#Junior Assistant and more Jobs

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

All my friends in highschool were neurodivergent in one way or another

Not all of the ones I talked to outside of school were autistic but none were neurotypical

But in some classes I would have class specific friends. Like people I only really talked to when we had classes together. ALL of those people were autistic.

High school Riley did not know they were autistic

Nor did I ever seek these people out

But any time we had class together we would all just kinda group together. Like I was often the first to class on the first day and we if we were allowed to choose our own seats they would all just kinda group around me on the first day. If we had to get into groups for anything they would just kinda absorb me into their group without me having to say anything

And I have to wonder

Did they (correctly) assume i was autistic and decide to do all that on purpose

Or did they just all see me sitting as far away from other people as possible and decide they vibed with that

Either way I was always very appreciative towards them. They made the classes I assumed I would be alone in just a bit more bearable. And they never thought I was weird for not talking much at first and then oversharing once I got comfortable enough to talk to them.

[naburi]

YOU SAW US, DIDN’T YOU? PART 2

Part 1 - YOU SAW US, DIDN’T YOU?

SANA X MINA X MOMO X READER

TAGS: FOURSOME, GIRLXGIRL, TEASING, THREE WAY KISSING, TONGUE PLAY, REVERSE GANGBANG

2.3K WORDS

She felt the eyes of the part-timer surveying over her chest area, often getting her boobs “accidentally” elbowed whenever they were at work. While the other brushes her hands from her lower back down to her butt. Momo didn’t mind their antics until she found herself getting cornered by the two during a night shift.

“There are two new part-timers, take care of them,” the shift manager informed her of the newcomers, Momo has been working in this coffee shop for almost a year now. Every customer knows her well due to her “noticeable features,” wide smile, blond hair, and great personality. You can also say that new customers have become regular solely to have set eyes on the blond girl.

“Hi, I’m Sana, and I’m Mina,” the two students introduced themselves shyly. They can only work a night shift due to them having classes in the daytime. Without asking them direct questions, Momo noticed the strong bond between the two. She even laughs every time they tell her that they are dating, not knowing that the newcomers are not kidding. Few weeks passed by, from assisting customers to making coffee by themselves. The two students are able to learn the job quickly. They also become instant customer’s favorites.

Laughters and giggles filled the coffee shop whenever she served the coffee to the customers as they were hooked by the woman’s young energy and charisma. Male and even female customers are asking for her number as they want to get to know more about the light hearted woman. Sana quickly turns down these advances and always says that it’s against company rules to give private information to the customer. There’s no such rules in your coffee shop.

Awe and admiration are evident when Mina is on duty. Customers can’t help themselves take pictures of the woman every time they are in the same vicinity as her. She moves fast yet gracefully, efficient yet elegant. Like a living painting, all eyes are set to her. Look for any imperfection, you will find none. Mina doesn’t interact with the customer the same way as Sana and often just gives them a polite smile to their compliments.

The two newcomers set a more playful tone even with their coworkers, everyone seems to be more energetic when they are around, a long day feels not so tiring when you’re having fun at your work. The energy that they bring is greatly appreciated by Momo, thus letting their “unusual” antics go under the rug. There are times that the two will go to the comfort room at the same time, “playful” touching between the two, insinuating jokes, and their touchy tendencies around the blond girl.

It’s a Tuesday night, Momo noticed that there’s less customers than expected. She ordered the two to start cleaning the kitchen so that they can clock out early. Momo starts disinfecting the tables and chairs when the last customers go out. She took her time tiding the coffee shop yet there are still a few more minutes before they can finally clock out. The three of them are at the counter, Momo started leaning at it, crossing her arm under her boobs which made it more noticeable the big shape of it, her bubble butt protruding out. The two girls on both of her sides look at each other, smirking, knowing they share the same thoughts.

“Ohh,” Momo jerks as she was surprised when Sana slapped her big ass.

“You really have a big ass, Momo-nim,” saying respectfully as if she didn’t just slap her ass.

Momo asks her if that’s the reason why Sana keeps touching her ass often. The only thing the junior can do is to laugh because what Momo said is true. How can she keep her hands on a woman like Momo? Her body can compete with even the most famous adult star, like it’s made for one thing only, to be fucked. Sana gives her butt more playful slaps while complimenting how perfect her ass is. Compliments turn to confessions as her light slaps turn into groping. Sana admits how she “admires” her Senior. Momo’s face turns red with what Sana just said. She stood up straight to compose herself.

“I’m sure you caught me looking everytime,” Mina said while she moved her hand inside of the woman’s apron, caressing her right boobs over her clothes. “You didn’t even hide it,” Momo said as now her face is an inch closer to her. Mina slowly moves her lips to meet Momo’s, as their lips meet, it stays for a few seconds grasping the situation they are in. Mina moves tongue slithering between the soft lips of Momo, inviting her for a make out.

Sana positioned herself at the back of Momo, successfully removing her apron after carefully maneuvering, not wanting to interrupt their kissing. She now started to unbutton the woman’s top revealing her round mounds. Momo moans softly in between kisses as Sana is now groping her boobs. Mina notices this, quickly putting one of her nipples in her mouth. Sana moves in front of Momo to have her turn to kiss the blond girl. Sana’s tongue moving in tune with the blonde’s while Mina swirls her tongue in her nipples.

Momo’s hands hurriedly reached to play her clit as the dual sensation she is feeling right now is making her body hot. She didn’t care that they are doing it in their workplace or if someone can take a peek inside and notice the three of them. Momo can’t take it anymore as she takes Mina by her hair and moves her hair besides sana for them to have a three-way make out session, three tongues swirling in the name of pleasure, three tongues intertwined with one another.

The three of them look at each other while they are catching their breath after an intense makeout as she pushes Momo to bend down against the counter. Her arms are holding to the counter while her head is resting on it. Sana forcefully pulls her pants up revealing her wet underwear. She moves down the wet undies as she puts her tongue on her slit. Momo jerks by the sudden attack on her slit but a high pitched moan slips out of her as her hanging boobs are getting attacked by Mina’s hungry mouth. Sana grabs both sides of the big ass in front of her face to stabilize the blonde girl as she keeps jerking due to how stimulated she is.

The three hit a sudden pause as a loud honk and a roaring motorcycle engine is heard in front of the coffee shop. You are now waiting for your girlfriend, Momo, to give her a ride home, ever since she started working here. You drive her home to make sure she goes home safe. “My boyfriend is here,” She said cautiously, looking down at the two. “Let him in,” Sana smirks.

The shop door slightly opens revealing your girlfriend is wearing nothing under her apron. Her round boobs are barely covered by it, with a smile on wet lips. Your curiosity on how your girlfriend is in this situation got covered by how your mind fantasizes what you can do to her in that look. “Lock the door,” Momo said as you walked inside. The three women are standing in front of a chair at the center of the coffee shop. “Come have a seat,” Sana said to you. You are too shocked on what’s happening thus all you can do is to listen to their instructions. Mina reaches to unbutton your pants revealing your semi hard cock. It doesn’t take a minute for it to be fully erect as your girlfriend pecks it with kisses. Your girlfriend in front of you, with Sana and Mina on her side is now kneeling in front of your cock. Momo started it by putting your head in her mouth, licking it while it’s inside. Sana gives your cock a long licks as her tongue is exploring every part of your shaft. You moan as Mina is at the bottom putting your balls in her mouth as she alternately licks them.

“F-fuck,” you struggle to keep your moans until a you finally left out a loud groan. The three girls heard it and took it as a compliment. Mina is now sharing your shaft with Sana, having their tongues meet as they both lick it on each side. The two women, wandering their hands over their own body as they started to strip their clothing. Sana removes her top to play with her boobs while she is still licking your shaft. Sana noticed you staring at her body, got turned on by your lustful look. She stands up to move closer to your face. Your girlfriend tugs her pants, signaling her that kissing you is off limits.

Sana respects this as she kneels back in her position. Momo stands up to be the one to kiss you while Mina removes her pants and sits on your lap. A wet sensation in your laps made you look at Mina, grinding her wet slit in your thighs. A warm mouth also catches your attention as Sana effortlessly engulfs your big cock. Momo has been trying to get used to your sizes but Sana is out here deepthroating it like it’s nothing. This made you pull Momo blond hair to give her a torrid kiss.

Mina pulls Sana who has your cock deep in her throat to her as she wants the kneeling girl to eat her out. Mina sits on a chair beside you spreading her legs, Sana sees this and crawls in between her thighs to give her slit the tongue it deserved. Momo wasted no time sitting on your cock. Her arms on your shoulder as she slowly sits on it. Her messed up look turned you on even more knowing that the two girls are the one responsible for it. She moans as she finally puts all of your cock inside her. She started moving slowly but you're already turned on by the sight of Sana licking Mina’s slit. You grab your girlfriend’s waist and start to pound her up. Her boobs sways everytime you trust her up violently. Her messy blond hair compliments her lewd face as Momo can only moan in ecstasy. She tried to cling on your shoulder, moving her round boobs closer to you. You catch one of them with your mouth while groping the other hand with your mouth. Momo moans loudly with how you stimulate her body.

Sana wanting to join the action, moves her boobs infront of your face, this time, Momo didn’t interfere thus sucking the perky boobs of the woman. Mina took this opportunity to catch Momo’s lips and put her two hands on her erect nipples. The four of you moan in unisons. Heavy breathing, you all tried to catch your breath as you changed position. You are now standing up, your girlfriend still impaled in your cock. You carry her to a table in front you, her eyes are set on you, waiting for you to make a move. You slowly picks up the pace, fucking your girlfriend on top of the weak table. The table shakes every time you trust your cock deep in her. You worry if this continues, it will break the table but Momo didn’t care. She gives a lustful look, asking you to fuck her more through her gaze.

The two girls are watching your cocks keep disappearing inside Momo, Sana sits on the other table beside you, she brings down her pants to play with her slit. She plugged her fingers inside her while she imagined your cock pounding her. Mina wants to help the fingering woman. She puts two of her fingers to penetrate Sana’s slit. The four of you watching one another and getting turned on by the sight of the other. You’re pounding on Momo got faster as you saw how Sana is enjoying Mina’s fingers. While Mina gets turned on by seeing you fucked Momo. Your girlfriend slit tightens as she gives a long moan. “I-I’m c-close,” she said as she can’t speak properly. You hug your girlfriend’s waist to give her a harder pounding.

Sana and Mina paused for a few seconds, anticipating the orgasm of your girlfriend. All Momo can do is to let out a loud cry of pleasure as she orgasms. The two women are in awe with the sight of your girlfriend’s release. She later flat on the table as you pull out your soaking wet cock. Sana quickly moves on your cock cleaning it with her mouth while Mina tastes Momo’s slit. The look Sana looks at is enticing, her wide open seductive eyes are locked unto you while she puts your cock in and out of her throat. The both of you know what the other wants but you’re afraid to hurt your girlfriend. “Go on, Sana, you deserved it too.” Momo said while looking at the two of you.

The woman bent herself down onto the table, spreading her tight glistening slit in front of you. You aligned your tip in her slit and noticed how tight it is compared to your thick cock. “Destroy my pussy, please,” She begged. In one motion, you penetrate her tight inside, moving deeper till you put all of your cock in. “Arghhh” Sana moans in pain, enduring your thick cock. She pleaded with you to pound her now. Her inside is much tighter than your girlfriend, it likes it’s gripping around your cock to fuck her more. Your one hand on her waist while the other is holding her hair. You pound the tight woman with the last energy you have. Your cock started twitching as her walls tightened signaling the two of you are near. “Cum on her,” Mina says as she is still licking your girlfriend's slit. Sana’s moans filled the coffee shop as felt your hot cum inside flowing inside her triggering her own orgasm.

Few weeks have passed, Momo does night shifts more frequently to “supervise” the two part-timers. It’s the summer break and a new part-timer has joined their coffee shop.

“Hi, I’m Nayeon!”

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

⚔️ Task Force 141 - NFL AU 🏈

by me (sleepyconfusedpotato) and @alypink ! This AU will include some Original Characters made by us both!

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New Hampshire 141s, a new rising american football team whose players dominantly came from the United Kingdom, is ready to face the NFL season!

As the previous Head Coach, Herschel von Shepherd got fired by the General Manager MacMillan, John Price (who has roots in rugby) got chosen by MacMillan to bring the team to victory. Let us see which players caught Coach Price's eyes!

John Price (HC)

John Price was born in Liverpool, England, but moved to America when he was still very young due to his father being deployed from the military to an American base. Although his father retired a couple of years later, they decided to stay in America. He grew up loving sports as a child but American football always piqued his interest more than any other sports. He played safety in middle and high school, but in his junior year, he had Meniscal tears that prevented him from ever playing again. John was heavily depressed after his injury, one day one of his close friends, Nikolai, who was also one of his fellow teammates on his high school team, told him to cheer him up to go watch the team play or to attend the training camps, John agreed and started assisting to the games and eventually started to think about becoming a head coach. He was recommended by his former high school head coach to take the job as a defensive coordinator for the New Hampshire Wildcats, a college football team. His performance and playbook were impressive, leading the Wildcats to reach a bowl and winning it twice. He proved to be fit and ready for a professional football team in the NFL and was hired as a defensive coordinator by the New Hampshire 141’s, by the HC at that time, Herschel von Shepherd. His first two seasons were disastrous as there was friction between the players and their head coach, most of the players disagreed with Shepherd's decisions and playmaking. To add to that, he seemed to never care about the player's input or needs. Although in those seasons they held a record of 4 wins and 12 losses, the General Manager of the team noticed his defense was the best in the league for both points and yards, and also noticed that a good portion of his defense players were selected on the all-pro team of those two seasons. After the owner and GM fired Shepherd as a Head Coach, John took his place.  In his first seasons with the 141s, he restructured the team and went to playoffs and one NFC championship. As he wanted to improve his team, he started attending college football games, he attended once a college game in which he met the offensive coordinator at the time, Aly, and after the game he met her to ask about some players he was interested in on her actual team, for QB and WR positions, they became acquaintance since that day and kept communication for some time, as she sent some prospects his way. She also requested his help every now and then, making him attend her games and inviting her over to watch the 141s too. After spending time together and sharing the same interests and love for football, they started to date but kept it low as two months later, John hired her as his new offensive coordinator.

#26 Kyle Garrick (WR)

the most responsible and reliable player of the team. Kyle’s dad was an ex-WR and a former head coach out of a college football team. His father is a very hardworking man and disciplines his son like a football player, and with that, comes a great expectation for Kyle since his high school years. Kyle is extremely reliable, responsible, and respected on and off the field. He is HC John Price's favorite due to his work ethic. Kyle believes in having discipline in everything he does to be one of the best. He keeps a picture of his girlfriend, Eleanor Graham (Ladybug) everywhere, especially in his locker room as he says she brings him good luck for catching the hail mary’s from Alex.  Kyle and Alex met in Baylor University, where they played together and won many games, including several bowl games. They became best friends in and out of the football field, supporting each other infinitely. “You've got friends nearby.” On Alex’s quote, “I can throw the ball like ‘fuck it, he’s over there somewhere’ and Kyle would magically appear and catch the ball. He’s always at the right place.”

One day during practice Alex was throwing the ball too far to the left, which headed straight towards her head. On instinct and in an attempt to catch the ball, Kyle collided with Eleanor, which bruised her arms. Instead of being upset like how Kyle would expect her to react, she laughed loudly at him, saying that she chose to sit there. She knew the hazard of studying near a football field. Even though Eleanor said she can take care of her bruises, Kyle insisted on nursing her. (Alex SMILED ear to ear). They both met from time to time. Every practice, Kyle always looks for Eleanor on the side of the field. Eleanor’s laid-back personality often bothers Kyle as she's a damn med school student, but through her, Kyle learns how to slow down and live in the moment. Love bloomed between them and they became a couple midway through freshman year. 

When Kyle was drafted to the NFL to be with Alex for New Hampshire 141s, Eleanor was there with him when he received the call from HC Price. Though Eleanor has to stay in Texas to continue her studies, Eleanor travels to New Hampshire often to visit Kyle.

#31 Alex Keller (QB)

Alex is the quarterback of the 141s, second draft pick and first QB of his university. He is very skilled and hard-working, he is in love with water girl Farah Karim and aspires to be like Tom Brady. He and Kyle Garrick (WR) met in their first year of freshman in University and they played since their first year as the duo of QB and WR (Burrow and Chase vibes) and were drafted together in the NFL draft by the same team. Young duo but very effective especially during the regular season. Alex Keller met Farah Karim in his rookie season during training camp in his first year and has been infatuated with her. Since then, he has tried to score ASAP or reach 4th down so he can sit on the bench and talk with her. Whenever he can, he visits and picks her up from University and helps her out whenever he can in anything she would need.

#70 Simon Riley (TE)

Simon Riley used to be a rugby player in England. He joined the rugby team during his college days and met Price as one of his coaches, who trained and guided him to become one of the most dominant flankers in college rugby. Unfortunately, though he’s always dependable whenever he’s on the field, Simon was often riddled with injuries. His quiet personality didn’t help his case either, bearing the pain in his left leg in silence, until one day, he tore his ACL during an important game which cost the team their winning chances. Simon rested for a whole year to heal his knee. Together with his familial struggle, he contemplated quitting being an athlete. That was until Coach Price offered him a fresh start in the USA. As a flanker is equivalent to the Tight End position in American football, Price told him that he would be perfect for the role. Simon was adamant at first as he was still injured and how he’d be able to completely heal from this devastating injury. But when he said that in America they could find him a good physiotherapist to help him heal his knee, he reluctantly accepted the offer.  Simon got into the draft and was a first-round pick due to how much of a good player he was in rugby. On his first day on the team, he met the other players who got drafted, but the most important and the most fateful meeting was when he got introduced to Charlotte Le Jardin (nickname Jade to simplify her last name), a physiotherapist that Laswell had promised help him to heal his ACL and help him regain his top form. It was a rough road, but with every step he took, Jade was there to help him.  Now, every injury he has he doesn’t stay on the sidelines but goes inside the tent or the stadium so he can be checked by her. Whenever Jade’s out watching the game, he scores more than usual or gets distracted. He often carries the team, especially during the conference championship games. 

#71 Johnny MacTavish (RB)

Johnny MacTavish was born and raised in Scotland. After high school, he was offered an academic and sports scholarship to a prominent university in the USA. He began his football career when he was a freshman at University as a very talented runner, which elevated him as the starter RB on his fifth game. In his senior year he was  awarded the Heisman Trophy winner at college, but due to a shoulder injury, he missed being the top pick at the draft. He was later selected by the New Hampshire 141s and got put in as a starter as soon as he got drafted. He has good chemistry with his team but gets injured by overdoing himself or trying to tackle defensive players on the other team. He is also constantly with Jade for treatment and often misses important playoff games. Johnny is a very talented running back and that is why HC Price can’t get rid of him no matter how he misses practices and meetings and how his personal life affects his performance on the field. He always tries to take his friend Simon Riley to social gatherings and social media, but he completely shuts him down every time. That's different on the field though, as whenever Johnny's going to play a run, Simon will always be there in front of him to push the tacklers away, making way for Johnny to score a first down or a touch down. They're an unstoppable duo together. Johnny is very popular among female fans, making his jersey the one with the most sales every year. His dating story is pretty large and his games are always attended by the women he dates (which constantly changes).

some memes I made 😭

Here's the Hereford 141S' Logo and jersey design! The logo is heavily inspired by the Task Force 141's logo, so it's pretty much just a sporty twist of the logo!

More characters underneath the cut!

#11 Alejandro Vargas (MLB) and #22 Rodolfo Parra (OLB)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Alejandro and Rudy both moved to El Paso, Texas when they started high school at the age of 14 years old. They were avid football (soccer) players during their time in Mexico, but when they started High School they began to play football. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo played as Linebackers, Ale being MLB and Rodolfo being OLB. They did amazing in High School then they both received a scholarship to attend the university in Dallas, Texas. Both of them were later selected to do the NFL Pathway program, for both of them. Being together since their childhood years, high school and university they were a packaged deal and were both selected on the same team, same position on the NFL draft.  Alejandro is especially hyped when playing against Philip Graves, QB of the Dallas Shadows. They have had beef with each other on and off the field since they played against each other for the first time. Ale’s average sack during a game against Dallas is approximately 5 per game, he sometimes is way too harsh while tackling making him get a couple of flags whenever he blitzes and sacks. He’s often scolded by his friend Rudy, but he does not care as long as he can sack Graves.

Kate Laswell (Defensive Coordinator)

(Drawing to be posted!)

was raised in Virginia, USA. Both her parents and brothers loved football and so did she. Since elementary, she watched and never missed a game during weekends, she always had a fascination for the Chicago Bears and their ‘85 team. Her father told her about how that defense, without an extraordinary QB or offense made them win the superbowl and also made them the best defense of all time. After witnessing that season and that Superbowl, she fell in love with how the defense scheme in football works. Unfortunately professional football for women wasn’t an option, so she studied a lot to become a defensive coordinator. She studied day and night, memorizing the plays, analyzing games and creating new playbooks since she was young. She struggled a lot to have an opportunity since it was a male-dominated team. One of her childhood friends made it to the roster to become a defensive coordinator for the Colorado Buffaloes College Football Team, he was a good coach but not “impressive”. She supported him by attending his games but couldn't help but try to talk to him whenever she thought he could do better, often interrupting his play callings during his games to make him change the play, and it always worked. She and his friend attended a College Bowl, and met John Price at that game, the three of them watched the game and she started to tell both of them what adjustment she would do for both teams, and that piqued John’s interests as she was awfully right, he was impressed by how well she read offense’s routes and how she was able to change from a 3-4 or 4-3 to a hybrid defense. He decided to give her a chance and hired her as his new defensive coordinator for the 141’s and established a very good partnership and friendship with her ever since.

Farah Karim (Intern Physical Therapy Student - Watergirl)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Farah Karim is a university medical student who got an internship in his junior year of college to be the water girl and help around the New Hampshire  141s team. She comes from an immigrant family and is the pride and joy of her parents. She struggled so much in her younger years to pursue an education and get into a good college in the USA, she managed to get a scholarship due to her great school performance and was given the chance to work with a professional football team. She met Alex Keller after his rookie season and developed a close friendship with them that later turned into a romantic interest. She is grateful for his help and also supports him during games. Her classmates usually bug her by asking Farah to let them meet Alex or to set them up with him, which she dislikes very much.

(OC) Alyssa Martinez (Offensive Coordinator)

Aly was born in Mexico and moved to the USA thanks to a scholarship she received when she graduated from High School and moved to Texas to attend college. As soon as she graduated from Texas A&M holding a Bachelor of Science in Sport Management, she started working as an offensive coordinator at a local highschool. She then escalated to being an offensive coordinator for the College she attended. Aly managed to take the team to a College Bowl where she met 141s Head Coach John Price and became acquaintances after that game, they kept communication after that game, as Aly asked for suggestions for her playbook and she helped Price on suggesting him prospects for the upcoming draft selection and also players on free agency.  She was later hired by Price as his offensive coordinator and they began to have a low key romantic  relationship. She specializes in West Coast offense, having her team play the Air Coryell scheme. She suggested Price to draft Alex Keller as he was the perfect pocket passer that would fit their offense perfectly. She’s an avid Tom Brady fan.

