manhandling you upright. You blinked, confused, as he kissed you sweetly instead, cutting off your questioning mumbles with a swipe of his tongue to make you moan. You'd gotten lost in his kisses for a few seconds when he’d got a phone call from his lawyer. His eyes lit up, and he gave you a final, chaste kiss before taking it with a sorry, schatje, why don’t you rest for a bit? You watched him, flabbergasted, as he stood up to go over to the kitchen and animatedly discuss filing a restraining order against SkySports. Why on Earth did your husband seem more interested in fighting some standard, run of the mill paparazzi rats than getting his dick sucked? Your doe eyes narrow in suspicion as you eyed his oblivious figure. This was extremely unusual, as normally Max would be tripping out of his pants in excitement if you offered your mouth up to him. His recent avoidant behaviour finally all came together then - and you realised that for the first time in your marriage, Max didn’t seem interested in having sex with you. It was the longest dry period you two had ever had.

You couldn’t stop the swirling anger, hurt, and now very pressing sexual frustration at your husband’s behaviour. You’d already started to hate the body dysmorphia the pregnancy was giving you, with the extra weight you’d gained and the chubbiness around your stomach and hips and ass all accentuating your already curvy figure. You could always rely on your husband to make you feel desirable, though, with the way he fucked you like it was his dying wish on Earth.

But not anymore, apparently, you think dejectedly, as you tune out Max’s misguided apology about his Monaco Grand Prix debacle. You interrupt him, unable to bear the tension any longer. Max, liefje, you begin, voice soft as your earlier pettiness dissolved to give way to vulnerability. I'm not mad about how you defended me today. Your husband looks at you intently with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, patiently waiting for you to go on. You take his large, warm palm into your smaller one, and slowly run your fingers over his skin, calloused from years of professional racing. You're suddenly feeling shy with how focused he is on you, but your pent up feelings can't go on like this. I - I was more, well, I thought it was really hot how you pushed everyone off me, you confessed, still looking down at your intertwined hands. And then when you looked so mad when you yelled at them - you bite your lip at the memory. When you finally meet your husband's eyes again, you find a cocky gleam in his eyes as he noted the way you pressed your thighs together.

Oh, schat, did you get all wet and bothered at seeing me protect you? Max's voice deepened as he teased you with a knowing smirk. You swallow, nodding at his dirty question, your earlier defiance completely gone as you look at him almost pleadingly with desire in your doe eyes. He pulls your smaller frame into his broad chest with a tug from his strong arm around your waist. And as you find yourself on his lap you're breathily telling him how much you want him, need him-

He hmmms approvingly as he gives you a deep kiss, saying he was sorry the two of you'd gotten interrupted earlier, he was very happy to continue where he’d left off. Purring into your ear and making you gasp, he asks you if you wanted his fingers or his tongue first?

You desperately tell him you only wanted one thing - No, no foreplay, I’m so wet already, ju- just need you, Maxie, you ask brazenly as you run your manicured hand down his toned front and just over the waistband to his sweats. And to make sure he’s absolutely certain about what you were asking for, you boldly tell him you wanted his cock, inside you, right now!

Max flushes at your heated demand and it sends a flutter through your aching core. You love being able to catch him off guard! But just when you think you’re finally getting what you want, he slows his wandering hands down and gently murmurs that he’ll make you cum on his thigh first then, schat-

And there it is again - the cold sting of rejection from your husband as he once again hesitates to properly fuck you. Why do you keep doing that? you ask directly, trying to keep your voice steady but your hurt tone still comes through when your lips tremble. You knew how this would go - he would just overstimulate the hell out of you with his thigh and make you cum more than once, exhausting you before you could even get to feel him buried inside you the way you needed him the most. It’s what he’s been doing this entire month.

Max blinks at your abrupt mood change, his expression surprisingly too difficult to read despite the years of marriage you share. Scatje, he says soothingly, trying to reassure you, that’s not it, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable-

You glare at him now. You do know him well enough to pick up on when he was lying to you - he’s always been horrible at that, after all. You cut him off by suddenly standing up and stalking off to your shared bedroom, saying that you were going to bed and didn't want to be disturbed. It’s a bit dramatic of you, sure, but you can always blame it on the pregnancy hormones - your new favourite excuse. You almost slam the door when your husband calls out that you had barely eaten dinner, his deep voice laced with concern.

Puffing your cheeks as you reply you'd eat later, you slowly close the door instead, feeling guilty that Max was so caring towards you even when you were being dramatic about not getting laid. Changing into a comfortable satin nightdress, you end up sinking into the plush bed, suddenly tired from the overthinking and sexual frustration that's been building up within you. Maybe you’re being unfair on Max, you think sleepily. Maybe he was just caught up in his own worries and anxieties and that’s why he couldn’t focus on anything else - like your normally positively sinful sex life.

After all, he had good reason to worry - because despite your excitement at finally being on the same page about the next stage of your marriage, actually getting pregnant had been far from easy. Of course, you hadn't expected it to happen straight away, knowing it would take a couple of months at least. Your medical textbooks stated the average couple took around 6 months, even! If anything, you and Max were glad for the time you had to thoroughly fuck each other, long and hard. Every fleeting touch, stolen gaze over a dinner with friends would result in you both practically ripping the clothes of each other and rolling around in the Egyptian cotton sheets. Soon you barely even made it to the bedroom - with him taking you in the entry corridor of your home, obscene noises filling the air as his hips unwaveringly pounding into your dripping cunny and you desperately moan his name from where he had you pinned against the wall. It was thrilling, this new rush and desire for all your lovemaking to result in an actual baby.

You'd unlocked a breeding kink of Max's that he hadn't truly realised the extent of - until he saw you cooing at his baby niece who was being rocked in her Uncle Max's arms. Looking down at the scene of his pretty wife smiling at a child who looked just like Max made the Dutch Lion unable to resist the temptation of having you right there. He'd handed his niece back to his sister and attempted to appear subtle as he all but hauled you off upstairs from the rest of the family barbecue. You'd been confused but as soon as he led you into a small office, locking the door behind him, you recognise the dark gaze he hungrily eyes you with. Even you'd lost your normally sensibilities when your husband acted like this, and you willingly spread your soft thighs for him to bury his raw, aching cock into. He fucked you on the wooden desk, a large palm clamped over your drooling lips to keep you quiet. You must have cum at least twice from the way he murmured darkly how good you were going to look pregnant with my child, that's right, gonna be a good vrouw for me and take all my cum, yeah?

So 6 months practically flew by, the two of you thoroughly enjoying yourselves. But when it hit 7 months, and suddenly you couldn't help but notice how all your friends and cousin sisters and in laws seemed to be getting knocked up. It seemed everyone you knew had become pregnant at the drop of the hat - your childhood best friend, your favourite coworker - and even your neighbour's cat, after her and your household cat Jimmy had a rather scandalous affair themselves. Although you'd try to fight it, you couldn't stop the sinking feeling of guilt, of feeling like you weren't good enough for Max, for your future family. It chipped away at your confidence everytime you would tell Max that you were on your period, like clockwork on the same day each month. And your husband remained as considerate as ever, tactfully not asking if you were late this month unless you brought it up yourself - even though he knew your cycle like his own steering wheel by now. You felt too overwhelmed to talk about how much of a failure you felt to Max, who had remained the perfect, devoted husband.

But you hadn't been able to hold it together by 8 months, because this was when your period was finally late. You kept holding your breath, waiting for it to come the next day or the day after - but it never did. And two whole weeks past, and for the first time you let a bubble of hope rise in your chest. Max kept looking at you curiously, noting how you seemed a little happier for this time of the month than usual, but waited for you to come to him yourself. And you almost had that weekend where you were attending yet another friend's gender reveal party, and had seen Max bend down on a knee to sign something for one of the excited kids who spotted the ex Redbull champion. You'd been unable to resist grinning at the sight of multiple toddlers swarming the 6 foot Blonde who handled them rather impressively. He's going to make sure a good father someday, your friend giggled to you by your side. You hmmed in agreement, finally feeling excited about the possibility of you two becoming parents for the first time in weeks.

So that evening, when Max had gone out to meet some of his mates, you committed fully to the bubble of hope and brought a pregnancy test. But after those five minutes were up, your world came crashing down again as the lines read negative out to you. You're not sure how long you ended up sitting on the cold bathroom marble, staring blankly at the stick, your mind running a million miles a minute as you anxiously overthink, But it must have been quite a while, because you're only distracted when you hear Max's knock on the bathroom door, and his worried voice saying Schatje? I'm coming in, you aren't replying-

And as soon as your husband walked in, his soft, blue eyes taking in the heartbroken expression on your face and the pregnancy test at your feet, you couldn't hold it together anymore. Max's own heart broke at the sight of his wife bursting into tears, sobbing and confessing how much of a failure she was, how this is the only thing he wanted and she couldn't give it to him, how she was so sorry-

He'd gathered your shaking, petite form into his comforting embrace and ran soothing motions all up your back as he murmured reassurances to you that it was okay, he was here and you two would get through it together like you always did. When you'd finally managed to stop sobbing, now just sniffling, he wiped the tears off your face as he firmly told you that none of this was your fault, and you had nothing to blame yourself for. It was all just a matter of time and luck, and at the end of the day he didn't care about what happened in the future - what truly mattered was that you were happy.

You'd nodded shakily, doe eyes rimmed with red as you let him carry you to bed. He held you extra tightly that night, until you'd fallen asleep in his arms after crying yourself to exhaustion. You had started feeling better by month 9, with some of the heavy expectation you'd put on your shoulders easing off now that you'd opened up to Max about how you'd felt. Your late period had already come and gone, but you didn't find yourself falling apart at it like last time. Taking it as a promising sign, your husband insisted that the two of you take a week off and relax of the Sicilian coast.

You finally felt like yourself for the first time in a while again, closing your eyes and enjoying the sun beating down on you, drying you off after the refresing swim you'd had in the turqoise waters. Max emerges onto the deck himself, shaking his hair and making you laugh as your dog Arlo does the same next to him. Truly, he was such a golden retriever, all tall, blonde and handsome. You couldn't help but feel your heart swell with gratefulness that you'd found the perfect husband to complete you. Grinning at the sound of his wife's genuine laughter, Max plops down next to you, resting his soft locks comfortably on your plush thighs as he snoozes.

And that evening, when you two made love, it felt different somehow. The months of high intensity, filthy and desperate sex had been fantastic, of course. But there was just something about the slow, sensual pace of Max's lips moving their way down your bare waist, his intense blue eyes watching you closely as he buried his head in between your thighs, right there on the yacht deck. You moaned as your small hands entangle in his golden hair, and let yourself get lost in the dizzying waves of pleasure without any thought of needing to get pregnant.

You taste different, your husband murmurs suddenly, his husky Dutch accent sending shivers to your throbbing core. You flush at his words, comfortable enough with him to swat his head with your thigh, indignantly replying that No wife wanted to hear that from her husband when he's going down on her-Oh! Fuck!

Your protests are cut off abruptly as he gives your dripping pussy another teasing lick, an almost thoughtful expression on his face. I didn't say different is bad, he counters smugly, enjoying the sight of rendering you speechless with his tongue. You always taste good, schat, but right now - he presses that large, Dutch nose of his that you adore right into your dripping pussy - you taste even sweeter than normal...like honeydew.

Of course, Max had always enjoyed eating you out your whole relationship. But that week on the Sicilian coastline, he seemed even more entranced than usual, wanting to have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner, saying that you just tasted sweeter and sweeter each time. Not that you were complaining, of course - he definitely knew what he was doing when he deftly untied your bikini strings to bury his face in between your soft thighs. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that you'd realise just why you tasted so different to your husband. When a bout of vomiting that you'd returned back to Monaco with and thought to be a tummy bug from dodgy seafood didn't stop, you realised that you'd somehow missed your period that month, too. The vacation Max had planned for you had certainly gotten your mind off trying for a baby a little too well, it seemed - so much so that you’d stopped tracking your cycle.

So when your husband finds you on the bathroom floor for a second time, staring in shock at a pregnancy test in front of you, he immediately is at your side. He hugs you tightly again, making you secure in his embrace and stroking your curls as he tells you please don’t cry again, schatje, I can’t bear to see you like this, it’ll all be okay, we can try other options or always adopt-

You laugh, still in a state of disbelief, the noise muffled against his muscular chest. No, no, Max, I’m actually okay this time, you say as you pull away, smiling up at him. Oh, he says, blinking at you with worry, not looking convinced. Are you sure?

You nod, unable to control the ecstatic grin that appears on your lips. Yes, liefje. I’m positive. And then your husband sees the pregnancy test you hold up for him, the proof of your marriage’s perseverance over these past months as two lines. His jaw drops open, and you giggle at his expression. This is my third one today, it’s definitely real, Maxie. Finally processing the news, he laughs with delight, embracing you tightly again as happy tears filling his pretty ocean blue eyes as he tells you how excited he is.

So now, 5 months later and in the present, you suppose Max was still on edge with how fragile you’d been at the start of your pregnancy. But you’d been so stable and healthy throughout it, looking after yourself and of course having a very dedicated husband who watched your nutrition and daily gentle exercise like a hawk. There was no reason for him to still be concerned about your safety, you think sleepily as you sink against your soft pillows. Your mind drifts to sleep as your overthinking tires you out.

You wake up with a gasp sometime later, breathing heavily as you stare at the moonlit ceilingas the intense dream you’d been having replays again in your head. Hazy visions of strong hands holding you down as his wide cock fucked into you, a deep accented Dutch voice crooning in your ears that your sweet cunt treated him so well, it was just made to take him perfectly, hmm? You’re not sure how much time has passed, but it must only have been a couple hours when you turn the warm bedside lamp on and see your husband hasn’t come to bed yet. The stinging feeling of rejection fills you again, even though you knew Max was probably just relaxing with a video game out in the living room after the emotional rollercoaster you'd been hitting him with today.

But the pregnancy had definitely sent your insecurities into overdrive, and you’re starting to sniffle and you quickly try to muffle your sobs with a palm to your trembling lips. You can’t hide from your ever observant husband, though. A small line of light shines into the dim bedroom as Max cracks open the door, entering with a hopeful look and to ask if you were hungry yet.

At the sight of his teary, pregnant wife sitting up in bed, he’s at your side looking at you with concern. What’s wrong, scatje? He asks, an undertone of urgency in his usually calm voice. Are you hurt? In pain? Is the baby-

I’m fine, Max, we’re fine, you say through the tears, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. I'm sorry I've been acting so crazy all day. God, I’m so stupid, I don’t understand why I’m feeling like this when you’re being such a good husband-

Hearing your self deprecating words, he reassuringly you with a gentle kiss to your forehead, calming down your anxiously beating heart. Tell me what’s happening, schatje, he encourages earnestly, validating that your feelings weren’t silly to him. Although you’re still shaking slightly, your breathing starts to settle as your brown doe eyes look up into his intense blue gaze. I had a dream, Maxie, you breathe, focused on him completely as flashes of the erotic wet dream you’d had return. I had a dream, and you were in it, and- you bite your lip as desire pools in your core - and you were in me, and it felt so, so amazing, and I don’t get it, why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore?

