#cw discussion of food/eating

[steeb-stn]

Nooooo Jackson having a bad harvest or something etc etc and having a really lean winter

and all the adults try to keep it from the kids as much as they can and try to keep from putting them on ration portions as much as possible, even if it means adults get less

(They end up having to put the teenagers on ration portions for supper every other day and it just. Tears the parents up)

#Ellie trying to give food to joel and tommy #(Maria gets full portions bc shes breastfeeding) #Joel just gives her a steel eye and says ‘No. Eat your food’ end of discussion #Tommy makes bad jokes about how he was getting a little chubby anyways and never ever lets ellie give him any #The last of us #miller family tlou #cw food insecurity

[petrichorvoices]

genuine question, how are you supposed to reach 2000 calories each day? even if we were to eat our noodles samefood three times a day, we wouldn't reach that, but we can't financially afford to do that, we can barely cook because of disability, and we have no idea how we're supposed to be able to eat enough

#discussion of how many calories we do get in the next tag -> #we only manage to get i think 1000-1500 calories a day? and on bad days we get even less. it's not that we don't want to eat it's that we #struggle with preparing food and we struggle with the act of eating and we can't order takeout often enough because of finances. like #we're constantly hungry and we're really fucking tired of it we genuinely don't know what to do #rambling #calories cw #idk how to tag this content warning wise

[musiclover2732]

every time i see those “imagine if life worked how your anxiety thinks it does and everyone booed you off the bus” posts i think about how many times waiters will make fun of me for ordering my steak medium well. like it’s one thing when it’s someone in the party i’m dining with cuz we’re all just people but the waiter who’s supposed to just write down your order and give it to the kitchen. any comments should about your order should be limited to “oh that’s my favorite” or “lots of people really like that one” and positive stuff. i am genuinely sick of the old “why bother getting it at that point” or “enjoy your shoe leather” type comments from waiters. idk is it just me cuz i have a baby face and i’m usually out with people who actually look like adults that people feel like they can make fun of me. it doesn’t help that whoever i’m with family, friends of family, whatever usually agree and laugh along and get mad when i try to explain how upset i am. it’s not just steak either. i’m a picky eater because of sensory issues, food sensitivities (lactose intolerance, other stuff that i haven’t quite figured out) and i just generally feel anxious at restaurants so i order my simple same foods and i find myself constantly being judged by people who work at these places. like don’t put the food on the goddamn menu if you’re gonna ridicule customers for ordering it. i once tried to order a plain burrito at a restaurant and the guy gave me so much shit for it that by the time it was ready i was too anxious to eat it. like does this happen to other people? do other people get shamed in public for ordering normal ass food??

#it’s not even food shaming out of fatphobia (which i also get but never in public) #it’s just over my personal preferences #i don’t get things with toppings and people act like im a freak #like plz tell me im not alone here #i mean technically this is what it boils down to whenever i discuss food so just to be safe #-> #cw eating disorders

[nightwardenminthara]

the Soylent was a good investment. whenever I’m dealing with medication related loss of appetite while simultaneously being So Fucking Hungry…… I’m no longer just paralyzed by the executive dysfunction of it all. I just make myself some soylent 😤

#it is nice lol #it tastes fine #I mean it tastes like most vegan protein powders taste tbh #I’m just glad to have energy and brain function #and I’m eating more ‘real’ meals too bc of it #food discussion cw

[verdantmeadows]

Managed to get right up to almost 100 pounds but now I'm slipping down to the 98's and am trying really hard to not go to below 98 again...I know progress isn't linear but it's hard especially because I can tell which days I started to lose weight because I ate poorly the day before. It's just so exhausting to eat at least three meals a day.

But on the plus side I do know I've gained more weight than I used to be. I started at 96.7 in mid April and managed to stay in the 98s at the beginning of May! So even if it's slow and nonlinear progress is progress and I'm proud of myself. I'll have days I can't eat as much as I need to but those days don't define my growth and the fact that I'm eating more regularly and more food than I used to.

It takes me more time to get nauseated when I eat now and I can usually finish a meal without gagging after the first few bites! I still can't eat until I'm full, but I'm getting there! (Basically, I get nauseated and sick before I get full. I'm still hungry, but I physically am strained for room in my stomach for food.)

My goals are to reach and stay at over 100 pounds, eat three meals a day and have snacks, eat a meat and a plant every day, and be able to eat until I'm full and no longer hungry without it hurting.

#book of kells #food discussion #eating discussion #weight discussion #weight mention #eating cw #weight cw

[strafethesesinners]

I don’t have the energy to make anything to eat so I’ve just been eating cereal and poptarts…..which is probably why I have no energy lol

#it’s also all I *want* to eat #I mean if someone made me something I’d eat it but that doesn’t happen often #personal #depression blogging #food tw #food discussion #idk what else to tag #food discussion cw #also I will get defensive if you tell me to eat something else

[soryualeksi]

Me, a very reasonable person: "This is something I *ought* to bring up with my psychiatrist, but I wouldn't want to be a bother and alarm or unsettle the poor man... :/"

#meh I'm fairly certain the pandemic has given me an eating disorder by amplifying my compulsions #unfortunately it's compulsions against eating lol #i have real trouble eating anything that isn't explicitly leftovers when I'm alone #and the list of 'forbidden' foods in my own house is growing and growing and rapidly #i thiiiiiink i should bring that up but i feel like i shouldn't drop the 'i think i have an ED' bomb on the poor man #whose job it is to treat issues like that lol #aw damn #stupid pandemic #the mental toll was too much #meh #i mean it's good that we usually have a lot of leftovers but also i lose on average one kilo every month #soooo #yeah #also it's annoying to be hungry when there's food in the house but also none is leftovers so i can't eat it #this is such a bother i don't have time for therapy rn meeeh #sigh #discussions of eating disorders cw #eating disorders cw

[explode-this]

Love that my insurance won’t cover Mounjaro as prescribed by my doctor (meaning that I can’t have it because it costs 1,200 motherfucking actual real dollars per month) but jackasses on TikTok can make weepy content talking about the “miracle” of Wegovy cutting out the “food noise” and allowing them to “eat like normal.” What the fuck is “food noise”? Is that just the internal monologue of the eating disordered? Because I had to overcome that without appropriating diabetes drugs and part of that was learning to accept that I might always be fat. “I can just eat one piece of chocolate now!” Yeah, so can I Brenda, but I had to actually work through the bullshit for it instead of just jabbing myself with someone else’s medication.