(OC) Charlotte Le Jardin (Physical Therapist)

Originally from England, Jade was adopted by an American couple and moved with them to the United States at an early age. Her parents, Eli and Gracie, worked at Bravo Stadium, home of the 141s, and Jade became a constant presence on the sidelines. As time went by, the Bravo Stadium became her home. Jade started helping around the sidelines bringing water, towels, medical kits, and even helping out in the blue tent, all the while completing her college in biological science and doctor of physical therapy (DPT), and of course, licensing in Physical Therapy. When she got her license, her experience was already on par with the other physiotherapists since she had been jumping from senior to seniors, learning and practicing all she could. Kate Laswell who has been seeing Jade there since she was a teenager, hired Jade as one of the many physiotherapists for 141s, and with that came a fateful challenge: a newcomer Tight End with a torn ACL from his rugby days, who’s trying to get back to his top form in order to play in the NFL.

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PHEW so there you have it! If you've read it this far, oh my LORD me and Aly love you so much! This is a pretty severe brainrot that we had, so hope you like it!

And let's enjoy the 2024 NFL Season 🏈🏈🏈

Hope you like it! 🥰🥰

[ragingbookdragon]

A Guardian For All

TFP Optimus Prime x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Okay look, OP has a chokehold on me in all forms. Enjoy! -Thorne

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She’d somehow managed to become the in-resident mom, even though she was just in her junior year at college, after tracking down the three teens to the silo. To say it had been a surprise, to see and learn of the Autobots and the multitudes that came with the robots, would be an understatement. And yet, she fit right in, even with Miko’s constant, “She’s like a mom!” complaints.

Fortunate enough to be able to focus solely on schoolwork and not juggle a job, she was able to spend more time with the Autobots and learning about them. When the teens were there, she spent time utilizing the kitchen that was seemingly untouched by the Autobots—and why would they use it? They didn’t even consume human food. Often times, she made the three meals they had skipped in order to come to the silo and be with their guardians.

Guardians.

Jack had Arcee.

Miko had Bulkhead.

Raf had Bumblebee, and at times, Ratchet.

She didn’t have one.

Not that she needed one, of course. While she worried about the others running around with Decepticons, she felt it was the best course of action to not leave the silo all that much on missions. Typically, she stayed behind and helped Ratchet, well, when he decided he “needed” the help. She thought it didn’t bother her as much as it did until she was sitting up on the higher level, watching as the three teens played games and laughed with their guardians. Even Ratchet was smiling along with them.

“Are you in need of assistance?” A voice sounded beside her, and she blinked, looking over to meet Optimus’s gaze.

“Huh?”

He smiled easily. “You’ve been stuck on that page in your book for almost ten minutes.” His optics scanned the paper. “If I am correct, the answer for the question at the bottom is, ‘D. Administration of immunosuppressive medications.’”

She smiled, laughing with slight embarrassment, and shook her head. “Oh, no, the questions aren’t trouble.” Her eyes found the teens again. “I’m just…thinking.”

Optimus looked at the others with a calm look, an almost peacefulness. “Do you worry about them?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “But I know that they would never let anything happen to the kids.”

He looked back at her. “Then it is not the thought of them that is occupying your mind. What troubles you?”

Looking away, she scratched at her notebook. “It’s…not important, Optimus. Silly even.”

“If it is causing you this much time in thought, perhaps it is not something silly.”

Optimus was always the voice of reason, a testament to the eons of troubles he’d seen and experienced.

She let out a sigh and met his gaze once more, a bashful look on her face as she admitted, “I just sometimes think of what it would be like to have a guardian like they do, y’know? I mean, I don’t need one like Jack or Miko or Raf do, but…I don’t know, sometimes I just think it’d be nice to have that companionship, no, friendship like they do.” She waved a hand. “Just wishful thinking, Optimus.” When he didn’t respond, she looked over. “Optimus? Is everything okay?”

He seemed to be in deep thought himself but shook from it with a smile. “I’m fine, and I understand what you mean. Thank you for letting me know what troubled you. I am honored to have that trust.”

���Oh, you’re welcome, Optimus,” she murmured with a flush and grabbed her things as Raf started calling for her. “Time to head home for the night.” Reaching out, she gently laid a hand on Optimus’s shoulder. “Thank you for listening to me, Optimus. Maybe when Wheeljack gets back he can be mine,” she joked and grinned when Optimus chuckled along and helped her down to the ground level.

“Perhaps.”

***

As the Christmas season reached its peak, schools had started letting out for the winter break. Most of her class at the local university had all left early for vacations out of state, but since she had no plans to leave Jasper for the holidays, she stayed through the end of the school week.

As she joked with the few remaining friends and acquaintances as they exited the building, one friend stopped and pointed at the truck parked by the street. “Woah,” they admired. “Whose ride is that?”

Her gaze turned to the truck and widened. “Optimus?” she quickly waved and hurried to him, opening the door and climbing in, shutting it behind her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, then she started worrying. “Oh no, are the kids okay? What happened? Who’s hurt?” frantically, she took out her phone, checking for missed calls or unseen texts. “Was it the Decepticons? Or was it MECH? Or was it—”

“Peace,” Optimus calmed as he pulled onto the street and drove through the town towards the base. “No one is hurt. No attack has occurred.”

Curiously, she looked at the steering wheel. “Then why…?” then it hit her and she sighed fondly. “Oh, Optimus, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I believe it is unfair to you to feel such a difference between the others when there are more than enough guardians left to be one of yours.” His voice was calm and easy like always. “It is…also nice to spend time with you outside of missions.”

She shifted into the driver’s seat and curled her legs underneath herself, leaning against the window. “That sounds like you like me, Optimus.”

“…Your companionship is desired long after you leave base,” he murmured and she smiled, looking at the steering wheel.

“I…feel the same,” she said and gently traced the Autobot symbol at the center. “Y’know Optimus…there’s a Christmas lightshow in the next couple cities over.” She shrugged slightly. “I think the others could hold down the base for a few hours while we were out…don’t you?”

He let out a hum. “We really shouldn’t stray too far from Jasper without them.” Just as she was about to sigh and nod, he added, “But I agree, they could survive without us for some time. Besides…I have never seen Christmas lights. I wonder if they’ll be as beautiful as you are.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his words and she looked out the window with a giddiness in her chest. “You’re just pulling my leg.”

“It would be dishonorable to lie, even more so to lie about the beauty you possess,” he replied, and she could just hear the grin in his voice. “Now, what was that city, and which way to it?”

[wri0thesley]

lion tamer - jing yuan x reader (12.4k)

it's taken for granted you'll take the job that nobody else wants, whilst the general is indisposed. you just didn't expect things to turn out like this.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. chubby reader. reader is afab but no gendered terms are used. descriptions of raw meat (animals eating), food, pining, fingering, cunnilingus, coming inside. pet names including little bird, darling, little thing. reader is implied to be shorter than jing yuan.

This was a commissioned work.

It’s a quiet whisper, at first - gossip among the lower-downs of the Luofu. You hear it on the fringes and the edges, but you dismiss it as really none of your business; you’re already working harder than most everyone else thanks to the small matter of your far shorter lifespan, and you don’t intend to set yourself back by listening to idle gossip. You have other things to concentrate on; the busywork that you’ve been assigned to as a junior (very junior) member of the Seat of Divine Foresight. 

Really, though they call you a ‘non-administrative support specialist’, you know what you really are; a general dogsbody, somebody to pick up all of the pieces that others sweep by. Still; just getting a position here means you’ve outdone most people, and you hold in your heart the idea that you could get even further up this ladder of success if you simply tried hard enough. You’ve heard tell that even some of the long-life species haven’t managed to make it as far as actually working within the Seat itself, so really . . . you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself. 

Which is why you choose to ignore the swirling rumour about your esteemed Arbiter-General until you’re called into a meeting with Yong Hai himself. 

(The General is sick, the rumours say. The General may not last another day. The General’s laziness has caught up with him, the General may not make it, and what will we all do then--)

“So,” Yong Hai says, all business. “You’ve probably heard about it already.”

There’s a flare of disquiet in your gut; that the gossip and the rumours you’ve been so steadfastly avoiding are true. You don’t know what the Luofu would do with General Jing Yuan; you cannot imagine the ship and the world without him, when he has been such a stolid presence - and the way that the general public will react doesn’t bear thinking about--

“Stop that,” Yong Hai says, with an amused look in his eye even as he fights to keep his mouth in a firm, commanding line. “It’s not as bad as people are saying. The General has simply . . . contracted something that he isn’t bouncing back as quickly from as we’d hoped. We’ve had to send him off to the Alchemy Commission for a few days, just to see if we can work out how to help . . .” The secretary catches himself, clearly remembering he’s talking to someone who amounts to little more than custodial staff. He coughs. “Anyway. It’s left us in a bit of a conundrum, and after some discussion, we think you’re qualified to handle it.”

You tilt your head to the side as you try and think what you could possibly do to assist in this matter.

You’re no healer; you’re no nurse. You can’t help them figure out how to cure the General, you’re not equipped to sit at his bedside and mop his feverish brow (your cheeks go hot and your face burns at the very thought of it). You certainly can’t take over any of Jing Yuan’s actual duties. The idea of you as any kind of military strategist is laughable--

“How can I help, Sir?” You ask, partly because that is what’s expected of you and partly because you really have no idea what use you’ll be in the situation. 

“Ah,” he says, and then he coughs again - he looks into the corner of the room, as if he’s begging someone to help him, and you remember that he and his sister are most often found together. But here, it’s just the two of you, and he has nobody to help him to break whatever news he’s going to break to you. You hope it’s not going to involve cleaning up a sick-room; you’re really not good with that kind of thing--

“We need somebody to tend to his home affairs,” Yong Hai says, eventually. “He . . . Ah, look, I’m going to come out and say it. General Jing Yuan has a penchant for taking in stray animals and the like, and he only even agreed to let himself be looked at on the caveat we had to promise to find someone to look after them.”

You think of the statues of lions that decorate the place, and you feel a trickle of cold sweat down the back of your spine. You hope desperately that the secretary isn’t implying that you’re about to quite literally be fed to the lions--

“Stop looking like that!” He says, exasperated. “All of them are perfectly tame, and you’ll be in no danger. He has a . . . lion that he’s incredibly fond of. Several birds. And . . . ah,” he looks embarrassed again. “He’s informed us he usually leaves out a veritable feast for any other neighbourhood strays on his balcony, and he was very worried that they weren’t going to be properly nourished whilst he was away.”

Finches. You can do that. Neighbourhood strays - cats and dogs, you suppose - are all very well. But the lion . . .

That doesn’t matter. Yong Hai seems to have reached the end of his meeting with you, to his tangible relief. He’s already bustling about his desk and looking longingly towards the closed door. 

“A new schedule’s been drawn up for you and sent to you already,” he says. “All of the relevant information should be in the attachments! Have fun, won’t you? The General is so very fond of his pets, you see--”

Your phone beeps as if it is punctuating his point; the secretary beams at you, and you get the distinct impression you are being told to put your best foot forward and roll with the punches. ‘Get on with it’, as someone without any manners might say. 

“Understood,” you say, and you force yourself to smile and look on the bright side of things even if you’re sure you’re going to have nightmares about being eaten alive by a lion tonight. This is a post that the General wanted filled personally! This is almost as personal as someone can get to the General, actually; it appears you’ll be working in his actual home! It’s a . . . a step up! A stepping stone!

You force yourself to ignore that it is actually very much a case of sticking the lowest ranked person (and someone well-known for taking on as much as they can with cheerful aplomb, due to your fear of ever really saying ‘no’) onto the job that nobody else wants to do. 

“I’ll do my best,” you say, and Yong Hai beams at you even as he gestures for you to go and get to grips with your new role. 

Well. 

You have no other choice then, really, but to Get On With It. 

You are quite frankly terrified the next day, when you turn up to your newest duty. The documents sent to you had instructed you to pick up raw meat for the lion from the General’s most trusted supplier before you went up to his chambers; apparently, birdseed and cat-and-dog food was kept there, but the lion’s appetite could not so easily be sated. You have to give yourself a pep-talk before all of it; have to convince yourself that running away from this new responsibility would be both awful for your career prospects and terribly cruel.

“Ah,” says the supplier, when you turn up and tremulously hand over your phone so he can see the attachments displayed on the screen giving you this new Meat Power, “So you’re looking after the waifs and strays and Mimi, then?” 

“Mimi?” You ask, your voice tremulous, and he laughs as he hands over two incredibly full buckets of raw meat. It’s a good job you’re not squeamish. 

“That’s the lion,” he says. “The General tried to name her Snow Lion after he realised she wasn’t just going to be a pretty little white housecat, but . . . Mimi fits. You’ll see!”

The concept of Jing Yuan attempting to adopt a pretty little white house cat and being saddled instead with a huge lion, and having to continue to refer to the powerful beast as ‘Mimi’ despite his best efforts, keeps you entertained right up until you’re outside the door to the General’s chambers and you remember that a carnivorous predator awaits you on the other side of it.

“Well,” you say to yourself, hoisting the buckets up and taking a deep breath, “there’s no point delaying the inevitable. If I get eaten today . . .”

And you let the pass-key you’ve been given float against the sensor, until the ornate doors to Jing Yuan’s chambers slowly part and admit you into the Arbiter-General’s inner sanctum. 

The first thing that you’re struck by is how it seems that the General left in a rush. The entire place, whilst not dirty, has an air of untidiness. You hear the cheeping of finches from the first room; excitement that their Master may have finally returned to play with them. You can’t help but feel sorry for them - from what Yong Hai has said, it may be quite a while before Jing Yuan is well enough to return to his home. 

There are touches of the General everywhere, now that you’re looking. Delicate flowers (you’ve heard he likes small, delicate things, and you can’t help the nervous tug at your clothing as you consider just how indelicate you find yourself). Ceramics and porcelain that you fear are so fragile they may shatter even under your gaze. An unfinished game of star chess, a coffee cup left half-drunk . . . That last one could fetch a fine price in the black market. You’ve heard those traders hawking ‘tissues used by Helm Master Yukong’ or even ‘a book enjoyed by General Jing Yuan’s protege!’. 

Before your mind can lead you too far down that dangerous path, though, the lady of the hour appears. 

She’s beautiful. 

You have to stop yourself gasping aloud. Any fears you might have had seem to fall to the wayside, unimportant, compared to the majesty of the lion before you; the pure white fur, the wise face, the mane that fluffs out from her. She’s pure white; lean, but perhaps with a little pouch at the tummy. Not a single snarl or tangle mars her fur, not a single speck of dirt upon her, like the false moon looking down upon the Luofu--

She sees that you’re holding two big buckets and seems to recognise them, because it’s barely a breath before her ears twitch and she pounces like a kitten, seemingly not realising that you are smaller than her owner and she is far larger than the average kitten is. All of the wind is knocked out of you as you cry out her name and are tackled to the ground. 

You find yourself beneath the warmth of her body, a sweet scent emanating from her fur as if the esteemed General regularly bathes and shampoos her. Delighted, she sticks her snout right into one of the buckets. A low, pleased rumble emits from her throat as she works her teeth over the meat--

You reach up, hesitantly, with the one arm that isn’t pinned by the great weight of her. Your fingers hover for a moment, unsure of what to do - is she like a cat? Does she prefer chin scratches or ear scratches?

You settle for a very light pet at the side of her mane, just by her face. Her fur is just as soft as you had thought she would be - a lady who is clearly incredibly spoilt. Well-cared for. You have another flash of a vision of Jing Yuan - combing her mane, tying a shiny ribbon about her neck to match the ribbon he wears in his own hair. 

Mimi pauses in her enjoyment of the food. Your breath catches in your throat, all of your senses on a sudden high alert - what if she didn’t like being touched like that? What if she’s about to mistake your hand for a part of the buffet you’ve brought her?

A moment that seems like an hour passes.

And then she leans into your hand with a pleased rumble-squeak-growl, her eyes closing in pleasure, and despite how your heart is beating and your legs are aching from the way she’s twisted them and trapped them beneath her . . . you smile. 

For the first week, every time you let yourself into Jing Yuan’s space, you are alone aside from the animals he keeps there. Mimi launches herself at you, but you’ve learnt to sidestep and laugh and ruffle her mane, offering her choice little tidbits to curl up and gnaw on her food whilst you see to the strays that congregate on Jing Yuan’s balcony. They had taken a little longer to warm to you, but after the second day when it became clear if they wanted the same food Jing Yuan usually prepared they would have to come to you, they had thawed considerably. You leave them to their devices, and finish off with the finches. 

They hop from place to place in their cage, cheeping brightly. Sometimes they hop onto your finger or your shoulder, looking at you like you’re the most wonderful being in the universe. Once one had hopped onto your head and you’d stayed stock-still for five minutes, afraid of disturbing it. 

After all of the pets and animals are fed, you’ve gotten into the habit of sitting with them for a little while. Curling around Mimi and stroking her mane and her tail (you’ve braided it, actually, and told her how pretty she looks with little red ribbons in her fur as she blinked at you her slow, lazy blinks). Listening to birdsong. Letting the strays rub about your feet and imagining the Arbiter-General himself doing all of these mundane tasks. 

It’s strange, to think of him as so . . . so much a real person. General Jing Yuan has always seemed a man of mystery and just a touch of romance to you; a long life species who has outlived almost everyone he’s ever worked with, who has steered the Luofu into glories and battled bravely and heroically against Abundance abominations for longer than you’ve been alive. The first time you’d met him, when you’d gotten your place at the Seat of Divine Foresight (before you’d quite found out how meagre your duties really were), you’d been utterly tongue-tied. 

He’d been charming, naturally. Smiling and charismatic and low and pleasant-voiced, saying how glad he was to have you aboard and how he hoped you would enjoy your time here. There’d been, perhaps, a flash of sadness in his eye at the knowledge you were a short-life species-- but you’d quickly tried to dispel that notion, scolding yourself for your own romanticism. Jing Yuan is your colleague, your boss - better to not harbour such idealism, to make him into a storybook character instead of a man. 

Still. It’s rather hard to imagine him out of breath, puffing and wheezing, after pulling the bucket Mimi had gotten her paw stuck in off of the silly lion’s foreleg before she sent herself into a panic. 

You think that the menagerie that he keeps in his private quarters have grown fond of you in turn. The task that everyone had seemed to find so onerous quickly becomes one of your favourite parts of the day; there is something to be said about the healing properties to the soul of having a lion roll over to show you her tummy and wiggle enticingly until you give in to her and give her all of the rubs and tickles that she so clearly desires. 

So for about a week and a half, everything chugs along; you fall into routine, and the animals recognise you in turn. They sometimes still crane their necks and heads hopefully around you to see if Jing Yuan is around (Mimi especially occasionally looks dejected at his absence, though her ears perk up once again as soon as she remembers the buckets you come bearing are filled with delicious morsels for her), but when it is just you they still seem somewhat satisfied. 

Nobody gives you any warning that Jing Yuan has returned to his own rooms. 

Which is why you walk into the main room with your buckets swinging on your arms, singing a silly little song you’ve composed for Mimi about how the meat is soon to be ‘delicious and yummy’ in her ‘full-up-tummy’, you’re so surprised to hear a velvet soft chuckle floating from the big circular sofa in the centre of it that you almost drop all of those delicious-and-yummy steaks and thighs all over Jing Yuan’s ornately tiled floor. 

You stare at the sofa, your cheeks going all-over hot, as a mass of blankets moves and shifts and a slightly ruffled pale head emerges from them.

The General himself. 

It’s obvious, looking at him, that he hasn’t been feeling his best. His normally tied up hair falls over his face in unstyled sweeps, there are dark circles beneath his eyes and a sharpness to his cheekbones that you have never noticed before. Instead of the armour you have grown so used to seeing him clad in, he wears civilian clothes; a loose shirt that shows off the lines of his throat, his collarbone. 

Despite all of that, though, he is still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Your heart still skips a beat. He takes you in for a moment, his face scrunched up as if he is not quite awake; and then, a small smile spreads over his handsome face. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, in that low, musical voice. “I’d like to know where the song has to go, after her tummy has been filled.”

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, awkward, nervous, unsure of what to say. “I-- nobody told me you’d be back, I can leave, I didn’t mean to--”

He holds up a lazy hand, the smile still on his face. His eyes are half-lidded, his overall look almost indulgent.

“Please,” he says. “I’m . . . better, but not fully recovered. I’ve been given strict instructions that I'm not to lift heavy objects or do anything more than relax for at least another week. I’d be much obliged - if it’s not too much trouble on top of your own duties, of course - if you could carry on seeing to my . . . what did they call it?” Another small, secret smile. “Ah yes. My little zoo.” 

“I-if you’re sure . . .” You say, surprised to find when you say it aloud that you’re relieved. You truly have gotten attached to all of the animals, even in this short time. 

Mimi butts your leg, impatient for her food, her huge paw petulantly tapping upon the floor. Jing Yuan laughs again, and you feel your stomach clench at the warm sound as it fills the room. 

“Oh, she likes you,” he says, in delight. “I’ve never seen her be so patient with anyone but myself, you know.”

“She’s been friendly since I met her,” you reply, reaching down to scratch her behind her ears and to place the buckets somewhere she won’t make such a mess (though she’s actually a fairly fastidious eater, for someone with no thumbs; you suppose she’s so proud of her lovely white coat that she doesn’t want to risk staining it).

Jing Yuan hums in consideration, his smile not leaving his face, as he watches you pet Mimi and her affectionate head bump before she dives back into her food. As you move into the other sitting room - the one that the finches reside in - you hear more rustling, and as you gather the birdseed you’re surprised to see that Jing Yuan is following you, sloping afterwards determinedly. There’s a definite tilt to his walk - the walk of a man who’s been in bed for a week - and you can’t help but say something.

“Sh-should you be out of bed, General?” You wince at the slight admonishment in your tone, fearing he will think you’re scolding him - but Jing Yuan simply smiles. 

“I need to check on my sweet little charges,” he says. “Come now. I’ve been in bed for days. Let me wander about my own rooms without worrying your pretty head too much about it, alright?”

It takes all of your grace not to turn into a pathetic, embarrassed mess at the easy way he says ‘your pretty head’ - somehow, you manage to keep your composure, keep some measure of poise, even as inside you feel yourself turn to mush. 

He sits down upon a chaise by the birdcages as you reach in to fill the small bowls and scatter the feed, his eyes not leaving you for a second. He smiles when he sees a finch or two hop upon your hand to peck at the seeds and bits left in the crevices of your palm. 

“A true animal whisperer,” he says, watching one of the more inquisitive finches hop up to your wrist and your forearm to tug teasingly at your elbow-length sleeves. “They’re not too fond of strangers, either.”

“I have been feeding them for a week, Sir,” you say to him, with a smile at the finch as you urge it off of your arm and back to the rest of its friends. “They’ve gotten used to me.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling about his shoulders, and you’re struck with the thought that he and Mimi even look similar. You’ve heard the old adage about how pet owners and their pets grow to look the same, of course, but you’d never realised quite how true it was until that moment and the sight of Jing Yuan doing a motion you’ve grown used to Mimi doing. 

He follows, too, as you take food and water onto the balcony. As cats wind around first your ankles, and then his - as dogs wag their tails and lick at your hands. 

“If I were a jealous man . . .” He says, laughing. “They must see something truly special in you.”

“Me?” You ask, aiming for a tinkly laugh but landing on ‘incredulous’. “No, they’re just sweet creatures. All of them are.”

He’s unerringly patient with the animals; his big hands tender as they scratch ears and tickle chins. Seeing the great General being so delicate makes your heart turn over in your chest; his big, scarred hands in direct opposition to the delicate bones and the soft fluff of all of the creatures that mass here. 

“Don’t be so modest,” Jing Yuan says quietly in reply. “I’ve known some of these animals for years. If they didn’t think you were something special . . .” 

Your cheeks are hot again. Somehow, in the course of this conversation, Jing Yuan has gotten closer and closer to you. Out here on the balcony, under the warm false sun of the Luofu, there’s nowhere for Jing Yuan to sit and watch - so he’s stood close to you. Close enough that you can see the warm gold amber of his gaze, the fan of his lashes, the mole high up beneath his eye. You swallow, and the sound is almost indecently loud even with the background mewls and barks and purrs. 