Your husband’s eyes go wide in surprise at your question as you continue. Is it - you sniffle - is it because I’m too fat now? It is, isn’t it? You don’t find me pretty like this? Max is bewildered, not having guessed this was the reason why his wife had been feeling so upset today. He’s pulling you against his strong chest, rubbing soothing circles along your back to calm your jerky breathing down fully. Oh, my sweet vrouw, I’ve been ignoring where you needed me the most, hmm? His comforting, deep voice murmurs reassurances about how you were absolutely beautiful in the pregnancy, having already been the most gorgeous wife but now, you genuinely glowed. Remember the valet at dinner last week who walked straight into the revolving door when he saw you? Max jokes, making you giggle through your tears at the memory of the gawking young valet. Wiping your tears away with a gentle stroke of his thumb, his gorgeous blue eyes look at yours intently as he agrees that he’s been holding back lately. But given how quickly things in bed can get…a bit rough, Max says, cheeks adorably flushing and making you grin, he wanted to avoid anything that could hurt you and the baby. Especially because I don't think I can hold back once I start, because seeing you pregnant with my child has been driving me wild.

Your heart swells with love at your ever thoughtful husband. But his sweet intentions are not needed right now, and you tell him this as you wrap your arms across his broad shoulders. Maxie, you say warmly, your doe eyes blinking up at him with adoration, you know that having sex isn’t going to hurt the baby, right? Even when he didn’t believe your textbook, your literal gynaecologist said there’s no problem.

I know, I know, your husband says, his ocean blue eyes looking at you a bit helplessly. It’s just that I can’t bear the thought of hurting you in any way, the pregnancy was already hard for you at the start and I-

You cut his worried rant off by drifting your small hands across his swollen biceps, to his own large palms. Have you not found it hard to be apart like this, liefje? you ask him directly. Biting his lip rather sexily, your husband’s gaze lowers to where your juicy tits, already having grown larger as your pregnancy went on, bounced enticingly with every breath. You don’t miss a beat, guiding his warm palms from your waist to your delicate collarbones, where you help him slip your skimpy nightgown off your shoulders.

Max’s eyes go dark with desire, and you find a similar need throb in your pussy at seeing him like this. Finally, there your lion of a husband was, the one who acted like he would willingly go to war for one more night with you. You tell him, sounding breathless from how excited you are, about all the times you’d fantasized about him fucking you daily on the sofa, on the dinner table, even that time at dinner last week when he'd worn a fitted shirt and you’d considered begging him to have his way with you right there in the restaurant bathroom. Max groans from your heated confession, and you feel him rapidly hardening underneath you from where you’re sitting in his lap.

It’s been - he swallows, his hands now brushing towards your tempting chest to play with your swollen nipples - it’s been so fucking hard, schatje. You have no idea how sexy you look like this. God, I wanna fuck you so much that you end up pregnant again.

You laugh at his confession now, finally feeling at ease knowing he had been wanted you just as much as you had. You’ve been holding back on me, my dear husband, you tease, peppering his flushed cheeks with gentle kisses. You’ll make up for it tonight, please? Fuck me properly and make me cum around your cock? You finish your naughty demand with a playful grind of your damp panties against his now impressively hard erection.

Strong hands hold your thick hips securely to put an end to your games. You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband who’s looking more and more hungry by the second, and growls out that his sweet little wife was actually a desperate slut wasn’t she? You gasp excitedly at his dirty words, knowing you’d finally broken the last thread of self control holding him back. Max lifts you easily off his lap, pressing you back against him so his husky voice murmured right into your ear from behind. I forgot how addicted you are to being fucked by my cock. Been dreaming about it for weeks, like a good girl, hmm? You nod furiously, whining out yes, yes, please Maxie’s as your head spins in dizzying pleasure. The swell of your chubby ass rubs against his cockhead as Max easily yanks your lace panties off, joining his hastily abandoned sweatpants on the floor.

Rough hands palm your soft thighs, growling lowly that your ass had been getting so fat lately, it drove him mad everytime you bent over in your flowy minidresses. When you can’t resist grinding back on him invitingly again, he gives you a few gentle smacks and you yelp excitedly. Been wanting to hit it from the back so fucking bad, your husband breathes, as his hand doesn’t leave your ass after his third slap, instead grabbing the bouncing flesh firmly with his large, strong palm. M-Max! you’re so turned on at his dirty confession. You two barely need any foreplay, having already been on a frustrated edge for the whole month, and Max’s large cock easily starts slipping into your dripping hole. You’re comfortably laid out on your side, his toned chest pressing into your back and your combined moans mix as he sinks home into your welcoming cunny.

The position lets him easily thrust half his impressive length into you, controlling the slow pace so you only feel blinding pleasure without a hint of any uncomfortable stretch. I’m not gonna last, Maxie, it feels so good- Ah! Your desperate whimpers are cut off as his hands move to play with your lush, bouncing chest, the pregnancy having enhanced your curves. And these tits, schatje, they’re so pretty for me. You’ll be a good girl and let me fuck them, won’t you?

Your pink lips are parted as you pant in pleasure from his skilled fingers toying with your over sensitive nipples. Yes, Maxie, whatever you want, you whine desperately. You can even cum on them, okay? This time you’re the one making him moan with your words and his hips stutter as he pictures his creamy release dripping all over your large breasts.

He makes you cum then, when he slowly sinks a deep thrust in fully, letting you feel the wide stretch of his cock, making you gasp and throw your head back against his shoulder. Your breathless, high pitched whines are captured by his mouth as he moves his tongue languidly against yours, murmuring how good you did for him, the most perfect vrouw he could have asked for as he talks you through your mind numbing orgasm. He barely lasts a few seconds after you, letting out a Oh fuck! Gonna cum, schat- as your tight, warm pussy clenches around his raging erection and milking him for every last drop.

Heavy, content breathing fills the room as you both come down from your highs together. Your small hands intertwine with his as you smile tiredly at him, where he rests his flushed face against the swell of your chest. Did I satisfy your craving, schatje? Max says with a teasing smile, still breathless. You run your fingers affectionately through his damp, tousled hair. Not even close, baby you say, equally breathless. You know how strong my pregnancy cravings are.

Your husband laughs, the warm sound making you giggle as well. Challenge accepted, schat. Be careful what you wish for.

_____________________________________________

A/N: dedicated gentle husband max who switches up when you rile him up drives me FERALLLLLL hope it does for you too <3 Sooo many of you requested this im so glad you liked part 1!! thoughts on part 3 with soft dad max?? (Im writing this anyway regardless of what yall say ahahaha) 🫶🫶

[eldritchgriffin]

As an ADHDer, I have experienced pretty much all of this. As a person who has now convinced two separate people to get tested for ADHD, resulting in them getting diagnosed, absolutely look into how you can get tested if you relate to even half of this.

Also, I frequently experience over/understimulation, so here's some Eldritch ADHD Advice. The most important thing is to become aware of when you are over/understimulated.

Some indicators of understimulation are boredom, difficulty focusing, or your mind wandering. The critical part is realizing that you losing focus is due to not having enough to focus on, not due to having too much to distract you.

Signs of overstimulation include feeling overwhelmed, disengaging from conversation because you can't find the energy to join in, and wanting to go somewhere quiet or lie down.

Now, for the actual advice:

The way I think of it is that my brain requires a very specific level of stimulation at any given time. Different tasks offer different levels and types of stimulation. The trick is figuring out what kind and how much engagement something takes.

As an example, I cannot listen to podcasts if I am not doing anything else. Podcasts are an audio only experience, and not one I have to actively engage with, so I struggle to focus on them. In the other direction, I can't listen to podcasts while driving, because driving requires too much focus, and I can't pay attention to the podcast. The balance I've found is podcast combined with a simple task or game. Cleaning is good as long as it doesn't require much thought, and for games I'll usually choose something like sudoku, nonograms, endless runners, or similar - nothing that requires reading though. The important thing is that it gives me something to look at and keeps my hands busy.

If I'm having trouble doing a task because it doesn't stimulate me enough, I'll try listening to (usually instrumental) music, or if the task requires audio, finding something to fidget with.

For overstimulation, noise-canceling headphones have been a game-changer for me. Also, know that sometimes it's okay to just leave. If you've been at an event for long enough you're getting overstimulated, and you don't need to stay longer, you can just go home, or at least find somewhere quiet to unwind for a bit. As the skeleton says, "if it sucks, hit da bricks."

This turned out much longer than I had planned lol. Hopefully at least some of it is helpful!

bro im gonna CRY i didnt know this 🥺

[pedroscurls]

We all know Hugh HATES to be late at events/dinner or people who are..but what if his girl is a little needy 🥵 and "nervous" 😩 about what to wear?

late to the party (one-shot)

summary: possibly already late to ryan and blake's party, hugh becomes just slightly annoyed when you can't decide what to wear... and when he realizes that you're doing it on purpose, he only knows one way to make sure you don't do it again. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warning: smut (18+, mdni), quickie, dom!hugh, light spanking, dirty talk, fingering, doggy style (against the wall), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), creampie (oopsies!), no use of y/n. word count: 1.8k a/n: once again, this one is really late to post so i'm sorry. i'm slowly catching up with all my requests! to the anon that requested this, i hope you enjoyed it! (btw - i'm gonna try something new with these headers moving forward, it takes so long to pick photos and figured just choosing one hugh pic is better lol). as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“Baby, come on. We’re already late,” Hugh calls out, straightening out his tie. He then glances at his watch and when he sees that it’s already past the time that you both needed to be at Ryan and Blake’s house, he grabs his phone to send a text to them. 

You’re standing in the closet, dressed in a matching black lace bra and thong. You bite your lower lip at Hugh’s voice; you know he’s always so punctual and hates it when other people – including himself – are late. 

“I know! I can’t figure out what to wear.” You can hear Hugh’s footsteps approach you, can hear him let out a quiet sigh of frustration. You have your arms crossed over your chest, a thoughtful look on your features by the time he enters the closet with you. He has his hands in his pockets and when you turn to look over at him, his brows are furrowed together and his lips in a straight line. 

“That black one is nice,” he says, nodding his chin to the black dress you’re standing in front of. “Come on, baby. You know I hate being late.” 

“Well, we’re already late and I don’t know what to wear.” 

He sighs again. “Whatever you decide to wear will look good on you, love. Just put on that black one and let’s go.” 

You bite your lower lip and shake your head, turning your back to him as you walk further into the closet to look at the other dresses you have hanging. You can hear the tapping of his foot and you’re trying to hold back the smile on your lips. 

“Baby…” He walks after you and reaches for the dress he pointed out. It’s a black dress with subtle floral print, a ruffled square neckline and sheer short sleeves. It has an empire waist that he knows will fit perfectly to each curve as the bottom of your dress flows out. It looks like the length will stop right at your shins and he walks towards you with the dress in hand. “I’ll pick for you. It’s this one.”

When you turn around to face him, you bite your lower lip and look up at him. You see his eyes deviate to your body, a glimmer of desire flashing through his eyes before he remembers that you’re both already late for the party. 

“I don’t know about that one though…” you say with a sigh, but the corner of your lips turn upwards and Hugh narrows his eyes. 

“Are you–” He hangs the dress back up on the clothesline and then steps closer to you. “Are you doing this on purpose?” 

“What? No!”

Hugh narrows his eyes even further and moves a hand to your hip, pushing you further into the closet until your back gently hits the wall. He reaches out with one hand and places it next to your head, leaning down until his nose is touching yours. 

“Looks to me like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“I just– I just don’t know what to wear!” you lie, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel the hand on your hip tighten. 

“Sounds like you’re lying, baby.” Hugh brushes his lips against yours, hearing your breath catch in your throat as you gasp quietly. “If I reach down here,” he whispers, moving his hand from your hip to between your legs, cupping your sex instantly. “And if I feel that you’re wet…” he continues, moving the strip of your thong to the side as he runs the tip of his finger along the length of your sex. “Oh, you are wet. How long have you been wet, huh?” 

“Hugh…” you whimper, reaching out to rest your hands on his suit jacket but careful not to wrinkle the clothes he’s wearing. After all, you both still need to attend Ryan and Blake’s party. 

“So, let me ask again… Did you intentionally make us late?” 

You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, thrusting two fingers deep inside of you. Your arousal makes it easy for him to push his digits into your tight heat and when he feels you about to grip onto his suit jacket, he uses his free hand and grips your wrists in one hand, gently placing them above your head. 

“Oh baby,” he growls. “Don’t lie to me.” Hugh pushes his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, knowing that it won’t take long for you to reach your climax, but just as he feels your walls begin to clench, he pulls his hand away. 

“Okay!” you exclaim, trying to squirm against him, hips pushing forward and off the wall to chase his fingers. “I did it on purpose… I saw you in that suit and I just– I need you. I knew that the only way I could get what I need was if I made us late and–” 

Hugh growls and releases your hands to grip your hips, roughly turning you around. He watches you place your hands on the wall in front of you, bracing yourself once he pulls your hips closer to him. You can hear him undo his belt and his zipper. You look over your shoulder to watch him drop his suit pants and boxer briefs down his legs. 

He tugs your thong down your legs and you gasp, feeling his warm and leaking tip press against your opening. 

“Hugh, wait, I–” He pushes his hips forward, filling you to the brim in one thrust. He’s so deep that it literally takes your breath away. You gasp, feeling him pull out to his tip until he thrusts back into you. 

“This what you wanted?” Hugh growls, using one hand to grip your hip tightly as he brings his other hand down to connect with your backside. It leaves a red imprint, the sound of the spank echoing throughout the closet. It catches you off guard and your walls clench at the sensation. 

“Y– Yes!” you answer, pushing back against him as he delivers another sharp slap to your ass. He lets out a loud groan, ceasing his movements only to watch you push back against him. He looks down at your bodies, the sight of his glistening manhood appearing and disappearing with each of your movements. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That’s it, take what you need…” Hugh releases his hold on your hip to hold the bottom of his dress shirt and tie upwards and away from where you’re both connected. He certainly doesn’t want to have to change, especially since you’re both already so late. 

Hugh feels your walls begin to clench around him, your walls sliding along every inch of his throbbing length. He pushes his hips forward, feeling himself delve even deeper within your depths. 

“Hugh! Oh god– I’m close,” you gasp, bracing your hands on the wall as Hugh grips your hip with his free hand and begins to slam into you repeatedly. You can feel each vein on his manhood, can feel him throbbing within your depths and it only urges you closer and closer to reach your high. 

“My naughty girl,” Hugh groans, the sounds of skin slapping against one another mixes in with your continuous moans. He shuts his eyes, your walls continuing to tremble and clench around him. His thrusts become more erratic as he feels the tightness build in the pit of his stomach. 

“Gonna fill you up,” Hugh growls, delivering another slap across your ass. “Gonna have me dripping out of you the entire fucking night.” 