<insert half-ass plan to create a sticker/tshirt design that says FOOD NOISE in pizza-lookin’ letters here>

#tw/cw eating disorders #food discussion #diabetes #diabetes drugs are not your quick fix from fatness MY GOD

[theladykit]

Hey, I just want to put people on their guard: there is an article that appeared in The Washington Post today which has the potential to be extremely triggering to anyone with an eating disorder, disordered eating, or food issues, or is in a larger body. To make matters worse, it is sloppy, unnuanced reporting passed off as good and it's going to hurt a lot of people. I won't link the article because I believe it to be that harmful, but it's about dietitians who take sponsorships from food and beverage companies. Many of the dietitians the article names are rather sketchy in how they present these partnerships and in some of the advice they give, but at least one of the RDs they profile is given a lot of unfair weight and the framing they use to talk about her is next-door to sinister, especially because she's Black and primarily works with low-income, food-insecure clients. I happen to be familiar with her work, and I know that what the Post wrote about her is flat-out wrong.

I hesitate to call it a smear piece overall, because there is a grain of truth in the article, but it's taken in the worst faith possible (and some of the "facts" they report have no factual basis at all) and I want people to beware, especially people struggling with food and/or in larger bodies. Please, please protect yourselves and don't read the article if you think it might even be a little bit upsetting. Sometimes it can take awhile for that to set in, too, so if you do decide to read it, try to give yourself the time you need to process it, knowing that it might take a few days or more, and reach out to both your professional support system and your informal supports as much as is feasible. It's okay to make a mistake and think you can peruse without issue, and find out you were wrong. Just try to take care of yourselves if that happens, please.

I love you all and want you to be safe.

#tw food discussion #tw o slur #tw disordered eating #tw eating disorder #tw anti-fat bias #tw nutrition discussion #cw stereotypes paraded as facts #stay safe out there

[snacksjpg]

binge ate today. feels like shit. mainly for internalized fat shame reasons but also because i feel physically ill and exhausted from the sugar. either way today was an L and i need to remind myself how to be satisfied with normal amounts of food.

#food cw #weight discussion cw #fatphobia cw #disordered eating cw

[bitternanami]

something i think is really interesting about dungeon meshi is the cast's respective views on food as the story progresses. the way many adventurers get through the dungeon is to eat when they Must, but mostly rely on healing magic to keep going when they're tired or beaten down. death is something you can buy your way out of, here.

having these lower stakes when it comes to running yourself too hard has made a lot of people in this setting kind of devalue food and what it does for you.

im not all the way through the manga yet, but so far i really like how it goes about debunking that mindset.

long post under the cut, cw explicit discussion of disordered eating. textual depiction of unhealthy methods of dealing with it. please be cautious!

it seems like to most folks, food is either a decadent luxury, like when the governor offers mr tance a feast as a show of power and wealth, (although he is the only one who actually eats in that scene as he talks about his ambitions);

[id: the governor and mr. tance talk politics and hierarchies, while the governor eats from a bowl. mr. tance's meal is not visible behind a speech bubble.

"so you believe the sorceror is an elf?" he asks.

"i can't say with absolute certainty," mr. tance replies, "but the spells are not ones dwarves and humans typically use." /end id]

like the painted-royal feasts laios tries to partake in that never actually nourish him...

[id: laios, fresh out of the living painting feast, surprisedly holding his grumbling stomach /end id]

or, to the working class, it's pretty much exclusively fuel. i'm thinking about the scene where kabru's party, ostensibly intended to be our view into how adventuring Typically goes for most people, is shown preparing to go to the dungeon by like. walking up to someone and ordering 'a weeks' worth of rations.' purely functional.

[id: kabru enters a store, and the merchant says "welcome!"

kabru says "i need a week's worth of rations for six, and two days' worth of water."

"sure thing." the merchant then reaches behind him and grabs a large cube-shaped package, wrapped in nondescript cloth and tied in place. it thumps onto the counter in front of them both. /end id]

when kabru hands mickbell his food for the trip, he complains about how heavy it is on his back. it's a necessary liability.

we also see chilchuck, in an early chapter where there isn't much food to go around, grumbling about how he used to be better at not noticing when he was hungry. he's frustrated that he's more attuned to his bodily needs, now that he's starting to fill them with regularity.

[id: chilchuck, the only one awake, sits in his bedroll and glares at the timekeeping-candle burning down in front of him while he listens to his stomach growl. moving to find his canteen and fill himself with water instead, he thinks to himself, "my stomach has gotten weaker. i used to be able to go two days without food." /end id]

(like im not even gonna lie this is a big mood. the healing process is really really annoying)

even laios, early on, working out the logistics of going back for falin, considers his expenses and ultimately the thing he decides to save money on is their food supply. like, even the guy most invested in eating as an experience kind of just assumes he will Figure It Out. its what hes eating, not how hes eating it that matters to him at that point.

[id: marcille looks down at the ingredients they've gathered, the walking mushroom and the scorpion in an unappetizing heap on the ground, and asks laios "so how exactly do we eat them?"

he responds "let's just cook them, like normal." /end id]

but its here that senshi introduces the idea of food as art and as healing. its exciting and its fascinating for laios, getting to taste the creatures hes been reading about and fighting, but i dont think it would ever really help him feel full if not for this.

[id: three panels of laios tasting the scorpion hotpot, looking stunned, and then excitedly telling senshi "delicious!"

senshi matches his energy, asking "isn't it? isn't it?" /end id]

pictured: guy who had resigned himself to kind of just doing his best rediscovers the joy in something tasting really fucking good

what they did last time isnt going to work. falin is gone, and constantly anesthetizing their pain and healing through their weakness is no longer a realistic option for the party. in order to make it through they must all relearn how to eat well, one by one and as a group over and over again, because its either that or nothing.

one of my favorite depictions of this idea thus far is when marcille is seriously low on health and mana, and both of these problems are mitigated by taking care of herself, and trying to get iron and protein

[id: marcille, looking sickly, wakes to laios saying, "marcille, marcille, can you sit up? we've got something nice for you."

she watches senshi grill pieces of kelpie liver on a low fire, while laios ties a bib around her neck. /end id]

and drinking a bunch of dead water spirits. she gets the idea, she's supposed to get in nutrients and it'll help her feel better, but in aiming for the quick, inefficient fix, namely chugging that shit down like she heard it was good to Stay Hydrated and decided that would be the thing that fixes her,

[id: marcille throws back a cup of boiled undine-water, her face red. laios asks, "do you really need to drink it that fast?"

she gasps out "...the magical energy stored in nature spirits is actually quite hard to absorb. even if you drink a lot, the majority of it is excreted without being absorbed," and takes another drink. "that's why i need to drink as much as i can."

laios says weakly "you'll get water poisoning," but marcille only stops when senshi puts a hand on her shoulder and says,

"it's easier to absorb nutrients if ye digest them with food. that's a fundamental rule of nutrition."

marcille says, "senshi..." contemplative

and he holds out a bowl of tentuclus and a thumbs up. "let's get cooking!" /end id]

she doesn't immediately realize the answer is that she needs more than that. she's been working hard. she needs care, and she needs nourishment.

once she gets that, though, she makes her boiled water into a stew, and she works to make that stew as good as she can, and everyone can have some.

because in dungeon meshi, to feed yourself or allow yourself to be fed is treated as performing a kindness for yourself. food is what propels you, but there is also an art and a joy inherent to the process of making it; in the way you feel when you've had enough to eat.