“I’m glad that they found someone so able to do this for me,” he says, his voice still quiet. That single word, those single two syllables, somehow manage to be imbued with more meaning than you’d ever imagined they could be. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

“Just until you’re feeling a bit better,” you reply, cheeks still hot, throat still sore, heart still beating far too fast in your chest. You wonder what Jing Yuan is thinking as he looks down at you - if he has noticed your anxiety, the way that he seems to set you all aflutter. You hope he thinks it is merely because he is your superior, and not because it’s so very hard not to dwell on his looks and his warm voice and the surprisingly different persona that he shows when he’s doing this--

Jing Yuan is still smiling at you, from back on the sofa covered in his blankets with Mimi spread out protectively over his feet, as you foolishly wave goodbye and leave his chambers. 

You get to witness Jing Yuan’s recovery firsthand. The first few days, he is still unsure of his own limbs; he still slowly lopes around the rooms. Once or twice, you come in to feed the animals and he stays wrapped within his blankets, Mimi only leaving his side to demand some cuddles and some meat from you. 

Despite his illness, though, he always has time to talk to you. He always asks you how you are feeling, what you have been doing; he teases you for how the animals seem to recognise you just as well as him now. When one of the finches pecks at your cheek, he chuckles and says;

“Ah, wouldn’t we all like to give our little bird a kiss like that?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, ducking your head, muttering something unintelligible that wins another of his laughs. His words err on the edge of being flirtatious. Once or twice he compliments your outfit, your hair - how lovely you look today. You never know how to react to such things; you force yourself not to dwell on them, reminding yourself of Jing Yuan’s own looks and his position and trying to tell yourself not to get attached and that the General is merely trying to be polite. 

One afternoon, he asks you to sit with him and have tea. 

It would be rude of you to say no; not when he has placed two teacups before him, anticipating your acceptance, a plate of sweet treats in an amount that would be gluttonous even for him arranged with the tea service. So you try and gracefully position yourself across from him. You try and remember your manners as you take the cup by the handle, as you choose the least ornamented and sugary of the delicacies on offer--

(It’s hard not to remember being told not to indulge at all. You feel conscious of eating in front of him--)

“Have this one,” Jing Yuan says, as if he can read your mind, and he pushes towards you an intricately decorated little cake resplendent with sugar roses and ruffles. “It’s one of my favourites.”

Your mouth waters. You give him an embarrassed smile as he encourages you further, reaching over to pick it up himself and place it upon your plate instead of merely pushing it.

“Really?” You ask, trying to pick it up neatly. “It’s a bit more delicate than I thought you’d like. I suppose I imagined you liking things a little rougher--”

Your face goes hot as you realise what you just said, but Jing Yuan ignores the innuendo and simply smiles at you. 

“Ah,” he says. “I like things that are . . . delicate. Smaller than me. So lovely to observe and enjoy, don’t you think?” His gaze doesn’t leave your face. You have never considered yourself delicate - the curves that you display have put an end to that - but under his eyes, you can’t help but think of the breadth of his shoulders and his height and think how a man like him could make even you feel small and breakable. “What do you think?”

The little cake is sweet on the tongue, flavoured with a hint of something you can’t quite name. Your eyes widen in surprise. 

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him, swallowing the bite and enjoying how the taste lingers. “Truly.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he says - and then, he reaches over the table. “You have something--” 

You go stock-still, embarrassed and shocked at the intimacy of the gesture, as he uses his thumb to wipe a smudge of icing from the corner of your mouth. He keeps your gaze the whole time. It is something a lover does - it is not something you’d ever expected General Jing Yuan to do for you--

“There,” he says, returning to his cake as if nothing has happened. “It would be a terrible shame if I couldn’t see all of your lovely face, after all.” 

He is always saying things like this; off-the-cuff remarks that, if he were not the General of the Xianzhou Luofu, you would interpret as being flirty. He mentions them when you have tea together, when he ropes you into playing a game of star chess (“Don’t think I will go easy on you because you are nice to look at,” he says, as he places the counters into their starting positions), when he watches you and Mimi and you and the finches and tells you that he cannot decide which is cuter. 

You see him get gradually stronger and stronger. No more limping. He is almost always dressed, now. His hair no longer falls in shaggy waves about his face. His dark circles dissipate, his voice getting somehow even deeper and more velvety. 

The unspoken reality that soon, Jing Yuan will be well and you will no longer have to take on this extra duty hangs over your head.

You find that the idea makes you feel sick. You are not only enjoying caring for the animals, now, but you’ve also started to look forward to seeing the General. 

Well.

That’s not quite it.

You have to be honest with yourself, don’t you? 

You’ve developed a crush on him. 

You can’t imagine not seeing him. Not being greeted with Mimi’s butts and her batting paws; not hearing the pleased chirps of his finches whenever they see you. Not enjoying tea with him any more, simply existing in this lazy golden time when you do not have to think about work or his position above you or anything other than the four walls that surround you and the multiple hearts beating within it. 

Jing Yuan brings it up first.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, coughing one day after the two of you have played a game of star chess that you were thoroughly destroyed during. “Well. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m getting better.”

“I’m glad to see it, Sir,” you say, forcing a smile to your face even as your heart falls into the region of your feet. “We were all very worried about you. Everyone is always asking me how you are and when you’ll be returning to work--”

His face clouds, a flinch so quick you almost miss it.

“Yes,” he says, a mournful tone to his voice. “I’ll soon be returning to work.”

You tell yourself sternly not to cry. This was never supposed to be permanent. 

“Then I suppose you won’t need me any longer,” you say, forcing a smile on your face. You are going to be gracious if it kills you.

“Ah,” Jing Yuan replies. “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. I . . . we are all very fond of you, you see.” He motions to Mimi, who has come to curl beside you, her head laid against your knee. “I fear Mimi will riot if you were to stop bringing her all of those steaks, you understand. And who knows what she’d do, deprived of your song about her tummy?”

You squeak in embarrassment. Mimi lifts her head and gives you a slow, displeased look, much to Jing Yuan’s amusement. 

“Well. I’m very aware that it’s not part of your duties, and I’d be willing of course to pay you more for all of the trouble, but--” 

You see Jing Yuan falter for one of the first times; as if he is afraid that you are about to reject him outright. He coughs, trying to hide his anxiety, but it is an emotion you’re intimately familiar with and as such you recognise it for what it is. 

“We’re all so very fond of you,” he repeats. “Won’t you keep coming?”

You barely leave a breath before you’re happily agreeing. 

It’s not quite the same. 

You knew it wouldn’t be; you knew that you wouldn’t see Jing Yuan anywhere near as often, as he resumed all of the many duties that the Arbiter-General has to take on. Despite how unenthused he had seemed to be returning to his work, you knew that Jing Yuan took his responsibilities terribly seriously). 

Still.

You had thought you might see him more. Might still be able to drink a cup of tea with him, even if it could not be the same kind of slow, languid time the two of you had taken over it before. You’d thought that there’d still be time for a conversation or two. 

The reality is that you almost never see the General now. 

At work, your paths had crossed only rarely; now, hyper-aware of his presence, you realise that you see him almost never. Not at work, and not at his own home. 

You’re still excited to see the animals - for the finches to happily chirp at you as if they’re telling you about their day. One of them rides about on your shoulder, now, even when you go out to feed the strays. You’re still excited to tell Mimi what a good girl she is and rub her tummy and play with her (she’s inordinately fond of ribbons and the chasing thereof, like an overgrown housecat). 

But without Jing Yuan there . . .

There’s something missing. 

You still do your duties as well as you can - Jing Yuan has negotiated a hefty raise for you, all things considered - but you can’t help sometimes leaving his home feeling a little empty at the lack of seeing the General. You can’t help being disconsolate as you think about him - as you remember his flirty little asides, the way he’d looked at you across the room, the smile that played across his mouth whenever he did. You know he couldn’t really be interested in you, that he was probably like that with most people - but a secret little flame cannot help but burn in your heart even so. 

Days pass, quiet, lonely. You work, and feed the animals, and go home to your own empty quarters. You work, feed, go home, work, feed, go home--

Until one evening, when you’re just about to leave Jing Yuan’s chambers, when the door opens and the General appears. He looks a little red in the face; his breath comes in short little pants. You’ve never seen him so obviously flustered; usually, Jing Yuan fits perfectly up to his reputation as the Drowsy General. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him, rushing over. You’re touching him before you’ve thought through consequences; finger hovering over his pulse point, reaching up to feel his forehead to make sure he’s not running a temperature. Through the panting, he looks at you and smiles. 

“I’m afraid,” he says, still breathing heavily, his voice rasping. “I made up a little lie to be able to get back here on an errand that doesn’t really exist.”

“General,” you scold him. It’s not like him to shirk responsibilities. He laughs. 

“Yes, yes, I know, little thing-- but I had to see you. I wanted to see you again.”

You think he’s misspoken.

“I have to get back,” he says, and he reaches down - his hands upon your cheek again. You don’t know how to reply, what to say, what is going on. All you know is that you are there, and Jing Yuan is there, and something is happening. Fizzing on the air is a promise that something is going to change. “But . . . I couldn’t-- I needed to finally--”

Jing Yuan kisses you. 

It’s a kiss as messy and rushed as he is right now. A kiss that says that he has to hurry back, despite how much he doesn’t want to. You, unused to being kissed and even more unused to being kissed by handsome military leaders who feel a hundred times out of your league, do not kiss him back. He’s messy and wet, and his teeth clash against your lips as you stand there, feeling foolish and wrong-footed.

He realises you’re not kissing him back, and he stops - he draws back, his eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth to speak. 

He’s going to say it was a mistake, you realise. He’s going to say he thought you were someone else, that he was carried away in the heat of the moment. You and Jing Yuan? No. It couldn’t be. It’s absurd, it’s silly, nobody could ever believe it - and yet.

And yet.

Your heart couldn’t take his rejection.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out - and you push past him and out of the door and back towards the comforting ordinary normality of your own empty rooms. 

Despite your embarrassment, fear and all of those other emotions keeping you up all night, when you wake up the next morning you know that things will be worse the more you put them off. So you get dressed for work and you thank Lan that, when you walk into the Seat of Divine Foresight, Jing Yuan is nowhere to be seen. 

You hope he is hard at work, far away from you. You cannot quite face him yet. You haven’t properly said goodbye to your foolish dreams. 

You can’t shirk your other duties either, so at the ordinary time you stand up from your desk (you’ve somehow been saddled with the job of reviewing paperwork for grammar inconsistencies. You feel certain there ought to be software of some sort that does this job for you, but it had been laid here on your desk when you’d gotten to it and you were not in the habit of arguing about your duties), and you head to the designated supplier of raw meats for Mimi’s consumption.

“Oh,” says the supplier, the evening after Jing Yuan had finagled a way to see you. “He told me to let you know to go straight up today.” 

You frown, not quite sure why; you hope Mimi is alright. It feels strange to be going towards Jing Yuan’s home without your arms weighed down with buckets of meat, but you push forward even so. You hope last night - the awkward kiss, the way he had looked at you - does not sour things between the two of you. You hope that he isn’t about to tell you to never come back. Your heart makes a new home, somewhere in the vicinity of your throat, as you hesitantly knock upon his door.

A beat passes. Your mind helpfully provides you with all of the ways in which Jing Yuan could be about to fire you - or worse, let you down gently and admit that he had a moment of weakness. In that moment, you suddenly seem so much more aware than before of yourself - of the unfashionable curves, of the amount of space you take up, of how a man like Jing Yuan could surely not have really wanted to kiss someone like you - and then, he has opened the door and he is smiling at you and he doesn’t look angry.

Instead, upon seeing you there, a smile passes across his face; tugs at the corners of his lips, crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he says to you - and he reaches across the threshold and his hand brushes your cheek, as soft and tender with you as he is with his finches. “I’m sorry if I frightened you last night.”

“I’m sorry I ran,” tumbles out of your mouth. “I just . . . I didn’t think you-- and somebody like me-- and I was afraid--”

He lays a finger over your lips, still smiling. 

“It’s alright,” he says, in that low, smooth voice. “I’m sorry if I caused you undue trouble, little bird.” The pet name falls from his lips as easily as any other trifle, though it makes you feel hot and aware of yourself and flattered all at once. “Please come in.”

He takes your hand to gently urge you across the threshold, his touch still feather light. You think, as he does it, of all of the other things those hands have done; all of the battles they have waged, all of the strength that must be contained within them despite how gentle his touch is now. 

“I’ve asked someone else to take care of the animals,” he says to you, not letting go of your hand as he leads you through the front room. You realise with a start exactly where he is taking you as he approaches a door you have never had reason to open before. He looks at you, eyes keen and golden. “I wanted us to be alone. I would hope, little bird, if you do not want this . . .” 

“I do,” tumbles from your mouth. It is nothing but the honest truth. You let the crush that you’ve been trying to deny, the fear of Jing Yuan not liking you or finding you attractive, the anxieties of not being good enough, all wash over you, in favour of the beating of your heart and the feel of his hand on your face and the sight of his hand upon the doorknob of his bedroom. 

He turns fully so he stands before you. Hands come up, cradling your face; thumbs brushing the plump apples of your cheek, fingertips upon the soft flesh. He is smiling still, even as he dips his head lower, so low you can see the multitudes of swirling shades of gold in his eyes. 

“Promise me,” he murmurs, low and soft. “Tell me you want me the way I want you. No expectations, little one. Your career, your position, your everything - nothing will change if you do not want me as badly as I desire you. Honesty.” You realise a tear has escaped from the corner of your eye. You have never felt so . . . seen. So very much wanted. So sure of anything in your life. He wipes that tear with his thumb, tilting your face closer to him so that if you just angled your head differently you could kiss him. “Promise me.” 

“I promise,” you whisper, and Jing Yuan’s lips meet yours. 

This kiss is entirely unlike the one from yesterday; this kiss is slow, luxurious. Jing Yuan starts off gentle with you, his hand still cupping your jaw - his lips moving against yours in slow, indolent waves. He nips at your bottom lip with his teeth and wins a gasp from you, a hitch of your breath, as your own hands come up to rest lightly upon his chest. You feel his mouth curve into a smile against your own. 

“You’re adorable,” he rumbles, pulling back just enough that you can still feel his breath on your face. “Truly - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

“I--” You helplessly stare up at him. You can barely believe this is happening, as he pushes open the door to his most private of domains. “Really?”

He laughs again, gently taking your arm and urging you into the room. You are helpless to do anything but follow him - to let him slowly, slowly, slowly pull you beside him and onto his bed. 

“You really have no idea how . . . desirable you are?” He asks, voice low and husky, humming with want. His hand skims over your cheek, the nape of your neck, following the line of your jaw and your throat to linger over your collarbone. His eyes follow the path his fingers take, not moving from your form for an instant. “You really didn’t notice me staring at you, little bird?” He leans in, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. His lips brush over the pulse point in your neck, making you squeak in surprise again even as it sends a bolt of heat to the space between your legs. “Imagining what you would feel like under my hands? Imagining what you would look like, divested of that maddeningly conservative uniform they make you wear?” Another kiss, this one with a hint of teeth. You realise with a hot flush of embarrassment mixed with want you have cried out at the sensation of the almost-bite. “Imagining how you would react to every touch I gave you?” 

“Sir,” you pant, dazed and amazed and hot and needy. “I-- I thought about you, too--”

“Oh,” he murmurs, as his big fingers slide over your body, feeling the ample shape of you through that same conservative uniform. His big palms brush the soft chub of your upper arms, the meat of your chest, the shape of your waist and over the curve of your hips, basely appreciating your body even beneath the fabric. “I’m sure they were no match for the utterly filthy things I imagined doing to you.” 

His thumb digs into the indent of your waist, tugging you closer to him so that you’re pressed tighter against his body. He smiles down at you, every inch the conquering general, and your heart beats in time with the pounding between your legs. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Wanting and hungry and lustful, like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. It’s not a look you’re overly familiar with receiving - but oh, does it feel amazing to be on the receiving end of it from Jing Yuan. 

“Such a fragile thing,” he murmurs down to you, and you almost laugh, for you do not feel fragile - but Jing Yuan continues speaking, and you get lost in the dulcet tone of his voice. “So very mortal. So very ephemeral . . .” He sighs, dips his head and kisses you again, a flurry of pecks upon your lips as his thumb draws circles where it rests. “Will you let me make the most of having you, little bird? Let me show you how beautiful you are?” He smiles. “I have always had a weakness for delicate things.” 

He means it. 

Any time you have ever felt too big; ungainly, or ill-shaped - all of it falls to the wayside under the warm haze of being looked at and admired and wanted by Jing Yuan. You find yourself smiling up at him, aware you probably look as though there is not a thought in your head, but the General doesn’t seem to mind as he looks at you with hunger colouring his gaze. 

“May I undress you?” He asks, voice low and cajoling. His fingers tease beneath the neckline of your uniform, and it feels as though they leave a trail of fire everywhere they linger. You do not trust yourself to speak; you nod at him, your breath coming out in short little pants. He makes a soft noise of approval, before his fingers are working at buttons and fabric. Cool air hits your bare skin; your uniform is gently cajoled off of your body, tossed aside to be worried about later as Jing Yuan’s hungry eyes drink in every new inch of your exposed skin. 

He does not stop praising you as he does it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, as your top half is bared, as his eyes roam over your chest and his hands come up and squeeze the generous curve of them, palms rough against delicate skin. You shiver as his thumbs find your nipples, as they rub over them again and again until the buds stiffen beneath his touch and a soft whine escapes the back of your throat. “You’re beautiful.”

His tone is nothing if not worshipful. By slow, luxurious degrees, Jing Yuan helps divest you of your garments. As your underwear and bottoms are rolled down, as fabric bunches at thighs and knees, he does not stop murmuring sweet nothings about how soft you are, how beautiful, how lucky he is to be able to see you like this. 

About how he has been thinking about having you like this since the moment he saw you. 

“You looked so beautiful then too,” he murmurs, as your underwear is pulled from your ankles. He briefly gazes at it, the gusset saturated with your slick, and he smiles. “Ah . . . that little song, the nervous, shy reaction to realising I was there - the sight of you all soft-eyed and adoring with Mimi . . . I’ve never wanted to have my wicked way with somebody quite so much.” 

You’re bare beneath him, Jing Yuan slowly urging you to lay down upon the coverlets of his large bed. You suppose that it’s so large so that if Mimi desires to sleep with him, she can, but it alongside Jing Yuan’s own size simply helps you feel small and delicate and breakable in a way you never have before. 

“I wanted to know,” Jing Yuan murmurs, leaning down and brushing his lips over yours, teasing and feather-light. “If you would be quite so adorable, squirming and nervous and vulnerable, if I were to have you like this.”

Your cheeks are hot. Jing Yuan has not lost a single garment of his own, but you are entirely unguarded to whatever he wants to do to you now - bare of every scrap of fabric. His gaze lingering on your body almost makes you want to draw in; to curl around the exposed flesh of your stomach, to cover the pudge. 

Jing Yuan notices something in the way you hold yourself. He smiles down at you and cups your cheek.

“Don’t hide,” he breathes. “I want to see all of you, little thing. I want you to know how beautiful I find you.”

“I--”

He takes your hand in his, shifting so he is on his knees between your legs. Gently, he guides your unsure hand to the space over his own crotch. Even through the layers of fabric, you can sense the heat of him; the stiffness pushing against his trousers.

“If I did not want you,” he says, “why would you make me so needy, hmm? Feel what you do to me.” He presses your hand a little harder against it, a soft hiss of breath escaping him, encouraging you to not simply take his word for it. Your face hot as ever, you do so; give a gentle squeeze that makes him groan. “Ah-- be careful, sweet thing. I want to take my time over you.”

He lets go of your hand, gently urging you to place it back beside you. Your fingers find purchase in his sheets. You still cannot quite believe where you are; that it’s the great Arbiter-General leaning over you, looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. 

“I-it’s not fair,” you say to him, your voice dry. “I’ve lost all of my clothes, and you’re still fully dressed--”

He chuckles. This time, when he bends down, there’s a slow, deliberate quality about him. He kisses your neck again; trails wet butterfly kisses over your collarbones, lower and lower to the swell of your chest. His hands come to cup the generous weight of them, even as his mouth floats closer and closer to your nipples, tightening and stiffening in anticipation. 

“I told you,” he says, murmuring in between flicks of his tongue against the buds. “I want to take my time over you.” He looks at you, eyes half-lidded. “Ah, you short-life species . . . You never learn patience. I have all of the time in the world to give you ecstasy over and over--”

People call Jing Yuan the Dozing General. As he applies his tongue to your nipples, though - as he suckles and nips and bites, as he kisses and squeezes until you feel dizzy with the attention he’s lavishing upon you, you realise that they are misinformed. Jing Yuan is not lazy or dozing - Jing Yuan merely likes to take his time over things. 

And oh, is he enjoying taking his time over you. 

You whine under his touch. You whimper and squirm, your cheeks flooding hot, your entire body prickling with tension and pleasure as his attentions upon your nipples send shockwaves of pleasure down to your sex. You feel wetness fair seeping out of you; slick rolling down your thighs, making a mess of Jing Yuan’s bed sheets. 

“Please,” you manage to get out, dry-voiced and wanting, after what seems like an eternity. “Please, Sir--”

“Jing Yuan,” He corrects you, a smile on his face as he continues to trail wet kisses over your bare skin. “What kind of man would I be if I allowed you to call me ‘Sir’ buried knuckle-deep in you, sweet thing? We are on even ground here.”

It’s hard not to think of him as the General. You are currently barely able to string a thought together, and he hasn’t even touched the place between your thighs yet. Still - you need him to touch you somewhere else. You need his attentions to give your chest a break (your nipples are sore, stiffened points - your skin slick with the wetness of his licks and kisses) and move to somewhere else. You force out, through your desire to genuflect to his status, his given name.

“Jing Yuan--”

“Hmm?” He asks, raising his head. His lips are swollen and pink, his eyes amused. “Do you need something, little bird?”

“Please . . .” A soft exhale, trying to work through the mass of sensations and needs that your body seems to have become. Jing Yuan does not stop touching even as you try and get out your words; still gently squeezing and toying with the weight of your chests. He’s smiling, enjoying watching you desperately work through the haze of your desire. 

“Your words,” he says, a maddening smile pulling at his lips. “Tell me what you want, and I promise I’ll do all in my power to give you it.”

“Please,” you say again, your brain fuzzy. His hands move from your chest now; big palms travelling over the curve of your stomach, your hips, resting there in a way that makes you almost lose all of your senses. “I want you to touch me . . . there--”

“Where, little thing?” He’s still smiling. “Here?” A gentle squeeze to your hips. “Here?” His palm roves over your stomach, the soft pouch just above your mound. You whimper again. “Ah. Come now--”

“Between my legs,” you whisper, voice tight and breaking with desire. “Jing Yuan, please--”

“Ah,” he laughs, dips down and kisses you once on the mouth. “You need only to ask. Spread your thighs for me, lovely thing.”

You do, utterly helplessly. Jing Yuan sighs reverently, moving further down so that he can bend his head to look at you. Your face burns under his scrutiny, fearful that he will find something lacking in your body even as his eyes greedily drink you in like you are the finest wine. He breathes deeply, and you hope that your scent is not off-putting - and then, his fingers are sliding slowly and surely up the soft plush of your legs and closer and closer to the space between your thighs and your heart is beating too fast and your breath is coming in short pants.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, and you keen as his hands reach your sex; as he uses his thumbs to spread the plump lips of your labia apart and the cool air hits your slick, heated core. “Ah, darling . . .”

