#plus size fanfic

[jarofstyles]

Sugar, Sugar 12

Here they are, finally. With the smut <3 I know you've been asking about it so here she is!

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WC-5.4k

Warnings- body issues, past trauma, degradation, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, y'all know the drillll.

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Y/N felt like she was going to pass out. 

The room was dimly lit by one small lamp on the bedside table. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue, and the curtains were drawn closed, shutting out the world beyond. Y/N laid on the bed, fidgeting with the sheets, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't believe she was finally here, that this was finally happening after all the teasing and workup to this sort of thing. 

She had agonized over what to wear to bed, finally settling on an oversized tee shirt much more suited for her. It was a Queen tour tee shirt, a soft cream color and buttery smooth. One of her favorites to wear to sleep. Being bold, she had decided on no shorts and simply a pair of black lace panties. How long would they even stay on? She had no clue. Not if Harry had anything to do with it. All she knew was that she had been the most prepared she could be. Sneaking into his bathroom, she had spread coconut body lotion on her skin to get her as smooth as possible, taking her hair down from the half assed updo she had done, spritzing herself with body spray and brushing her teeth twice. Overkill, perhaps, but she wanted to be good. To be what he had been anticipating. 

Staring up at the ceiling. She fidgeted nervously, feeling a bit out of place in his room. Harry had ordered her to his room while he finished cleaning the kitchen, dangerously leaving her alone with her thoughts. As sexy as it was that the man could clean up after herself (And bare minimum), she knew that should could only last so long before she went crazy.

As she waited, she couldn't help but start to notice all the little details about his room. The closet door was closed, a tv hanging over one of his dressers that mirrored the end of the bed. A full size mirror stood in the corner- which she had covered with a blanket. She’d have to talk to him about mirrors and portaling later. He had a few pieces of art, some little sculptures, paintings on the walls of varying sizes to make a little gallery. What had surprised her was his basket of sunglasses on the previously mentioned dresser. Soft cream, it held an almost overflowing amount of sunglasses which had confused her. She had really only seen him wear 1 or 2 pairs of them. Maybe she could snoop later. There was still so much to know about him, so much to learn. All she craved was getting closer to him. Emotionally, mentally, physically. 

God, she was crawling out of her skin. She wanted his touch so badly that she knew that the moment he touched her tonight that she would be wet. They’d behaved for the most part, Y/N pretending to ignore Harry’s eye fucking because she was still hyping herself up. There was no turning back now. She let out a sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. She and Harry had been dating for a while now, but she still felt like she was getting to know him. She wondered if he felt the same way. If he still felt like every time they hung out he was learning more and more about her. 

But even through the nerves, she wasn’t uncomfortable. She trusted Harry with her body, with her vulnerability. She looked forward to handing herself over to him for a bit, to enjoy his hands and lips and get to know how he was as a lover. Was he a biter? He had been vocal in the past but she had to hope that he would get dirty with her tonight. She needed it.

Just then, Harry walked back into the room, carrying two bottles of water. He grinned when he saw her sitting pretty in his bed, hair down now and changed. She was a fucking vision in his bed, surrounded by all things him. His pillows, laying on his sheet, the man couldn’t help that sensation of self satisfaction in his chest., Setting the water down on his nightstand before crawling onto the bed next to her. He hadn’t wanted her to have to get thirsty and not have anything to drink when she woke up or.. After activities.

He took a moment to look at her, watching her hands fiddle with the sheets as she looked up at him with rounded eyes, he could see the mixed emotions on her face- but it wasn’t necessarily fear. He wanted her to talk to him, tell him what was going on in that beautiful brain of hers. Sensing that she was probably needing a bit of soothing, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Hey," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "What's going on in that mind?"

She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking up. "I’m just nervous, I think. I really want to do this, and have been thinking about it for a while. But sometimes those old nerves come creeping in and I get worried you won’t like what you see. I usually don’t feel this way, but when we peel back those layers and get to the real stuff, sometimes this sort of feeling leaks past. I’m sorry.” She peeped, looking down at her lap.

Harry looked at her with a soft expression, his eyes filled with understanding. "Hey, look at me.” His finger nudged her chin up, directing her eyes at him. “There she is. Sweet thing.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers chastely, starting slow. “I know it can be scary to open up and let someone in," he said. "But I want you to know that I feel the same way. S’fucking terrifying. When you care about  someone, sex means a hell of a lot more. But I need you to listen to this, even if you don’t fully grasp it yet.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes looking over hers, hoping they could convey just how serious he was.