[id: senshi watches as chilchuck and marcille eat and excitedly hash out plans.

"i've got a good feeling about this! maybe it'll work out!" chilchuck says

marcille responds, "well it's easier to feel optimistic on a full stomach!"

senshi smiles, proud. /end id]

^^^ i want to put this image on my wall

when you're working through disordered eating habits, you really do have to keep learning this shit. (in my experience, learning about cooking is one of the best ways to do so.)

i'll have to see if my thesis holds up as i continue, but i think one of the reasons the portrayal here resonates with me so hard is that ryoko kui puts most of her characters at eye level with me on this. they're all working at it, too. the text and i are both commiserating, and encouraging each other, 'have some more, you'll feel better.'

#its late -_- idk if this fullly gets across what i mean but ive been thinking about this for weeks #dungeon meshi #recovery #cooking tag #disordered eating cw #im on chp 31 atm but im like. squinting and steepling my fingers looking for this theme as i go now

[cookiescribble]

Interrupted

A/N: this is just a short little thing i’ve had in my head for a while, and the writer’s block is finally clearing up a little so i’ve been able to write more again :) hope you like it! - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer finally have an evening off, and are happy to spend it together. But nights off are never a guarantee when you work at the BAU. (based on 9x23)

CW: suggestive but not explicit behavior, reader gets a little wine drunk, mild discussion of sex lives.

~~~

You were enjoying a nice, quiet dinner at home, soft music playing in the background. You were a little dressed up, wearing a casual dress and some jewelry to match, trying to pretend it was a date night and not just spaghetti and wine you got from the grocery store. Making the best out of the little time you had to plan this.

Spencer was sitting across from you, smiling as he held his glass of water out to you. “To finally having a night off?”

You smiled back at him, clinking his cup with your wine glass. “To finally having you all to myself tonight.” You winked at him as you took a sip of wine. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it made the night a little more special.

He took a sip of his water, gesturing to your wine glass. “Be careful with that, you turn into trouble when you have too much wine.” His words sounded like a warning, but his tone was teasing, a grin on his face.

At that, you smiled mischievously, taking a bigger sip of wine. “I think I’m allowed to cause a little trouble on our day off.” You put your glass down, picking up your fork to start eating your dinner. “We deserve to have a little fun tonight.”

Dinner wasn’t much different than it usually was when you two were home together, but it felt nice to be able to sit at the dinner table across from each other after dealing with so much work lately. There was light flirting back and forth between you and Spencer through your meal, setting the mood for the evening. Every sip of wine you took made you feel a little more flushed and bubbly, making the flirting start escalating a bit. You could feel yourself noticing more things about Spencer as he ate across from you: the way his fingers moved around his fork as he twirled it in his plate, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed his food, the way his lips parted when he took a sip of water…

“That’s a dangerous look you’re giving me, you know.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Spencer spoke, a smirk on his face as he set his fork down. You met his eyes, matching his smirk, reaching out to grab his hand from across the table. “Is it?” You asked innocently, starting to trace patterns in the palm of his hand, making him shudder softly.

“It is,” he replied, his voice soft and deep. “I think you know what you’re doing when you look at me like that.” He slowly stood up, walking over to you and tilting your chin up with his finger. “You better be ready to take responsibility for this.”

You stood up, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing your faces close, your lips stopping just short of touching his. “Oh, I’m definitely planning on taking responsibility…” One of your fingers started to trail down his face, slowly tracing over his bottom lip. You could see his face start to heat up a bit at your touch, his breath hitching. “If you’re ready, that is,” you said in a quiet, breathy tone.

That little touch seemed to set him off, as he grabbed your face and crashed his lips with yours, bumping you into the table with the abrupt force.

Suddenly, you both were stumbling through the living room, hands all over each other as you made your way to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You fell back onto the bed, Spencer taking you into his arms after shrugging off the shirt you mostly unbuttoned on your way here.

His lips were on yours again, the weight of his body starting to push down on you as he settled on top of you. He started pushing down the straps of your dress, his lips moving down to your neck. He started peppering kisses there, quickly at first, before they started getting slower and deeper.

“You look really good in this dress, you know that?” His voice was husky as his tongue met your skin, earning a lustful sigh from you in response. “So pretty…” he whispered between kisses, starting to gently bite down on your neck.

“Spence…” you moaned out, already turning into a mess underneath him, even though you were still fully dressed. The wine mixed with his sweet words and lustful bedroom eyes, you could hardly stand to wait anymore. Your hands tangled in his hair as his teeth grazed your skin, his eyes closed in concentration as he felt your body react underneath him. His lips started slowly trailing downward from your neck, starting to move under your collar…

Suddenly, you were startled by the sound of your phone going off, making you both groan.

“Please tell me it’s not what I think it is,” you pleaded as Spencer stood up to look at your phone. He held it out to you, showing you a text indicating that you had to go into work for a case. You grumbled as you sat up, readjusting your dress. “I swear to god, I am quitting this job. I mean it.”

Spencer laughed, opening the closet to start putting on a purple button-down shirt. “Relax, we’ll get some time to ourselves at the hotel later.” He took out a tie, putting it around his neck as he reached out his hand to help you up out of bed. He placed a quick kiss on your forehead. “Maybe we can continue this then?”

You sigh, starting to rifle through drawers to throw on a sweater over your dress. There wasn’t really time to find a whole new outfit. “I hope so, but I don’t know if I realistically see that happening.”

The two of you rushed to get dressed and ready, knowing you needed to be out the door as soon as possible. You skipped brushing your hair, tying it up for now and just throwing your hairbrush in your go-bag with everything else you needed. Spencer was pulling on a cardigan as he reached out to hug you from the side, kissing your temple before grabbing his messenger bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “Ready?” He asked as you started walking through the door.

“I guess,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Spencer reached down to kiss your cheek as he locked the apartment door behind you, making you smile. “The hotel rooms better be nice,” you added, grabbing his hand as you walked to your car.

“Agreed,” he replied, laughing lightly as you both entered the car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for the office.

…

You were walking fast after getting off the elevator, rushing to meet up with everyone, when you heard some of the team members talking.