There is so much in those two syllables. Hunger and desire and adoration, all mixed together as one. In another world, with another person, it might have made you feel self-conscious; but Jing Yuan looks down at you as if you are the most beautiful treasure he has ever had the good fortune to witness. 

He leans down, down - and you squeak as you realise what he’s about to do, surprised, but it does not deter him at all as he lets his tongue take a slow, luxurious lick down your sex. The base of his tongue presses against your clit, the pressure on the swollen hitherto ignored nub almost enough to make you come right there and then - but then he pulls back again, chuckling.

“Mm,” he says. “If I allow myself to sample too much of something so sweet, I’m afraid I’ll lose my composure.” He moves his hand instead; lets his fingers explore the length of you, fingertips brushing against your clenching entrance and dancing about your swollen clit. There is little pressure exerted on your sex; merely Jing Yuan’s slow, considering explorations. You clench your own fingers into the bedsheets in order to stop yourself writhing. 

“Lovely,” Jing Yuan says to himself. “Ah, you feel like velvet. Such a pretty thing; so perfectly made . . .” He sighs, even as the tip of his longest finger nudges against your entrance. Your hips move of their own accord, trying to suck him in and get him to put his finger inside of you, but he clicks his tongue with an amused chide; “Impatient,” he says. “Ah. You’re lucky you’re so irresistible--”

He slides his finger inside of you, slowly but certainly. You sigh, your lashes fluttering closed - his touch stokes all of those fires inside of you, of course, burning to fever pitch . . . but the sensation of finally having something inside of you has also made you realise how empty you felt before. It feels good, to have something to fill that pulsing space. Jing Yuan watches with rapt attention as he slides his finger half out, and then half inside of you again. 

You have had some experience, but you have never felt the way Jing Yuan makes you feel. 

“You take it so well,” he murmurs. “Look how pretty you look with something inside of you. Ah. I could spend hours doing this to you . . .”

You make a soft whine of discontent at the idea and he laughs, clicking his tongue even as he’s letting his second finger dance at your entrance ready to join the first. 

“No, even I do not have the patience for that right now,” he agrees. “Not when you feel so wonderful, little bird. Not when I cannot wait to see you come apart.”

The second finger; a slight scissoring motion as it enters you, getting you used to the size and stretch of two of his digits instead of one. The heel of his palm presses against your clit with every wet pump, sending frissons of pleasure to the tips of your toes; but he still does not rush himself. He still lets himself enjoy the feel of you clinging tightly to his fingers, the sight of them disappearing inside of your slick, drooling hole. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks you, deciding you haven’t spoken recently enough. “Tell me if you want me to go faster, sweet thing--”

“Please,” you say, ragged, breathing heavy. You can feel a tight hot ball of tension between your legs, rolling in your gut, threatening to overwhelm you. “Please, Jing Yuan, faster--”

“Very well,” he smiles, and he crooks his fingers inside of you to find your g-spot - causing your back to arch involuntarily, a whine of pure enjoyment to loose itself from your throat. At the same time, his thumb moves to play with your clit - to toy with the bud, to roll and to circle and to press against the swollen bundle of nerves. What already felt like electric shocks of pleasure move on; instead, they are lightning bolts, ricocheting up your spine and stopping just short of striking earth. 

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says, and you are staring at his mouth. How a strand of your own gossamer-thin arousal is still glimmering at the corner. How his eyes are so focused on you that his gaze feels almost scorching. “That’s right. Let go for me, sweet thing--”

His soft entreaty pushes you over the edge, and the lightning strikes home as your peak hits you with all of the force of a storm.

His fingers work you over the crest of your orgasm, the two inside of you constantly rubbing against that spongy spot that makes you see stars, the big pad of his thumb roughly sliding over your twitching clit in circles and lines. As the waves come to a head and then slowly begin to dissipate, he slows his attentions too - until the slow strokes of his fingers fade out into nothing. He does not seem to care that you’ve soaked his fingers and his palm and the fabric he wears and his bed too - merely keeps looking at you, smiling, like you’re giving him the most precious gift imaginable. 

“Good,” he praises you. “But . . . I’m afraid that just that taste from earlier wasn’t quite enough, little bird. May I use my mouth on you?”

Who would ever believe this? Who would ever imagine little old you, on the Arbiter-General’s bed, as he looks at you and waits for your permission to fuck you with his tongue? You feel rather tongue-tied yourself - but you recall what Jing Yuan said earlier, about using your words.

“Please do,” you say, aloud, and Jing Yuan gives you that same smile that makes you feel like the only being in the whole universe.

“Thank you,” he says, sounding entirely like he means it - like it’s truly an honour for him to be able to serve you on his hands and knees. And then he has moved his body further down the bed, elegant and graceful and leonine, and his mouth is heading towards the slick-soaked place between your legs and his tongue is glinting wet in the bedroom and then he is on you, licking at you, hungrily devouring your sex like it is his last meal before an execution. 

You’re still oversensitive from his earlier attentions, and the sensation of the wet muscle of his tongue working over you almost pushed you into another early orgasm. Your fingers move from where they’re still clenched into the bedsheets to cling to his hair instead, pulling on the silvery pale strands as your back arches and you blindly cant your hips forward towards his mouth.

He groans aloud at having his hair pulled, and the groan sends vibrations all through your body that make you feel weak at the knees, your toes curling. His tongue continues its assault; back and forth, back and forth. Wetness drools from your sex and onto his face; you can feel the heat in his cheeks, the fan of his lashes against your bare skin. 

He twirls his tongue about your entrance, teasingly dips into it, as the channel of your sex constricts and pulses in an attempt to pull him even further in. He groans as your hands knit further into his hair, fucking you for a moment with his tongue before he seems to try and work his face further into your sex. 

It’s like he wants to engulf you; soft noises of pleasure keep falling from his mouth, interspersed with rumbling groans. He’s almost gyrating against the bed, you realise, your cheeks hot - grinding his crotch into the mattress as if he’s desperate to have some attention of his own. 

That sight makes your mouth go dry; all of the moisture in your body instead congregating between your legs to make a new home in Jing Yuan’s mouth and smeared across his cheeks. 

His tongue flicks across your clit and the noise that escapes you is almost animal; Jing Yuan says something, perhaps, or at least makes some kind of muffled noise from his position happily buried in your sex before he shifts his tongue just so and his mouth fastens around your clit fully. 

Sucking and licking, suckling upon the pearl like his life depends upon it; tongue occasionally just brushing under the hood, where you’re most engorged, and you can do nothing but cling onto his hair and pull at it as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt rips through your body.

You cannot put into words the way that you feel as Jing Yuan devours you. Your entire body feels, suddenly, as if it weighs nothing; as if sparkling lights suffuse your fingers and toes and you float into the stratosphere, white lights dancing behind your eyes in time with your whine (a whine so loud you’re sure everybody on the Luofu must have heard of it).

You come down, eventually, to the sound of Jing Yuan panting. The wet noise as his mouth separates from you, the pleased grin on his face as he uses his thumb to wipe his mouth of some of your slick. It’s a pointless endeavour, really; his face is so saturated with it you’re not sure if he’ll ever be dry again. 

“Darling,” Jing Yuan repeats, looking you in the eye, smiling like the cat who has gotten the cream. “You have no idea how much I enjoyed doing that.”

The words almost make you go over shy - but you push that to the side. There is no point, you decide, being nervous of a man who has now known you so intimately.

“In which case,” you say, breathlessly - your voice is still a little scratchy from the moaning and whimpering you’ve been doing - “Will you let me make you feel just as good?”

He looks at you for a moment, before he throws his head back and laughs.

“Why,” he says. “Of course I will.”

“Come,” Jing Yuan is murmuring, and he is finally removing his own clothes. Armour drops to the side of him, shirts unbuttoned and fastenings unhooked. His body is muscular and dotted with scars, befitting his status as a military hero; a light dusting of pale hair upon his proud chest, down into a trail to the vee of his hips. You swallow, your throat dry, trying to blink back the waves of pleasure that are still lapping gently at your shores in order to concentrate on what’s going on. His face is still wet with your slick, his hair damp with sweat and falling in messy strands over his flushed face. He looks well-fucked even without you touching him back, as if merely getting you to feel good was enough for him. 

His cock. It’s stiff against the hard planes of his abdomen, a thick, pretty specimen bubbling with precome at the flushed tip. He sighs, running his hand over it once, and your mouth practically waters at the way it twitches. It looks stiff and hard enough that you wonder if it hurts, to want so badly - but Jing Yuan looks at you and smiles, as he rearranges himself on the bed. Pillows are moved, and before you know it he has sat against them, propping himself up like an emperor upon his throne. His cock stands proud and wanting, and he gently pats his thigh as if he is calling an obedient animal to him.

“I don’t wish to hurt you, little bird,” he says - and again, you think of how it feels to be smaller than him. How he does not care about the flesh that spills from straps or curves over fabric. How he looks at you like the most beautiful thing in the world and calls you ‘delicate’ and ‘little’ and ‘precious’ and means them. “Come. Take a seat. As slowly as you need.” 

Despite how he has seen you so intimately, you cannot help but feel a little flare of fear as you approach him. He smiles, entirely at peace and at comfort with you going at your own pace, and you could kiss him for it.

“Touch,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid.”

With trembling fingers, you reach out; let your hand encircle his cock, get used to the width and the feel of him and imagine it inside of you. He pulses beneath your palm, a soft hum of pleasure falling from the back of his throat as you give it a cursory pump. He curses softly as your thumb rubs across the slit of his cockhead, the bubble of precome wetting the pad.

“Touch,” he says, with a smile. “But don’t get me too excited, little bird. I don’t want to come anywhere but inside of you.”

Your cheeks go hot at his easy profession; your tongue darts out to trace your lower lip. You’re used to the feel of him now; the heat that seems to stir beneath the surface of his cock, the veins that marble the side of his shaft, the ruddy pink of the head. Taking a deep breath, you spread your legs and let yourself readjust, straddling him. His own hands come up to cling to your thighs, sinking into the soft flesh there.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, as if in devotion, as if praying to an Aeon. “You’re beautiful.” 

His cockhead brushes your clit as you fit it snugly between the lips of your sex; you shift your hips, until it catches against your entrance and your eyes flutter closed. 

Your eyes are still closed as you begin to lower yourself down, so you feel every inch of him as he makes his home within your body. Your eyes being closed, of course, you miss the softness and the warmth that fills Jing Yuan’s gaze as he looks at you. The brief moment of sadness that passes behind his eyes as he remembers that you are a short-life species; that he cannot have all of the time in the world with you, to teach you pleasures the likes of which you do not yet know. The sadness he cannot spend his lifetime learning you by heart--

But you hear the soft murmur of your name, as he bottoms out inside of you and you take a moment to simply rest there with him buried as deep inside of you as he can go. You feel the way one of his hands slides up your spine to grip the back of your head and to pull you into a kiss as deep and adoring as anything else he’s done so far. 

Teeth and tongue and lips, whimpering and gasping into one another’s mouths until you do not know where he ends and where you begin, Jing Yuan somehow manages to murmur;

“Move whenever you want, sweet thing. Set the pace.” 

It does not, in the end, feel like either of those things happen. Instead, it feels as though the universe sets the pace for you; as if you simply know when to begin to move your hips, how to bend and angle yourself just so in order for Jing Yuan to hit all of the most sensitive spots inside of you.

One hand remains on your hip, helping you with the pace - the other remains on the back of your head, to allow him to kiss, as if he doesn’t want to let his mouth separate from yours for any longer than necessary. It’s a romance that you didn’t expect of the General, but it’s hardly one you’re going to complain about when his mouth feels so good and the constant nibbling of your lip and curl of his tongue against yours is distracting you from the mounting pleasure already starting to coalesce inside of you. 

There is nothing in the world for a while except Jing Yuan’s body underneath yours. His hands, his mouth, the feel of his shoulders beneath your own palms where you cling to him for leverage. You sweat and breathe and kiss and fuck as one, until the call inside of you becomes too much to ignore.

“I’m--” You pull back from the kiss to whisper, voice hoarse. “I’m going to--”

“Shh,” Jing Yuan says, kissing again. His own voice climbs in pitch, and you hear a shiver and a shudder in his syllables that makes you aware that he, too, is not far from his own release. His teeth nip at your lower lip as he half-begs into your mouth. “Please. Come again for me, sweet thing, little bird, pretty-- let me feel you--”

Your third orgasm crashes over you, your sex spasming around his cock, tight and hot and pulsing - and Jing Yuan groans into your mouth as you push him over the edge too, and you feel his cock spasm in turn. Ropes of hot release shoot inside of you; you had thought, earlier, that having his cock buried all the way inside of you was the extent of how full you could feel. 

You were wrong.

You bite at his lips, whining and half-sobbing, as the please encompasses you like a cloak of warmth. Jing Yuan groans in return, his hips making needy fast circles to chase the dregs of his own release. It feels right, for the two of you to peak together like this. For the two of you to chase every last drop of pleasure, entwined together and sweating and kissing and as close to one being as it’s possible to be.

Eventually, your breathing slows. Eventually, the kiss turns tender instead of frenzied. Eventually, you pull back from Jing Yuan with a foolish smile on your face and your cheeks hot and tears of pleasure (that you hadn’t even realised you had cried) rolling down your face like sparkling diamonds.

You stare at each other, the enormity of what has happened washing over you. Jing Yuan’s face is calm and serene, but his eyes are bright still, his cheeks still high in colour. 

You fear for a moment that he is about to dismiss you; that what the two of you just shared will mean nothing now that it is over. You fear that you’re about to go back to what you were before; a colleague and an employer, a General and a subordinate. But then, Jing Yuan lets out a deep rumbling sigh, pleased, as he collapses back upon the pillows. He opens his arms for you to dismount, his cock sliding slippery and wet outside of you, his come trickling down your thighs.

“Come here,” he murmurs, sounding tired but terribly pleased; the cat who has gotten the cream. He’s like a lion once more. You are helpless to resist his indication that he wants to cuddle, and so you let him pull you into his arms, let him manoeuvre you to lay against his chest until you can hear his heart beating. His fingers stroke your head, like you’re a sweet-tempered animal yourself. “Mmm. Rest with me, little bird.”

You let yourself. Your body is aching and sore from the orgasms and the sex, and you let your eyes drift closed, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his breathing. 

A sleepy kiss is dropped onto the crown of your head.

“Enjoy it whilst you can,” Jing Yuan hums. “Before we start having to make room for Mimi every night.”

[brucewaynehater101]

Just read a fic about Tim finally getting post patrol ice cream and his own renovated room after admitting to never getting any unlike his siblings and now I'm imagining an AU

Imagine this, Tim is tired, pulling an all nighter, because he did too poor a job at pretending as Robin, and it's too late to do damage control. Not in front of villains or heroes alike

But the people

They've caught onto how the third robin receives less than the first two

Robin acts less like a child, less like a son to Batman, and more like a 'Business Partner's as he said with his own words. Like a handler

Robin who has to put work into keeping Batman from overexerting himself, from cruelly punishing those who fall victim to him

Robin who receives less praise or care from Batman and cares for both himself and his "Boss" as he said with his own words

And it gets worse after the mantle passes down to Stephanie and Damian because the people notices how even as Batman treats them better than the third, now rebranded as Red Robin—

—Red Robin is still as much a Business Partner to batman as he always has been since the Dark Knight's loss of his second bird

And as much as tries to keep things buried, word is spreading that Red Robin is black sheep of the batfamily, and he won't be able to hide it for much longer

Have fun with this idea lol

I know the fic you're talking about! "with the exception of..." by DSS1101. That's a good one!

"Home Decor" by sElkieNight60 is about Duke remodeling his room as part of the new Wayne member tradition. This brings up feelings in Tim cause his bedroom still looks like a barely used guestroom.

The concept you've mentioned gives similar vibes to a hc/au post I read about how JJ (Joker Junior) isn't known by anyone but the goons/Rogues, Barbara, Jim, and Bruce. All the other Bats don't know. In consideration of Tim, electric shock weapons are immediately put away when Red Robin arrives on scene (I love that idea so much).

I think, with the Gothamites around when Bruce was going on his grief spiral almost killing spree, people feel a kinship with Tim. They couldn't have stopped Batman and, with part guilt and part relief, it seems only a child could. They watch this child, who seems to be sacrificing everything for a brutal and cruel man, and how he pulls Batman back into the symbol he's supposed to be. It brings out the protective and parental instinct of a lot of people.

This cues civilians, goons, and rogues alike trying to assist Robin in small ways. Tim as Robin had people offering him food (in sealed containers), giving him compliments, handing him scarves or hats (how could Batman let a child out in this weather without a hat?!?!?), and more. They tried to give him small moments to be the child he was pretending he wasn't. He obviously wasn't getting decent parenting at home if Batman was just his boss and his real folks were letting him out to fight.

There's a kind of guilty gratefulness towards the third Robin and a protectiveness of him. All young Bats are treated with care by civilains and some goons, but Robin three was special. He willingly became the barrier between Batman and Gotham. A lot of folks owe their ability to work (and not have exorbiant medical debt and medical conditions) to Tim. He saved them by damning himself. He needed the support Batman obviously wasn't providing.

Tim, as intelligent as he is, doesn't realize the affect he has on Gotham's older population. The younger ones will react with slightly more respect towards him than the other Bats, but they weren't around to see what Tim's sacrifice did for everyone.

Tim, with his self-doubt and hero-worship of his predecessors, thought his treatment throughout Robin was the work of those who came before him. Of course Gothamites trust and help out Robin when Dick and Jason built that foundation.

He's not exactly wrong, but it isn't to the extent they actually do for Tim.

Unfortunately for Tim, Damian and Jason do know that his Robin was treated with such reverence. They don't know why, but their Robins did/do not get treated that way. They chalk it up to Tim being the "perfect" and "can do no wrong" Robin. It's one point of contention they are unable to clear up due to Tim not knowing about it and the other two not wanting to explain their jealousy.

Steph was not treated as well as Damian and Jason when she was Robin. She, in this AU, was not treated as much of a crutch as Tim is. Despite that, her Spoiler/Batgirl/whatever persona gets some of the protectiveness that Tim's personas do. Bruce was more healed with Steph, but he was still an ass. That was obvious to any Gothamite watching.

Steph, because she was around at the time and talks with Gothamites to know what rumors are floating around, becomes aware after her death of why Tim's Robin is held up with such respect. This allows, unknowingly to Tim, for them to reach more understanding. With her knowledge of Tim's time as Robin, she's able to point out how he was being an ass, what he should've done instead, and that she herself was sorry for some of her actions.

When more and more individuals cue into Tim's black sheep position in the Batfam, this could go two ways.

One, Tim is targeted more due to his lack of support.

Two, Gothamites and Rogues increase their aid to Red Robin and become slightly cold to the Bats for their treatment of him.

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Norris and Button traveling around the world together.

THE 2021 SEASON

PRE SEASON TESTING  Sakhir, Bahrein, 2021 

The McLaren office is silent as I scan over the list of reporters that will be present for the pre-season testing. This is my first time at a testing of Formula 1 and also my first day at the job as not an intern, but as a junior PR assistant. 

I’m nervous, again, just like I was the first day as an intern two years ago. Sophie isn’t here this week, she told me she wanted to see how I’d deal with this by myself, considering pre-season is supposed to be a bit more chill, as I only have to deal with the press and not the fans as well. 

As I finally finish jolting down the necessary notes, I get my phone and smooth down my skirt. I’m trying to appear more professional, wearing a skirt and a button down shirt. 

I walk out of McLaren and onto the eerily quiet paddock. I spot Lando talking to Daniel Ricciardo, his new teammate. The fellow brit waves me over and I smile walking to them. 

“Hey guys.” I smile, standing beside Lando who grins at me. 

Once again I have the same thought as I did earlier this week when I saw Lando for the first time since my five week vacation with my family. What the fuck. 

There was something different about him, I don’t know what it is, but he’s different. I don’t know if he changed something in his hair routine, or is trying out a new workout with his personal trainer. Or if he had an attitude change. There is something different about him, and I can’t get my heart to beat normally around him. 

The two McLaren drivers include me in their conversation and we carry on talking normally. There’s a new dynamic here, Daniel and Lando, the new duo, but they get along well and I can’t help but think that it’s because it’s humanly impossible to dislike Lando. He’s just so… Wow. 

“Mick!” I squeal in delight once I spot the new Haas driver walking side by side with Sebastian. 

Mick Shumacher smiles big once he sees me and I run to him, tackling him with a hug. He catches me with ease and spins me around before putting my feet back on the ground. 

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you here!” 

“I’m happy to see you here, as well!” He says back, matching grin on his face. 

Our eyes are wide and we look like hyperactive children. 

Sebastian sighs dramatically “Will we have to keep you both separated again?” 

Daniel smirks, piping into the conversation. 

“Again?”

Sebastian nods, looking as if he’s in pain. 

“They once set a car on fire.” 

Mick and I yell in protest. 

Daniel’s eyes are wide and Lando arches an eyebrow at me. 

“It was a plastic car.” I explain. 

“And someone who was supposed to be baby sitting us let us loose at the Red Bull garage” Mick complements. 

Daniel laughed delighted, throwing his head back and Lando cracks a small smile, which is extremely unsual of him.

“Hey, don’t put this on me.” Sebastian defends himself “She was an angel and you were an overall well behaved child. How would I know you’d corrupt her sweetness in such a short amount of time?” 

Mick grins as he shrugs “We weren’t that bad.” 

“Didn’t you call Kimi once because you two got drunk and he would be the nicest of the bunch to pick you up?” 

I smile at the memory “Yeah, we called Kimi and he took care of me and then yelled at Mick for being a bad influence.” 

Mick shudders as he recalls the night Kimi Raikonnen yelled at him as he scolded the Shumacher young boy. 

“Oh damn, the iceman went all out on you.” Daniel laughes again. 

This time Lando joins in on the laugher, but his eyes are focused on me and he has his arms crossed. 

Imola, Italy, 2021 

Lando has been a bit weird for past few weeks, ever since Bahrein, which is confusing. Pre season testing went great, the first race of the season he managed to get p4. Still, he was in a kind of bad mood. 

I’ve been watching the race intensely from the McLaren garage, once there are only four laps left, I go wait for him at parc fermé. Lando’s gonna get a podium, the first podium of the season and his second podium of his career. 

I try to keep a professional appearance as I stand at parc ferme. He parks his car at p3. He hasn’t taken off his helmet yet, but I can tell from his body language that he is buzzing with excitement. 

Lewis and Max clap him on the back and he runs to his team. I try to keep a smile at bay, I know there are lots of cameras on me right now, wanting to get the attention of the girl who only got the job because of her daddy. 

He takes off his helmet and balaclava after he weighs down and his eyes lock on me. 

Lando grins, placing his helmet at the table and takes large steps to where I am. Before I can even process he scoops me up in his arms and squishes my body. 

“I got p3.” He mumbled onto my neck. 

“You did. It was amazing.” I smile as I let him continue to squeeze me in a tight hug “Congratulations Lan.” 

“I did that.” He says, emphatically on the I. “You saw what I did, right? You were paying attention to me at the race, weren’t you?” 

I’m a bit confused at what he means by that, but nod. 

“Yes, of course, Lan.” 

“Good.” He mumbled, finally letting go of me, but his hands continued on my body “You’re here with me, Norris and Button traveling the world. No one else is part of that.” 

I nod, still not following what he means by that. Lando stares at me with those beautiful eyes and smiles. 

What is going on? 