“Hugh!” you push back against him roughly, your walls clenching around him as your walls tremble. You’re so wet, and already so sensitive as you reach your orgasm. 

Hugh groans, picking up the pace with his thrusts until he slams into you with a loud grunt. He paints your walls with his release, hips stuttering. You can feel his come fill you up and when he does pull out slowly, you look down between your legs and see thick drops of his spend trickle down your legs. 

Hugh licks his lower lip and looks down, a broad smirk lining his lips. “You gonna put on that dress now?” 

“Can you give me a minute?” you ask, turning to look over your shoulder with a small smile. 

“Oh, I’ve given you plenty.” 

You let out a quiet giggle and then watch him tuck himself back into his pants as he makes himself presentable again. You watch his eyes deviate between your legs before he leaves the closer only to come back with a wet and warm towel to wipe the release from between your legs. 

Hugh then helps slide your thong back up your body and you bite your lower lip when you turn around to face him. You can feel him so deep inside of you and it makes you smile, almost makes you yearn for another round with him but you know that you should really be getting to Ryan and Blake’s party.

You grab the same dress he had picked out for you and slide it on, turning around so that Hugh can zip you up. Once he does, he places a gentle kiss on the side of your neck and looks at you from top to bottom. 

“Beautiful,” he smiles. 

“I’m gonna be feeling you all night,” you admit. 

“Good, and just so we’re both clear,” Hugh says, gently gripping your chin as he looks into your eyes. “Your punishment isn’t over.”

“Punishment?” you clear your throat, excitement bubbling in your chest. 

“Oh yeah,” he grins. “You’re not going to get away with making us late that easily.” 

“Can we– Can we skip the party and just get straight into it?” 

Hugh narrows his eyes. “Such a naughty girl,” he growls. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“No,” Hugh chuckles. “Now, let’s go. Consider having to wait as part of your punishment.”

“Yes, sir.” you respond, biting your lip. 

Hugh growls and releases his hold on your chin as he takes a step back to look at you from top to bottom. “If we don’t leave now, I’m going to throw you over my knee and–”

“Okay!” you interrupt, squeezing your legs together. “Let’s go before I tie you to the bed.” You don’t give him a chance to respond because you’re already walking out of the closet.

Hugh chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see a response from Ryan who had replied to tell him that the party wasn’t going to start for another hour. Hugh shakes his head and runs out after you, seeing you with a knowing smirk on your lips.

“Oh, you planned all of this.” Hugh points out.

You nod and then reach out to gently grip the end of his tie. “Do you really think I’d make us late for the party, Hugh?” 

“On the bed. Now.”

“But what if we’re late–”

“We have an hour,” Hugh growls. “And I ain’t done with you yet.”

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

Hi! Thank you so much for all your analysis, I really enjoy them!! Did you find it strange when Alhaitham, at the end of the event, said he is not interested in visiting the temple of Silence for that gem? Because Alhaitham has always been one to pursue knowledge (sometimes to the extreme, i.g archon quest, where he offers to be taken as a hostage instead to learn more about the truth) Even Kaveh was confused by his answer. I wonder if Alhaitham only meant it in a "I wouldn't go through the trouble JUST for this gem" or if this might be a potential hint to his next storyquest? Idk, it just stood out to me that even Kaveh commented on it, when he knows Alhaitham the best.

i'm glad you enjoy them, thank you so much!! anon this is a delicious sumptuous question, this ??? inkling has been rattling around in my head since finishing the quest, so thank you for giving me a chance to break my own thoughts down about this!

alhaitham's own thoughts about the wedjat eye are that there is little more research to be carried out, as the wedjat eye is perceived as a piece of history, whose purpose and meaning has already been identified - and this can contrast against his active research pursuit with the forbidden canned knowledge capsules as it was uncertain what danger they posed, and the root of the danger

but kaveh points out (as you rightfully say) that since the gem is a legendary historical artifact, it's strange that alhaitham isn't interested in at least seeing it, to which alhaitham states that he refuses to go to the temple of silence to do so because it's too far for him, which is so funny to me??

as if he isn't seen roaming around in the desert and going on research trips to ruins in his character trailer, as well as the latter part of the archon quest taking place in the desert. i suppose that since alhaitham had personal motives to be in the desert these times, and, apparently the wedjat eye doesn't particularly interest him, that he isn't willing to make the journey this time, okay give us nothing!!!

alhaitham brings up the chance of the wedjat eye being brought to the akademiya for appraisal, and says that in that case, he would take a look, as he likes to know when interesting things are brought to the akademiya - which can be seen as well in his story quest, where he keeps files on interest on his desk that the player can read

i think it's interesting that it is sethos himself who directly invites alhaitham to look at the wedjat eye for research when it's now contained in the temple of silence, as in cyno's second story quest, when the temple of silence is explored, sethos gives cyno and lord kusanali permission to choose people deemed "worthy" to pursue knowledge in the temple of silence, warning that they must be careful with their choice of candidates

cyno then extends this invitation to kaveh and alhaitham, with them seemingly being these 'candidates', as kaveh says he is interested in visiting the temple of silence in order to look through ancient documents, with cyno saying "that day will come" which seems to imply the temple of silence being at the centre of some future event

each sumeru event (an odd textual mystery and now nahida's birthday event) since then has, of course, included sethos, as he is now a mainline sumeru cast character, and the mention of the wedjat eye now belonging to the temple of silence is consistent with maintaining the organisation as a pivotal part of sumeru

whilst alhaitham's reluctance to physically go there seems to be for comedic purposes, in line with him not helping with the celebrations as it isn't part of his job description (oh but you can head on over to port ormos for no apparent reason to yap with kaveh and leave to go back to the house of daena? like it's a brisk stroll away?? SICK!) i think it's very likely that we'll get more of an exploration of the temple silence in future events (or perhaps a sethos hangout which i am once again asking for), especially (as you say) alhaitham is associated with pursuing knowledge, and the temple of silence is described by sethos to be the hub of this, i'll assume that there has to be something there that entices him to make the journey

as for the wedjat eye being brought to the akademiya, i'm not so sure if this will be explored in an event or character story? the purpose of it seems to be fully explored in this event, with candace being the only one to be able to operate it, and with alhaitham saying that there's no need to study it further could be a narrative choice of essentially wrapping up this story thread - but who knows?? (thinking along these lines, it's notable that candace shows the wedjat eye to the traveller and paimon, but doesn't reveal it to alhaitham and kaveh when directly discussing it, ensuring that the two never see it...? worms in brain actually)

going back to the temple of silence, the information it actually possesses regarding king deshret's civilisation being a mystery, as well as the wedjat eye being a gift from king deshret now being contained there, (along with mehrak's core being from king deshret's civilisation which i think would be very !!! to explore), is really interesting to me, especially with the emphasis on there coming a 'day' in which it's possible for the temple of silence to be explored by the main crew, or those that cyno and nahida select as candidates. i'm very much hopeful that hoyo will fulfill this foreshadowing!!

[max1461]

@deaths-accountant I will, if I remember, think carefully about your thought experiment and respond to it soon (although I will probably change some details so that it is less similar to current events because I don't want people to misunderstand the nature of the discussion and get mad at me), but, in the mean time, here is a counter-thought-experiment for you:

Suppose there is a guy Bob, currently hanging out in the heavenly realm or whatever, and he is presented by an angel with the following choice:

Bob will be born into the world, and live an ordinary-seeming life. Over the course of his life, the net utility (under whatever form of utilitarianism you endorse; hedonic, preferential, etc.) which he contributes to everyone else in the world besides himself will be 0. In other words, the people of the world (not including him) will be no better off nor worse off for his being born. However, he himself, under the same conception of utility, will receive -ε net utils. He will have N (for reasonable large N) utils worth of joys, triumphs, etc., and -(N+ε) utils worth of pains, failures and so on. Thus, he will live a net-negative life.

Bob will not be born into the world, he will cease to exist.

Implicitly I'm discounting here all the thoughts and feelings that Bob experiences here in the heavenly realm before he is born (or not) as irrelevant, but if you don't feel comfortable with this you can just adjust the numbers so that the net utility of each choice comes out as intended above.

It is possible, I think, that in light of the above choice, Bob would select (2) and cease to exist. But I think it's also possible that Bob would say "no, I'll take (1), I want to have the joys and triumphs even if there turn out also to be a greater number of failures and losses". In particular, I am almost certain that I would choose (1), and not just for fear of death (the above scenario is an abstraction of choices that I have actually made, where no risk of death was involved).

The question is: would it be moral for the angel to override Bob here, "for his own good", and choose (2) for him?

By construction a utilitarian has to say yes. If ε is small the utilitarian might say "well, it's not a very big deal; the normative force behind overriding Bob and choosing (2) is low". But I can think of scenarios in which I would chose (1) even if (I believed that) ε was pretty significant, where this excuse doesn't work.

Also consider for instance... the archetype of the starving artist. The man who is committed to producing his Great Work even at significant cost to himself. Suppose that he has made many sacrifices in order to hone his craft, he's given up financial success and a social life, he lives in the mountains and, you know, carves statue after statue in pursuit of perfection. Suppose that he can rationally conclude that, when (if) he does complete his masterpiece, the satisfaction will be relatively small in the face of all the sacrifices he's made. I mean, yeah, he'll be happy, he'll feel fulfilled and genuinely, deeply satisfied. But on a literal, summative level, that just won't add up to the lifetime of late nights, missed opportunities for social connection, etc., either in terms of net pleasure or net preference satisfaction or whatever. But suppose also that on the day to day level he doesn't feel miserable, he's not suffering. He's toiling in pursuit of a deeply held personal goal, and it feels... well, "good" isn't always the word. But he is plenty motivated to keep going; he's out here in the mountains of his own accord. The fact that he judges that at the end of his life the utility tally won't come up positive for him doesn't weigh on him much. "Why should I care about some number?" he says. "Maybe I'd be net happier if I went out on the town and found a wife and settled down, but I don't want to do that. I want to complete my Great Work."

Is this artist doing something immoral by living his life the way he has? Would it be moral for a third party to step in and prevent him from pursuing his endeavors?

In both of these thought experiments, my extremely strong intuition is that the answer is "no", making choices for other people "for their own good" in this way is not moral. But this seems like a necessary consequence of any kind of utilitarianism, so I can't get behind utilitarianism.

The starving artist example gets to a more fundamental issue, too. I kept saying things like "he really wants to complete his Great Work, and it will make him very satisfied, but he will be more net satisfied if he gives up on that and lives a normal life". Well... what the hell does "net satisfied" mean? How do you measure the strength of a preference? He "really wants" to complete his Great Work, and materially that corresponds to a certain neural state, but how do you put a number on that neural state which is fungible with the numbers you put on all the other neural states of human life? You run into this problem in both hedonic and preference utilitarianism, because "preference" is a neural phenomenon. Is there even a well-defined abstraction here, is there even a coherent thing to which "preference strength" can possibly refer? Maybe, but I don't know that there is. And the problem is that if you pick the wrong abstraction, if you pick the wrong way of getting a fungible quantity out of a fundamentally non-numerical arrangement of matter, then what you have doesn't correspond to "ethics" anymore, right, it lacks normative force. It's just some number.

This is why I say that utilitarian-ish ethics are fine on the large scale, they're fine for the policy maker or the economist, who for methodological reasons simply needs to pick an ok enough abstraction on run with it. But on the scale of individual humans, individual minds, and what it "really means" to treat people right, I don't think utilitarianism can possibly hold up.

I might have made this exact post before somewhere, if so apologies for repeating myself.

[cavycaptain]

I tabled with Kagebros that TFCon Weekend and we've talked about the tracing and redraws--FYI I also sell redraws of famous G1 scenes to sell as charms/prints. The merch is in my own style rather than taking directly from the cartoons and I acknowledge that they're not original. I'm not one to stand against the selling of redraws because that's just hypocrisy.

Kagebros has apologized and understand the consequences of their actions and that's enough for me.

People have traced and stolen from my merch/art before to the point where potential customers have become wary of purchasing from me because they did not realize that the tracers were taking advantage of my lack of online presence/small following. I'm not a fan of dogpiling, but I admit that I have made call-out posts, because again I have a smaller audience and get overwhelmed by misinformation thrown at me and I feel as though I'm backed into a corner. I have to understand that the tracers behind the screens are human like me and if they credit or take the art down, I am a very forgive and forget person. Again this is my own personal take on the situation from my own experience, and people do have the right to be upset and angry.

When you admire an artist so much, you want to implement their style into your own--I'm inspired by DJW, Josh Burcham, Dana Terrace and many more. Tracing or 1:1 referencing helps when you want to understand how those artists could obtain certain structures in their art--like hands or faces. Its a tale as old as time when inspired by your teachers but in the end you have to take what you learn from them and create a style most comfortable for your own skillset. I see that Kagebros has their own style developing and I cannot wait to see how much they improve in the near future.

I haven't addressed anything because I'd simply be repeating whats already been stated before. There are many points to this story that I agree and disagree with and I was more of a bystander through all of this while supporting my friends. But I guess deciding to still stand by my friend was enough to fuel a different kind of rage brought into the public space and affected our safety.

During this whole ordeal, at TFCon Baltimore, I was warned that a person was following and taking pictures of me WITHOUT MY CONSENT throughout the weekend. I have reason to believe its the same people going after Kagebros. I fear for what these people are capable of or what they could have planned had I or Kagebros not stayed with friends at all times. I feel so disgusted and violated. Yes, this is a public event and I had also taken pictures with friends/visitors that wanted to visit me. There are randoms who also probably unintentionally took pictures of me in passing. But this group had sought out to film and take photos of us for the sole purpose of stalking--I would also like to add that this same group has a history of doxxing people, including minors, in the Transformers fandom.

In this current political climate, its a terrible time to be an AFAB Person of Color. In a place where I thought I could feel accepted and safe and experience a little bit of escapism, I'm alarmed that even then I still feel in danger. Kagebros made mistakes but it doesn't warrant this kind of outrageous behavior. Me choosing to stay friends with someone does NOT warrant being stalked and followed.

I'm not perfect either, I've made so many mistakes, and I'm begging these people to take time to look inward, to self reflect on their actions and to realize the harm they are causing to people's physical and mental wellbeing.

This Post is by someone that wants to remain anonymous, they DM'd me this and asked me to post

The callout campaign against Kagebros has gone WAY too far. The lengths these people have gone to violate someone’s boundaries and privacy in order to “warn” people is incredibly excessive and is dealing horrible damage to their mental health and wellbeing. It needs to fucking stop.

The situation has spiraled completely out of control, spurred on by people who would rather side with a proud AI artist than have a civilized, adult discussion about tracing. Said AI artist has a history of attempting to ruin Kagebros’ credibility, spreading disinformation and rumors about them and their nonprofit charity zines, now going as far as to allegedly incite people to nonconsensually take photos of them at their booth at TFcon Baltimore, and block-evading their socials in order to find more posts to pick apart.