“So…” You heard JJ’s voice down the hall. “We get Henry to bed, and, y’know, we’re about to finally have some alone time with mommy and daddy, and…” She trailed off, and as you entered the room, you saw her roll her eyes from afar. “You guys know the rest,” she finished, sounding annoyed.

“Ah, trying to dust off the ol’ cobwebs,” Derek joked, laughing.

Penelope hit him on the shoulder. “Inappropriate!” She exclaimed, before turning back to JJ. “Seriously, though, how long has it been?”

You laughed, seeing her intense face as you walked closer to joining everyone. Always so curious. Or nosy, you could say. But it was a part of her that was endearing.

“Too long,” JJ replied flatly.

You finally reached the group, putting your stuff down and greeting everyone.

JJ looked over at you and Spencer, a slight smirk on her face. “Well, looks like I wasn’t the only one interrupted,” she remarked, noticing how you both still looked a little disheveled after rushing to get here.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Bite me,” you replied sarcastically.

She gestured over to you, pointing at your neck. “Looks like someone already did,” she snickered.

You looked down to see a small bruise starting to form on your neck. You didn’t really look in the mirror while you were getting ready, so you didn’t notice the mark there.

You looked pointedly at Spencer as your hand went to your neck. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he mouthed silently, looking a little guilty.

You quickly took your hair down, grabbing the brush from your bag and starting to smooth your hair down. You could see Penelope open her mouth to ask probing questions. Everyone seemed to be too curious about your relationship, asking way too many questions when you finally told everyone you and Spencer were dating. Especially Penelope. Thankfully, she was cut off before she could say anything.

“Do we know what the case is?” Alex asked, letting you drop the subject of your evening activities and shift the focus to work. You snuck one last glance at Spencer, who smiled at you and reached out for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you settled into your new evening plans.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #mod angel

[jaylaxies]

GLOSSY LIPS | NJM

pairing: fwb!jaemin × fem!reader

wc: 1002 words

cw: smut, public sex, cunnilingus, fingering.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

a/n: i dreamt about jaemin being a sucker for pussy and decided to share it with the world :3

Jaemin isn’t the one to think about decorum when it comes to you, especially when he’s got some sort of odd fixation of having the urge to eat you out each time you go out (you keep his lips glossy and moisturized; is what he says), whether it is a lunch date with your friends or a random outing with Jaemin, he’s gonna make sure to do one thing—eat you out, no matter what.

It was to no one’s shock that you forbade from taking your panties off, especially when you were in public as you were still traumatized by that one incident where you had almost flashed Jeno, simply because Jaemin couldn’t stop himself from stuffing your panties in his pocket after eating you out in the bathroom, which you were glad was clean.

So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Jaemin when you gave him the look which was a clear warning as to tell him to not pull any of his stunts this time, but he only smiled the softest of his smiles, the kind that anyone would mistake as the smile of an angel, which is not the case with you as you clearly know about the sin he’s about to commit.

It’s your monthly dinner date with your friend group tonight, the extravagant restaurant only makes it even more special than the usual ones. Hyuck is busy talking to Mark, while Renjun is explaining some theory of his to Jeno and Chenle. Jisung is busy eating, while Karina and Ningning are busy discussing the latest gossip.

Jaemin couldn’t have been more happy that the tables were fully covered with the table cloth, meaning: if he were to go in to play with you a little, then nobody else would be able to spot him inside. It was almost comical the way he crouched down, thankful that he was sat at the corner, which helped him not garner anyone’s attention. You gulped as you saw him grabbing the cloth, holding it up for him to get enough space as he got under the table, careful to maintain the distance with anyone who’s not you, crawling close to your knees with a sinister smirk on his face. You gasped then second his hands separated your legs, and you cursed yourself for wearing a dress tonight.

Jaemin knew he wasn’t allowed to take off your panties, you had made that very clear beforehand, so he simply settled down between your thighs and got closer, his glossed up lips brushing against your inner thigh, leaving a soft kiss right on the same spot, followed by many more as he peppered open mouthed kisses all over, but not where you needed him the most.

“Where did Jaemin go?” Mark asked two minutes after the disappearance of Jaemin, unaware of the activity that was taking place under the table, “oh—he went to the washroom,” you managed to speak up with a shaky tone and he nodded in understanding, “ah—I didn’t even notice him leaving,” he laughed and you laughed back, stopping the second you felt Jaemin’s tongue on your lace panties, right on your clit.

You didn’t allow him to take the panties off, but you sure as hell didn’t say anything about him doing stuff to you while you were wearing them.

You bit on your food a little too hard as he pressed his lips against your clothed cunt, the lace allowing his spit to penetrate easily, causing the fabric to be wet instantly. He tried not to groan with how good you tasted as he pressed his tongue harder, lapping up the taste of you as much as he could, his warm breath fanning your cunt as he pushed the fabric of your panties aside, giving your wet pussy a sloppy kiss, caressing it with his fingers.

He didn’t care about being caught, the thought only made him harder. Jaemin had always been a bit of a freak, and he happily embraced the title, immersing himself as he attached his mouth to your clit, sucking on it as his fingers prodded your entrance, rubbing circles on your slit before pushing two digits in, curling his fingers inside to give you the most unadulterated pleasure he could while still lapping at your juices, almost as if he was drunk in your essence.

Your orgasm was so close as you spread your legs wider to give him more space, his strong arms holding your legs open as they started shaking, and you tried your best to keep up with the conversation happening around the table.

Jaemin was enthusiastic. If someone were to ask him to note down his favourite activities to do, then your name would be on top of that list, and it showed with how eagerly he pressed his face to your cunt, making you see white as you almost toppled over with how good it felt as you reached your high, granting Jaemin with the utmost pleasure of tasting how good he made you feel.

He’d pull the panties back to their place, leaving you all wet as he’d smile at your shaking legs, his eyes almost dazed as he wiped his chin, but not his lips.

He wanted to have the taste of you on his lips, the glossy appearance only made it look as if Jaemin had put on too much lip balm—which was a normal thing for him.

He made sure to be discreet as he got out and sat down on the chair again, successful as no one caught him, his smile only widening when you looked his way, your lip a little swollen with how hard you bit it to conceal your moans.

“Ay dude! When did you come back? Where did you disappear to?” Mark asked, wondering if he was that oblivious to miss Jaemin twice, but he only smirked, licking his bottom lip as he spoke up, maintaining eye contact with you.

“Just went out to get my lip balm.”

permanent taglist: @jaeminvore @hoondrop @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @hyacandoit @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia

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[verdantmeadows]

I absolutely love intuitive eating and follow it but also when the only snack I ever eat is chips ahoy cookies or eat that as my default food when I'm hungry and don't want any other food. I cannot help but feel guilty. Or I should have a healthier snack. But I have to remind myself that it is better to eat these than nothing and that I am still getting energy from them, which is better than no energy. And often times eating a few gives me the appetite to go scrounge around for other food that has stuff like protein, fat, and fiber. Plus I also drink milk with them always so actually it is not as bad as I think it is and I shouldn't feel guilty and eating these cookies helps me eat other food and is still food which is better than no food.

#food discussion #eating discussion #food cw #intuitive eating #book of kells #fat tag

[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.”

#writing #not sfw text #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #chubby reader posting #commissioned work #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr posting

[russellsppttemplates]

We don't know anything about girls! (Oscar Piastri)

Lucas and Jack take the job of protecting their sister very seriously

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece, and this time it's dad!Oscar 🥹✨️🤍

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant, childbirth, postpartum

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Daddy, we have a question for you", Lucas said as he and Jack sat at the table, ready to have lunch.

"Sure, what is it you want to ask me?", Oscar offered as he served up their plates with some broccoli, pasta and salmon.

"Mummy is the one that had us, right? We were both on her tummy - not at the same time though - and then she had us", Lucas wondered.

"Yes, mummy was the one that grew you in her tummy", Oscar smiled as he remembered both of your pregnancies. He knew it wasn't comfortable all the time, and there were many instances where you didn't feel so good, but he would spend the whole time in awe at you and what your body was doing for your family.

"Okay, so we have to talk to mummy", Jack reasoned with Lucas, who nodded back at him.

"Why do you need mummy, was my answer not enough?", Oscar wondered.

"It was enough, daddy, don't worry! But if we want a baby brother or sister, we have to talk to mummy first", Lucas stated as if he was saying they were going to ask you to change their bedroom curtains.

"You want a sibling?", Oscar questioned them both, wondering if they had been eavesdropping on you and him.

When one of Oscar's sisters had her baby a couple of months ago, you and Oscar both felt like adding another one to your flock, discussing it in bed that night. It wouldn't be so bad, especially now that both your and Oscar's careers were settled and your schedules were far more predictable. The boys seemed to think the same.

"Yes, do you think mummy will like the idea? She always said her feet hurt a little when it was towards the end", Lucas tsked, "and you, daddy? Would you like to have a another baby?", he wondered.

"Yes, I would - I'll tell you what, when mummy gets home from work, we can ask her about it, okay?", Oscar suggested, seeing the boys agree before eating the food in their plates, smiling to himself at the possibility of your growing family.

By the time you got home, you were just about to catch Oscar putting the boys down for the night, "night night, boys, I hope you have sweet dreams", you kissed both of their foreheads.

"We need to talk to you tomorrow, mummy, we have something to ask you", Lucas offered.

"Okay, it can wait until tomorrow, buddy - sleep tight!", you combed his hair with your fingers.

Closing the door behind you, you walked up to your bedroom, starting to get rid of your work clothes, "Osc? Can you help me with these buttons, please? I can't even lift my arms", you groaned, "I'm so tired".

Your heard your husband's feet pad out of the ensuite bathroom and approach you, his fingers undoing the buttons at the nape of your neck so you could take the shirt off.

"There you go, love", he offered, leaving a kiss in there.

"Thank you - both for this and for doing the nightime routine with the boys, I'm sorry I couldn't be home earlier, but the last lady had this nasty contracture that wouldn't go anywhere no matter how much I pulled and worked every trick of the book", you sighed as you grabbed your pyjamas from under your pillow so you could put them on.

"Don't worry - it was all fine", Oscar assured, "you did miss the quesion they wany to ask you tomorrow though".

"Is it something for school?", you wondered, getting up from the bed with only one leg of your pyjama pants on.

"No, it's not - you can't do anything about it, not now anyway", your husband chuckled as he watched you quirk your eyebrow.

"Do I want to know what it is about? You're scaring me a little", you mused.

"The boys want to ask you for a little brother or sister", Oscar stated, "they checked with me to know if you were the point person they should go to".

"Because I'm the only one?", you giggled, adjusting the sleeves on your shirt so you could wash your face and brush your teeth.

"You grew them in your tummy, and Lucas remembered how much your feet hurt so they want to know if you would be comfortable with having another one", Oscar offered, getting in the bed and pulling the comforter up to his waist.

"You're saying that as if it only takes me to make a baby", you spoke after spitting the toothpaste on the sink, wiping your mouth on the towell to get rid of the remnants.

"They said it like that, not me - but to be fair, they did ask if I would like to have another baby", he added.

Rubbing the cream on your cheeks, you walked back to the bedroom area, turning the light off with your elbow before you sat down next to Oscar, "it's cute, though, that they don't want to just go and ask for a sibling because they understand it's not like that", you said as you snapped your fingers.

"Would you? We talked about it a while ago, but then you had the check-ups and the doctor advised us to not go for it yet until we knew for sure you were all good", Oscar mused, grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers on his lap.

"Yes, I think I would. We know I'm all good and all my parts are working just fine, so I'm in if you are", you replied back.

"I'm in too, I miss having a little baby and the sight of you carrying our baby", he smirked, "and the process of making a baby is very fun".

"Oscar!", you swatted his chest.

"We're always telling the boys they should always tell the truth - was I supposed to lie?", he defended himself.

.

"Don't fall asleep, Jack, okay?", you said as you noticed your son nearly falling asleep on his car seat, "we're almost home, love!".

"I wasn't falling asleep", he admitted, blushing at having been caught with his eyes closed and his cheek on his shoulder.

"I know you weren't, but I just wanted to check anyway", you winked through the rearview mirror, playing along with him.

On the days Lucas had violin practice, Oscar was the one to take him there from school and then back home, which meant you only had to pick Jack up from pre-school before going home, which also allowed each of the boys to have one on one time with you.

Encouraging Jack to stick to his routine, you watched him hang his jacket and leave his shoes on the wardrobe by the door before he took hi backpack to the kitchen so he could empty the snack box.

"Are you not feeling better, mummy?", Jack asked you as he walked inside the kitchen, noticing the bag from the pharmacy on the counter, "did the doctor give you medicine to take?".

"I'm feeling so and so, but the doctor at the pharmacy told me something else", you crouched down so you could be at the same level as your son, "can you keep a secret?".