Barcelona, Spain, 2021 

The Sainz family, as sweet and welcoming as ever, invited me and Lando to have dinner with them. It's Carlos' home race, but we all still keep our friendship up and his father loves to have us around, mostly Lando who shares his love for golf and I’m pretty sure became an honorary son to him. 

As we sit in a restaurant I take on the opportunity that Lando, who’s across from me, is engaged in a conversation with Caco, so I turn to Carlos. 

“Hey… have you also noticed that Lando has been acting a bit weird this year?” I ask him in a low tone so no one else but me, him and his girlfriend Isa can hear. 

Carlos’ tilt his head to the side a bit confused while Isa smiles fondly at me. 

“No, not really. He’s been normal.” 

Isa lightly taps his arm and they seem to have a silent conversation before Carlos turns to me again, a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes. 

“Oh, pequeñita. You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” 

“Notice what?” I question him, even more confused than before. 

“It’s because of Shumacher.” 

I frown “Mick? What does Mick have to do with Lando’s weird behavior?” 

Isa laughs softly as she leans closer to me. 

“You know what that means, he’s jealous of Mick.” 

I widened my eyes incredulously. 

“Jealous? But why?!” 

The couple share another glance before Carlos pats my head in a sweet but annoying gesture. 

I grow a bit annoyed with the fact that they won’t tell me why, but I decide to keep quiet and not say anything else. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own. 

Le Castellet, France, 2021 

Daniel flanked me through the paddock, a frown on his usual smiley face. He was pissed, I had never seen him pissed off before. 

I had arrived at the paddock with him, Lando had arrived earlier as he rode with Carlos. 

When we got out of the van there were fans waiting for Daniel and he stopped for pictures and autographs. There was a small child with their parents who gushed me over, as they had been Jenson Button’s fans. They asked for a picture and I couldn’t say no when they were so sweet. And that’s when the shit show went down. 

Some fans, overhearing our conversation, started to shout bad words at me. They called me an opportunist, said I didn’t deserve my job, they called me a whore, accused me of sleeping with the drivers so I’d keep my job. 

I was frozen in place, I didn’t know how to react. I had never been publicly hated before, it was already horrible to read those things online, but hearing them being shouted to my face, it was much much worse. 

Daniel snapped the minute he heard those words. He told the fans off, called security and took me inside the paddock and quickly to the McLaren hospitality. 

Lando was lounging on the couch when Daniel slammed the door open, he was on his feet the minute he saw our body language. 

“What happened?” He rushed over to me. When I didn’t say anything he turned to Daniel “What happened?” 

“Some fucking assholes saying fucking bullshit to her.” Daniel answered angrily. 

And it’s like things finally clicked in place and I realized what happened. The tears came out in waves. 

Lando was quick to wrap his arms around me, cradling my head on the crock of his neck. 

Daniel explained to him what the fans had been saying outside the paddock and Lando only held me tighter as I cried. 

“Come on, let’s go to my driver's room.” He mumbled once he realized some of the McLaren staff had been looking at us. “You’ll be much more comfortable there, love.” 

Still keeping me in his arms, he walked me to his driver's room, closing the door shut behind us. He guides me to the couch, sitting me in between his legs and still holding me close. 

Lando caressed my hair as he whispered reassuring words into my ear. 

“I’ll never be good enough for them.” I sob onto his neck “No matter what I do, I will never be able to prove myself. I should just give up… yeah, yeah… I’m gonna quit my job.” 

“Hey, no!” Lando says sternly. He pulls my face off his neck and cups it in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You’re not quitting. I’m not letting you give up, that’s not happening. Not now, not ever.” 

He wipes away my tears with his thumbs. 

“You are good enough. You’re more than good enough.” He tells me. “You have been doing an amazing job. You’re not here because of your father.” 

“But my dad helped me get this job.” I protest, still softly crying. 

“Yes, he did help you get the job and you never denied it, you’ve been vocal about getting this jump start.” He nods “But it wasn’t your dad that made you keep the job. It wasn’t your dad that made you get the promotion from intern to junior assistant. It was all you. It was your talent, your professionalism, your hard work. It was you, only you.” 

I stare at him, processing his words. 

“And those assholes that said those things to you? They are nothing but pathetic people who need to put others down to feel good about themselves. You don’t owe them anything. “ 

I nod slowly, my tears finally slowing down as he still has my face in between his hands. Lando smiles softly at me. 

“You are incredible, love, I wish you could see how amazing you are.” 

He leans in, placing a soft tender kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes, enjoining his affection. 

Lando lets go of my face, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he leans back on the couch, making me lie on his chest. One of his hands rests on my hip, holding me close. 

I take a deep breath, snuggling against him and keeping my eyes closed. 

Silverstone, England, 2021 

“And then, he refuses to let her buy her own records!” I exclaim to Lando. “So she didn’t own her own music anymore. The music she worked her whole life on!” 

We were sitting at the McLaren hospitality together. It was way too hot outside at the Silverstone circuit so the two of us were sitting inside, where there was air conditioning, and we were having ice cream. 

“But, Taylor is really smart, and she decided to re-record her albums. So if there is a Taylor’s version after it it means she owns it. And she releases songs from the vault that are songs she wrote originally for that album but that got cut off.” 

Lando nods along to what I’m saying, a small smile on his lips. 

“And she’s releasing… purple Taylor’s version in November?” He asks me. 

I chuckle, “It’s red Taylor’s version.” 

“Oh, I see…” he hums “Why red?” 

“It’s her favorite color. Oh, I can’t wait to dress in full red on the release album date.” 

“That’s a no.” He shakes his head. 

I tilt my head to the side confused “What do you mean that’s a no?” 

“I’m not letting you dress in red! Red is Ferrari’s color and you're a McLaren girl.” 

I place a spoonful of chocolate ice cream in my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue before smiling mischievously at him. 

“Everybody is a Ferrari fan.” I tease him.

“No! No! You’re not quoting Sebastian Vettel to me!” He exclaims dramatically “I already lost my best friend to Ferrari, I can’t lose my girl too!” 

I felt the blush taking control of my cheeks when he called me his girl. 

“Not happening. Doesn’t she have a papaya album?” 

I shake my head, still a bit dazed with his words. 

“The closest she has to an orange tone is her evermore album that is more of a terracota.” 

Lando nods “That works for me, it’s better than a red themed one.” 

I giggle at him, poking his side.

“I can’t believe you’re mad over an album color theme.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he has an affectionate smile on his face. 

Magyórod, Hungry, 2021 

The knocking on the door startled me awake. I jump in bed, rubbing my eyes as I click on the screen of my phone. It’s midnight. I frown wondering who it could be at this time of night. 

I throw the blankets to the side as I pad quietly to the door. I open just a tiny bit to see who it is. 

Lando smiles big when he sees my face. I sigh in relief that it’s a familiar person, I open the door wider and there he is. Standing in a hoodie and sweatpants and holding a birthday cake. 

“Happy birthday!” He exclaims.

I widen my eyes, having completely forgotten it is my birthday. 

“Thank you, Lan!” I smile, stepping to the side to let him into the room. 

Lando walks to the table and places the cake there. I follow him close behind as I look at the beautifully decorated cake. In a cursive letter it’s written I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22! 

“Oh my god, you got me a Taylor Swift birthday cake!” 

Lando grins before wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. 

“Of course, how couldn’t I get a 22 birthday themed cake for the 22 year old girl who’s obsessed with Taylor Swift?” 

I smile as I squeeze him in the hug. 

“You’re the best of the best of the best!” I squeak happily. 

He smiles before kissing my temple.

“You only deserve the best.” 

We stayed hugging for a few more minutes, enjoying the hug before pulling away. I smile at him again, that’s all I do when I’m around him, and I grab his hand pulling him towards the bed. 

“Sleep over?” I ask softly as he sits together in the fluffy bed. 

“Yes.” He nods. 

Lando looks nervous for a moment and I get concerned I might have crossed a boundary of asking him to stay over, although it won’t be the first time we slept on the same bed. 

He sighs before putting his hand inside his hoodie pocket and pulling out a velvet box from inside of it. He smiles nervously before handing it to me. 

“Your birthday present.” He mumbled 

I gasp as I open the box. Inside of it there’s a beautiful gold necklace, the pendant is a heart with its outside full of tiny pink swarovskis. I take the delicate jewelry in my hands as I turn it around, on the back of the heart it’s written LN. 

“Lando…” I murmur 

“I-I wanted to have my… my initials on it so you ’d… so you’d always have me close to you.” He mumbled awkardly, his cheeks pink.

“It’s beautiful.” I smile “I love it. Thank you.” 

I turn back to him and pull my hair to the side “Can you put it on me, please?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Lando’s hands are a bit shaky as he places the necklace around my neck, his fingertips bringing goosebumps to my skin. 

I turn around again and his eyes fall to my neck and chest, where the heart necklace he gave me rests. He smiles proudly. 

“It looks beautiful on you.” He said, lifting his eyes to look at me “You’re beautiful.” 

I smile, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Thank you, Lan. I’m never taking this off.” 

He grins harder, leaning over and placing a kiss on my cheek as well. 

SUMMER BREAK 

Mallorca, Spain, 2021 

“Retirement huh?” I ask Kimi Raikkonen as we’re enjoining the beach in Mallorca 

It’s not usual for the Raikkonen family to join us during summer break, along with the Rosbergs and Vettels. Lewis used to come along with Roscoe but since his fallout with Nico he never joined us again - even after when I was seventeen and I called him crying asking him to join us because my dad was retiring and we should all spend one last summer together. He came, after Nico left. Those dramatic middle aged men. 

Kimi gives me a lazy smile, which also isn’t usual contrary to popular belief. He has his sunglasses on and is building a sandcastle with me and his two children, Robin and Rianna. 

“Eh, racing is a hobby and I got tired of it.” He shrugs “Now I’m more into dirty bike riding.” 

I chuckle, shaking my head “Somehow that sounds even worse than driving cars in circles.” 

Robin gives me a bright smile as he says “Don’ wowwy, I race car soon in Formula 1 and you cheer I!” 

I smile at him, ruffling his blonde hair “Of course, Rob! I wouldn’t dare to cheer for anyone else but you!” 

The little boy seems content as he goes back to building the sandcastle. Rianna actually grew bored of it a few minutes ago and is now busy with playing, tugging, at my hair. 

“Who’s he?” Kimi asks suddenly. 

“What?” I frown confused. 

“The boy who gave you the necklace.” 

“Oh.” I feel my cheeks warm up, truth to my words I have indeed been wearing the necklace Lando gave me all the time. “Lando gave me as a birthday gift.” 

I can see the furrow on Kimi’s eyebrows even if he’s wearing sunglasses. 

“That thing made a move on you?!” He exclaims “I’m running him off track when we’re back from summer break.” 

“What? No!” I shake my head “It’s just a necklace.” 

“A custom heart shaped necklace! It’s like he has a death wish or something.” He whips his head to the side “Sebastian! Come here! Now!” 

Seb, who was peacefully napping under the umbrella, sits startled at Kimi’s urgent call. He runs to us. 

“Norris made a move on her!” 

“What?” Sebastian asks scandalized “He did what? That little asshole!” 

“He didn’t do anything, Seb.” I explain as I point to my necklace “Kimi is just freaking out over the birthday gift Lando gave me.” 

Seb sits on the sand beside me, leaning closer to scan the necklace. 

“Yeah, I’m running him off track when the summer break is over.” 

“That’s what I said!” Kimi smiles big “We’re running him off track together so he doesn’t have anywhere to escape to.” 

Seb hums, nodding his head “That’s a good plan.” 

I look at them in exasperation “No one is running anyone off track.” 

They ignore me as they keep plotting. 

“Hey!” I snap at them and the two grown men finally look at me “Lando and I are just friends, stop this. And even if we weren’t, I’m 22, I’m allowed to date.” 

They share a look before laughing. 

“No, you’re not allowed to date.” Seb says, still chuckling “You’re funny, prinzessin.” 

I glare at them but they only continue to laugh at me. 

“You’re still the first pieni vauva, you always will be.” Kimi grins at me “And that means you’re only allowed to date when you’re… fifty.” 

“You’re both ridiculous.” I scoff but I have a small smile on my lips. 

Deep down I know they don’t actually mean it. But I have to keep an eye out so that they won’t threaten Lando or something like that. 

Monza, Italy, 2021 

“You’re here!” Lando yelled over the loud music, arms open wide and a drink in his hand. He was for sure already drunk. 

Daniel had won the Monza Grand Prix and Lando came just in second, it was the first time in his F1 career he had gotten p2. The team had decided to go out to celebrate at a club and some other drivers joined in - Max Verstappen, who had a terrible race and dnf, was there drinking the night away to celebrate his best friend and also drown his feelings. 

I stepped up to where Lando stood and smiled at him. 

“Yeah, sorry it took me too long.” I let him hug me “I couldn’t decide what to wear.” 

Lando grabbed my hand, twirling me around and whistling as my sparkly short blue dress shone under the club lights. 

“You certainly made a great choice.” He smirked at me “You look incredible.” 

I feel my cheeks grow warm. 

“Thank you.” 

I went over to the bar to order myself a drink and Lando followed me close behind. As I stood leaning over the bar to order my drink, I could feel his warm chest against my back. 

I stood up straight as I waited for the bartender, and I tilted my head to the side to look at Lando who was already looking down on me. 

He's wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, but he’s wearing his damn cap backwards. He always looks fucking good when he wears it backwards and it actually makes me weak in the knees seeing him so up close like this, his chest pressed against my back.

I’m snapped out of it when the bartender hands me my drink. I thank him before letting Lando lead me back to where the rest of our group is. I sip on my drink, letting the alcohol flow through me and relax me. 

Carlos is dancing with Charles while Max laughs at their terrible moves. Daniel is screaming the music as he hugs Zac and they both sway side to side. 

I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look. 

Lando grins at me as he’s sitting on a stool, his left arm resting on top of the table. 

“Come here.” He says as he wiggles two of his fingers for me to get closer. 

When I’m at reach distance, he turns me around and pulls me to stand in between his legs. My back hits his chest and he wraps an arm around my waist, keeping me close. 

My breath hitches as he does this so effortlessly and as if it’s normal to hug me from behind. 

“They’re gonna be all over Instagram and Twitter tomorrow.” Lando whispers in my ear “They look ridiculous.” 

I chuckle “They really do.” I sip my drink “Aren’t you gonna join them?” 

I feel his laugh against the side of my face. 

“Are you calling me ridiculous?” He asks in feign hurt. 

I giggle, craning my neck a bit to the side so I can see his face. He has a smug smile on his lips. 

“You ridiculous? Never!” I giggle harder when he squeezes my waist in a playful warning “It’s just that usually you’re the life of the party and right now you’re sitting on a stool drinking peacefully.” 

Lando smiles, his dimples even more evident as the pulsing lights of the club shine on his face. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to stay here with the prettiest girl in the club?” 

Once again I feel my cheeks grow warm, but since I’ve already had drunk, my mind is a bit dazed so I smile at him. 

“Really? And where is this pretty girl?” I ask him in a tease. 

He smirks, squeezing my waist again and relishing in me squirming against his chest. 

“She’s right here… in my arms.” He mumbled before placing a long lasting kiss on my cheek. “The prettiest girl in the club.” He moves his lips a bit down and kisses my jaw “The prettiest girl I have ever seen.” 

I feel my heart flutter in my chest at his words and at his touch. I know he’s drunk and doesn’t mean any of it, but for a night I can pretend he does mean it, so I let him hold me close. 

Cidade do México, México, 2021 

“Oh, Mick…” I whisper as I hug him, softly rubbing his back “It’s okay… this kind of thing happens.” 

Mick huffs annoyed against my shoulder. He crashed into Yuki Tsnuoda during the race today and they both had a DNF. 

“You’re both rookies… that’s normal to happen.” 

I apparently said the wrong thing because the German boy lifted his head from my shoulder, our face millimeters apart as he glared at me. 

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” He mumbled angrily “You’re not even a driver.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him “There’s no need to take out your frustration on me, I’m not the one who crashed your car.” 

We keep staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. Eventually Mick sighs and goes back to burying his head on my shoulder as he continues to complain about it being unfair. 

I don’t say anything, knowing that if I do we will end up having a fight, just like it happened when we were younger and he crashed into Formula 3 - he kept whining about the crash that had been his own fault and I called him out on it. We didn’t speak for three weeks. 

“There you are!” Lando’s voice cut through the silence of one of the cool down rooms of the paddock. 

He gave Mick an unimpressed look and a glare. 

“Hi, Lan.” I smile at him. 

Ever since our little encounter at the club right after the Monza Grand Prix things between us have been different. He certainly kept touching me every chance he got and I wasn’t going to complain about it when in reality I loved to be wrapped in his arms. 

“I need you for something.” He said, and I tilt my head confused as I was off the clock “It’s important. Please.” 

“Sure.” I nod as Mick lifts his head from my shoulder and away from me “Take care, Mick.” 

The Shumacher boy looks at me with a slight pout of being deprived of comfort after his DNF, but didn’t say anything as Lando grabbed my hand and got me out of the cooldown room. 

We walked in silence for a moment before we entered the paddock’ parking garage. Lando opened the back door of the van and helped me up inside before sitting beside me and taping the driver on the shoulder to signal we’re ready to go. 

“So… burritos?” He asked. 

“What?” I blink at him 

“Do you want burritos for dinner? And some tacos? And nachos?” 

“I… you…” I’m at a loss of words for a moment as I catch up to what he’s done “You called me here to help you because you want dinner?” 

Lando nods, a sly smile on his face as he shifts his body on the back seat to take a better look at me. 

“Yes, I’m hungry. That’s why I need your help, to have dinner with me.” 

I can’t help but laugh at his audacity and then a memory comes up to my brain. Back in Spain, at the beginning of the season when I asked Carlos about Lando acting weird and Isa told me he was jealous. Jealous of Mick. 

“Why don’t you like Mick?” I ask, catching him off guard. 

Lando is momentarily stunned before he shakes his head. 

“I do not not like him.” 

“Yes, you do.” I say, a slight frown on my forehead “Whenever I’m with him you’re either glaring, snappy or you find excuses to drag me away.” 

He avoids my eyes for a moment, looking at the rooftop of the car before finally looking at me again. 

“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s just that…” he trails off and is quiet again for a moment before he grumbles “He hogs all your attention.” 

“Oh God, he’s my childhood friend and I don’t even spend that much of a time with him.” 

“Do you like him?” He asks me. 

I look at him stunned “What?” 

Lando rolls his eyes “Do you like Shumacher? Like, do you have a crush on him or something?” 

“No. He’s my childhood friend.” I repeat my words from earlier. “Why?”

He shrugs and won’t look at me. 

I huff “Don’t do this, Lando.” 

He looks at me from the corner of his eyes “Don’t do what?” 

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” I cross my arms over my chest. 

He doesn’t say anything and neither do I. We both look at the opposite windows of the car, watching as Mexico City passes by in a blur. 

Doha, Qatar, 2021 

Lando and I weren’t talking. Well, mostly he wasn’t talking to me after Mexico. During the Brazilian Grand Prix and his 22nd birthday, I snuck into his hotel room and left this gift there. 

It was a small golden bracelet, it had his full name and race number on it. I left a sweet message alongside it, hoping he would get the hint of what I meant. I guess he did get the hint and didn’t like it because I woke up after the Brazilian Grand Prix to see Instagram and Twitter flooded with pictures of him making out with some girl at a club in São Paulo. 

And now I was the one not talking to him because he has been texting me and calling me non stop on the two week break in between races. 

I asked Sophie to take care of this scandal of him as I had never dealt something like that before and didn’t know where to start, so I just stayed on the sidelines watching her do her job and learning - in all honesty I just didn’t want to have to deal with him after seeing him kiss some random girl. 

I was heartbroken and I didn’t want to let anyone know about it because if Kimi or Seb caught wind of this… I might be sad, but I’d like to keep Lando alive. 

“Stop looking so sad…” Daniel pokes my arm “Those big sad eyes of yours… I can’t handle it.” 

We were sitting together as we were waiting for the press conference to begin. 

“I’m not sad.” I lied, “I’m just tired.” 

“C’mon!” He all but whines “We’ve been working together for almost a year now, I know you’re lying.” 

I don’t say anything so Daniel keeps talking “He’s sad too, you know.” 

I give him a side eyed glance as I mumble “I don’t know who is this he you’re referring to.” 

He sighs exasperated. 

“You should talk to him.” He says after a few minutes of silence “Lando misses you.” 

“No. I got his message loud and clear.” I shake my head, feeling the stupid tears gather in my eyes once again “I don’t need him to say it to my face. From now on we’re just… work colleagues.” 

“But you’re not just work colleagues, you’re way more than that and you know it. Also, you both are dumb asses who got this all wrong.” 

I turn to look at Daniel, the stubborn tears ready to spill out onto my cheeks. 

“How did I get it wrong, Daniel? I wrote him a note basically saying he’s the best thing that has ever happened in my life and that he meant so much more to me than just a friendship that blossomed because of work.” I say wobbly as I refused to let the tears roll down from my eyes “And he went out and kissed someone else. Things have never been more clear to me. I was just a fool and stupid.” 

Daniel says my name softly, but I shake my head. 

“The press conference is about to start, get in the room. I’ll be waiting for you here.” 

The Australian man sighs before nodding and following my instructions. He gives me one more look over the shoulder and I hate how he seems to pity me right now. 

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2021 

I didn’t go to the anual Abu Dhabi McLaren end of season party. Instead I went out to dinner with the Raikkonen family. 

Tonight has been Kimi’s last race of his Formula 1 career and I wanted to be there with him for his last night. I’ve known him my whole life, I was the flower girl at his wedding and I had been the first baby in his life. Right now being with family seems better. I need this. 

I decided not to be secretive about my motives of not being at the McLaren party as I posted a picture hugging Kimi on Instagram. 

Old man retired. Now that you’re out of f1 I can finally say it: you’ve always been my favorite. Love you Setä Kimi 🥺💙

After dinner, Sebastian drove me back to the hotel. He had been quiet most of the night and I can tell he is sad. All of his friends have retired, now it’s just him, Lewis and Fernando who have decided to come back. 

Once we’re out of the car and entering the elevator I turn to him. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to leave as well.” I whisper. 

He chuckles softly “I can’t say I’m not considering it. I’m getting old.” 

“No, you’re not old.” I shake my head. “You’re not even forty yet!” 

“But I’m not at my prime anymore. I only got one podium this year.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” I argued back. “You switched teams, you’re still getting used to the car! You can’t leave!” 

Suddenly it was like it had all hit me at once, the changes of it all. Kimi was leaving, he isn’t coming back next year. I’m not talking to Lando, who has been by my side since I started this job. And now Seb wants to leave as well. 

“Hey, prinzessin, no, please don’t cry.” 

I didn’t even notice the tears falling down my face as Sebastian hugged me tight. He caressed my hair in a soothing manner, like he used to do when I was a child. 

We were standing in the middle of the hallway of the hotel. He rocked me gently in his arms, shushing me. 

When I finally calmed down, Sebastian spoke again, his voice gentle. 

“You need to talk to Lando.” 

Before I could protest he continued to talk. “I know you’re not only crying because Kimi is leaving and I’m considering retirement. You need to talk to help, fix things between you two before it’s too late.” 

“There’s nothing to fix…” I whisper sadly “He… I… I really like him, Seb. But he doesn’t feel the same way.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He chuckled amused “That boy is head over heels for you.” 

I open my mouth, but once again he cuts me off “I know what he did. He told me.” 

“He… told you?” I question with a frown “And you’re still telling me to go talk to him?” 

Sebastian nodded “Yes. He was desperate, he misses you so much and doesn’t know what to do anymore to get you to talk to him. He’s… hopeless, but he likes you too.” 