“I adore what I see. I’ve been attracted to you since we met. I know people have probably said some fucked up things, made this sort of thing scary for you- and I wish I could beat the hell out of them. Wish I could take that away and make your experiences only positive, only let you feel as beautiful as you actually are. I know you know how gorgeous you are, that this sort of thing brings you back- from what you’ve told me anyways. But I need you to know that I have never felt more attracted to someone in my life. S’not going to change without your clothes on.”

His words made her heart swell with affection for him. Finally. This was what she deserved. Someone tender with her heart, who got it- or at the very least, attempted to get it. That’s what she had asked for. Harry had seemingly come out of nowhere, placed in her direct path because he would get it. He was meant for her. Her eyes stung a bit as she felt the words hit her fully. It felt so fucking good to know how much he genuinely cared. How he was attracted to her, how he wanted to help her rewrite those experiences.

What she wanted to say couldn’t be expressed very well verbally, so she kissed him instead. Placing her own hand on his neck and pulling him in, kissing him fully as she urged him closer to her as she started to lean back. It was a fiery kiss, one that he could feel down to his bones. She meant this kiss. It was hot and heated, making him moan into her mouth as her fingers tugged slightly on the hair she had found to urge him closer. He would never tire of that. 

“Thank you.” She whispered against his lips, fiddling with his hair as he adjusted. “I just want you. Want to do it. Can we?” 

Harry smiled against her mouth, his heart quickening in his chest. He hadn’t expected that sort of reply.  He had been fully prepared to take more time sweet talking her- but his mouth could be put to better use. “Anything you want.” He murmured to her. “Seems you’ve still got me wrapped under your spell. M’gonna be so good to you.” His lips puckered against hers, nudging their noses together before he sat up, pulling his shirt over his head. “We go as fast or as slow as you want. I’m jus’ feeling insane that I’ve even got you here.” Going back down to her mouth, he brushed his thumb against her plump bottom lip, slightly swollen from their kisses tonight. He wondered if it stung, if it was sensitive, but she answered that by wrapping said lips around the digit and sucking on the tip of it softly. Just a bit, her tongue brushing the underside as she gave him her softest eyes clouded with that hint of lust. Lust for him. 

“I like this.” His voice trilled. “Like that you’re so pretty with your lips wrapped around me in any way.” Pushing his thumb a bit further into her mouth, he watched her cheeks hollow as she took it deeper and let her teeth grace his knuckle before pulling ot back out. “Temptress, that’s what you are.” He took his wet thumb and smeared it over her lip, spreading her own saliva on it before catching her lips in a kiss. “Need t’get you naked.” 

This is what she had been worried about initially, but with his mouth on hers she felt a little floaty as his fingers gently tugged up her sleep shirt, only breaking their kiss when he had to tug it over her head. It was abundantly clear that he was looking when she heard his breath hitch, eyes glancing down at her bare breasts. Of course she wasn’t wearing a bra to sleep, Y/N would fight demons over underwires, but she knew she made the right call when Harry knelt down and began to kiss down her neck. 

“How are you so perfect?” He groaned, peppering kisses to her while motioning for her to lay back. Harry was taking his time to play with her, to observe, to worship. “Can I touch, Sugar? Let me see how soft you really are?” 

Her nod was slow, watching his face break out in a naughty grin before his hands traveled south. Despite how comfortable she was with Harry, it still made her tense a little as his hand fell to her waist. How it ran over her stomach, the one forbidden area she usually refused to be touched- but he did nothing but love on her. Letting his hands trace every curve, every dip and edge as his mouth moved further down to the hollow of her throat and bit down softly to make her whimper. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Like one of those paintings, hm? Y’know what I’m talking about. So soft and lush, just want to bury my face in you.” He whispered, ignoring her necklaces as he moved to the swells of her breasts. They weren’t as perky as she’d like, but that apparently had no effect on Harry. He took them into his hands, audibly groaning as he kneaded them gently. He genuinely looked pained, and a peek down showed he was hard in his pants. “Christ. M’the luckiest fucking man. Look at you.” His voice coated in awe, he let his thumbs brush over her hardened nipples, exhaling shakily. 

He let his lips kiss over them, the expanse peppered in soft, slightly wet kisses leaving an imprint behind that glowed in the dim light before he went to the middle of her chest. “M’trying to take my time. Know I have all night… but you’re driving me crazy.” He croaked, letting one hand down down her stomach to the edge of her lace panties. It had been a pain in the ass to actually find comfortable lace in her size, but she would gladly go on the hunt for days to find more if it made him look at her like this. A spark went up her spine and a soft gasp left her throat as his thumb moved down, stroking her slit lightly. Cupping her mound, letting his thumb trace over the lace as she exhaled shakily, his lips closing around her nipple. 