Jack nodded eagerly, showing you his ear so you could only tell him the secret before he realise you two were alone, "Oh, we don't need to whisper, and this way you won't tickle my ear", he admitted with a blush, "tell me, mummy!".

"Mummy hasn't been feeling well, and when I spoke to the doctor at the pharmacy, she seemed to think that maybe I have a baby in my tummy", you smiled, "I need to take a test to know for sure".

"A baby? The one me and Lucas asked you and daddy for?", he beamed.

"Yes, that one - should I take the tests now?", you grabbed the boxes from the bag.

"Yes, mummy, yes! How do you do it?", he wondered.

"Mummy needs to go to the bathroom", you tapped his nose, "I'll open the door as soon as I'm done, okay?", you offered before stepping inside the service bathroom by the stairs.

"Are you okay, mummy? Do you want help?", Jack asked as you could hear him walk along the corridor.

"I'm nearly done, Jack, just need to clean a little mess up I did here", you offered, doing what you needed to do and complying with all the instructions.

"It's okay, mummy, I also make a mess sometimes and you always tell me that as long as I clean up after myself, it's okay", he comforted you.

Giggling to yourself at his words, you washed your hands again before opening the door, revealing Jack waiting for you.

"When do we know?", your son asked as he looked at the plastic tests by the sink.

"In a few minutes", you answered.

"Will you be sad if it says you're just sick?", Jack muttered.

"Well, you and Lucas asked for a sibling some time ago and it would be nice if it was actually the case, right?", you tested the waters, now wondering if it was the right move to tell Jack what you were doing. You felt like you could deal with the negative result should it be the one to come up, but maybe your little boy wouldn't.

"I really want a baby brother or sister, and I know Lucas also wants one a lot, but we can wait", he offered, almost sounding like a grown up while he grabbed your hand.

Once the timer on your watch beeped, you turned the tests around checking for their validity before looking at the result.

"Are you pregnant or are you sick, mummy?", Jack questioned, looking at the tests on your hands, "what does it mean?".

"This means I'm pregnant, Jack", you smiled before setting the tests down once he jumped on your arms.

"I'm going to be a big brother!", he squealed, hugging you tightly.

"You are, buddy - are you excited?", you mused.

"I am! I can't wait to tell daddy and Lucas!", Jack smiled back at you.

Setting him back down on the floor, you grabbed the tests, "we could surprise them with something funny - what do you think?", you suggested, heading with him to the playroom so you could get started on it.

Oscar and Lucas arrived just as you were finishing the last touches of the surprise, calling your names.

"We're upstairs in the playroom!", you called back before turning to Jack, "you have to wait for Lucas or daddy to read your t-shirt, okay?".

Lucas was the first to get to the room, coming up to you to hug you and kiss your cheek, "and the teacher said I did really well!".

"That's amazing, buddy!", you congratulated after he told you all about his day.

"Hello, guys!", Oscar greeted, and judging by the bottle of water on his hands, he has stopped by the kitchen before he joined you, "how was your day?", kissing Jack's cheek.

"We didn't do anything special - it was like every day that mummy picked me up while Lucas was at his lessons", Jack told in a nonchalant way, earning a wondering expression on your husband's face as he looked you.

You shrugged your shoulders and kissed Oscar's lips, letting him press his lips on your forehead right after.

"Do you feel better? You don't look so bad anymore", he reasoned as he rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Geez, thank you, Oscar", you chuckled, "but I feel good now", you smiled.

Lucas looked intrigued as he looked at Jack, "why does his t-shirt say he has an expiring date? What's an expiring date, daddy?", he asked as he pointed.

"I'm no longer the little one!", Jack yelled excitedly, leaving Oscar and Lucas a little lost.

"We know you're grown up, buddy - It's when something is not good anymore or when it has an end date...", Oscar offered.

"No, daddy, you're not getting it! I'm no longer the little brother of the family because mummy has one inside her tummy!", he clarified.

Lucas gasped before he ran to you, hugging your legs and resting his cheek on your tummy, "is it true?".

"Yes, love - we're going to have another baby in the family!", you smiled, brushing his hair with your fingers before you felt Jack hug your side.

"I guess there's only me left then", Oscar gestured, hugging you from your back and resting his hands on your tummy, "we're having another baby, Y/N, I love you", he kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly.

Once Jack pulled away, Oscar finally got a proper glimpse of the t-shirt that stated the announcement, reading at the "Little brother: expiring date in some months!" t-shirt the little boy wore.

"Did you do this just now? Since when do you know?", Oscar mused, now finally getting ti hug you properly since the boys had let you go.

"Mummy took the tests when he got home, and then we came here to cut the print and iron letters", Jack offered.

"Yes, not long, I'm not sure it has settled in yet", you mumbled, "another little one, Osc, I love you", you kissed his lips.

.

"Boys, remember what we told you, okay? People are healing and resting, so we have to be quiet and be on our best behaviour, okay?", you checked with them as they got out of the car.

"We will, mummy", Lucas assured you while he held his hand with Jack's, keeping him close as he held Oscar's hand with the other one.

You registered yourself in and then were led to the right exam room, following the orders to lay on the bed and lift your top.

"The bump is bigger, isn't it?", Jack asked as his curious hands touched your skin, stroking it and taking the opportunity to leave a few kisses there.

"It is, little one is growing very well!", Oscar offered.

A knock on the door alerted you to it, seeing the technician step inside the room, "Good morning! How is everyone feeling today?", she asked.

"Hello! We're here to see if we're getting a baby sister or a baby brother!", Lucas offered as he swung his legs on the chair.

"That's right! Are you ready, Y/N?", she asked you with a rub on your shoulder before pulling the kart with the ultrasound machine and laptop with her and sitting on the stool next to your bed.

"Yes, very ready and very excited", you smiled.

"Which one do you think they are, baby brother or baby sister?", the technician asked your boys while squeezing the gel on your tummy.

"Come here, sit on daddy's leg instead of mummy's lap so we can see the baby on the screen there", Oscar explained to Jack.

"I don't know, we're both boys, what is that thing that nana always says? It's like there's always a third", Lucas tapped Oscar's arm as he sat next to them.

"Nana always says that there isn't a second without a third", Oscar clarified, "usually means that when there is a second one, there's always a third one".

"So you think it's a boy?", the technician hummed, moving the wand around, "well, your mummy will still be outnumbered by you guys, but she'll have a little friend to help her! You're having a babygirl!", she smiled, showing you the screen.

"A baby sister?", Jack looked at the screen, "wow, she's so tiny - is that her nose?", he pointed.

"Yes, that's her nose, then these are her legs - they look really strong!", she showed him while Oscar winked at you with a big smile on his face.

"Woah", Lucas mused as he looked at the screen, "how long until she comes out of mummy's belly?".