When Sebastian left me in my hotel room, tucked into bed warm and safe with a kiss on the forehead, I kept replaying his words in my mind. 

Lando likes me. That sounds weird. But I also know Sebastian would never ever lie to me about something like that. 

I text Daniel asking him if Lando has already left the party. Daniel answers me with a yes in big bold letters and lots of exclamation marks. 

I pace back and forth in my hotel room before slipping on my shoes. I open the mini fridge and get to mini liquor bottles. I dart out of my room and soon enough I’m standing in front of Lando’s room. 

I take a deep breath before I knock on the door. 

There are a few moments of silence, I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I hear the lock turn and soon enough Lando is standing in front of me. His green eyes are rimmed red and he looks like he has been crying. 

He whispers my name, a slight tone of disbelief. 

“We didn’t toast to another year of Norris and Button traveling the world together.” I say. 

We stare at each other before he smiles and ushers me inside. 

[luxthestrange]

MASHLE Incorrect quotes#44 Junior be askin'

Ryoh Junior going to work with you for a day, You teach at Easton Magic Academy Wild Magic, Your Nephew caught Rayne your assistant starring at you...you asked Rayne to watch Rj for a bit while you excused yourself

Rj*Looking at Rayne, sitting straight with an integration-like tone*Where do you live?

Rayne: In the city

Rj: Do you have a house?

Rayne:Apartment

Rj:Own or Rent?

Rayne:Rent

Rj: What do you do for a living?

Rayne:Lots of things

Rj: Where's your office? Rayne: I don't have one

Rj: How come?

Rayne: I dont need one

Rj: Where's your Gf/Bf/S.O?

Rayne*after a pause he answers the young boy* Dont have one...

Rj: How come?

Rayne: It's a long story

Rj: Do you have kids?

Rayne:No i dont...

Rj: How come?

Rayne: It's an even longer story

Rj*Squints eyes at Rayne* Are you really Finn's brother?

Rayne: What's your record for consecutive questions asked?

Rj*Unblicking,unafraid of him* 38

Rayne*Almost wants to smile*Im Finn's brother alright

Rj: You have much more Babyface than my Dad

Rayne*Feeling slightly self-conscious about it now*"Do I really have face like that?"...How nice of you to notice

Rj: Im a kid thats my job

Part 2 of:

[harrystylescherry]

A/N: wow, what amazing timing. let's pretend i did this on purpose. happy birthday, harry! fyi, this is vol. 2--you don't have to, but i rec reading vol. 1 first :)

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain, orgasm denial

what this is: pure smut tbh - vol. 2

word count: 5.5k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

It had been three agonizing days–three and a half if you were going to count this morning…and you were, because the ache between your legs and the need thrumming at your core was the only thing you could think about. 

Your boyfriend was punishing you in the worst way: orgasm denial. He’d work you and edge you until you were just on the brink of release, one…two…three times…then release you from the restraints, or pull you up from his lap, and go about his business. As if you weren’t a puddle of need, dripping between your thighs, angry and wanton and sorry. 

Because that was the whole point of this–for you to be sorry. To show you not to misbehave, or shirk direct orders. 

In your eyes, it was a minor infraction. He had left on a business trip for five days, and told you, explicitly, not to touch yourself, not for a teasing second, not to come. Then, he made sure to clarify that none of the sex toys at his place or yours were to be used either, knowing how much you loved a loophole. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, and you had taught him well to be specific and exact with his instructions. On more than one occasion, he’d tell you that you should’ve been a lawyer–a comment that was as much of a compliment as it was a chastising for being bratty and pushing his limits. 

The instruction was a punishment in itself, though he’d never admit to it. He wanted you to go with him, so between the stressful meetings and boring client calls, he could have moments of peace. He wanted to show you around a new city (though he’d only ever been there once before himself), discover hole in the wall eateries and dive bars together, fuck you in places not exactly meant for fucking, and, of course, have you on his arm for all the client dinners and drink-night-schmoozing he was expected to do. Unfortunately for him, you were only three months into your new job as an assistant editor/junior staff writer for The Wire, an indie music magazine based in London that mostly focused on independent artists and underground scenes. Were you cool enough for the job? Probably not, but you were open to anything and everything–your 134 very specific spotify playlists proof that you didn’t discriminate. 

The job was a lot of work, and you were busting your ass to prove to the close-knit team that ran it that you were worth keeping around. Your ninety-days of entry-probation had just ended. Taking time off wasn’t a good look (not that you had even racked up enough hours to take off an entire work week), and while working from home wasn’t off the table, you didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t want to be there. On the ground, toiling away at your tiny desk with the other two assistants and three interns. It was fun. You loved Harry, but your priorities right now were what they were. He understood it, though that didn’t mean he had to like it. And clearly, he didn’t, as evidenced by his very unfair and petty instruction. 

You had done well the first three days, despite the teasing texts and naughty photos meant to bait you–which is why you’d been so strong. He wasn’t going to trick you into breaking a rule. 

Day four was what broke you. You hadn’t heard from him all day (which only made you want the teasing and photos now that they were being withheld), you had stupidly started an erotic romance novel that was essentially 320 pages of pure (ungodly and delicious) fucking, and you were so stressed out from work that your body was begging for a release beyond what your favorite workout could give. 

You were just a girl. A horny, needy, sexually frustrated girl. It’s not your fault that the desperation was too strong for you to deny the call of the clit sucker you kept buried in your underwear drawer. It was society’s. 

In the moment, the rationalizing was totally sound. And in the moment, the orgasm was worth it. 

Then, Harry’s facetime came through only a few minutes after you’d come down, as if he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to your orgasms. 

“Hi,” you said after checking to make sure your hair was fine and the toy was safely tossed beneath your bed. 

His brow furrowed on the screen. “Hi, baby.”

“How’s your trip?” You settled into the pillows behind you. 

“Good,” he mumbled. His lips twitched. “Did you touch yourself today?”

“W-what?”

“You did, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “When? Just now?”

You scoffed. “Harry, come on. Of course not. You said–”

“I know what I said. And I know that you didn’t listen.” His voice was stern and it sent a jolt to your core. 

“That’s–”

“Don’t lie to me. I know what you look like after–and it’s all over your face.”

Your cheeks flamed. You were caught. 

“It’s not my fault!”

You could see he was fighting off a smile–a devilish one. “Whose fault is it then?”

“I…” You didn’t really have an answer. 

“That’s what I thought.” You watched his jaw tick through the screen. “I’ll be home tomorrow night. I expect you to already be there when I do. Now, get cleaned up and go to bed.”

He ended the call before you could respond. No ‘goodnight’ or ‘I love you’. You were screwed…and not in the way you would’ve liked. So, feeling a little guilty, you moved into the bathroom, took a shower, and climbed beneath your covers at 9pm. 

The night he got home, he restrained you to the bed without a word. Flat on your back, with your limbs pulled to each respective corner of the bed, he teased your nipples with a paint brush, then your clit, until you were a squirming, writhing mess. Then it was over. He brushed a hand over your cheek and went to take a shower. 

Each night since, the edging had progressively gotten worse. 

You were aroused constantly. Getting through each work day felt like an impossible feat. All you could think about was the nights before–the pleasure in all the teasing–and then the pain in going without any relief. Unfortunately, that only made you wetter. 

You were a zombie through your morning meetings. You nodded when you were supposed to and took down notes just so you didn’t completely check out. You’d been staring at the commissioned article in front of you for almost forty-five minutes, not an edit made because you couldn’t tear your focus from the steady throb between your legs, when a text from Harry came through. 

Same time tonight. 

That’s all it said, though it didn’t need to say anything else. A shiver moved through you. Another night of torture. You held in the groan of frustration (with maybe a bit of anticipation), hoped that your punishment would be over tonight and white-knuckled through the rest of your day. 

You knocked on Harry’s door at exactly 8pm. No dinner together was part of the punishment, and so was not being able to use your key. Those were always part of the punishments, though, and served to remind you of your place in this area of your relationship–that you were not in control, could only come and go as much as he wanted you to, and all the other things that you already knew…and that you sometimes needed reminding of. 

When were you going to learn that being rebellious was fun until it wasn’t (though, punishments could still be kind of fun–not that you would ever tell Harry that)? 

It was a rhetorical question, since you had never exactly been one to submit without a fight.

“Little brat,” he said when he opened the door. “Straight to my room. Take your clothes off in the hall.”

No kiss hello, no smile, no sweetness–just like the last three nights. Maybe the punishments weren’t always fun. Your eyes went to the floor in shame as you went past him and up the stairs. He followed behind you, his footfalls even and sure. He leaned against the wall with his arms over his chest as you pushed your jeans to the floor and peeled off your t-shirt. 

When you went to move into the room, Harry tsked in disapproval. “You know better than that. Don’t make this worse for yourself, sub.”

Your entire body lit up with embarrassment. It was a mistake. You were nervous and anxious to get it over with, not thinking. You knew you weren’t getting a release tonight, could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. Your hands shook as you unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor, followed by your panties. 

“In the room, hands against the wall.”

You took a shaky breath and did exactly as he said. 

The thin paddle pressed against your bare ass when he came up behind you and your body clenched. You weren’t exactly a fan. He slid it down the back of your thighs and gave your skin a light tap. 

“Legs apart.” You obeyed and he hummed. “Keep your arms and legs straight, and eyes up.” You took a deep breath in preparation. The paddle came down on your ass and you flinched. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-no, sir.”

“So, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whack.

There was no warning or warm-up. He took turns with each cheek, hitting hard and then easing up, so you never knew what to prepare for. At least he didn’t make you count them, not that you thought you could. You were too focused on not letting your knees buckle, fighting not to lean against the wall. 

It went on like that for a while, until the searing burn turned into the kind of sharp numbing that left you dripping. 

After what had to be at least twenty strikes, he dipped his hand between your thighs. Like always, shame slithered in; the embarrassment that all of this turned you on. It disappeared, like it always did, the second Harry made his sound of approval. That little hum that told you he was pleased, even though he wouldn’t vocalize it the way you wanted him too. It was a punishment, after all. 

He brushed his knuckles over your clit and you almost crumpled to the floor. You were so turned on, so needy, that the slightest touch was a straight shot to your core–electric. Two flicks of his fingers and you knew you’d come, which meant even more trouble. 

He touched you again and you hissed. 

“You don’t come. Not until I say.” As if you needed the reminder. 

“Yes…sir.” He chuckled at the breathiness of your voice. It was mean–and hot. He knew it, too. 

The paddle against your skin again, then his fingers moving through your slit. “Such a dirty girl,” he whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to think about anything else besides the pleasure strumming at your core. His fingers were too skilled, they knew your body too well. 

Your left knee buckled–for less than a second–but he caught it. Goosebumps raised across your skin when you heard the three tsks from behind you. 

“I–”

“Shh…” 

You pressed your lips together, forcing the plea back down your throat. 

“On the bed.”

Silently, and with your head down, you walked on shaky legs to sit at its edge. Harry pushed your chest back so you laid down. 

“Don’t move.”

He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the spreader bar. He strapped in each of your ankles so you couldn’t close your legs and then moved it up, so your knees were bent into your chest. Your breath was ragged and you fought to keep any whimpers from slipping out when he secured your wrists in the cuffs attached to the center of the bar. 

You couldn’t stretch your legs, couldn’t close them–couldn’t move. Completely open to him, you were in the perfect position for him to do whatever he wanted. 

He hummed as he moved back to the wardrobe, opening and closing drawers. He seemed to be making a decision. When he turned back to you, there was a smirk on his face. You took a deep breath when you saw the pink device in his hands. 

He pushed the curved vibrator into you, until the fit was perfectly snug. He made sure to position it so the pad pressed right against your already too-sensitive clit. Then, he went and sat in the armchair a few paces from the corner of the bed. 

It looked as though he was simply scrolling through his phone, his posture relaxed in the chair, head propped against his closed fist–but you knew better. He was making you sweat it out. You knew what was coming–and the wait was agonizing, just as he intended it to be. 

When it came–the sharp buzzing both inside and out–your whole body jerked. As he moved his thumb up and down his screen, the vibrations followed, growing stronger and then mellowing out. 

This was one of your favorite toys, except maybe not anymore. Holding back your orgasm was feeling closer and closer to impossible. Your hips bucked against the mattress, each attempt to get away from the intense vibrations futile. You wanted to cry–knew you would if this didn’t end soon. 

You uselessly struggled against the restraints, your legs trying to close on sheer instinct. The sounds that escaped you seemed more akin to those of an animal than a woman and your entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Without even thinking about it, you were begging. 

“Please, please, please.” Harry stayed silent. “S-sir, god, please!”

“No.”

The vibrations stopped and your body sagged in a false sense of relief now that the fight was over, though there was no [real] relief. He still refused to let you come.

The whining was involuntary. Each nerve ending was a live wire. If he touched you just once, just [barely] you’d explode. The squirming of your hips against the slick silicone was what pulled him up from his chair. He pulled the device from you, leaving you empty and aching. 

After releasing your wrists and ankles from the restraints, he patted the inside of your thigh. “Go take a shower.” 

That’s it. Nothing else. You felt the pressure behind your eyes as you stood from the bed. You nodded and whispered your “Yes, Sir” as you moved into the en suite. 

Your joints were sore from all your struggling, and all you wanted was a hug. It seemed his point had been made–at least in your opinion. You broke a direct order and then tried to lie about it. That was bad, you got it. Wouldn’t do it again. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t take the punishment because you could. If not, you would’ve used your safe word. He only ever gave you as much as you could handle and you trusted him with your body entirely, without question. It was the lack of aftercare that was getting to you. During this punishment, he’d been doling out the bare minimum. All you’d gotten was maybe a kiss to the forehead and little love pats to your thighs. You were used to falling asleep in his lap, being wrapped up in a blanket, or being tucked into his side as he prepared you a snack or (upon request) ice cream sundaes. 

Under the hot water, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and let your body relax. You washed your hair and lathered your body using his products (ignoring the ones he kept for you on the shelf) since that was as close to him as he’d allow you to get this week. 

When you opened the shower door, he was standing there, waiting with a towel. “C’mere,” he said as he held it open for you. You stepped into him and he wrapped it around your body, then rubbed his hands up and down your arms. You snuggled as close to him as you could and he kissed the top of your head before saying, “Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to cry again, but didn’t. The punishment would end eventually, and you weren’t going to be weak about it. 

*

It was day four and you were so sexually frustrated, you wanted to cry. Literally. At this point, you were nothing more than a bundle of needy hormones. You had chosen to wear a dress into the office for no other reason than you wouldn’t have been able to deal with the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit all day. Why torture yourself when Harry was already doing more than enough?

Halfway through your morning, you got a text from your boyfriend requesting that you go straight to his place from work. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear you sigh in annoyance. You didn’t want to be denied anymore. You were tired, and your body was still a little sore from the night before and you were mad at him. He never restrained you like that without some kind of massage afterwards. 

Each time you stood, your knees ached just a little and your hips had been stiff when you got out of bed this morning. Your body–and your brain–had had enough. 

You left work a little later than usual, staying to finish an edit that didn’t need to be done until Monday. The tube ride to his was spent trying not to work yourself up. You leaned back in your seat and listened to an album that your boss had been talking about all week, hoping to distract yourself. It worked until you were standing in front of his door. 

It opened without you having to knock and he smiled softly when he saw you. “Long day?”

So, apparently, you looked as tired as you felt. “I guess.”

He motioned for you to come in and, hesitantly, you did. He took your bags and set them in the entryway. 

“Help me finish dinner?”

Dinner. You tried not to get your hopes up that the punishment was over, but he was relenting. You’d take any allowance you could get at this point. 

“Sure.”

All that was really left to do was make the salad while he pulled everything out of the oven and set the table. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” he said as he took the bowl from in front of you. 

You took your seat and watched him move around the room, back and forth from the table with the roast chicken and sides, to the racks where he kept his wine. He poured you a glass and squeezed the back of your neck–a gesture that was both possessive and comforting. 

As you ate, he asked about work–the kinds of things you were working on, how you were settling in, etc. It was the most conversation the two of you had since he came home and it felt good. Almost too good. As much as you tried to fully relax back into your normal routine and dynamic, you couldn’t lose the last bit of tension in your shoulders. 

You wouldn’t be lured into a false sense of comfort–and Harry knew it too. He tried to hide his little half-smile, and if it were anyone else but you, it would’ve been missed but you knew him too well. 

When you put your napkin on the table signaling you were finished, he cleared the table without a word. He whistled along to the song playing throughout the main floor as you scrolled on your phone, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention. 

Really, you were in no place to be petty, but your nature was your nature. You flinched when you felt his hands on your shoulders, massaging into the knots that resided there for months, since the beginning of your new job. It was from stress that you didn’t necessarily mind, since you were doing something you loved. His fingers climbed up the back of your neck and into your hairline, pressing in soft circles. You hummed in satisfaction. 

“Is that good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you said as your eyes fluttered closed. A quick tug to your hair pulled them open again. So, it was starting. “Yes, Sir,” you corrected, and were rewarded with more kneading at the base of your skull. 

“C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

Your body buzzed with anticipation as you followed him up and into his room. He kissed your cheekbone as he passed in front of you to go to the wardrobe–the one that you’d come to see as the bane of your existence this last week. 

“Strip and lay on the bed for me.” You did as he said. All he returned with was a pair of soft handcuffs. Once your wrists were fastened together in front of you, he pushed your legs open and took a step back from the bed. 

“Hm.” He pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he looked you over. “Pretty.”

The whimper was involuntary as you preened beneath his gaze. You could feel the pulse of your core. You were so sexually frustrated that it took nothing more than his approval for the desire to pool between your legs. The smirk on his face told you he could see it. 

“You didn’t listen to me,” he said as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached down and casually traced the outline of you, making sure to keep away from your clit and your center. “Why not?”

“I-I was horny, sir. You kept s-sending me–” You cut yourself off with a needy moan when Harry dipped his fingers in just enough to coat them with you. 

He spread it over your folds until the slickness touched your inner thighs. “Keep going.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. You also forced your hips to stay down, knowing that if you rocked yourself into his hand, he’d probably pull away. You couldn’t risk that, not when he was being so nice. “You kept sending me texts and photos o-of yourself–oh, god–and telling me all these…things.” 

He brushed his fingers through your folds as you spoke, skirting around the bundle of nerves perfectly primed to set you off. 

“So?”

“So, it made me want you and you weren’t there.”

“So?” He pushed a finger inside and your back arched off the bed. “Eyes open,” he said when they fluttered shut. 

“So, it wasn’t nice. You were teasing me–torturing me on purpose. It wasn’t fair that I had to wait and you didn’t.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“I–”

“You hate when I say that, I know.” He pushed a second finger inside and you moaned. Your hips tilted forward on their own, seeking out something–anything–for relief. 

He removed his fingers. When he brushed his wet knuckles over your clit, a strangled cry replaced the disappointed sigh that escaped you. 

“Is that what you want, baby?”

You whined and wriggled on the mattress while he held his knuckles just out of reach. 

“Is it?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” 

“I didn’t get off while I was gone.”

“Okay,” you panted, as you fought your own neediness. 

Harry slapped your clit and you cried out. “Listen to me. I did not get off while I was gone.”

“What? But you–”

“I know, the torture is the point. The teasing. I thought you would’ve learned this by now.” Another brush over your clit. Another moan. “That rule was for both of us. Did you think I wasn’t in agony? Each time you answered or sent a photo in return it took everything in me not to wrap my hand around my cock, but I have some self-control. I have patience. And I understand that whatever pleasure I could give myself wouldn’t compare to the kind I could get from you.”

When you whimpered this time, it wasn’t with need, but shame. You may have felt a little bad about breaking the rule now, and not just because it meant a little disappointment and a punishment. This was a big disappointment, you could hear it in his tone. It wasn’t just breaking a simple rule, but ruining something that was supposed to be good for the both of you. Granted, in your defense, he could’ve told you that, but you also knew why he didn’t: he shouldn’t have had to. 

“Sir, I’m really sorry.”

“I bet you are.” He gave your clit a pinch that sent a flash of heat over your entire body. “I should make you wait another week. Edge you every night until you're begging for my cock, and then still not give it just so we’re even.”

“I–”

“Quiet.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you further down the bed. He placed his knee on the mattress, positioning his thigh only an inch from your clit. “You want to come so badly, go ahead.”

Your brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“Go ahead, come. You have my permission, but I’m not helping you. You want it, take it, or I’ll uncuff you, and you can get dressed so I can take you home.”

“Sir–”

“You’ve got less than a minute before I dress you myself.” The hard edge to his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

You looked from the stern set of his face down to his jean-clad thigh. When you looked back at your boyfriend, his jaw was set. He didn’t move or say a word. 

Your entire body heated with something close to embarrassment, but it was also mixed with anticipation, shame, and need. You didn’t want to go home, you wanted to get off and if this was all he was offering, you’d have to take it. Especially since, if you didn’t, you’d be in even more trouble with him. You didn’t need him to say it to know. 

You planted your heels into the mattress and closed the gap between you two. When you lifted your hips, your clit brushed against the rough material and you groaned. You rolled your hips against his thigh and cursed. It felt so good. You knew it wouldn’t take you very long to cum. The only thing stopping you from instantly falling over the edge was the fact that you could only get close enough for a light brushing–there was no pressure. The only real friction came from the coarse fabric–but it would be enough. More than enough. 

Your abs and thighs burned as you held your hips up, and with every rock of your hips, the muscles in your stomach contracted with the effort. This was its own kind of punishment, you realized. He was making you work for it. 

You had kept your eyes locked on his stiff cock pushing against the front of his jeans, not sure if you wanted to know how exactly he was looking at you. 

“That’s it, baby.” 

But, of course, all it took was that little bit of praise to get your attention. The sternness was still there, but there was also heat. He wanted you–and he seemed to love seeing you like this: needy and unbelievably desperate. Because that’s what you were. Getting your release was all you could think of. 

You wanted something to hold onto, to grip onto the blankets beneath you for more stability, but you couldn’t do it with your wrists handcuffed together. You whined with the realization. 

“I know.” The comfort was full of condescension, and you wished it didn’t turn you on even more, but it did. 

You were sweating from exertion, but you were so close. 

“C’mon, baby. Rub yourself on my thigh. I can feel how wet you are, my dirty girl.” 

You looked down to see for yourself. Where you rubbed yourself was a much darker shade of blue. Your head fell back with a moan. 

In an act of undeserved kindness, Harry pressed his thigh against you, offering you the most delicious kind of friction; the kind that almost hurt. 

It was only another second before you were tumbling over the edge. You came so hard that stars erupted behind your eyes, and your skin felt white hot. You were sure you cursed and cried out his name but you were so detached from reality that you couldn’t know for sure. 

He didn’t wait for you to come down from the high. He undid the fastening of his jeans before leaning over and uncuffing your wrists. “Up.” He walked to the right side of the bed and took a seat. “Come and sit on my cock.”

Still in somewhat of a daze, you did as he said. As soon as he pulled his length from the confines of his jeans, you straddled his hips and sank down. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned. He gripped your waist and guided your hips, holding you down so he was fully sheathed. 

You ignored the harsh rubbing of material against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and focused on how good it felt to feel him inside of you. 

“You’re gonna come again,” he said before sucking on your neck, leaving a mark that you hoped would be gone by the time you had to go back to the office after the weekend. 

You whimpered, not entirely confident you had it in you. Your clit was overstimulated and raw from the week’s torture. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know. You’ll do it anyway.”

When his voice was that deep and raspy, so commanding, who were you to argue?

“Yes,Sir.”

He pulled you far enough away that he could dip down and lick your peaked nipples. He sucked and nibbled until your chest and cheeks were red hot with the building of another orgasm. 