A whine she hadn’t ever made before bleated through her lips, hands finding his hair as he flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple and continued the movements over her most sensitive place. There was no hesitation, nothing she had feared had come true. No recoil, nothing but a positive, lustful gaze and words of praise leaving him. She could tell they were genuine, his excitement palpable in the room. 

“Wet for me.” He mumbled against her skin. “Got the panties wet, just sitting and waiting for me. Been dying for it just like me, hm?” He asked, smugness written on his face. “I’ve been tryin’ to pace myself.. Like you too much to rush, didn’t want to just jump into bed with you but… I’ve been dreaming about it.” Lowering himself further, Y/N made herself relax instead of tense like she had naturally inclined to doing. His lips brushed her stomach, the softness of it making him nuzzle against it before moving down. He knew she would be self conscious if he spent too much time there, but he wanted to help her get over that eventually- if she felt comfortable. He wanted to worship every inch of the woman, his modern goddess. 

“Me too.” She replied, watching with hazier eyes as he found himself snugly between her legs. The man spared no area, kissing her over the panties before moving to her thighs, the fullness making him moan. She continued talking as she felt his lips exploring. “I appreciate you wanting to take me seriously and do it right but- but I’ve been desperate for it.” It wasn’t a shameful thing to admit. Harry was beyond attractive and she had the sexiest boyfriend she’d ever seen, how could anyone blame her for being eager to fall into bed with him. “Not too much teasing, p-please.” Her words stuttered as she felt his teeth graze her thigh, making her shudder. They were still on the road to discovering what each other liked, but Y/N was impatient. She had waited far too long. 

“Oh, m’sorry, Sugar.” He murmured against her, digging his fingers into the waistband of her panties. “Just getting to know my girl. But let’s get down to it, hm? Didn’t mean to tease you.” His nimble fingers were quick to slide them off, aiding her in lifting her legs and tossing them to the side before letting out a whimper of the view. Y/N was beautiful in all areas, but this was his personal favorite at the moment. “Fuck me… You are everything.” He moaned, wasting little time before leaning in to let his tongue run up her slit. 

Her legs tensed for a moment, his arms hooking under her to hold them open in anticipation of this. She had done such a good job at sucking him the first time, and he knew he wasn’t going to ever leave her alone again. He had appreciation for all women, but Y/N was the prettiest he had ever seen. He was determined to get her soft and pliant, keep her puffy and sensitive for him before he slid his cock inside of her. Just a taste was good, but he wanted to. Greedy for her was becoming a new key trait of his. 

“Oh my god.” The girl moaned, feeling his tongue circle her clit. Looking down she could see his eyes, the hunger in them as he licked over her. It was new to her, seeing someone look almost… desperate to touch her. “Just like that, H.” Her praise seemed to make it even worse, nuzzling his face into her cunt with little care about the mess it would make on his face and testing out movements with his tongue. He was incredible, obviously, but Y/N had a bit more limited experience when it came to getting eaten out. She’d had it happen, sure, but there was something different about this time. Perhaps it was the trust, the feelings, but everything felt better. 

Harry was pleased, feeling how she relaxed for him and arched slightly into his face as her hands wound in his hair. Her heavier breathing fueled him, noting every reaction he could. Her thighs tried to close as he latched on to her swollen clit, sucking it lightly into his mouth with a wet sound that went straight to his cock, but he kept her still as he did so. He knew now that he would be spending plenty of time down here, learning exactly how to make her cum from just this alone- but he had to work her open a little bit. 

Pulling away from her clit, his face lifted and arm moved to slick his fingers against her cunt. “You’re happy, baby?” He crooned, not minding the slickness of his chin and mouth. He had no reservations about getting messy, and Y/N had expressed a like for it too, so when he crawled back up and her hands grabbed his face to kiss her, he wasn’t shocked. The response was just as hungry, sliding a finger inside of her and muting her squeak with his mouth as he suckled on her tongue. His cock rutted slightly against her thigh, groaning as he felt how truly tight she was. Soaked, but tight. 

“I need you inside.” She panted, eyebrows furrowed as her hand slid down to his cock. Waiting for his nod, she slipped it into his pants and watched in satisfaction as his face fell into one of pleasure as she wrapped her hand around the base of him, giving a few strokes. “Please? I know it’ll hurt but- but I like it.” She whispered up at him. “Make it hurt a little bit, H. Please, just get inside me.” 