"That is still many weeks away, Lucas - she needs to stay inside to grow healthy and happy!", the technician explained as she wiped the gel from your belly, "I just sent the scans to the printer down the hall - if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to get them".

After she closed the door behind her, the boys jumped on the bed, hugging your sat up body.

"Can you believe we're having a little girl? A mini you?", Oscar stated as he followed your kids, standing up in front of you so he could kiss your lips.

"These two look like you - I deserve a mini me", you giggled, "Oh My Goodness, a little Piastri girl".

"Uh oh", Lucas said, making you look for any issue or trouble.

"What is it, Lucas?", you wondered.

"We don't know anything about girls!!", he said in a concerned tone.

"We're both boys!", Jack followed in agreement.

"You know Tilly and Lottie pretty well, it's not like you haven't been around girls", Oscar reasoned, not wanting them to feel dismissed as you tried your best to contain your laughter.

"We have to ask Fraser the next time we are all at a race - he definitely knows what to do!", Lucas pointed out.

.

"At least she's comfy - one of us is, anyway", you sighed as Oscar's hands helped you settle in a better position on the examination bed.

"I know we've discussed this with you before, so you probably know that this is the time we talked about. Little one is fully developed now, and she seems like a big girl from our calculations and scans, so I think that now, more than ever you should really think about inducing", your doctor stated.

With Lucas and Jack, the birth was pretty straight forward. The waters broke at home, you went to the hospital when the contractions were closer together and after some pushes, you were happily holding your baby boys.

Your baby girl seemed to have other ideas.

"We wanted to wait for her in her timing, but we understand that that option is no longer viable", Oscar nodded. The team had gone over your exams and they all agreed that induction was looking like the best option so both you and baby Piastri could be happy, safe and healthy.

Squeezing your hand in his, Oscar gave you a reassuring look before you spoke, "we've talked about it, but at the end of the day what matters is that we are both okay, so we'll do the induction. When can we do it?", you asked.

"Well, since it's early and you've only had breakfast, if you go up now, we can settle you in and start the process while your husband gets your things from home if you'd like - your baby is in a good position and we don't foresee any issues to a vaginal delivery", she smiled soflty as she signed a few papers, before handing them to you to sign too.

"Might as well get this show on the road, hm?", you looked at Oscar, "I'll call my parents to let them know".

"Okay, sweetheart", Oscar said before he kissed your forehead, "I'll meet you upstairs, okay? And you, little miss, don't show up before I'm back, okay?", he left a kiss on your baby bump.

"I think it's established that she isn't in any sort of rush", you chuckled, kissing his lips one last time before you parted ways.

While Oscar went home to grab the hospital bags you had prepared, you went up to the labour ward with your midwife Lisa, who happened to be on shift that day.

Checking you in your room, she helped you get comfortable before starting the induction process, "like we talked about, for some women this is a quick process and for some it is a long one. Any way this goes, though, we are all here to help you", she smiled soflty.

Someone knocked on the door, making Lisa look at all the supplies she had and checking if anything was missing until she noticed it was Oscar.

"Hi Lisa, how are you?", he greeted her with a hug before he came to check on you, leaving the bags in their designated area.

"Hello! I'm good, excited to help your little girl come into the world", Lisa smiled.

"And you, my love, are you doing okay?", he asked, looking at the monitor on your bump.

"I'm good, so far so good, and better now that you're here", you pointed a finger on his chest as he approached you.

Chuckling, Oscar kissed your forehead before sitting in the room you made for him, mindful of all the wires connected to you, "did everything get sorted out with your parents?".

"Yes, they'll pick the boys up and look after them - dad told me not to worry about anyone else but me and little princess", you smiled. In the last two births, the first person your father looked for when he stepped into the room was you, claiming that he looked for the person that was already there from before and that he needed to know his daughter was okay.

"I can't believe that this is happening soon, that we're going to have our baby girl in our arms", he said as he did his best to rub your bump despite the wires and monitors that were ensuring you were both doing well.

"Seems like it was yesterday that I was taking a test with Jack on the other side of the door asking me if I needed help", you giggled, "but I'm very excited to have our baby and see who she takes after - I may be too hopeful, but I have a feeling that she might look a little bit more like me", you snickered, "I did all the hard work for nine months and a bit - three times now! I think it's about time this baby comes out looking a little more Y/L/N-y and a little less Piastri-y".

"My genetics have proved to be quite strong, if we are being honest, but I'm also hoping for a little you", Oscar offered as he felt your tightening taut skin under his hand, "was that a contraction?", he said looking at you.

"I think this is the water breaking, do you remember that prickle feeling I told you about in Lucas'? It's like that - oh!", you gasped, "there it goes".

Oscar helped you get up from the bed so you could dry yourself before removing the disposable liner Lisa had laid down for that purpose.

Helping you change into the hospital gown, your husband called the midwife like she had asked you to do, "the waters have broken already? This is good news, means everything is going like it's supposed to, especially ", she said when she looked at the graphs for the CTG machine, checking your vitals too before she left the room again once everything was fine.

When contractions started picking up, Oscar was quick to tend to your every need, walking with you when you felt like movement would do you good before you settled in swaying your hips, your back against his chest while you almost danced around the room, "this is like that time Lando made us dance at the McLaren party", you muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"We're much better now, I think - and you look even more beautiful", he mused, kissing the top of your head.

"Oh, there's another one", you said as you felt the tension on your bump, making you stop and somehow turn around before it got too bad, the new position allowing you to face Oscar as your arm stretched around his neck, your hands lacing at the nape of his neck so you could drop your hips to relieve the pressure from the intense feeling on your torso as you waited for it to pass, your husband's kisses and words of encouragement doing a good job at distracting you from it.

"Do you feel comfortable here or do you want to move to the bed, love? I don't want you to tire yourself more than you are", he expressed his concern as he held you.

"Can I stay here? I like being on your hold and standing up helps, I think", you looked for his approval as you felt his arms ease some of your weight on his neck.

Oscar nodded his head as he kept swaying you around, "Of course, I'm here for you, whatever you need I'll help", he prompted as your neck stretched slightly so you could kiss his jaw, mumbling an I love you to him before concentrating on your breathing again.

Knocking on the door, Lisa excused herself inside and asked how you were doing before checking your dilation, "You're doing really well, Y/N, you're 6 centimetres dilated already! This is going quite quickly I must say", she said and you smiled.