As they have stated already, Kagebros never had ANY intention to scam people, which understandably doesn’t change how those affected may feel. That being said, they could have very easily traced over things without altering them in any way at all, like many others within the convention vending sphere have blatantly done without a callout from these same people who care so much about “calling out tracing”. There tends to be a gray area in the realm of tracing techniques within the art industry (especially professionally), and there is plenty of merit for their actions to be criticized. As they’ve stated, they were under the impression that Official artwork/figures were okay to trace over and alter, which they now know to avoid doing so in the future. Even if the details and credibility of the piece can be scrutinized, they still made a conscious effort to alter the pieces in question to be more original.

Although said effort may not be enough for most, they now KNOW that. End of story. They can't immediately change the pieces they had available for sale, and they should be showing change through their future pieces and actions, which is something that’s up for judgment by anyone. And yet the people starting this have needlessly dragged it on, inciting others to keep spreading the accusations to further audiences, leading to more harassment.

Seafoamsol had admittedly unblocked Kagebros and “offered” to have a talk with them about the situation, but their own intentions are extremely questionable, as a conversation should have been the first priority, rather than a callout post. They assumed Kagebros’ intentions without giving them a single chance to address it themselves before the callout, and are now going forward with the narrative of them being a scammer.

Again, if they truly were concerned, they could have unblocked them and had a conversation before the callout was made, instead of assuming their intentions were to deceive people.

The situation is very nuanced, meaning there's a lot of points to be acknowledged on both sides in order to come to a conclusion, which could have happened peacefully if adults just had a civil discussion with each other. There is a justifiable talk to be had here, and reasonable changes to be made, but this can’t be accomplished productively if people continue to jump to conclusions and assume intentions. This has done nothing–and WILL do nothing–but hurt people, if this behavior doesn’t stop. mistakes will be made, lessons will be learned. Please look at this situation in its entirety before coming to your own conclusions based on assumptions made by people with evidently questionable motives and a history of causing problems for others and driving them out of the community. 

Thank you for reading.

[kaiijo]

ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo 

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit 

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there. 

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier  

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life. 

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card 

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae 

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous 

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream 

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away 

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes 

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself 

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply.  he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”) 

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”

[inbarfink]

So one of the cool and interesting ways ‘Steven Universe’ used to try and balance being both a series of 11-minutes episodes that each have their own satisfying emotional resolution and being an overarching story with complicated character arcs that take multiple seasons to resolve is the… I’m going to call it the ‘Not Quite Right Lesson’ episodes. Episodes where a character kinda learns a Very Important Lesson… but a more careful and retrospective look at the situation shows that what they learned is not Quite the Right Thing for them. They internalized something in that adventure which just ended up causing more Emotional Troubles for themselves farther down the line.

‘The Test’ is the most classic example. 

As a standalone thing, it’s just a sweet episode about Steven learning to accept that his caretakers are also flawed and confused and figuring this shit up as they’re going along just like he is, and then doing a nice thing for their sake.

But looking back at this episode, it is quite obviously the nadir of Steven appointing himself as the Family Therapist and repressing all of his problems so he could better help the Gems’ with theirs. Like, there have been some early warning signs for this Complex, but this episode is the one that really cemented that idea in his mind and probably the reason it took him like the Entire Rest of the Show Including a Post-Finale Season to really untangle it.

But… also, I’ve been thinking a lot about the episode right after that, ‘Future Vision’. I think it’s also a very important ‘Not Quite Right Lesson Episode’ for the character of Garnet, and to some extent, the Crystal Gems as a whole. In many ways, it is to the CGs' character arcs' what 'the Test' is to Steven's.

So in this episode, Garnet reveals to Steven the fact that she has Future Vision. She hoped that telling Steven a little bit more about herself and being honest with him will lead to a greater understanding and a greater bond between them… but it backfired. It just led Steven to become a total paranoid, terrified wreck stuck in a total existential crisis.

And it seems like the lesson Garnet learned is that… she should’ve never taken that risk at all. That it would’ve been better for everyone if she just kept Steven ignorant of the truth forever.

Extremely reinforced with the ending of the episode, where Garnet chooses to once again hide an uncomfortable truth (that he just came very close to dying again) from Steven, for the sake of his own ‘peace of mind’.

So, like, the Gems were already hiding uncomfortable truths from Steven since day one. “If you could only know what we really are” and all of that. But I think… With the actual truth of Homeworld encroaching on them more and more at this point of the story arc, this would’ve been a great time for the Gems to reconsider their attitude and actually Explain to Steven What the Hell is Going On. 

But instead, I think Garnet saw the events of ‘Future Vision’ as a reinforcement of the idea that there’s just some things Steven is Better Off Not Knowing. Actually being frank with him about Homeworld and the Diamonds and the War right there and then, that would have just overwhelmed Steven with fears and worries and would’ve ended up doing nothing but hurting him. And Garnet can’t accept that possibility, not again.

And so, Garnet, alongside Amethyst and Pearl, keep all these truths from Steven as long as possible. Only revealing bits of information when they have to. For Amethyst it’s about her emotionally-evasive attitude (also, she legit doesn’t know all of that stuff herself). For Pearl it’s about how she learned to romanticize Rose’s own fucked-up obsession with secrets. For Garnet, with her usually very direct attitude and preference for the most straightforward solutions, I think it’s very much the events of ‘Future Vision’ that were still playing in her head every time she had the choice to actually Explain something to Steven and decided not to. 

But that, indeed, was Not Quite the Right Lesson. While being bluntly and directly told by Garnet all about the Many Ways He Could Die caused Steven to go into an anxiety spiral and an existential crisis for an episode - the way the Gems have been consistently secretive and evasive with Steven ended up causing him so much more emotional grief to him in the long run. As all of these secrets ended up revealed to him in the most surprising, dramatic and traumatizing way possible.

And the secretive attitudes ended up driving a wedge between Steven and the Gems. 

Even after they promised to be more honest with him. Because the sight of Steven crying on the roof that day is one that Garnet can easily move away from. Because Garnet’s Not Quite Right Lesson was almost as difficult for her to unlearn as Steven’s own. 

But after the big confrontation at the start of the Zoo Arc, Garnet ended up being the most upfront about the Crystal Gems’ history. Almost overeager to share what she knows about the past.

I mean also, again, Amethyst just has less to tell and Pearl is hiding secrets for reasons beyond her control - but I think it’s also important to consider from the perspective of Garnet’s arc.

Because the fallout of the Pink Diamond Reveal is very much centered around Garnet (or, well, Ruby and Sapphire). That was the Truth that was hidden from her 'for her own good'. And at the end of the day, despite all the grief that unveiling that truth has caused

It has also brought them, all of them, a lot closer.

There's a reason why 'the Truth' is Garnet's Final Missing Piece in the movie. It is as central to her character arc in the series as Lesbian AngstTM grief over lost love is to Pearl.

And still, some remnants of the Trauma of 'Future Vision' remained...

After all, even the very last episode of 'Future' was centered around the Gems once again trying to hide things from Steven (at that case, their turmoil about him leaving) for his own sake

Even though it once again just caused Steven a whole lot of grief.

It's maybe notable that at the end of this episode, Garnet, once again, tells Steven what's waiting for him in his Future...

[whumptober]

Event Rules and Info

Please read this post before you send an ask!

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

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#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

[kei-kinda-writes]

S/O from the support course!!

TYPE: Headcannons, includes: How you meet, How you end up together, and general/extra

CHARACTERS (separate): Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ochako Uraraka

WARNING: Mentions and references to some of the final battles and events from the series but nothing too big

SHOTO TODOROKI

How you meet:

100% you two met after the sports festival most likely getting help for redesigning his hero costume!!

Assuming it took awhile to choose the designs probably met and had lunch together several times and grew closer

Although lunches were mostly focused on his costume once in awhile would turn into small talk and getting to know one another leading to exchanging numbers

Once finished his costume out of habit started sitting with you

Definitely ended in an interrogation from Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida after he kept on going missing during lunch to sit with you

Grew closer always sitting with one another during lunch and after over text

How you end up together:

Probably went to his friends for help about his feelings 

either one of them or he let it slip one lunch and did not realize

Two ways this ends up playing out

Either one: You ask him about it and the two of you talking about it over text that night and putting a label on it (not entirely sure)

Or two: You completely ignore it and he ends confessing like wayyyy later

Either way most likely required pushing from Ochako, Iida, and Midoriya

General:

Will find the smallest errors about his costume just to visit you

If you were to have a sketchbook or journal of some sorts for coming up with designs would put little doodles on the pages ex. smiley faces, cats, maybe even to stick men and heart with ‘us’ in it

If anyone asked about his costume he would (even if not related whatsoever) proudly talk about how you helped him make it

Asked you about whether or not the five wieners kid was right

Always hanging out in the weekend and during lunch due to not sharing any classes

Share bits of each others lunches

Getting close with Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida since you all end up sitting together during lunch ^^

Also with everything that went down in terms of his family situation and other stuff in the first year it’s likely you don’t get together till your second or third year

KATSUKI BAKUGO

How you meet:

Came along with kaminari or kirishima when they were getting costume improvements and met you

You guys were sorta friends for awhile but you weren’t entirely close

Maybe you were the one to propose the idea of his support item in the Shigaraki fight (I forgot what it’s called)

Or he came to you asking about it since you were always doing Kaminari and Kirishimas stuff and you were likely the only support course student he knew and could request it from

Building off that idea it’s probably the only way you guys became friends, I’d imagine you’d end up closer much later in the school year rather then the beginning

You’d end up getting closer as you two worked together on the piece likely meeting after school most times

Potentially gave you a compliment for your work

How you end up together:

It wouldn’t be until you guys are in your second or third year because of your late start

That’s cause I think Bakugo would be someone who very much likes to take his time with relationships

The whole confession was likely a letter on a special holiday probably because he was nervous he’d mess it up and letters are easier

That likely resulted in talking it out over lunch he had set up for you two

Took you to a secluded area not too far from campus with some food he made and you guys put a label on your relationship :))

General:

checks up on you whenever your working outside of school hours and brings you food

Doesn’t yell at you as much as he does at others

NO. MATTER. WHAT. He will always get his costume repaired by you, absolutely refuses to let someone else do it <- this has ended up in several incidents

Recommends you to his friends, 100%

Probably takes you out to lunch to catch up with eachother every once in awhile

Would reluctantly listen if you ramble about costume and support item ideas

building off that he’d probably listen and give his own ideas maybe if you were working with another student would give you feedback on what to add

IZUKU MIDORIYA

How you meet:

You meet around halfway through the school year

Could only be when Hatsume was out sick and he needed repairs on his costume

Either that or Hatsume recommends him to you when she’s busy during school festival

Past then whenever he ended up needed adjustments with his costume and went to visit Hatsume he’d talk to you and check in on you

After some small talk you’d end up exchanging numbers and getting to know eachother better over text

Probably hang out once or twice and invites to join him at lunch! :D

Eventually he starts turning to you and Hatsume for costume adjustments and repairs and you guys slowly grow closer

How you end up together:

Midoriya probably has talked to Uraraka for help

However he’s probably too shy and flustered to confess in person so there’s one of two scenarios

1: he goes to ask Uraraka for help and ends up texting you instead

It ends up a complete incident but you guys talk it out and end up together

OR

2: similarly to bakugo he gives a letter of some sorts and you guys talk about it in a secluded area

You guys likely don’t end up together until your second year though if I’m thinking realistically especially with his dedication towards one for all and being a hero

General:

quirk rambling and analysis together

Study dates :D

Daily good morning texts and stuff since you don’t see eachother super often

Movie dates in each others dorms where you watch documentaries about quirks or all might

Sitting next to eachother during lunch

Maybe he joins you in the support course lab and does his homework or something while you tinker and such :))

Probably lots of time just spent quietly doing work together

Bringing eachother food when either is working for awhile is a 100%

OCHAKO URARAKA

How you meet:

Costume improvements!!!

Specifically working together on her wrist bands, likely took awhile to figure out but you guys ended up close in the end and exchanging numbers!

For the first ‘trial period’ of using them I bet they got tangled often and she’d use that as an excuse to come visit you

Probably got closer over text and it became a very nice friendship

And she would always turn to you about her costume

How you end up together:

Confesses in person, I think she’d prefer to do it face to face even if she’s all anxious and flustered

I think you wouldn’t end up together until your third year due to the events of the final battle

At your grad party she probably took you aside for a a breather and you had a talk

Boom boom and boom you both come back to the party grinning and holding hands and you’re together :))

Very quick and easy but I’m sure her confession was well though out and heartfelt

General:

Eating Mochi together :D

Matching bracelets and stuff if that’s your jam

Building on that you would make them together and everything it would be sweet

Craft and art dates

Walks around the campus together on weekends to catch up with one another

Same as Todoroki if you had a notebook she would doodle in it

Gives you notes with silly drawings since you can’t hang out often!!

Asks for ideas on support items for her costume

I think she’d be fascinated by your work and would end up watching you lots of the time after school

When she changed her hair 100% came to you and you guys figured it out together (probably ended calling in someone else to help though)

Thanks for reading!

Side note: lmk if there’s any other characters you’d like done, I had lots of fun. Additionally apologies if there’s any typos, things don’t make sense, or the characters feel as though they aren’t properly done!

[mv1simp]

Haunted ♥️ Part 2 of 2

Alpha!Max Verstappen x Reader (Omegaverse AU)

READ PART ONE HERE

it’s where we go, it’s what we'll be (I know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me)

As Mercedes’ rookie female driver, you garner a lot of media attention, even more when you reveal you haven’t presented. You don’t care about true mates or presenting - all you wanted was the championship. You’d be a lot closer to it, if it wasn’t for the dominating Alpha Max Verstappen. But after your late presentation, you two realise there’s a lot more to your bond than competition.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, primal themes, dom!Max, Sub!Reader, enemies to lovers. WC: 10k

After the scandalous events of the rooftop, where you and the tall blond Alpha had ended up in an intoxicating kiss, you take your avoidance of Max to the next level. You remain glued to George, furtively glancing from side to side in case your cocky rival decides to appear and terrorise you off the track. Your teammate found your sudden paranoia rather amusing, tousling your curls and making you puff your cheeks up and pout. Max watches the scene unfold with narrowed eyes as he walked into the interview room, finally catching a glimpse of you for the first time in two weeks. He notices you're wearing your jacket fully zipped up despite the warm weather - probably because his hickeys still littered your neck, he thinks smugly. Although next time he’d have to leave some so high up you couldn’t hide them and your loser teammate knew exactly who you belonged to. The possessive though rises up within him before he could even process it, as his inner Alpha seethed at seeing another driver touch his Omega so familiarly. The cameras don't miss the steely glare the Dutch champion delivered to the British Mercedes driver. It gave commentators something to speculate about and ask if Verstappen was threatened by Russell ahead of today’s race in Zandvoort?