“Oh, god.” You gripped the collar of his t-shirt. 

He hummed against your skin. “That’s it. Keep going.” He held you tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to disconnect your clit from where it rubbed against the base of him even if you wanted to–and you were really walking that line. It was almost unbearable, the pleasure only a hair away from pain. 

When he tilted his hips to hit that special spot inside, the tension ripped loose. You dug your nails into the muscle of his shoulders as your body shook against his, your hips rocking frantically, both chasing the high and trying to get away from it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck as he emptied himself inside you. With a strong arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you riding him through both of your orgasms as your body filled with exhaustion. 

He peppered kisses over your chest, shoulders, neck and jaw until you felt him go soft, still tucked inside. You were close to falling asleep on his chest when he pulled out and lifted you up into his arms. 

“Shower first,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head and carrying you into the en suite. He set you on the counter and disappeared.

He came back with a cold glass of water, which you took happily. He turned the shower on, pulled two towels from the wardrobe and set them on the fancy warmer before returning to you. His hands moved from your shoulder to cup your face and he leaned in to kiss you. 

“You did well this week, love.”

“It sucked.”

He laughed. “It was supposed to.” Another peck to your lips and he helped you down. “Go ahead.”

You stepped into the shower and watched through the quickly fogging glass as he stripped. The second he stepped in you were glued to him, your head to his chest and his arms around your waist. 

You only pulled apart when he washed you. His hands moved over your body, soft and soapy, digging into the muscles he had neglected the nights before. 

“I think I owe you a massage or two.”

“Try three–at least.”

He kissed your hip from his spot beneath you. When he brought his hand up to wash between your legs, you flinched. 

“Sore?”

“A little numb, actually. Wasn’t even expecting that to hurt.” 

He kissed right above your mound. “Sorry, love. I’ll be gentle.”

He finished his task and you took over, doing the same for him. Despite his hardening length, he didn’t try to touch you again, or ask you to help him relieve what must have been a lot of pent up frustration. Instead, he held your face in his hands and kissed you, murmuring soft I love yous in between. 

After toweling each other off, he turned down the covers, put on Sleepless in Seattle and promised to make you blueberry pancakes in the morning.

[dahliadew]

Danny Fenton assistant to the stars (dp x dc fanfic prompt)

After leaving Amity with little to nothing to his name and refusing any help from Vlad, Danny knows he needs a job, a home, and maybe some health insurance that would be really cool. So Danny applies to as many places as he can, barely looking at the job listing, just putting out as many resumes as possible. And just before he gives up entirely, he gets a callback! Who cares if it's from some shady place called Lex Corp? At this point, a job is a job; all he has to do is work as some weird rich guy's assistant. Great, he can do this; no one is worse than Vlad, and hey, the chances of another billionaire being a supervillain are like super low……. Right?

So Lex has a problem, and that problem is PR; with all the trouble with superman and the justice league, his public perception has been in the toilet lately, and well, he needs to do something before his stock prices fall even more. After looking at different ways to endear himself to the public, he looks to his neighbors across the bay in Gotham. Bruce when from the front page of every trashy tabloid to the face of parenting with his numerous adoptions. And well, he doesn't necessarily want to adopt a whole child but an intern that could work. So he puts a listing up looking for high school to college-age individuals who want experience in business management. Most of what he gets back is worthless until he gets a resume from one  Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. Not only is he the son of two mad scientists, he had an early entry into the junior NASA program, but he's also the godson of one of his supervillain colleagues, Vlad Plasmius. So if he does hire him, he wouldn't have to hide any of his supervillain activities the lad may even be able to contribute to them.

However, in the background, Clack has been monitoring Luther's activity, and once he sees the innocent young man that he has coned into letting him parade around, he becomes concerned. And well, the daily planet has been looking for some new interns. Maybe he can convince the kid to work there instead. It would be for the best anyway, and it has nothing to do with the kid's incredibly slow heartbeat or may or may not have lifted some concrete off of someone during one of superman's battles. Ok, maybe it has something to do with the fact might be another surviving Krypton who was being taken advantage of by Luther. Or he might be a clone, but who knows? Either way, he's going to try to help the kid if only he would stop running away from him.

[targaryen-dynasty]

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

GIF.

Modern!Maegor Targaryen x fem!Reader

Based on this request

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, age gap, power imbalance, rough sex, degrading, power play, size difference

WORDS: 1.3 K

NOTES: Thanks for your request @hypocritic-trash-baby! This sleepover really shows me how difficult it is for me to write something with less than 1.5 K words lmao. But I still had so much fun writing modern!Maegor. Hope you like it!

If you had known that working three hours overtime each evening was a part of the job when you had applied, you would not have taken it – regardless of how damn hot your boss was. 

Maegor was just your type. He was in his mid 40s, incredibly tall and bulky, but not fat, and allowed you to savor your feminine energy, despite you being his junior personal assistant and supposed to assist him. Whenever he was around, you didn’t have to bother opening doors, and if Maegor heard of someone being rude to you, it was only a matter of time until that person would crawl back to apologize. 

And not to talk about the looks he gave you. 

It was thrilling. 

You scarcely saw the violet hue of his eyes whenever you were around him, always dark blown with something you couldn't quite decipher. Even if you weren’t alone with him, he undressed you with his gaze, and it always strayed to your middle, lingering there a bit too long. 

You felt desired, and it was no surprise your confidence got a good boost from it. 

This was the main reason for the skirts of your office attire getting progressively shorter, always straddling that fine line between being appropriate or unfitting. 

It was another endless evening in the office, though this time, you and Maegor were completely alone. All your colleagues had left earlier to attend the birthday party of Maegor’s senior personal assistant, Alys, while she had passed all her tasks over to you. 

… what somehow brought you into the current predicament. 

Your chest was pressed flush against the wall of Maegor’s office. He had ripped your precious heart motif tights between your legs, had pulled your thong to the side and had rucked your skirt up around your waist. 

Maegor towered over your small frame. One of his paw-like hands held your arms locked behind your back, while the other cupped your chin to tilt your head back, forcing you to arch your back to accommodate his cock as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. 

“Waited so fuckin’ long for this,” Maegor grunted into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your flushed skin. “All those short skirts…,” he trailed off, seemingly needing a few seconds to regain his breath. “... you were just beggin’ for me to fuck you, huh?”

Your mouth hung agape, and with his hand tilting your head back to a point it was borderline painful, you weren't quite able to make any more sounds than breathy whines and whimpers. “Y-Yes,” you mewled, the sound straining your throat to the point you had to cough once. 

Maegor seemed to notice your struggle, and even though his hips didn’t slow down, he was generous enough to ease the grip on your face, allowing your head to bow forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, your name leaving his lips so smoothly, you almost came just hearing it, “takin’ my fuckin’ cock like the good girl you are.” While his hand kept your arms pinned behind your back, his other grabbed your thigh to raise your leg, draping it over his forearm as he braced it on the wall. 

The new angle had you seeing stars, his cock repeatedly attacking the sweet spot inside of you to the point you felt the urge to pee. Every moan hiccuped in your throat each time his hips slammed into yours, his heavy balls slapping against your aching clit, but not once giving you enough stimulation to push you over the edge. 

“That’s it, ‘m gonna get you all nice and ready for me. Gonna fill you up to show everyone you’re mine.” He said it as if he had been waiting for this just as long as you had, if not even longer. “Just knew I had to breed you when you pranced into my office for your job interview.” 

As he bent forward, he rested his forehead against the back of your head, looking down to where his cock was repeatedly disappearing inside of your cunt. “G-God, please, daddy… harder,” you whimpered, pressing your eyes shut. “N-Need you t-to… cum in me.” 

Your words made the animal behind you groan. “That’s what you want, huh? Bein’ fucked full of my cum until you’re pregnant with my child?” 

At this point, your mind was blank, his merciless pounding and words forcing every thought right out of your brain. You whined a string of incoherent words, rambling one ‘yes’ after the other. 

You could feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, a sign that let you know he was about to topple over the edge. With a few more thrusts, he fucked into you, until he released a breathy groan that heralded his orgasm. His twitching cock spilled his load deep inside of your cunt, and you squeezed him ever so tightly in response, milking him for every drop. 

While you thought he was done with you as he pulled out, a bit disappointed you didn’t get to come at all, your doubts were quickly pushed aside with his strong arms wrapping around you, turning you in his grasp, and lifting you from the ground. You squealed at the sudden action, more so when the coldness of his desk seeped into the naked flesh of your arse. 

Before you could say anything, he draped your legs over his shoulders and plunged his cock back into your cunt, his seed mixed with your arousal serving as lubricant. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, a threatening edge to his husky voice. “I fuckin’ own you and this sweet cunt of yours. Breedin’ you over and over, until I’ve knocked you up. Want everyone to know that I fuck you.”

His possessiveness intimidated you, but you didn’t complain, not when it meant you got to be fucked like this for the rest of your life. 

“You gonna look so fuckin’ radiant with a swollen belly.” You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, drool dripping from for parted lips – a clear sign that he had most definitely fucked you dumb by now. “Gonna be so, so full of me, pigeon, don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Mae–Da-Daddy, please,” you called out desperately, not caring if it was loud enough to be heard outside of his office, since no one was there to hear it in the first place. Finally, you felt the heat in the pit of your stomach building again, the coil ready to snap at any given moment. “I want it, please. Need it so bad.”

Maegor smirked wickedly at you, and reached between your bodies to press his thumb to your clit, dragging it over the little bud in circles. It had your moans growing in volume as your climax washed over you, your convulsing walls clenching tight enough around Maegor’s thick cock to trigger his second release of the night. Your boss came with a shuddered breath leaving his lips, and by the way his jaw set, you could tell that he was slightly overstimulated already. 

You wanted to prop yourself up on your elbows when he pulled out, but his hand was quick to push you down again. A gasp escaped your throat at the impact, wanting to see just too badly what he was up to when he bowed forwards and brought his hand to your abused cunt. 

The uncomfortable feeling of being overstimulated filled your veins as Maegor dragged a thick finger through your folds, eventually sliding it inside and using it as a plug to stop his seed from oozing out of your cunt, making sure it wasn't fruitless. 

A few seconds passed until he pulled your thong back in place and fixed your skirt, helping you down his desk. When you met his dark blown gaze, you knew the insatiable man in front of you wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

[yanderesimp2000]

Yandere vox x Fem reader Vox makes you his Kissing slave (minors will be blocked)

you guys voted on this I was originally just gonna do head canons but I decided to not be a lazy POS and right a full blown story

Warnings kidnapping, Pet names, hypnosis , Vox in himself is a TW, ,collars,elector shocking, non con touching and kissing,Raging TV man boner

first time with vox so feedback is appreciated

My requests are OPEN!!!!!!!!!!!

You worked at VoxTek you were a set designer .you were walking into work that day you didn't like the job but the pay was good but around half way through you day you were approached by one of vox's assistants you and said that Vox was calling you you shivered in fear from what he might do but you walked into his office anyway

Sitting on the couch in his office were the TV demon himself, Vox. He turned to you with a cruel grimace and crossed his arms across his chest. you were scared shitless and whimpered h-hello sir

He looked at you up and down for a moment, as if inspecting you. Vox: “Sit down.” He gestures to the open spot opposite him on the couch. you were still scared but sat down right next to him “Do you know why I called you here?” vox asked in a cruel and malicious manner "n-no sir" you stuttered "Ive noticed you've been falling behind and taking unapproved breaks" vox said in a serious voice You gulped, knowing he was telling the truth. As a junior employee, you did all the dirty work. There was no time for rest. vox then spoke again "And that's not all. It's not the first time you've made mistakes in your work. Do you understand?" His cruel expression was like a dagger in your chest. You were so scared you could barely speak.

you were shaking as you said "im sorry sir it wont happen again " you said in your same stuttery voice "Do you know what happens when an associate makes me lose money?" You shake your head no in response. "they get punished" this scared you shitless and you started begging for forgiveness vox then grinned and uttered

"Do you think that would be enough after you've caused me to lose money?" Vox's stern expression was giving you more pressure, as if he was planning to do something horrible. And the worst part was that you knew what he was capable of. Vox then grinned again and said "now follow me to your new home" you were shocked all you could say was "w-wha" your mind was racing "what does he mean by new home" was all you could think of.He stood up and walked out of the office. He stopped at the door, but without looking back he motioned for you to follow him. You get up out of fear and leave the office, following him. He leads you down the hallway, which seems to take an eternity. Your whole life flashed before your eyes. What did he mean by "new home"? It couldn't mean what you thought it meant. Finally, he comes to the last door at the end of the hallway that leads into his penthouse . He opens it and motions for you to enter. You slowly step into the room, and your body went pale as the door shut behind you and locked automatically. You turned around to look for Vox, and what you saw made your heart start to pound in terror. Vox grabbed something that looked like a metal collar and approached you.

You were to scared to speak just staring frozen in fear you body wanted to move to run to flea but you just could not."This won't hurt. Just don't move too much." vox said sickeningly calm. A cold feeling spread through you as he secured it tightly around your neck. There seemed to be no escape. "please let me go I'm sorry" you blubbered. "You really think I'd just let you go after all this trouble you've caused?" He moved closer to your face, and you could feel him breathing down your neck. "You know...I think you're going to need some more training." a chill went down your spine when he said that vox then giggled and said "you were always a sweetie y'know that right but I couldn't take ya in because it would affect my imigine but now since you messed up people will just think I killed you" He strokes your hair lovingly, showing his caring side as he leans down closer."Your mine now sweetie" you couldn't hold it back anymore you just started sobbing

Vox pulls you into his arms and holds you close, comforting you with his gentle touch. "Shh...don't cry. Don't cry. I'm not going to hurt you." He pulls you close and strokes your hair, soothing you. His embrace was warm and comforting, unlike before. This was a completely different side of him. Vox strokes your hair and caresses your cheeks as you cry softly in his arms. “Don't be scared. You're safe with me…” vox said in a gentle tone He looks down at you, and his expression softens as you continue to cry. All your fears and stress seem to melt away under his touch. as you look up at him into those eyes. he smiles at you, holding you close. You can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. "... You'll be fine... I'll take good care of you..." vox said kindly

Looking into that Spinning little right eye of his made you calm down somehow. He keeps you close and strokes your hair, soothing your worries. His touch is warm and comforting, unlike the coldness you were used to. It felt nice to be held like this, to be held close and be cared for. You hadn't felt this safe in a long time. "... There... There, hush... Don't cry...** It wasn't like the Vox from the office. The Vox who yelled at you and made you fear for your job. This one was gentle and comforting. The contrast couldn't be larger... Vox was against hypnotizing you to love him he was only doing this to make you calm down for him it felt like cheating if he just hypnotized you to love him

"c-can I go home now" you said softly he laughed and said "this is your home silly " you got scared and tried to run to the exit but then the collar on your neck beeped before a wave of electric shock came apon you frying your whole body you squeal in pain. "Aww sweetie did that hurt? " vox said that in a playful tone as if it were a joke. "It was just a little shock " he continues to stroke your hair while giggling as you're still in pain from the electric shock a bit of red drool on his face "You see, sweetie, this collar is to ensure that you obey my commands and never try to run away again." he said sternly "o-o-ok" you said inbetween wincing in pain Vox then smiles at you reassuringly. "Good girl..." he says He then lifts your chin up and looks you in the eyes. "...Don't worry. You're safe in my care now..." he said in a cruel tone

He keeps caressing your hair as you continue to sit there in silence, too terrified to move or breathe."...you shouldn't be so scared you little muffin..." vox teased He then starts to gently kiss you on the cheek "s-stop " you say softly He chuckles in reaction to your answer. "I'm just showing my affection... There's nothing wrong with a few kisses, right..." he said in a firm manner He continues to kiss your cheek as you squirm while holding you close and stroking your hair in a reassuring way. He starts to gently kiss your chin until the kisses get closer and closer to your lips you try to pull away The collar starts to vibrate and beep again, signaling that another shock would be administered if you continued to try and pull away you whimper at the realization that your just gonna have to let this happen Vox's tone then shifts back to a menacing one. "Didn't I tell you? This collar is here to make sure that you obey my command. Now stop fighting me... It will only make it worse for you." You could only tremble in fear as he said that He leans in even closer and presses his lips against yours you winced and softly cried "Just relax..." vox said aroused he continues to kiss you passionately, his hand moving to your waist as he pulls you closer you can feel vox's Raging Boner pressing up against your chest through his suit but he doesn't mention anything about it but he knows He holds you close and his grip around your waist tightens as he kisses you more and more passionately you cant handle it anymore and you try to take off your collar but when you try to do so, the collar started to beep and vibrate. Your body started shaking from the intense pain of the electric shocks shooting through your body. vox giggled and said "See how silly that was? This collar is here to keep you from doing anything stupid. It isn't coming off..." He then started to kiss your neck and the top of your chest. causing you to keep struggling Vox then grabs your hands and pins them to your side. "Please, darling, don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you... but you're really making it difficult to resist." He continued to kiss you on the neck and chest. as you whimpered Each kiss was more passionate than before, getting closer and closer to your collarbone. his slick Blue tounge rubbing around your mouth as you helplessy watched you were just so... powerless "Just relax, my dear I'm almost done" vox said giving you a small amount of hope The kisses slowly get even closer to your chest, and soon his lips land on your collarbone.

Vox then moves his other hand to under your chin and uses it to gently guide your head upwards so that you're looking at him.His eyes are filled with desire as he looks at you, a small smirk appears on his face. The contrast between his gentle, caring side and his cruel side is jarring to see.He then moves his lips away from your collarbone and kisses your cheek. "Just a bit more, and I'll be done. just relax and stay still." your body is screaming at you to wriggle to attack but you know you will get shocked if you do. He slowly moves his lips back to your collarbone. The kisses become even more intense than before, and his hands start to wander to more "special" areas of your body. He starts to lightly trace your curves with one hand while your other hand trails up your waist. "... Such a delicate and beautiful creature..." he says while you whimper His body starts to press against yours, and the kisses on your chest begin to turn to kisses on your neck. He leans in even closer, and the kisses on your neck start to inch their way up to your mouth. almost like a fucked up caterpillar of kisses "Just relax..." vox said in a hypnotic voice He finally reaches your lips, and he begins to put all his passion into the final kiss.

"that was great" vox moaned "You were the best..." he said into your ear He pulled you into a passionate embrace, his arms around you. His breath was shaky, and he was clearly excited about the kisses he just gave you. He continues holding you close, caressing your cheek and neck as he breathes heavily. as you were left a whimpering puddle Vox's chest was heaving, and his breath was heavy and quick. He continued caressing and kissing your neck, not allowing you to move away "Just lay here with me, darling... I never want to let you go." he said as you whimpered. Vox started to cuddle you, gently stroking your hair while holding you in his arms. "Just relax... Everything will be fine..." he said in that same hypnotic voice making your whole body tingle He keeps holding you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek. The collar around your neck beeped a few times as if trying to remind you of its presence.

"Don't worry about this little thing..." He chuckles as he plays with the collar around your neck. "It's just to help me.... take better care of you. That's all..." he said in his gentle coo. "Just lay with me for now." he cooed He continues to hold you close, wrapping his body around yours and snuggling you into his chest. He strokes your hair and caresses your cheek again, but soon his hand moves to lower areas of your body. "s-stop" you quietly whimperd. Vox just ignored you and continued, making his hand continue to move up and down your body.

He kept his hands there, moving it around slowly as he looked at you with a smug look "Relax... Just let me do want I want to do..." he said then activating his hypnotic eye vox laughed and said "Good... now You cant resist even if you wanted to..." His hand continues to move across your body, and eventually reaches under your shirt as well. He starts to rub his hand over your chest, enjoying his power over you in this moment. "just go to sleep" vox cooed His words made you fall deeper into your trance, slowly falling asleep like he ordered you to do. Your mind was filled with his voice, and soon your thoughts began to get foggy. You felt yourself slowly drifting off. As you slowly fell asleep under his power, you could feel his warmth around you as he held you closely. As your body fell more and more into the trance, your eyes slowly fluttered shut and you fell into a deep sleep, your mind under his influence.

[justlookfrightened]

'I Wanna Be Like You'

Filling a prompt from @goddess47: A new rookie has broken one of Jack's rookie records and Jack finds he's really upset; Bitty offers comfort.

The puck thwacked against the tape on Jack’s stick just as he drew it back, and Jack fired it toward the net in one motion, sending the frozen rubber disc sailing over the goalie’s right shoulder and into the back of the net.

In an instant, Willie was embracing him against the boards while Poots and Connie skated in to join the celebration.

Hold on for another thirty seconds, and the game would be theirs.

Sure, it was a meaningless game at the end of another lost season, at least for the Falconers. The best that could be said about it was that the team was playing spoiler, ruining the Blue Jackets bid for the last playoff spot in the east.

Well. They wouldn’t have beaten Carolina in Round One anyway.

The buzzer sounded and Jack started to join the team as they filed down the tunnel towards the dressing room, stopping when one of the broadcast producers plucked at the sleeve of his sweater.

“Number two star,” the producer said.

Jack nodded, waited for Montblanc, the goalie, to take his turn and salute the crowd as number three star, then skated out and raised his stick to the Providence crowd’s cheers.

Willie, who had scored the first goal and gotten the primary assist on the third — Jack’s goal — was waiting to go out as first star.

“You mind waiting here a minute?” the producer asked as Jack tried again to go to the dressing room.

He was tired, his shoulder hurt and his gear was starting to feel uncomfortably clammy. He didn’t know why they would want him for the post-game on-ice interview; that was the first star’s job, although sometimes it got passed to the second star if the first one was new to North America and wasn’t comfortable speaking in English.

That wasn’t the case for Willie, though. Matty Wilson had been drafted by the Falconers in the first round last summer, a product of Minnesota who had moved to Canada in high school to play major juniors. He wasn’t huge for a hockey player, but he was compact and strong, with a powerful first step and a cannon of a shot. He also had the good looks and winning personality that meant he was likely to be the next face of the Falconers.

That was fine with Jack. A decade into an NHL career that he had thought wouldn’t happen at all, Jack was ready to pass the torch. And Willie had had a good season. A great season for a rookie.

Valerie, the broadcaster who did the rink-side interviews, positioned herself between Willie and Jack at the boards.

“Congratulations, Matty!” she said. “With your goal and assist tonight, you have 65 points for the season, a new record for a Falconers rookie.”

“Thanks,” Willie beamed. “It’s been a great season, and I’ve learned so much and developed so much more as a player.”

“Do you know who set the previous rookie scoring record for the Falconers?” Valerie asked, turning to Jack.

Because of course. Jack had set the previous rookie record, at 64 points.

Valerie explained that in case anyone in the arena had missed the point, while Jack offered congratulations to Willie.

He meant his congratulations. It was a huge accomplishment, something that wouldn’t have happened without Willie playing almost every game of the season, without him playing serious minutes in those games, without him becoming a very real scoring threat nearly every shift.

Almost like Jack, who had eclipsed his rookie point total five times in the last 10 years, but not this year.

Willie thanked Jack, and went on to say, “It’s a real honor to be mentioned with Jack, let alone play on the same line. I can only hope to have a career like his.”

Then they were headed down the tunnel side by side, Jack working to make sure he didn’t have a sour expression on his face.

Bitty was still up when Jack let himself in the back door of the house they’d bought three years ago. That was when Jack had signed his last contract, the one with the no-movement clause, and he and Bitty had agreed it was time to think about raising a family. No kids yet, but Bitty adored the dog they’d adopted two weeks after moving in.

The house wasn’t far from downtown Providence, but it was on a big enough lot for Bitty to have a large garden with room left over for an eventual play structure, and, maybe someday, a tiny rink in the winter. Bitty loved it because it backed up to the water, and the kitchen had marvelous natural light for taping his cooking segments.