Oscar placed a proud kiss on your forehead while you heard Lisa tell you what to expect in the next few hours, "Do you want an epidural?", she asked.

"I think I'm doing fine without it, but I'll call if it gets too bad", you replied before she nodded and left to tend to the other birthing patients.

Hours later, Oscar had now turned to apply pressure on your lower back with his hands when it started getting a bit harder for you, your elbows on the mattress as you rocked your hips side to side, the interval between contractions now so short you barely had time to rest between them, "I feel like I need to push, my body is telling me to push", you said to Lisa and the nurse that were checking you.

"Why don't you sit on the bed so we can see how things are progressing?", one of them offered as your husband helped you lay down, his hand never leaving yours, "You're crowing, Y/N! It's time to meet your baby!", Lisa announced as she got in position.

"All good, Y/N? I know it hurts, but I also know you have got this", your husband whispered as he positioned himself so he could be right by your side.

"Y/N, when you feel the urge to push, do it okay?", the health professional urged you as you nodded, "your babygirl is ready to come out and everything looks good for her!".

Holding Oscar's hand and squeezing it, you cried and grunted slightly, hearing Lisa announce that the head was out and you needed to do a big push for the shoulders, "this could be a good sign for mini me - my mum always said I had a big head", you groaned.

"C'mon, Y/N, big push", the nurse encouraged as you felt Oscar's lips by your ear, "I know you can do this darling, just two more pushes and our baby girl is here", he said and you did what your body told you, pushing and breathing until your baby was out in the world.

Sitting back against the pillows, the nurses lifted the little girl and after a few taps on her pink cheek, she let out a high pitch scream both you and Oscar were sure to remember for the rest of your lives.

"She's here, Y/N, congratulations mummy and daddy", Lisa said as she placed the baby on your chest.

The baby girl your's and Oscar's love, along with the one from your family, produced was finally here. Pushing your gown to the side, you uncovered your chest as they placed her down, the skin to skin contact soothing her cries immediately, "Hello my love, I'm your mummy", you said as tears gathered in your eyes, your finger coming to stroke her pink chubby cheek as you admired her.

"She looks a lot like you, I think we've nailed the mini you, love", Oscar said between tears.

"That is daddy, I'm sure you recognise his voice too", you cooed, "we've been waiting for you for so long, and you're finally here".

Oscar kissed the top of your head before kissing the top of the little girl's head.

"Hi princess Isabella, we're so happy you're finally here", he said tearfully as he stretched his finger so your daughter could grab it between hee much smaller ones.

"Now we're gonna need to take little Isabella - such a beautiful name - to check everything while you deliver the rest, okay?", one of the nurses said and you extended your arms so she could grab her.

Oscar looked over to the nurses' station as they measured and weighed the baby before he looked down to you on the bed, "Thank you for making me a father again, I love you both so much, my love", he said with loving and still a bit teary eyes, grabbing your hand in his and kissing them before touching your forehead lovingly.

"I love you so much, Oscar", you whispered and you kissed his hand that was caressing your cheek, "there's no one else I'd be a parent with".

After delivering the placenta and having your baby girl back in your chest, Oscar couldn't stop the overwhelming surge of feelings in his chest. He was so happy and grateful for you and at the prospect of the life he had yet to fill with memories with your family.

.

When you were finally able to bring Isabella home, the boys were the best behaved you had ever seen them. They weren't troublemakers, and from what you heard the other parents share whenever you waited for the kids outside the school gate, they definitely were a breeze compared to the stories you heard, but this was new.

"I'll fill this up for you, mummy", Lucas stated, grabbing the water bottle you kept near you ti make sure you were drinking enough and helping your milk supply.

"Thank you, buddy", you smiled, adjusting Isabella's head so she could have a better latch.

"Here are the nappies for Isa", Jack offered as he carried the unopened packet he offered to get from the nursery so you could refill the caddy you kept in the living room.

"Thank you, Jack, that's very helpful", you smiled as Oscar sat next to you, "they're being so helpful, it's so cute", you mused.

"Before you came home, they helped me and your parents tidy up and they promise your dad they would be on their best behaviour", your husband mused, kissing your shoulder and looking at your daughter as she suckled on your nipple, never getting tired of watching her beautiful face.

"At what time did Lando say he was coming to visit?", you asked, squinting to look at the time on the TV.

"He said he'd be here in an hour or so, and then his wife and the kids would come later after she got them from school", Oscar mused, "here, let me burp her", he said.

Wiping the corners of Isabella's lips, you kissed her forehead before letting her go to Oscar's arms, watching his tap her back to get all the wind out before she looked ready to fall asleep.

"Mummy is going to have a shower, so you two be good, okay?", you told the boys before you headed up.

Oscar was resting his eyes when his phone alerted to who the car he heard outside belonged to, making him get up and open the door to find Lando.

"Well, hello there, Oscar, and little Isabella, hello darling", he cooed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Uncle Lando!", the boys cheered quietly, hugging his legs and letting him ruffle their hair.

"Where's your mummy?", Lando asked, "I brought this goodie bag with all things for postpartum fun! We got one of these from my sisters when we had Lottie and it helped a lot".

"She's upstairs, she said she was going to have a shower and my bet is that she's taking a nap", Oscar added, letting Lando sit before he could pass the little bundle of joy to his arms.

"Hello, little princess, aren't you a cutie", Lando said as he looked at the youngest Piastri.

"You have to support her head, like this", Lucas advised the father of three - soon to be four.

"I know, buddy, thank you for your help", Lando smiled at his protectiveness, letting the boys sit on either side of him.

"She doesn't like when her hands aren't covered - let me fix it", Jack offered before he pulled on the blanket around his sister's hands.

"They're both like this all the time?", Lando wondered as Oscar nodded.

"They don't let anyone else touch her without them being near - only me and Y/N get to keep her to ourselves", Oscar chuckled.

"Oh, she's fussing, daddy!", Jack alerted him.

As if on cue, you walked downstairs and into the living room as Lando was up, trying to soothe the little girl, "it's alright, uncle Lando is here, Isabella", you heard him tell her gently.

"Hello", you greeted as all eyes landed on you.

"Yeah, that's your mummy, babygirl", Lando assured, "and you want her, don't you? I can't compete with your mummy, can I?", he said as he walked closer to you, giving your daughter back so she could cuddle into your chest before he squeezed your arm.

"Thank you", you smiled, "you met uncle Lala, babygirl?", you mused, stroking her cheek and feeling her cries soothe down.

"Just about, yes - your boys surely have the protective older brother thing down", the british driver giggled.

"They're already the best big brothers and she has only been with us for a couple of days", you smiled.

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