And their commentary got even more heated during Lap 31 as they watched the Redbull driver slow down his leading pace, clipping George’s Mercedes car in a sharp and aggressive movement. It sent the Brit spinning into the barricade, letting you take his place in P2 instead. Afterwards, George had found him in the Parc Femme, parked comfortably in P1, and demanded to know what the hell that had been for, mate. Max just coolly told him to keep his greedy hands off what didn’t belong to him. George looked at him, confused, but chose not to argue with the clearly pissed off and aggressive smoky scent Max was radiating.

The cameras ate it up, thinking Max was referring to how George had come dangerously close to taking the Dutchman’s home race trophy. But you knew better, side eyeing Max dubiously when you gingerly sat next to him for the post race interview. You focused on getting through the questions, ignoring how handsome he looked in his white fireproofs, all sweaty and muscly post race, his tousled blonde locks contrasting his intense blue eyes. His large arm lay draped across the back of the couch, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating to your back even through the sofa cushions.

Again, post interview, you hurriedly sprinted away without daring to look Max in the eye. Your self control was getting more fragile every night you spent away from him. You could tell what your body ached for, with every wet dream becoming more vivid, making you ache and drip all down your legs for a man that you hated. And it was this Alpha's name was on your lips when you couldn't take it anymore, choosing to relieve the tension with a buzzing vibrator, praying that it’d be enough to settle the desperate omega inside you. Spoiler alert - it wasn’t, judging by the way you’d had to grip the interview sofa with clenched fists to stop yourself from climbing onto the man next to you and guiding his lips back onto yours, then to your neck, then maybe your sensitive nipples-

You don’t get far with that particular train of dirty thought as you’re yanked into a passing RV motor home. You'd been so distracted you don’t realise you’ve walked into the Redbull plot - and ended up falling right into the home of the one driver you'd been trying to avoid. Because Max goddamn Verstappen is in front of you, your Alpha the slutty inner omega croons, telling you to enjoy the way his strong, tall frame has you caged against the now locked door. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you immediately regret it as you get an burst of Max’s heady scent. Now carefully only taking shallow breaths, you demand he backs the hell off, because you aren’t interested in whatever games he wants to play, you don’t want him.

Really, prinses? the handsome Blonde huskily murmurs into your ear, making you tense when he bends down, inhaling your deliciously sweet scent. You nod furiously, adamantly protesting how truly, you didn’t need him for anything, you’re a strong capable Omega and the entire concept of this ridiculous fated mate bullshit is sexist and outdated-

He chuckles, voicing his agreement that you’re undoubtedly the strongest Omega he’s ever had the misfortune - or blessing, now - of meeting. A good match for the strongest Alpha here, hmm? He teases. But it’s too bad you didn’t need your Alpha for anything, he muses, because he was so ready to help his pretty little mate with anything she wanted, that she needed. Especially that ache in her virgin cunny that just doesn’t seem to go away no matter how many toys she uses?

You yelp, blushing, brown doe eyes wide as you look up at Max in shock. You're half mortified that he knew and half extremely turned on by his suggestion. You’re stammering out your questions, asking how the hell did he know about that, had he been doing some creepy possessive Alpha male stalking-

Max laughs, the genuinely happy sound sending butterflies swirling through you. The soft side to the competitive driver made you so crazy for him, for getting to have both sides whenever you wanted while the rest of the grid got his wrath. No, schat, he reassures with a teasing smile, there was no creepy stalking.

Then he explains how, leading upto the claiming, mates were often given visions when the other was thinking intensely about them - in an effort to help them find each other. And once the mating bond was complete, this two way channel became fully established between an Alpha and Omega. Like a constant shared stream of consciousness, he explained patiently, but able to be closed off when one wanted to, only leaving the most intense emotions to radiate down the bond rather than every thought. You pondered the information curiously, not having come across this in your desperate research after finding out you were Max’s mate. So, this means I could technically get inside your head during a race and figure out your race strategy?

Max grins at your adorable expression, reminding you that he, too, could be inside your mental walls during a race. As you pout cutely, cheeks puffed, he can’t resist the urge to gently press a kiss to your forehead. The sweet gesture makes you tense again, but this time it's because you’re about to cross the line you’d told yourself you were never going to do again. You couldn't resist your desire for your Alpha in this moment, not when you've spend night after night failing to ease your frustrations and he's right here. Standing on your tiptoes, you meet Max's soft lips with your own, eyelids fluttering as his skilled tongue sweeping against yours has sparks shooting down to your aching core. As he easily lifts you up, bringing you over to the sofa and sitting you down to straddle his lap, you remember a missing detail in his explanation. You didn’t say, you say with a blush when he pauses your steamy make out to toss his fireproof shirt off, noting how you’d cast a wandering gaze to his broad chest. Biting your lip, you continued- you didn’t say how you knew about me being a…virgin.

You look down, suddenly shy, missing the predatory glint in Max’s eye as he pulls you flush against him and devilishly purrs Oh, that? I could taste it on the slick you ruined my pants with last time, prinses. Saved yourself all for me, yeah?

Your surprised gasp is cut off by him deeply kissing you again, your hands now eagerly running along his thick, swollen shoulders and neck. Oh, the real thing was so much better than anything you could have dreamed up. You help Max undress you in between desperate kisses, an undertone of urgency to feel his large palms on your bare skin. You flush cutely under his hungry gaze as he pauses to admire the sight of you in his lap.

You're in a pretty baby pink lace set you’d had on underneath your Mercedes suit, and you let our a whine from the intensity of his darkening blue eyes. You nervously shifting your arms to cover yourself up but he doesn’t let you, keeping a strong grip on your wrists with one hand so he can enjoy the delicious view. Your Omega is going into overdrive now, and you’re desperately grinding on his thick thigh again, hoping he’ll resume running his hands along your waist or flex his thigh to help send you over the edge. But he doesn’t to any of that. Instead, he just leans back with a smug expression, enjoying the sight of you trying and failing to get yourself off on his lap.

Huffing in annoyance, you try to redirect his hands to your hips, indicating that you wanted him to take over and bounce you up and down his leg with that brutish strength of his, but he easily deflects, telling you he needed to hear the words, schatje.

Ugh, so goddamn arrogant - apparently finding out he was your mate did nothing to keep his ego in check. Make me cum, Verstappen - it’s just this once, you demand, making his eyes narrow at your bratty tone. He’d need to teach his Omega some manners, clearly. Resting his face against his propped up hand, he watches you with an almost bored look as he deepens his scent, making it even more headier and stronger. Now, you struggle to think clearly through the fuzziness you’re now feeling, overwhelmed with how sensitive you feel after inhaling him. You're dripping all over his muscled thigh as you throw your head back, whining, hoping to tempt him with your open neck. Again, Max looks uninterested by the show you’re putting on, drawling out a like I said, prinses, you’re going to have to ask me nicely.

You lose the game within seconds as you hand over the control to him on a silver platter, pleading for him to please, please help take the ache away, Max. He hides his pleased smirk behind the palm he’s leaning on, making you desperately whine for him a few more times before finally touching you.

So that’s how you find yourself spread out on his sofa, delicate bra ripped off you so he could climb on top of you to twist and lick your sensitive nipples, making you arch into his wicked mouth. He’s running his long fingers along your slit through your ruined panties, ever so gently, making you teary from how badly you need him to do more. The sight of you crying out of desperation for him turns Max on in ways he hadn’t realised were possible. He’s doing everything he can to hold himself back from ramming his hard cock into you right there, knowing you’d never forgive him for taking your precious virginity like this. So he tortures you in other ways, by kissing in between your breasts, licking at the bruises that have formed from his strong grip, and then continuing down, down, to your cute soft tummy and then-

Oh, Max! You moan his name sweetly, over and over again as he runs his large nose along your swollen folds, inhaling deeply and growling at the honey sweet, unclaimed scent that awaited him. Even then, he only pulls your soaked lacey panties to the side to leave antagonisingly shallow kitten licks.

You have no idea how he’s managing to keep his composure while you’re practically falling apart. And then he tells you that you’d been a very bad Omega, ignoring your Alpha for two weeks and then letting other horny Alphas put their dirty hands all over you. So if you wanted him to help you now you’d have to beg me for it, prinses.

You give in so easily, sultrily moaning your rival’s name as you beg Maxie, please kiss me down there, please, your tongue feels so good, I need it to cum-

Smirking at having ruined his mate, his rival like this, he stops his torture and buries his face between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man. You’re so loud, crying and begging for him as he thrusts his wicked tongue in and out your puffy folds that he has to slip his fingers into your open mouth for you to suckle on and keep quiet. As much as it drives him wild to hear your sweet moans, he’s mindful of the buzzing paddock just outside, and how anyone standing too close would only have to catch one whiff or hear one breathy moan to figure it out. He’d kill anyone who got to hear the precious sounds you were making - they're all for him, and him only. Fuck, he should have used something other than his fingers though, because now you’re eagerly sucking and drooling all over them and it’s sending lightning bolts to his already hard cock, as he imagines you sucking him there instead.

Ripping off your soaked panties, he meanly stuffs them into your open mouth, making your eyes widen but successfully muffling your moans. You don’t get to be annoyed by his filthy move, though, because he’s using his fingers to now fuck your tight pussy, hissing at how tight you were for him, prinses, you’re going to feel like heaven around his cock when he claims you.

You moan uncontrollably at the thought, fresh slick gushing out from your core and straight into his waiting mouth. You're pulling at his soft blonde locks, your teary doe eyes meeting his intense blue ones as he looks up at you, still flicking his talented tongue over your clit. You won’t ever ignore your Alpha again, hmm?

You nod frantically, breathlessly agreeing yes, yes Maxie, I promise I'll be good for you and he rewards your good behaviour with further kisses and licks along your slit, the filthy sounds of him messily eating you out filling the air. And then you're cumming, screaming his name as the most intense orgasm you've ever had overwhelms you, squirting your slick all over his lips and couch. Dropping your head back against the sofa, you struggle to stay awake as you come down from the bliss, taking deep gasps of air as Max had gently removed your makeshift gag.

After a few minutes, though, you dazedly realise that you can't close your legs because Max is holding them wide open across his shoulders, his large hands gripping your soft thighs. Lifting up slightly to look at him, you feel your face flush at the hunger in his icy blue gaze as he takes in how pretty you looked when coming undone for him. You can take another one for me, right schat? He croons, eyes never leaving yours as he smirks darkly and leans down, making sure you see him dragging his wide tongue through your puffy, overstimulated folds.

Your eyes widen again, because no, you did not think you could handle another mindblowing orgasm like that and walk out of the motorhome on two legs- Shhh, prinses, you promised to be good for me, remember? And he makes sure you stick true to your word by cumming again, desperately moaning his name, now completely ruined with the need for your Alpha.

You hadn't been able to avoid Max after that. What girl could, after having her pussy worshipped and eaten out like it was the best meal on the planet? Instead of your automatic scowl or snappy retort at him though, you now would go pink at the sight of him, at his captivating blue eyes, remembering how they'd been intensely fixed on yours as he kissed your most innocent areas. Or when you'd look at his veiny arms and thick hands, remembering how they'd held your shaking thighs open for him. No matter how many suppressant tablets you'd double up on, or deep breathing exercises you would do before entering the paddock, you couldn't keep your inner slutty Omega's desires at bay. Your team had noticed your odd behaviour too, with George sniffing the back of your neck briefly one day and commenting that you smelt different. You spun around, paranoid that your sweet Omega scent had started showing, but George had hummed thoughtfully and said you smelled deeper and warmer these days, like burnt amber. Maybe you’re going to have a second presentation as an Alpha? he joked, missing the panicked expression on your face when he inadvertently described your scent taking on Max’s whenever you two would see each other.

Meanwhile, Max’s behaviour towards you had started changing, not just behind the safety of closed doors but in public view as well. It started at the media conferences, where you two would often be next to each other as race winners. The FIA loved to stoke the flames of the Redbull-Mercedes rivalry by giving you an opportunity to argue with each other easily due to proximity. You’d both certainly fallen into the trap a few times, making news headlines and viral videos, but now Max’s aggression towards you had changed to something far more…you didn’t know how else to describe it, except for protective. Now the ones met with Max's hostility would be reporters anytime they directed sexist questions to you or implied that your driving wasn’t good enough for F1, that you were only here for representation.

You’d been very irritated at this particular theme of questioning that had starting occurring more frequently as you won more races. Distracted, you hadn’t even realised how involved your rival was getting in your affairs - until your publicist set her iPad in front of you to play the most recent viral interview. Even before she clicked play, the cover photo made your heart flutter. It was a side profile shot of you on the media couch, arms crossed and an obviously upset expression on your face as you looked on towards a rude journalist. Max sat next to you on the semi circular couch, facing the camera front on. The angle captured the way his large arm was slung across the back of the sofa to just graze your shoulder. At that time, you remember thinking his heat radiating through the cushions had felt soothing. His legs were spread apart in a show of casual dominance but the dark expression on his face clearly reflected how the journalist was going to be meeting the fangs of the Dutch Lion if he didn’t stop talking. And when your publicist pressed play, you saw how Max’s observant eyes flickered to your upset face when it was clear you’d grown sick of the tirade of frustrating questions, ones that you’d normally sassily retort to and earn laughs for, but were now getting overwhelmed with. And then he had intervened, smoothly cutting the next rude question off with a equally aggressive response, saying that really, shouldn't they be asking Max if he'd slept his way to P1 - given he actually won the race?

You'd thought for sure your publicist was suspicious there was something going on. But to your surprise she's beaming and telling you it was great PR to see the Mercedes princess get along with Redbull's Mad Max. Since it had gone so viral it wouldn't hurt for the two of you to get along and be photographed more, yes? You mutely nodded, still half bewildered that she hadn't snapped her fingers at you to say Aha! I knew it, you're his Omega! Perhaps you were getting a touch over paranoid.

So when Max had found you at the end of the day, asking if you wanted to come to dinner with him, you said yes, knowing that your PR manager would be internally giving you a thumbs up. Opening his car door for you, Max noted your glassy stare and tired expression from the race and constant pestering questions afterwards. He drove you to one of his favourite local places, a warmly lit Turkish eatery with falafel and barbecued meat. And it was discreet, too, no one looking your way which you were thankful for, given how casually dressed you were in a hoodie and jeans, too tired to dress up for any stray cameras. Max didn’t seem to mind your simple attire, of course, wearing a practically identical one. The restaurant had just the sort of comfort food you'd been craving and you moaned into your kebab, telling him thank god the Dutch had learnt to bring back food from places they'd tried to colonise.