Jack liked it because he could go out on the back deck at night, and it was magnificently quiet.

“Nice goal in the third,” Bitty said, looking up from his laptop on the kitchen table. “Protein shake is in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, letting one word serve as answer for both things Bitty told him. “Puck go out yet?”

Puck lifted his head from the rug in front of the sink when he heard his name.

“Not yet,” Bitty said.

“Come on, chiot,” Jack said, still carrying the tumbler with his shake.

He stood on the deck while Puck sniffed around the yard, watched the dog’s ears prick forward when a rabbit passed by on the far side of the fence, gazed out at the bay. This was better, right? Better than being a rookie, wondering how his career would turn out? He had a home, and a husband (and a dog) who loved him, they were planning to raise a kid or two or three together, his name was on the Stanley Cup twice … this was better. 

Better than having his whole life ahead of him? Better than having his face on all the billboards and the sides of buses. Well, yes, for that part. Even though he was still on some billboards. 

Some things were worse. The way his shoulder hurt after a hard game. The ache he was starting to feel in his hips every day when he got out of bed. How intentional he had to be to recover from one game and be ready for the next.

“Jack?”

He hadn’t heard Bitty come out behind him. Jack looked over to see his husband wrapped in old oversized hoodie, wearing flannel pajama pants and fuzzy slippers, carrying a steaming mug of what smelled like chamomile.

“You okay?” Bitty asked. “Puck should be ready to come in by now.”

“Ouais,” Jack said. He sighed and looked up at the sky, imagining the stars he knew were there from the nights he had spent at the family cabin in Nova Scotia. “Sorry. Just … thinking.”

“About what?” Bitty said, coming to stand right next to Jack, so that when Jack lifted his arm it settled naturally around Bitty’s shoulders, pulling him even more closely to Jack’s side.

“Willie. Matty Wilson. He broke the Falconers rookie scoring record tonight.”

“I saw,” Bitty said. “Is that what’s got you down, that he broke your record?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Jack said.

“No, sweet pea, I didn’t mean —”

“No, I know you didn’t,” Jack said. “It’s just, it’s not the record, really. Records are made to be broken. It’s a cliche, but it’s true. I didn’t expect it to last forever.”

“But you didn’t expect to score the goal that let someone break it?”

“I didn’t even know,” Jack said, with a little huff. “I’m his captain. I should have known. I mean, I knew he was having a great season, I knew he was close, but … maybe I didn’t want to know? I didn’t know when I set my record.”

“That’s because the previous record was like, forty points or something,” Bitty said. “You didn’t break that record, you obliterated it.”

“And we had so much success early on,” Jack said. “Then these last few years have been tough. I wanted to stay around until the team gets better again, until we have a chance … but I don’t know if I can. Did you hear him, Bits? Saying that he hopes he has a career like I’ve had? Like it’s over?”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually say that,” Bitty said.

“Maybe not,” Jack acquiesced. “But the implication was there.”

Bitty hummed a noncommittal response.

“I guess I was just remembering what it was like, back when I was a rookie,” Jack said. “I was so worried about everything. I thought I’d ruined everything and would never play in the league, but I did … and I was afraid I’d ruin it again and there would be no more chances.

“And we were new, too, you and me — really, maybe not the best idea for either of us, timing wise, but we made it work,” Jack said.

“That we did,” Bitty said, nuzzling a little into Jack’s shoulder.

“Once we got to the end of the season, and made the playoffs, it felt like — like anything was possible,” Jack said. “And once I retire, it won’t be anymore.”

“No,” Bitty said. “It won’t. Every choice you make — every choice everyone makes — closes off other choices. We bought this house, not the one in Warwick. I went to Samwell, not Georgia. Sometimes we miss out on things just because we got older, or because things don’t go our way. I hate to have to admit this, Jack, but I will never be an Olympic figure skater. And you will never be an NCAA hockey champion. Even though you deserved that so much more than me.”

“You deserved it,” Jack protested.

“I’m not saying I didn’t.” Bitty answered. “But you did too, more than I did. … I don’t know what I’m saying, really. Just that, no one gets everything they want, and I don’t think anyone’s life is really easy, not when you know them well enough to really know. But I hope you don’t have too many regrets. Not about your career, at least.”

“No,” Jack said. “Not about my career. Not about us, or our life, either. I could never have imagined this when I was growing up. It’s just — I got jealous, I think. I got jealous, because Willie still has everything ahead of him, and that feeling that everything is possible. And I remember how exhilarating that was, and how scary. Why did I waste my time being scared? Why didn’t I enjoy it more?”

Jack felt Bitty shrug.

“Because it is scary, when you don’t know how it all turns out,” he said. “People forget that part. Somebody saying they want to be like you — that’s a compliment, Jack. Take the win.”

“I guess,” Jack said. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

He turned to kiss the side of Bitty’s head briefly.

“And I know I got lucky,” he said, before releasing his husband and calling the dog, who had been sniffing at the bottom of the fence in hopes of finding another rabbit.

“And I know one more thing,” Jack added, as the three of them turned towards the door. “Willie won’t get to win a Stanley Cup his first year. I guess I’ll always have that.”

Bitty shook his head as Jack waited for him to enter the kitchen first. 

“That’s the spirit,” Bitty said. “Is there anything you won’t turn into a competition?

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Sweet on You, Chapter 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: M (Rating Subject to Change)

Story Summary: You had joined 'Sugar and Spice' in a desperate attempt to help your mother with her medical bills, so when an opportunity comes along to make a lot of money simply by spending time with a lonely attorney, you jump at the chance -- not expecting to fall for him in the process.

Tired of one-night-stands, Matt Murdock decides to sign up for a sugar daddy/sugar baby website, where he stumbles across your profile. However, despite making it clear that he only wants a platonic arrangement, Matt eventually finds himself falling for you.

Will the two of you be able to come to a permanent arrangement or will more than a contract be broken?

Warnings/Tags: Sugar Daddy!Matt Murdock, No Age Gap, Alternating PoV, No Use of Y/N

Word Count: ~1100

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the teaser! A few notes before we dive in:

-- While Reader's age is not actually specified in this, it's stated several times that she's closer to Matt's age than most women on the 'Sugar and Spice' website.

-- Matt & Reader do not actually refer to each other as their sugar baby/sugar daddy (although for all intents and purposes, that's what they are).

-- Divider is by the insanely talented (and just as awesome IRL as she is on Tumblr) @theradioactivespidergwen!

-- This is rated M for now, however rating may possibly go up in later chapters. 😈

-- If you'd like to be added to the taglist or if I've tagged you by mistake, please let me know!

Tag List: @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41 @atemydadforbreakfast

No, it's fine, Mom, I promise,” you said as you spoke to your mother over the phone. “It's not your fault you got laid off and lost your medical insurance right before you got sick.”

“It's not your responsibility to pay my medical bills, sweetheart,” your mother protested. “I'll come up with the money somehow.”

You shook your head even though you knew your mother couldn't see you. “You’ve sacrificed so much for me, Mom. Let me do this for you.”

Your mother sighed. “Okay, fine. But only because you just got that big raise at work.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Lucky me. Listen, Mom, I have to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

You hung up and blew out a breath. You knew your mother wouldn't approve if you told her the real way you had been affording to make payments towards her medical debt for the past several months. 

The truth was that your job as an administrative assistant barely even covered your own bills, so you had been supplementing your income through alternative means.

You had joined Sugar and Spice after one of the junior admin assistants had confided in you that she had managed to put herself through college by dating rich older men for money. “It's actually not a bad gig,” she had told you. “Most of them really just want arm candy to show off to their friends.”

You had gone home that night and checked out the website, and after discovering that you could select your comfort level/how far you were willing to go (by indicating that you were into either ‘sugar’ or ‘spice’) you had signed up.

It had been working out okay -- you had only been making a few hundred dollars extra a month so far because most of the men on Sugar and Spice wanted someone much younger than you were, but you had at least been able to scrape together enough to make the monthly payments on your mother's medical bills.

And speaking of…

You grabbed your laptop and pulled it over to you, then navigated to your Sugar and Spice account, pleased when you saw that you had gotten a new inquiry.

You clicked on it.

Hi, the message read, I ran across your profile and I think you might be what I'm looking for. If you're interested and available please message me back at your earliest convenience. Thank you.

You huffed out a laugh. Usually the messages you received weren't quite so… polite, so to speak.

You clicked on the sender's profile.

Matthew, 35

Occupation: Attorney 

Interested in: Sugar

Huh. Matthew was a lot younger than most of the men who frequented the site. Maybe that'll be a good thing.

You clicked the reply button. Hi, Matthew, you typed. I am available if you'd like to discuss things further.

You got up to fix yourself some tea, and by the time you came back you had another message from Matthew. Great! Is it okay if we meet in person to discuss possible terms of an agreement? Over coffee, maybe?

Okay, you replied once again. When and where would you like to meet?

The Brew Towers on Saturday, say, 9 AM?

That works for me.

Your eyebrows raised as a notification popped up stating that you had received $100 from Matthew.

As a sign of good faith , Matthew explained. See you Saturday.

See you Saturday.

You logged out and closed your laptop, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. This was the first time you'd be meeting a potential client in person and needless to say, you were nervous.

Matt sat back and took another sip of the glass of whiskey he had poured himself before he had signed up on Sugar and Spice. He had been in court earlier that day and had overheard a conversation during recess between opposing counsel about Nesbit’s much-younger girlfriend.

“How'd an old dog like you manage to score a hot piece of ass like that?” Peterson had asked jokingly.

Nesbit had chuckled. “You'd be amazed at what you can find on the internet these days. Let's just say Candy and I have a… business arrangement.”

Peterson had dropped his voice down to a whisper. “She's not an escort, is she? You know the partners don't want wind of any kind of impropriety possibly getting out to the public--”

Nesbit had made a dismissive sound. “No, nothing like that. You ever heard of Sugar and Spice, that website that connects men of a certain wealth and caliber with women who are looking for someone to take care of them? Well, Candy and I met there. She takes care of my needs, and I take care of hers.”

“So, what, you pay her to date you?”

“In a way. I keep her happy by giving her money and buying her things, and she lets me do whatever else I want when I'm not with her.”

Matt's eyebrows had furrowed. Maybe Nesbit had a point -- maybe it was easier to have a business arrangement with someone in order to fill the romantic void in his life rather than having to pick up a different woman every couple of weeks because they got too attached. Better to have someone who knows exactly what they're getting into.

As soon as he had gotten home he had looked up Sugar and Spice, and not finding anything in their terms and conditions that raised red flags, had signed up and began to browse through profiles.

After scrolling through profiles for over an hour and not finding anyone that piqued his interest he had almost gone ahead and given up when his voiceover function read out another profile header to him, this time for a woman who was at least closer to Matt's own age than all of the other women he had checked out. 

He had listened to your profile then clicked the “Send Message” button, typing out a quick message and hitting send.

He had gone to answer the door for a delivery, and by the time he had gotten back to his laptop he’d had a reply.

Before he could second-guess himself Matt had asked you out for coffee, then sent $100 to your Sugar and Spice account to show you he was sincere.

He shut his laptop and stood, then headed to go shower and get ready to go out as Daredevil. He'd gotten a tip about a major drug shipment coming in through the docks that evening and needed to go stop it.

He'd worry about his love life later.

[atlafan]

You fucked up again. Just when Harry thinks you've learned from your mistakes, you go and do something ten times as devious. Which is why he's giving you that same glazed over look, the one where he's concocting severe punishments. It's not anger, it's almost exhaustion. It's giving, "how many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man" from Spongebob. But unlike last time when you accidentally pushed him too far, this was purposeful.

Harry has a grueling job. He works a lot of long hours, he has to deal with idiots all day long, and he cannot stand the other partners at his firm. You were his saving grace. You, who was working as a para-legal just to support yourself while you ran your online jewelry store, started assisting Harry. You'd pull the files he needed. You could type more than 100 words a minute. And you had been so innocent. Not naiive, not a prude, but you were blissfully ignorant, and Harry found that to be very cute. So, when you inevitably started hooking up after one too many long nights together, he opened your eyes to a whole new world of kinky sex. He was so serious about it, explaining that he needed someone to be rough and mean with, but also craving to take care of someone and spoil them with affection. And because he had made you come so hard you cried, you were hooked on him, so you went with it.

You've been together a year now, you live together, and you're thinking of maybe getting a dog soon. You don't report directly to Harry anymore, though. You assist another person in another department. It was the only way you two could date without it being a big deal for the firm.

Tonight is a big night. They're announcing the new junior partners, and since Harry is a senior partner, he gets to pin the two people he's been mentoring. He's actually pretty excited about it, or he was until he saw you step out of the bathroom and back into your shared walk-in closet. He's standing there, half dressed, frozen with fury as he watches you pick out which rings and bracelets you're planning to wear. You double take after seeing the look on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked innocently.

"I told you not to wear that dress." He responded lowly.

"You asked me not to wear it, and I never agreed or disagreed. You can't tell me what I can and can't put on my body, Harry."

"You're making me sound controlling, that's not what this is about. You know you look stunning and sexy in that goddamn red dress, and you know it drives me insane because I know for a fact that you're not wearing anything underneath it. That's why I asked you not to wear it. I saw you eyeing it the other day, I should have known."

"I can't wear underwear with this, the fabric is too clingy and I hate having panty lines. It's just a dress. Show some self control."

And that's when the look changed. You swallowed hard and tried not to falter under his gaze. He slowly stalks toward you, still half naked, his abs and other chiseled features fully on display.

"I have plenty of self control." He said as he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "And you know better than anyone else that I love showing you off and letting everyone around us know that you're mine and mine alone and that they'll never know you or have you the way that I do." He brings his fingers up to squish the sides of your cheeks. "You have plenty of other dresses. I'd like you to go put a different one, and save this one for my eyes only."

"No." You say through your puckered lips.

"No?"

"No."

"That's final answer?"

"It took me forty-five minutes to get ready, I'm not starting over. The hair and the makeup go with the dress. I'm not changing."

He looked you up and down, smirked, then let you go. You watched him carefully as he pulled his shirt and suit jacket on. You weren't sure what he was going to do, but you're standing your ground on this.

"Babe?" He calls to you from the bedroom, so you leave the closet with your ruby clutch in hand and meet him by his dresser.

"Do you need help with your tie, sweetheart?" You ask ignorantly.

"No, I'm not wearing a tie tonight. I'm doing the open button thing, but thank you for offering. Pull up the skirt of your dress for me."

You furrow your brows but does as he says. He gets down on one knee and starts kissing up your leg. He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and your stomach drops. He hears you gasp, and he looks up at you wickedly.

"I'm going to put this inside you."

"Harry, please, this is a work event, I can't have my come dripping down my legs."

"It won't be come because you won't be coming. I'm going to do as I please with this tonight." He turns the little egg-shaped vibrator on and holds his phone up next to it to pair to the Bluetooth. "Perfect. Alright, spread 'em." He looks up at you, his features turning softer. "Do you need your safe word? It's okay if you'd rather wait until we get home to be punished. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"No." You smile softly down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "I'm okay, daddy, go ahead."

He kisses the inside of your knee as he works the toy inside of you. He stands back up and taps one of the settings in the app to give you a test vibration to make sure it's working properly.

You're in for a long night.

What puzzled you most was that Harry hadn't done anything to you yet. He didn't turn the toy on in the car. And you've been at the party for an hour already, and he still hasn't done anything. The anticipation has been killing you. Maybe that was his plan all along. You see your boss and roll your eyes as he stuffs his face with shrimp from the raw bar. You hate him. Part of you wanted to wear your red dress tonight because you wanted to show that sweaty hog that he could look all he wanted, but he'd never be able to touch you.

It's when you're taking a sip of your martini while talking to some of the other paras that you feel the toy kick on. It's starts off with little pulsations, then moves along to steady vibrations. You pinch your thighs together as discretely as you can. You're starting to sweat, and you're starting to let little noises out. You're covering them with coughs and whatnot, but after ten minutes of this, you're starting to get uncomfortably wet. It's all so torturous because as good as it feels, you're not getting any external stimulation, which you need in order to come, so this is all just edging. And you love being edged, so even though it's torture, it's also the absolute best.

Harry knows this. He can see it on your face. You two lock eyes, and you pout at him, pleading. He can't resist you for long, not while you're wearing that dress. Before he can get to you, your boss approaches you, which makes Harry stop short. You had mentioned how he had been such a douchebag lately. He wants to watch the exchange.

"You look incredible." Your boss grinned.

"I know." You snap.

"What are you doing wearing a tight thing like that for? It leaves little to the imagination."

In your head, you don't see how that's true. It's a mermaid style halter with an open back, and the front is separated so you can just see the outline of of the inner parts of your breasts. But because it's a gown, there's an air of class to it. Your hair is up, plenty of pieces out in the front to frame your face. You look stunning. There are plenty of women at this party dressed similarly.

"Don't look at me too much, then." You respond after taking a careful sip of champagne. You're sweating while having that stupid toy inside you. You have to grit your teeth and pinch your nails into your palms to stay composed.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. I think you wore this to get my attention, not that you need help in that department."

"You're being inappropriate. I wore this for myself. I like the way I look in it. It's also one of Harry's favorites, so-"

"I can't believe you're still with that guy. He's like a lump on a log. He's only charismatic with his clients, you know?"

"We live together, so I'd like to think I know him pretty well."

"You deserve to be with someone that can make it so you never have to work another day in your life."

"I like working."

"No one likes working."

"I just said I like working."

"You like making jewelry. Wouldn't you rather do that full time?"

"I-" Your breath hitches when you feel the pulsations start to work in tandem with the vibrations. You're going to kill him.

"Are you feeling alright?" Your boss takes one of your hands, but before he can do anything else, Harry comes up and puts his arm around your waist.

"Bill, she really doesn't like it when you touch her. Look at her, she looks like she's going to be sick, so instead of continuing to make her more uncomfortable, why don't you just walk away. You get away with too many things here, but not for much longer."

"Is that a threat?"

"If you want to take it as one, be my guest." His grip on your hip tightens and you can't help but whimper. "Excuse us." Harry's hand moves to the small of your back to lead you out to the coat check room. He gets you in and locks the door behind you. "Are you alright?" He cups her jaw and looks you over."

"Yeah, th-thank you for getting me - shit - away from h-him." You grit your teeth and pinch your eyes closed, bracing your hands flat against Harry's chest. "Please, I can't...I can't take much more of this, it's been almost two hours."

"I know, and you've done so well for me. I'll turn it off and take it out if you tell me why you wore this even after I asked you not to. I know you can put whatever you want on your body. I just like it when you save certain things for me, for us."

"I hate my boss." You say, still bracing yourself against him. "He makes passes at me all the time. I just wanted to torture him a little, to let him know he'll never know what's underneath all this fabric."

"Sweet girl." He tilts your chin up so you'll look at him. "If Joe was being that big of a prick, why didn't you say something to me?"

"I don't want to run to you to fight all my battles for me. I need to be able to lean on myself."

"If he's sexually harassing you, then you should come to me so I can go with you to HR. You know they don't listen unless someone of higher rank complains. It's fucked up, but that's just how it is. I want the culture to change, but it's slow going."

"I know." You cry, almost feeling ready to drool from how worked up you are. "You're not one of the cogs in the machine, and that's one of the many things I love about you, Harry. I'm sorry I upset you by wearing this because I know you're only upset because you just want to rip it off with your teeth"

"That's right." He backs you up against the closest wall, not caring about any of the coats hanging up being knocked to the floor. He kisses you hard and hot, bending at the knee a bit to get a hand under your dress. He moans into your mouth as he slides his fingers through your folds. "You're soaked, beyond soaked."

"Please, daddy, please." You say breathlessly as he plays with you.

"You sound so good when you're begging. Keep going." He nips at your earlobe before licking and sucking at your neck.

"Please, take it out, daddy. Then you can fuck me in here and I'll do whatever you say."

"You'll need to be quiet. I'll have to stuff the toy into your mouth." He brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and you nod. "Need your safe word?"

"No, god no."

He smirks and pulls the toy out of you, pressing down on the button to turn it off. He whimpers when he feels so much of your slick drip out. He puts the toy inside his own mouth first, moaning at the taste of you, then he puts it into your mouth. He hikes your dress up and immediately gets his middle and ring fingers inside of you. You whine around the toy and clutch at the lapels of his jacket as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, beating into your g-spot. The heel of his palm works to ground down against your clit, making your head roll back. He sponges kisses to your throat as you tug at the hair on the back of his head. Your eyes burst open when you feel yourself start to get close. You're going to explode, and you're all of a sudden worried about ruining the jackets in this closet.

"Don't you dare hold back on me. Fuck the jackets, baby, make a mess." He growls, pounding into your harder.

You're moaning uncontrollably around the toy. You start gushing with his fingers still inside of you, and he doesn't let up. You're coming hard and it feels like it's going to be never ending. This is why you like being edged. You'll take a solid sixty-second orgasm over a ton of little quick ones. Harry slows down his pace, weaning you off of him, before taking his fingers all the way out. He sucks them into his mouth as he fixes your dress. He takes the toy out of your mouth and stuffs it into his jacket pocket while you take his fingers to lick and suck on.

"My good girl." He coos, caressing her cheek. "My good, fucking girl." He catches a glimpse of his watch and sucks his teeth. "Shit, we need to go back to the main room. The pinning is going to start soon."

"Okay, just, let me catch my breath." She says. "Daddy, is my makeup all fucked?"

"Only a little." He wipes under your eyes for you. "Still gorgeous as ever."

"Thank you." You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight. He holds you close, giving you gentle kisses and whispering sweet words into your ear. "Thank you." You whisper. "Can we go home after the pinning?" You ask as he opens the door and you walk out of the coat check room.

"Eager for daddy's cock?" He grins.

"Always."

[foryoupeko]

Rambling about Mahiru

From the wiki:

"But because her mother frequently travels, Mahiru was left to fend for herself with her unemployed father, who never offered any assistance with household chores when her mother was gone. She said that she would have liked to travel the world and capture people's smiles if she hadn't had to take care of her dad."

What if Mahiru had to go home early to take care of her dad. She had to decline a lot of outings with her friends because it was always her job to make her dad's dinner. After Sato killed Natsumi, Mahiru blamed herself for not spending enough time with Sato. If she hanged out with Sato more, Mahiru could've saw the signs that Sato was getting angry with Natsumi. If Mahiru was with Sato more, maybe she wouldn't have had the time to confront Natsumi. Mahiru is plagued with these thoughts as she's forced to go home and see her good for nothing father. Even when she's clearly distressed, her father doesn't even notice. All he says is "Where's dinner?". She can't stand him. He doesn't do anything for this family. Mahiru wishes she could confide in her mother but she's been gone for months.

Anyways, I'm sorry for coming to conclusion that Mahiru has trauma.

I also have a headcanon that Mahiru has a picture perfect family. But her parents got married too early. Her mom didn't want kids but did it because it was expected of her. Mahiru's mom didn't hate Mahiru per say, but she was much better at her job than being a mom. Mahiru's mom didn't smile a lot at home. That's how Mahiru got really good at trying to get people to smile.

Other things from the wiki that was interesting

It makes no sense that Mahiru didn't remember Natsumi and Sato when she knew them from middle school; but I digress. What's interesting is that Natsumi and Sato are rich enough to buy their way into Hope's Peak Academy. MEANING, Mahiru's family must've been rich enough to afford the same middle school as a Yakuza Princess. So Mahiru's mom must've been making bank if the father was unemployed.

Natsumi was Mahiru's junior in the photography club. So Mahiru might be a year older than Natsumi?