He chuckled, giving you a warm smile that made you blush a bit from how handsome he looked. You avoided those intense blue eyes of his and tucked back into your kebab, changing the topic to ask him what his other favourite spots in the city were growing up. After paying, despite your protests to split, he offered to drop you back to your hotel. You'd had a lot more energy on the way back to take in your surroundings, noting how confidently Max manoeuvred the steering wheel with one hand as he talked, the other resting on the console. When he pulled up to your accomodation, ready to walk you in, you gently tell him not too. The media backlash would be bad towards you as a female driver if they saw you with a guy going into your hotel. Max scowled, the icy fire returning to his eyes as he was reminded of the sexist standards you'd been dealing with all day. You instinctively reached for his hand on the console, making his eyes flick towards where your small fingers grasped his much larger palm. Thank you, Max, you say genuinely, for dinner and also for helping out with the media stuff today. I can normally handle it, but today...you trail off, a frustrated look on your face. I know you can handle it, Max reassured firmly, his fingers intertwining in yours, but that doesn't mean you should always have to do it alone. Trust me, it gets old really quick. And on the days you're over it, I definitely don't mind telling all those assholes to fuck off.

You giggle at his words, telling him you know this is why they call you Mad Max, right? He watched you laugh with a pleased expression, his inner Alpha content at having taken care of his Omega. As you start to open your car door, once again turning down his offer to walk you in, you hesitate and glance back towards him. Then, quickly, almost as if you knew you would lose the courage to do it if you overthink it, you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your cloyingly sweet scent wash over him so he knows how satisfied you feel with him. And then you're sprinting out the car, hightailing it through your hotel doors with a single nervous glance backwards to Max, who watches you with suddenly dark eyes and a tight grip on the wheel.

The papparazzi don't catch wind of that night's dinner, but as Max and you start seeing each other more regularly under the guise of him taking you to his favourite restaurants, it’s only a matter of time. Pictures blow up online overnight of you two after a Spanish dinner back in Monaco, as Max caught onto your preference for spicy foods. You’re thankful that you’d chosen to dress up a bit that night, in a cute white summery minidress with tie up bow straps and matching heeled sandals. You’re admiring the shot of you, emerging first from the restaurant, thinking you actually looked pretty in the paparazzi shots for once. But your eyes widen at the second photo when you swipe next. Max emerges behind you, and his much larger and taller figure makes for a very protective figure at your back. In fact, he does look like he could be a bodyguard, with the comfortable hoodie he’s wearing that stretches across his broad shoulders and highlights his muscular build. The angle of the photo means only the back of Max’s blonde head is captured, and subsequent pictures continue keeping his face obscured but show him holding your Dior bag for you - having automatically put his hand out for it when you’d gone to the bathroom earlier while he paid. You can see why the flood of comments are asking who the Mercedes’ driver’s hot new bodyguard was?! He’s so well trained! and that this is the height difference every girl deserves!! Is she finally on a date?

You feel a bit flustered, a foreign sensation fluttering in your chest at seeing how natural you and Max look together. The viral dinner photos then turn into a full blown PR scandal the next day, where a fan leaks a picture of you two at dinner from another angle. You're smiling sweetly up at Max when he opens his car door for you, his large palm resting gently on your lower back. This one was a bit harder to explain, and you anxiously bite your lip as you scroll through the new comments, which say things like the mystery Blonde bodyguard last night was MAX VERSTAPPEN??? HER LITERAL RIVAL THROUGH THE WHOLE ROOKIE YEAR? and that this was so enemies to lovers coded!!

You don’t think this is what your PR manager meant when she said she wanted to see more positive interactions online of you with the Redbull driver. But to your surprise, she seems very pleased with the outcome. And she makes it clear to Toto and George, who both had reacted suspiciously to the pictures, asking why you were suddenly so friendly with the dickhead Alpha who’d tried to run you off the track not once but twice?

Their overprotective stances relax a little when your PR manager assures them that it was all good media and that you were acting under her orders. The Redbull team was in on it too, apparently, with both your and Max’s publicists seen giggling as they reposted various memes of the two of you being seen together. You promise Toto and George that Max has surprisingly been nothing but the perfect gentleman. But they still caution you not to let your guard down, because if Max found about about your closely guarded secret of being an Omega….

You laugh nervously, because really, the closely guarded secret was now the fact that the dominant Alpha they wanted to protect you from was actually your mate. But you hadn’t lied - Max had been acting like the perfect gentleman lately. You were surprised by how much you got along with the Dutchman these days, enjoying dinner conversations filled with your mutual interests and laughter at each other’s jokes. Racing, obviously, continued to be a hotly debated topic - but now it seemed to be less of an explosive argument and more like two good friends bickering. You told him this one night as he drove you home - that although it was obviously the right thing to do, you were still grateful that he hadn’t become the over territorial, controlling Alpha mate you’d been scared of. Actually, I - you blush a bit - I actually think this is kind of…nice. I feel like you always know what I’m thinking or feeling without me having to say it. But not in an intrusive way...It's more like knowing I always have someone who will understand?

Max grins at you as he responds warmly, reassuring that it was exactly the same for him, schat. Guess the biology of the mating system did pay off after millions of years evolving, huh? he gently teases, making you roll your brown doe eyes, but you're smiling. Turns out you spoke too soon about the Dutch Alpha, though.

Because the very next week, he pissed you off to no end, resulting in many heated arguments. It started with him pointedly glaring at one of the sponsors who approached you and asked if you’d accompany him to an upcoming gala. You said yes, of course, thinking it would be a good opportunity to source funding for your team - and your boss Toto agreed, pleased. As you got ready for the black tie evening in a hotel room upstairs from the gala in the ballroom, your stylist ducked out after getting a phone call. You assumed she’d returned a few minutes later when you hear the door open, and you called out that you’re In the bedroom, could you please have a hand zipping up the dress?

You’re standing in front of a floor length mirror, pressing your hands to your full chest to hold up the off shoulder beautiful silk evening gown you were wearing. Your doe eyes widen in surprise when it’s not your stylist, but a tall figure dressed impeccably in a well fitted suit that comes behind you in the mirror. Max!? you gasp, confused as you whirl around at his sudden appearance and ask him why he was here. He explained that he’d run into your stylist in the elevator, and she said she had some emergency or the other…asked me to come up and give you this. He holds up a velvet jewellery box, clearly containing the matching accessories for your outfit. Your stylist had mentioned earlier she’d loaned the perfect set of jewels to match the opulence of the gala.

Oh, you say, blushing a bit at the new development but declining when he notes your expression and offers to go hunt your stylist back down. No, that’s okay, I’m sorry to ask but would you mind…you trail off, feeling shy about asking him to zip you up. Despite how steamy things had gotten between the two of you before, this felt far more romantic and intimate. Max hmms, his deep voice rumbling through his broad chest, and gestured for you to turn around with an unreadable expression on his face.

You try to keep you eyes firmly on the ground, staring at the sparkly strappy heels you’re wearing, but you can’t stop your gaze from looking up when you feel Max’s large hands brush against your silk dress. You find his intense gaze is already on yours when you meet his blue eyes through the mirror. He slowly slides the zip up, and you swear you can feel static electricity crackle from how much tension is in the air. When he reaches the top, his fingers brush against your bare back, making you gasp as a jolt runs through you.

Sorry, he murmurs, eyes still locked in on yours through the mirror, but he doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest. His heated gaze then wanders over your smaller form, taking in your blushing face and soft curls that are pinned up, how your dress fell attractively off your shoulders, revealing your elegant neck and collarbones. His gaze lingers there for a long moment before it moves down to take in how your luscious curves are highlighted in the flattering, tight dress. You feel flustered by Max’s attention on you when you’re dressed like this, and quickly busy yourself in opening up the jewellery box - only to gasp at the diamond set that’s revealed.

Where on Earth did she find this? you saw in awe, entranced by the multiple sparkling diamonds that make up the choker-style necklace. You’d have to give your stylist a raise, because you’d never seen such a unique and lavish cut of jewellery in any store. Max shrugs, expression inscrutable as he watches you admire the jewellery you were going to wear tonight. When you struggle to clasp it together behind your neck, shyly looking up at him again in the mirror, you find him already watching you again. He offers his hand out to you for the necklace. May I?

If there was tension before, now it’s so thick that you would need a knife to cut through it. You watch Max’s massive, veiny hands brush across your collarbones as he loops the necklace around. You’re expecting his touch this time, but it doesn’t make it feel any less electric. Warmth spreads through you at seeing how small and delicate your neck looks with Max’s palm across it - a far more effective choker than the delicate jewellery he clasps, you think, unable to suppress the desire that’s swirling in you. Max’s lips are almost brushing your ear from how close he’s standing as he leans down, the high heels you’re wearing giving you a boost to meet the much taller Alpha. And he looks so handsome tonight, his dark suit accentuating his thick legs and swollen biceps, contrasting against his light features and gorgeous blue eyes. You can’t deny that the Dutch Lion is an incredibly attractive man, just your type.

All done, he whispers huskily in your ear, almost teasingly brushing his fingers along your bare collarbones and making you flinch before he pulls away, smirking lightly at your reaction. You look so beautiful, schat he murmurs lowly, the sight of you in the diamonds and silk positively angelic. You turn to face him, wanting to say thank you but the words become stuck in your throat as you see how dark his blue eyes are. Your lips are tantalisingly close, and for a second you’re both leaning in, breaths mingling-

When your stylist loudly re-enters the hotel room, full of apologies for her absence. You immediately move away from Max, avoiding his eyes, the moment broken and your heart racing as you let yourself be guided out the door. You avoid Max like the plague the rest of the evening, rattled by how overcome you’d been earlier, ready to kiss him not in a moment of your usual sexual frustration but rather out of genuine passion. You aren’t ready to admit that you’ve started to feel something deeper for the Alpha, terrified of what it would mean for the future. So you laugh and charm your way through many conversations with sponsors throughout the night, diligently staying by your date’s side, even when you can feel Max’s sharp eyes narrowing at your back and sending shivers through you. Your date is certainly taken with your dolled up appearance, complementing you endlessly. You notice early on he keeps glancing down repeatedly at the stunning choker you wore, like many of the partygoers who’d been admiring it. Assuming that maybe he’d been the one to loan out the set to your stylist for the night, you thanked him for it, but with a strained smile he tells you it wasn’t him. He excused himself, saying that you had his apologies, he wouldn’t have asked you to accompany him tonight if he’d known.

You have no idea why your date was suddenly acting strange and decide to get some air on the balcony, the refreshing night breeze blowing across your warm cheeks. You’re tracing the necklace, perplexed at why everyone seems enamoured with your choice of jewellery tonight. Sure, the diamonds were luxurious, but this was a charity gala in Monaco - surely the guests were used to such opulence?

You feel the hair stand up on the back your neck before Max joins your side, murmuring that you didn’t look like yourself with such a serious expression instead of your usual shit-eating grin. What, scared off your date already? You’re pulled out of your train of thought immediately, the earlier tension with him diffusing as you scowl at his teasing - but there’s no real anger. You end up talking to him for over an hour on the balcony, laughing and enjoying how easy conversations with him are compared to the more stifling, tedious ones you’d been having indoors. As you’d gone to bed that night, you found yourself feeling happily content with the recent development in your relationship with the Dutch Alpha.

But that all changed the next morning, when you woke up to a million notifications buzzing on your phone - the latest one being an ominous “Call me” from Toto. Confused, you start going through your social media, trying to make sense of what’s happening - and your doe eyes widen in shock when you realise just why everyone had been unable to stop looking at your neck last night. Because it turns out the stunning jewels you had been wearing weren’t just some loaned Tiffany’s set your stylist had picked up. No, they were none other than a custom-made, half a million Euro worth, piece of aristocratic jewellery that had been passed on from Omega to Omega in Max Verstappen’s family.

The media had gone ballistic. Headlines like Mercedes rookie driver looks dazzling in Verstappen family jewels and F1 champion Max Verstappen lays claim on his rival driver! fill every newspaper, magazine and gossip forum. And to make it even worse, there’s an undeniable chemistry in the accompanying photo someone had taken of you two on the balcony that night. You look the very picture of a mated couple with how close you stood, him leaning down to intently watch you talk animatedly about something. And those godforsaken diamonds glimmered around your bare neck for all the world to see, proof of his claim on you.

As if you would ever accept the title of being a Verstappen Omega after what had happened to Max’s mother in the very same career.

You’re so incredibly pissed that you’re seeing red for the next few hours, ready to go knocking at Max’s apartment and scream at him for setting you up like this. You had no idea why he’d done this, and with a start you realise the horrible emotion you’re feeling is betrayal, because you’d thought Max actually understood and respected your ambition to be a F1 driver. So instead, you block all his calls when he finally wakes up that morning and decide to see your boss, knowing it’s time to have a long overdue conversation.

Toto watches you silently as you stand before him in his Monaco office, taking a deep breath before confessing that you’d found out soon after your presentation that you had a true mate. Unfortunately, that mate just happened to be Max goddamn Verstappen, and you had no plans to proceed with any sort of relationship with him whatsoever, you tell Toto firmly. I admit my recent friendship with him made me lower my guard, but now- your voice trails off, the hurt clear in your voice, before it becomes resolutely firm again. But now it’s crystal clear that the only thing I should be focusing on is the championship.

Toto closed his eyes with a sigh, leaning forward and pinching his nose. He didn’t speak for a few minutes and you nervously shuffle, but you never anticipated what he said next. Because instead of firing you or yelling at you for hiding this, he said that there was no point running away from your true mate - even if it was an Alpha as distasteful as that brutish Redbull upstart, he says venomously. But despite his sour tone, your boss explains that you two had been lucky to find your true mate at such a young age - he’d had to wait till his second marriage before he found Susie, he reminds you.

You frown, not having expected your normally strictly professional boss to give you personal advice. You’re a great driver, Toto says, ruffling your hair. I admit, I am not a fan of your choice of boyfriend, but if you two have already known you were mates for months and your performance has been outstanding…I have no issues with it. You widen your eyes, immediately protesting and saying Verstappen is absolutely not my boyfriend-

Sure, sure your German boss says, rolling his eyes and showing you to the door. Just be thankful that all this media exposure about you two being a couple actually seems to be drawing the sponsors in instead of scaring them off, like we’d thought.

He cuts off your adamant refusal with a gentle push out his office door. See you at the practise track on Monday, da? Don’t come smelling like that Dutch dog. He closes the door in your bewildered face, muttering something about how kids these days will be the death of him.

Reassured that your job was still secure for now, you take a moment to recheck your phone which you’d been anxiously avoiding all morning. To your surprise, you found that Toto had been right - while there were obviously some negative and sexist articles about you sleeping your way into F1 and seducing the drivers, the overwhelming majority of the media seemed to be going crazy with excitement at the prospect of the first couple who drove within F1 together. It seemed the public still believed you to be Unpresented and romantically involved with the Alpha Redbull champion. They media had not yet caught onto the fact that you were actually Max’s Omega - but you knew it was only a matter of time before that secret was out in the open.

Determined to delay that particular PR scandal for as long as possible, you finally return to your apartment, already knowing who would be waiting. Max stands with a tense jaw and crossed arms outside your front door, immediately turning towards you as the elevator doors ding open. You pointedly ignore him as he begins talking to you animatedly, instead unlocking the door and walking into your apartment. He follows you in, apologising about what had happened but you’ve tuned him out, looking disinterested as you slip off your sneakers and head to your kitchen. Max’s yapping trails off at this point, the normally in command Alpha now appearing uncharacteristically nervous as he looks at you.

Schatje? Can you say something? He says, looking worried now. If you weren’t so mad, you think you might even find his soft blue eyes and scrunched brow rather cute. But you’re still very furious, letting Max know just how fucked up it had been to find out the necklace you’d been wearing had actually been his goddamn family heirloom. Wearing his choker around your neck like a collar, what, like I’m your property? A pretty pet to be put on display for the strongest Alpha? Not to mention that it’s been worn by all the Omegas in your family, you hissed at him. You’re lucky no one has started accusing me of secretly being one yet!

Max absorbs all your anger, apologetically telling you he admits not disclosing history of the necklace had been a bad idea, a mistake that he promises he would never make again. You can feel the genuine sorrow and guilt at having hurt you radiating off him. Feeling calmer now, you ask him just why he’d given you the choker to wear. You’re not my property, Max says firmly, blue eyes now steely. And I wouldn’t ever want you to feel like that. But you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I wanted to make that clear to any other Alpha who may be...interested. And trust me, there were more than a few.

Your jaw drops as you realise his intentions, and you’re completely floored. So basically, you were just jealous I was there with another guy? A sponsor? Max runs a hand through his tousled locks, now looking a bit embarrassed and you finally take in his appearance. He was still dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, with cat slippers - clearly having gotten straight up and driver to yours. Despite your initial anger, you feel yourself soften a bit when he tells you it was mostly just instinct that made him take the necklace out of the family safe when he heard you’d be attending with a date. If I couldn’t be seen publically as your date, then I wanted to be able to offer you something else - and that necklace has been gifted to the Omegas that the Alphas in my family have been courting for the past few hundred years. Not as a collar of ownership - he adds hastily, already knowing where this could end up - but rather an offer to you that I could provide and take care of you however you like. If you’ll have me, of course. His blue eyes find yours, studying your reaction closely to his tempting invitation.

You take in his words, finding a warm flush spreading through you at the foreign idea of having an Alpha like Max promise his loyalty and dedication to you, and only you. There was something about your normally prideful rival admitting his jealousy, his possessiveness, that awoke your inner Omega. She purred at the thought of your Alpha wanting to publically declare you as his, consequences be damned. You decided to move on for now, telling him wryly that next time there might be better ways of handling his jealousy than pawning out his half a million Euro necklace.

Smiling, relieved at your extended olive branch, Max can’t resist a cheeky you’d seemed to love the diamonds last night though? You flush at the teasing, telling him there was no need to bring that up and that reminds you, it was way to expensive to just be sitting on your dresser like that and you needed to return it-

Keep it, Max says, icy fire in his eyes now as his usual assured tone returns. It was almost meant to be gifted to my Omega. It’s yours, now, just like the rest of me. Your heart flutters at his declaration, and you counter that okay, okay, but could he at least store it in his safe again for now, you did not have the contents insurance to cover it if you got robbed? Conceding, Max agrees to your compromise, and your offer to stay for breakfast as well.

Smiling at how adorably excited he looked after earning your forgiveness, you’re humming to yourself as you return to the kitchen after collecting the necklace from your bedroom. You find Max standing still, a small bottle in his hand - that you realise were actually your heat suppressants. He looks perplexed at the label, looking up at you, asking Why you had these? You feel defensive at his demanding tone. What? Obviously I’ve been taking them this whole time, especially with the way you keep trying to rile me up every race.

Max looks completely floored at the new information that you’ve been suppressing your scent, your biological reactions to him. And then he connects to dots to say you hadn’t had a real heat then? After your presentation? You eye him a little suspiciously, asking him where he was going with this but he impatiently prompts you to answer him. I haven’t, you huff, cheeks pink. I haven’t had my first heat yet.

Max’s blue eyes darken at your words, his grip on the bottle tightening so much that it actually gets crushed under his hand. He tells you that you should stop taking these suppressors immediately, that delaying your heat was going to make it much more painful for you when it finally happened. You should pick a safe time and place to come off them, let your heat happen naturally and-

No fucking way, Verstappen you say, rolling your eyes. What, just cause you want to hear me beg for your help again, huh?

Yes, Max says rather straightforwardly. I’ve been dreaming about the day you let me claim you properly. You blush a bright pink, hating how your stomach did backflips at his possessive words, remembering how insanely mind-blowing your sexual experiences have been with him so far. You can’t deny that it's been a recurring theme in the vivid dreams you've been having, that have become more and more frequent and realistic every time. They've left you wondering what your first heat would be like...and how it would feel if you let Max fuck you through it.

But still, you firmly deny his proposal, telling him to shut up because there’s no way you can stop suppressants in the middle of the season. He wisely chooses to bite his tongue at your raised eyebrow, instead putting himself to work mixing pancake batter before you kick him out, still irritated with his thoughtless demand of stopping your suppressants.

But your words come back to haunt you much sooner than you anticipated - two race weekends later. You've been avoiding coming within a 10 feet radius of Max, especially with how rabid the media have gotten, wanting to interrogate the two of you on your relationship status. You only give brief, clipped media-trained answers, saying you were here to be a racing driver and not some gossip column celebrity.

It's almost hilarious how quickly your facade crumbles, barely onto Lap 11 of the race. You'd already been feeling unwell in qualifying the day before but chalked it off as nerves from the scrutiny of thousands of eyes on you. You even took a triple dose of suppressants that morning, blatantly ignoring the health warnings on the label. You'd had to get a fresh supply after Max practically crushed all your old ones to dust, and you scowl just thinking of the memory. Goddamn arrogant Alpha, thinking it all revolved around him, around the relationship - when your first priority was always going to be the world championship. Just like you were certain his priorities lay. Why should you have to sacrifice your career just because you're an Omega?

The universe laughs at your determination, and on that fateful Lap 11 the rising dizziness you'd been feeling becomes stronger as you approach your rival's Red Bull car ahead. The closer you get to him, the more your head spins, and as you come within a couple metres - the crowd screams in excitement and shock as an involuntary shudder through your body almost makes you spin out.

And suddenly you can't breathe, or think, or do anything else because it hits you all at once. Max. Your inner Omega croons, calling out for her Alpha, the man preselected to provide and care for her in every way. And somewhere on the other end of the bond, you feel that heady, intense aura of your mate responding to the call. I'm right here. You're safe.

You almost lose all control of your car as the most intense, burning need you'd ever felt in your life overtakes you completely. And you only want one thing - your Alpha, Max. With a screech of the tires, your car goes barrelling into the barricades, safely cushioned amongst the rubber. Luckily, you aren't hurt, dazedly yanking off your wheel and belt as you stumble out of your car, ignoring the frantic messages over your team radio. You keep your helmet firmly on, trying desperately to focus on taking one step in front of the other and get off this track, no longer caring about the massive fine you were going to get slapped with for disrupting the race.

You barely remember what happened next, keeping your eyes closed and clenching your fists because of how much your head pounded. Blood rushes to your ears, your veins chanting for Max, Max, your Alpha, you needed him-

Your team is tripping over themselves in a rush to come grab you as you stumble to the Mercedes garage. But when quite a few of them freeze, staring at you in shock, you finally realise that you couldn't hide your secret anymore. Because the delicious, sweet scent of an unclaimed Omega in her primal heat radiated off you in thick waves. You're crying at how distressed you feel, thankful for the helmet hiding your reaction. Toto appears at some point, pulling you into his side to navigate through the crowd. There's people talking around you rapidly but you can barely piece together their words, and then you hear Toto's strong voice cutting through it, speaking to you with his authoritative voice. Your Omega hones in for a second, taking in something about getting you out of here, to a safe location for a few days- but then you lose interest, because this isn't the Alpha that you so desperately wish was by your side right now.

You're being led quickly to a discreet car around the back end, and your boss is impatiently ushering you towards it, pausing for a second to yank your helmet off so you can hear him better. Bad, bad idea - he takes one look at your flushed, dazed face before he swears, stumbling back when your sickeningly sweet smell hits him now that your neck is exposed. You reach out instinctively, wanting him to stay by your side and protect you through this confusing mess but he turns around stiffly, pressing his hand to his nose to block out any scent.

Your manager - a Beta - steps in and guided your distressed figure into the backseat, whispering reassurances to you that it was all going to be okay. The last thing you remember is Toto's face as he turns to see your car drive off, his face tense. With a jolt, you realise that the unfamiliar darkness in his eyes was a response to your heat, because it was so strong it had even affected a mated Alpha.

A few hours later, you're well away from the racetrack. Your manager had somehow managed to smuggle you onto an emergency chartered jet to take you back to Monaco. But instead of letting you rest in the comfort of your apartment, she insisted you go shower and clean up while she packed a bag. You spend a good 30minutes under the icy cold shower, enjoying the relief against your skin which had started to become very warm. But your temporary relief is put to an end when you're once again ushered out, into another car, and then she's driving you out towards the Italian farmlands outside of the city.

You don't recognise the double storied terracotta house she pulls upto in the late afternoon, in the middle of a sprawling vineyard without any other houses visible for miles. You confusedly ask her what was going on as she helps you into the house, letting you rest on the sofa as she makes sure all the windows are locked shut. Turning on the AC to maximum, she turns to explain you were in a safe house, a good 45 minutes away from the nearest inhabitants of a rural Italian village.

It's actually a very cozy place, with a traditional exterior but modern interior, the kitchen fully stocked and high grade security locks on the windows and doors. For you to spend your heat safely, your manager says firmly. She makes you promise that you'll stay inside, and not to be scared, because no one knows you were here - not even Max. She hesitates, then, looking sympathetic at your flushed figure as you start burning up uncomfortably despite the aircon. It'll be a painful, getting through this first heat alone. It's a pity you and Max weren't able to work it out before it started...but maybe next time. Leaving your phone plugged in for any emergencies, she leaves, telling you she'd return in a week's time.

And then you're finally alone. The sheer exhaustion of the day hits you, the realisation that the whole world had seen, had smelt the secret you'd been hiding. You fall asleep on the sofa, wanting to forget it all and escape. When you wake a few hours later, the sun is setting over the horizon. You're not sure what woke you up, and then your brain catches up the suddenly unbearable heat radiating from your body. You shrug out of your outer layers, still panting despite being left in a thin camisole singlet and tiny shorts. You needed some air, it was so goddamn hot -

Ignoring your manager's warning, you unbolt the front door and step outside into the dusky twilight. Your senses are still muddled, feeling fried from the aching heat, but then a few seconds later you feel yourself regaining some clarity. You think it was the evening breeze that soothed you - but your inner Omega hones in on something else carried over in the breeze. A smoky, amber scent fills you senses, and makes you suddenly gush an embarrassing amount of slick into your panties.

And when you turn to look at the source, you see your Alpha agitatedly prowling towards you through the grapevines, his dusty Jeep parked haphazardly behind him. He comes to a stop a few metres away, watching you intensely with a tilt of his head, his own chest rapidly rising with deep pants. The sight of the Dutch Lion has the desperate need to be fucked going overdrive within you, and his low growl carries across the gap as he catches a hint of how delicious your slick in heat smells. Missed me, my sweet Omega? Max murmurs, velvet voice deep as he takes in your bare neck and inviting breasts as you breathe him in.

But your little game isn't over yet, and in the brief moment of sanity you're asking him how the hell he had found you? Eyes darkening at your shaky voice, ice blue eyes roaming over your barely dressed figure, he huskily murmurs a What do you think? I just followed the delicious scent of my Omega in heat. There was no way in hell I was finishing that race as soon as you called for me through the bond.

Your heart beats even faster at his confession. You hadn't known the Dutchman had given up his position in P1 to come to you. You'd find out later too that the Redbull driver had stormed into the Mercedes garage minutes after you'd left, demanding to know why you'd been smuggled away from him. And he'd taken one look at Toto Wolff's face, seen his eyes overcome with desire at smelling you, Max's Omega...and promptly seen red. It had ended up taking 4 Alphas to separate the Dutchman from the German team principal, and that was after Max had gotten three strong blows in. The FIA were going to be gleefully rolling in cash from the amount of fines they were sending the latest grid couple's way.

But you weren't aware of any of that in the present. All you could think about was how he'd made you wait hours today. It had been pure torture when he should have been by your side, reassuring you, taking care of you in the way only he can. You test him one more time, telling him if he'd come all the way here thinking you were going to get to fuck me then he was going to be disappointed. You weren't going to let an Alpha who was late to his mate's first heat lay his claim, you say with a sniff.

You smirk coyly at the warning rumble in Max's chest at your stubborn challenge. Then, in an instant, you're taking off, sprinting like a wild rabbit through the vineyard fields as the full moon lights the way. Your body is moving on instinct, and you've heard of this before, the Priming - the final test an Omega performed to see if the Alpha was able to keep up with her, to catch her successfully and make her his mate.

You laugh excitedly, the sound travelling in the air, when you look back and don’t see him anymore. You think you've outsmarted him when you cut through a hidden pathway, almost at the edge of the field and into the woods-

When a large, muscled arm knocks the wind out of you when it wraps firmly around your waist and yanks you back. And then you’re pressed into a warm, hard body with a possessive hand snaking around your neck, and you know your game is over. You gasp when Max bends down to your level, your tiny frame barely brushing his upper chest. He turns your chubby cheeks with his large hand to meet his intense, hungry gaze. The last flecks of the beautiful ocean blue have completely disappeared as darkness swirls in Max’s eyes. I’m going to claim you now, my sweet little Omega he purrs, enjoying how your tits bounce up and down as you pant in response to in his intoxicating, dominating scent.

And when you bite your lip, your doe eyes completely glazed over with lust as you tilt your delicate neck back invitingly, he knows you’re finally all his. Licking a stripe up the column of your throat as a teaser of what was to come, he smiles at the shaky hitch in your breathing. More slick drips out of you, drenching your panties and making you press your thighs together desperately. Smirking now, he teases you as he presses that big nose you adore against your collarbone, his deep accented voice murmuring against your feverish skin. You’re so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you there yet. Didn’t I tell you this would happen with those fucking suppressants? But my Omega is just too stubborn to listen to me, hmm?

He teases you more, his voice husky and magnetic as he moves his lips by your ear to whisper into it. What do you want me to do about this mess, schat? You can’t take this torture any longer, and with a whine you wrap both your hands around his thick, veiny forearm to pull it from your waist and instead cup your soaked core through your thin shorts. Max, you whine, Maxie, Maxieee, yo-you’re gonna take care of me, right? Like a good Alpha? You promised you would when you gave me the necklace!

Your desperate pleas have him growling, and he lifts you up easily to toss you over his broad shoulder. You squeal in shock at the sudden change in position as he stalks off back to the house, locking it firmly behind him once past the front door. And then there’s nothing standing in the way of his large hands exploring your sensitive body, the only salvation to your burning fever. His strong hands easily rip away your camisole, your shorts, and his eyes - that are completely black now - hungrily roam over your heaving tits and wet cunny. He inhales deeply as he climbs on top of you, taking in the scent of his sweet Omega as she begs for him to claim her.

And this time, he wasn’t going to stop until his cock was buried deep inside your pussy, and his fangs on your exposed throat as he leaves his mark there for the world to see who you belonged to.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Tysm for ur patience guys sorry this took so long 🥹🥹 hope u enjoy!!! Love me some primal feral max can't believe i wrote 10k lol. was gonna split it into part 2 and 3 but was like nah ya'll have waited long enough x

[csuitebitches]

Fearless Social Confidence: Strategies to Live Without Fear, Speak Without Insecurity, Beat Social Anxiety, and Stop Caring What Others Think - Patrick King book notes

Socially confident people:

expect to be accepted. When they meet strangers, they expect to make a good impression. They never approach situations thinking, “What if they don’t like me?” Instead they think, “I hope I like them.”

evaluate themselves positively. Socially confident people are encouraging, positive, and accepting of themselves. They give themselves leeway not to be perfect and don’t beat themselves up too harshly when they are not.

feel comfortable around superiors. Socially confident people feel comfortable because they don’t feel threatened, or that their flaws and vulnerabilities will be highlighted by the other person’s qualities.

With a lack of social confidence, you are usually choosing the thought that is cruelest to yourself.

when navy SEALs recognize that they are feeling overwhelmed, they regain control by focusing on their breath—breathing in for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and then out for four seconds, and repeating until you can feel your heart rate slow down and normalize.

Core beliefs: 

Steps in a thought diary entry can be arranged in the easy-to-remember A-C-B format—

Activating Event. Note down the event/ situation. This is simply the origin point of your emotional change. It’s whatever caused your emotional status to change from calm to agitation (a memory, a song, etc).

Consequences. In this step you identify the specific emotions and sensations that arose. These could be simple feeling words— “anxious,” “unhappy,” “sickened,” “panicky,” “melancholy,” “confused,” and so forth.

Beliefs. This is where the action begins. How do you link the activating event with the consequences? What unconscious narrative or story about yourself was told to achieve the consequence? (“What was I thinking?”  “What was going through my head when this happened?”  “What’s wrong with that?”“What does this all mean?”  “What does it reveal about me?”)

Now you’ve gotten to the bottom of your situation and figured out what your core beliefs are.

The first step is writing down one of the core beliefs you’ve just uncovered. Ask yourself what experiences you’ve had that prove your core belief wasn’t always true. Generate as many experiences as you can and be very specific about what happened.

Write down the core belief you’re examining.  Think of ways that you can put that belief to the test. These are actual tasks that you can perform.  Then, write down what you expect or predict will happen after conducting these tasks if your core belief was true.  Perform the tasks.  Write down what really happened after you completed your task.  Compare and contrast your predictions with what actually happened. Finally, document what you learned from the task and come up with a new, more reasonable core belief that goes in line with your discoveries.

Bushman’s results imply that sometimes the best course of action after being provoked to anger is to just sit quietly and let it pass.

There’s a direct link between social anxiety and negativity. A 2016 Australian research study showed that “elevated social anxiety vulnerability is characterized only by facilitated attentional engagement with socially negative information.” Obsessing over negative details—including by constantly talking about one’s problems—only reinforces one’s social fears and does nothing to inspire real confidence in a social setting.

Personalization is the mother of guilt. In the cognitive distortion of personalizing, you feel responsible for events that cannot conceivably be your fault. While it is admirable to take responsibility for your actions, there are things completely out of your control: the subway schedule, other people’s actions, and a million day-to-day factors.

Common cues of overgeneralization are “always” and “never.” When starting a sentence or a thought with “always” or “never,” consider whether you have the experience or evidence to back up the statement.

Other people aren't only what they are showing to the world. Most people put on a good show. But do you really know what might be going on in their private life? Take comfort from the fact that while there will be many people who are better at certain things than you are, there are also most certainly things that you will be better at.

If you are self-conscious and worried that people will judge you if you say something stupid or “off,” there's an easy workaround to that. The best approach is simple preparation. Create answers to predictable questions and conversations. Run that mental videotape in your mind about your past 10, 20, or 30 social conversations. I guarantee they are not all that different from each other.

Figure out the general questions that people will ask and the topics that will come up in normal conversation and be prepared with story-answers. For example, How was your weekend? What are you doing this weekend? How was your day? What do you do for work?

How can we ease ourselves into social confidence little by little? 

List the social situations you avoid. Ask yourself what kinds of gatherings or circumstances you steer clear of and write them all down in a list. Your list should include both physical situations—parties, family gatherings, work presentations, and so forth—and personal experiences that you don’t want to face.

Give each situation a SUDS level from 0 to 100.

Plan your goals.

Build your goal stepladder. You’ve planned a goal and have decided to start work. Remember, situational exposure is a bit-by-bit process.

[queers-gambit]

And Let Me Love You Anyway [ part two of two ]

part one: Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader -> hair color specified reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.

"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."

Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"

"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "

"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"

"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"

"I know he didn't."

"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."

You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."

"This is not about Ser Strong."

"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"

"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."

"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."

"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.

You nodded, "I know, sister."

She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."

"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."

"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."

"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.

The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.

"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"

"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"

"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"

"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.

"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.

None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.

Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.

You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.

You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."

Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.

When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!

Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."

She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.

"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.

"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"

"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."

You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...

All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.

And let me love you anyway...

You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.

However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.

You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.

When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."

"I'm not, sweet one."

"Nor so amused," you tacked on.

Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"

You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."

"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."

"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.

He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.

Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.

"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.

"Of my dear wife's passing."

"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.

"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.

"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."

"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."

You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"

His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.

The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."

"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.

"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."

Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"

You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."

"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."

"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."

Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"

"I am making an accusation."

You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."

"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.

"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."

The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."

"And?"

"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."

He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"

"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."

Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."

"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.

"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "

"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."

"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"

"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."

You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.

You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.

"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"

"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."

"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.

Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"

"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "

"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"

"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.

"Daemon, not now - "

"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"

"What? Why are you asking now?"

"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."

"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.

"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."

"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "

"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"

He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."

"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."

His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.

"Love - "

"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.

Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."

"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.

He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.

Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!

"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."

"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "

"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"

"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"

"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.

"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."

"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.

"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.

"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"

"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."

And history would never be the same.

"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"

"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."

"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"

Well, that was mildly offensive...

"Rhaenyra - "

"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"

You were honestly confused to your core.

"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"

"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.

"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "

"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."

"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"

"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.

However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."

Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"

There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"

"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "

"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."

"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.

Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"

It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.

"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.

"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."

"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."

"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.

"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"

There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.

Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.

His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.

Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"

"Father, please, let me - "

"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."

"Father!"

"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"

It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.

"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"

"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."

"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.

"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."

You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"

"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"

It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.

Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...

"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"

"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.

"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"

"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."

She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.

"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."

You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.

Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.

Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."

Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.

In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.

Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."

"A moment," Otto prevented.

"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.

"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."

"Thank you," Daemon nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.

"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.

"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.

"Bit shocked," you admitted.

"I'd say," he mused.

"It burns," you pouted at him.

"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.

You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."

"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."

You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.

"So... Your blessing, is it?"

"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."

"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."

Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."

"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."

"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.

"Of course, uh, um, Princess."

"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."

He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."

As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.

"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.

"Don't start with that."

"Mellos just called me Princess."

"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."

"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[androdragynous]

It's almost July so 'tis the season, and I haven't really seen an information post go around despite Tumblr being full of artists and OCs, so for those not informed -

What is Art Fight?

copied from https://artfight.net/info/about , illustrated by Queijac

Art Fight is an annual art game that lasts for 1 month. [ Note: usually takes place during July ] Users can register on the site to join in. Each year, participants are split into two teams to which they are assigned randomly.

[ Illustration: a furry character colored blue and a human character colored red brandish art supplies at each other like weapons. ]

Players "attack" people of the opposing team by making art of original characters you choose belonging to members of the other team. You are free to use almost any style (see Attack Rules section of the rules).

Your team receives points based on what you create for the other team with each attack.

[ illustration: the blue furry character shows off a red drawing to the red human character, who is bending down to see it and looks excited. ]

The artist that receives the attack can then counter that attack by drawing the character belonging to the person who attacked them, or pay it forward by attacking a different person on the other team.

At the end of the month, the team with the greater score wins.

[ Illustration: the red human is sitting at a table with drawing tools in front of them thinking of a blue character. They are holding a pen and looking determined. ]

But remember, while there are point scores, the real goal is to celebrate characters with your fellow artists. Art Fight is about giving and recieving amazing art. ♥

If you're interested in joining up before this year's event period starts (or during it! You can join at any time) come and take part here ! The teams for this year are going to be revealed on the 23rd, so you have plenty of time to add your characters and scope out potential targets :3c

Extra info:

Digital art and traditional art are both accepted, including sculpture, fursuits, 3d modeling, animation, and more!

There is sometimes a bit of site downtime at the start of the event as traffic spikes. This is normal, is briefer each year, and will resolve after a bit. I recommend downloading a few ref sheets in advance if you plan on drawing from the first minute

Don't start art early! It's against the spirit of the thing to sneak in extra work time. If you're just doing it to give people art, you can always make it a normal, no-points-involved gift!

Character reference images and attacks created have to be non-sexual. The site has content filter guides and submission rules that go into more detail about what is and isn't allowed!

Don't have character references finished? Here's a quick guide on what's best to include at the minimum.

my profile is @ canonkiller owo

[leovenuslatina]

BÉSAME

──★ ˙ ̟🍷 !!

THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI !!!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

what you do that turns your FS on?

🔮

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

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pile one - six of wands , queen of cups

🍀

you’re like really popular and that turns your FS on that you don’t mind being the center of attention and how many people love you make them love you that much more. you’re everyone’s favorite person including your FS. your FS loves how much you are true to yourself and how authentically you. what turns them on is how everyone wants you but he’s the only one that can have you 😏. you radiate high self esteem and how good you feel about yourself makes them feel that much better about themselves. what turns them on is how caring you are and how when i’m bed together you are very skillful in attuning life to his needs. you’re someone who is nurturing and healing to be around and a master with your hands for some reason your touch is like hypnotic to him you can literally make him do anything you want just by one look or touch. what turns him on is how well you take care of yourself yes you nurture and care for those around you but you but even more or just as much care into yourself and that’s really sexy to your FS because you give like a blueprint for how he can come in and take care of you.

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pile two - the world , page of wands

🌍

what you do that turns your FS on is how adventurous you are like you’ll literally try anything with them 😜 if you know you know ;)you’re seriously down for whatever when it comes to freak town w your FS lol he loves how you’ll throw out kinky ideas for the two of you to try and do in the bedroom. he’ll be really turned on when you buy books or send him articles about different sexual positions or just things to try to spice up y’all’s sex life. the two of you might also send freaky vids back and forth to each other like what you want to do to each other because you guys are just kinky freaks(in a good way ofc). one or both of you might be extremely hyper sexual and like will literally try to hump each other anywhere the two of you are i’m talking parties, events , bars , clubs you literally don’t care. but it turns your FS on how much you’re all over him and how much you not only tell him but SHOW him how attracted to him you are. your FS loves what a bubbly person you are and how you’re always moving and going and how impulsive you are being with you is literally a huge thrill for your FS.

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pile three - knight of swords, page of pentacles

⚔️

to turn on your FS you are very very bold ! when you want him you go for him whenever kissing him all over even peeling off clothes like you deadass don’t care even if you’re in front of people you don’t care ! you’re the type of pda couple that makes everyone else uncomfortable 🤭 (in a good way tho) he loves what a go getter you are . you may even be a little spicy and feisty and your FS finds that very hot you don’t put up with any bullshit and when you have an attitude he’s very turned on lmao. you’ll never do what you don’t want to and you know exactly what you want and that’s exactly what you get no matter what. your FS truly admires that you’re kinda stubborn and headstrong you are. you’re very quick moving and you go for things that most people might find impossible but you dgaf. i’m seeing this relationship between the two of you might also have gone fast because of you not being afraid to take things to the next level with your FS and they really appreciate you taking the lead on that. another thing that turns them on is your luxurious aesthetic and being with you feels like being on a vacation. you always look so pretty and taken care of and relaxed and he loves that about you.

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💘 for paid private readings dm me 💘

1 question - $15

2 questions - $20

3 questions - $30

long channeled message - $90

plzzz no questions about health or death ☠️

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Headcannons for how the Harbingers (Separately) would handle a reader who gets overwhelmed after being around crowds all day and wants physical contact to recharge. Oddly specific but if you feel comfy writing thus I'd love to see it!

this one was interesting to think about so I did only two harbingers for now but you're free to swing back around and request others as well :D i tried to pick two on opposite ends of the scale to show the difference between them, i hope you enjoy!

Warning: This post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, relationship neglect, Dottore being an ass, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Pantalone: 

Your best bet is Pantalone, as he’s the most understanding and affectionate amongst the Harbingers. This isn’t to say he’s an absolute doll, but that he’d be the most accommodating. He understands that not everyone is made for crowds and parties and the large events he typically attends, which is why he always extends the offer for you to simply sit them out. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t want you to accompany him, because there’s no one he’d prefer by his side, but he knows that you don’t do well amongst others. If you do choose to go though, he is more than happy to oblige in your need for comfort. Whether there is a ride back or merely a walk back to your shared quarters, you can expect him to be touching you in some way. 

It could be a hand holding yours as you walk down the halls back to your bedroom, it could be holding you close to his side on the carriage ride back to the palace, it might even extend to him pulling you into a secluded corner and smothering your face in feather light kisses before re-entering the party crowd.

Regardless, Pantalone is the easiest and best to ask for comfort from, his job is one of the more stressful ones amongst the other Harbingers and he’s always more than happy to allow himself some relaxation time with you. 

Dottore:

While Pantalone is the best, Dottore is on the opposite end of the spectrum. This man is too busy chatting up elites for more funding to really pay any mind to your growing unrest. If you try to talk about it beforehand he’ll simply insist you stay, rather than be a burden to him. Should you refuse to back down and go regardless, he’ll brush off any requests you make of him for affection or to leave.

If the event is taking place in the Palace, he’ll simply tell you to wait outside in the hallway and send one of his segments to collect you. If it’s away from the Palace, he’ll tell you to either suck it up or go sit in the carriage and wait for him there.

When the event inevitably ends and he is no longer preoccupied with kissing the ass of those around him, you can still expect to be largely ignored. This man is a genius scientist who is always in the middle of a huge breakthrough! Do you really expect him to drop everything to cuddle up to you because you’re too soft? If you can’t wait for him to become so sleep-deprived that he finally gives in and crawls into bed, which can take days unfortunately, then you’ll just have to make do with being comforted by one of his segments.

It’s happened enough that his segments have come to know you personally. And while they are technically still Dottore, they’re merely fragments of him that have grown into their own partial beings. The comfort they provide doesn’t extend much beyond the physical aspect, but there’s a small bit of comfort in knowing that they’re here for you. That someone is willing to give up their time to be by your side.