“Condom- are we?” He knelt up on his knees as he shucked his pants down, eyes on her hand. She never stopped stroking him, only once to spit on her palm to make the glide that much easier. His head wasn’t on straight right now, worked up in the arousal he felt. 

“No- No, we’re okay. I want it like this. If we can.” Y/N didn’t want to pressure him into anything, but by the look on his face he was more than happy to do so. Harry was visible to read, she found, and i instances like this she absolutely loved it- but she really wanted him to fuck her. 

“Course, anything for you.” His fingers slid out from her cunt, brought to his mouth so he could greedily get another taste of her with the deep groan that made her pulse. Y/N was beginning to get desperate. How had she lasted this long without him? “How do you want me to take you, Sugar? Hm?” His eyes were blazing as they met hers. “Like this? On your knees?” He was giving options. 

“Knees.” Leaning up for one more kiss, she took it wetly before spinning around to get comfortable. This way felt so good, and she was comfortable like this- but she hadn’t expected the spank on her bare ass. The startled squeak was accompanied by his warm hand soothing the sting, making her lean into it further. 

“God… this ass.” He moaned, holding it in his hands. Harry was obsessed with every part of her, but there was no denying he was an ass man. He’d secretly praised whatever god was out there that she had chosen this way. This position was what he’d been jerking off to for weeks, and seeing her with her face laying on the pillow, hands on the sheets and ass in the air was ten times better than it was in his fantasies. “You are the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen. This is what I dream about.” He whispered, kneading it before fisting his cock. “Want to see it move when I fuck you. Perfect fucking girl.” 

Y/N let out a garbled moan as she felt the tip of his cock run over her soaked slit, finding her entrance. The first push made her tense slightly before his hand ran down her back, soothing her. He was big. Big enough for it to sting slightly as he began to push in, making them both let out noises. It was like she could feel every bit of it. Never having forgone a condom before, it was a bit more intense than she had realized but god, was it worth it. He was being patient, slowly pushing in as she could feel him twitching against her, but it was worth it. 

“More.” She gasped. “More, H.” 

Harry was in awe of how good she was- how good she felt. Watching her cunt split open and take him, it was evident that she hadn’t been fucked in a long while, and shamefully he loved being the one to take her back. Hopefully the last cock to ever fill her, the only one she would crave, he’d tried to be gentle, but his sweet little Sugar wanted more. “More?” He laughed. “Tiny cunt can barely take this much. D’you think you can really handle more?” 

He was testing out limits, and if Y/N wasn’t already dripping? She’d be soaked all over again. “I can do it.” She whined, pushing back on to him. “Promise, I can take it. Give me more.” 

Doing as told, Harry began to push further into her. A deep groan left his mouth as he watched her swallow him up, slipping himself inside of her tight channel. It wasn’t the easiest, resisting slightly, but he could feel how wet she was getting.  “How’s it feel, Sugar?” He asked softly, holding on to her hip as he got the last bit in. Fully submerged in her, she was dripping on him. “Hm? Talk t’me.”

“Full.” The girl choked out, grabbing the sheets until her knuckles paled. “Stings, but- I love it.” Did she ever. This was the fullest she had ever been, his cock thick and long and perfect for her as he stayed seated fully in her for a few moments before she began to rock on him. “Fuck me. Don’t be gentle, please. I can- I can take anything you give me.” 

Harry would still be careful, but he trusted her. If she wanted to be fucked? He was going to deliver. Slowly pulling out a few inches, he slammed back in to make her yelp. He did it again. And again, listening to her noises as he started to find a rhythm. It was a hot, wet heaven sucking him in and he was loving every moment of it. 

Y/N was reacting just how he liked. Whimpering and pushing back on to him, moaning for him as he brought his hand down on her ass again and watched the skin ripple as it hit. His obsession with her ass was only being fueled as he watched it hit his groin. This was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. 

He continued, watching as his girl tugged at the sheets and whined for him, fueling his ego as he began to fuck into her harder. It only seemed to satisfy her more. It was the most free he had felt during sex in his life. Not worried about hurting her too much as he saw what she preferred, he pounded into her as he held her hips tightly. Surely there would be bruises on her after this, but part of him relished in that. Marks made by him on the perfect woman underneath him, marking her as freshly fucked and fully his. 

Y/N felt like she was being fucked stupid. Like each thrust was making her focus only on how to get this to never end, how she wanted him to stay humping her forever. He wasn’t holding back and fuck, did it feel good. Harry was strong, thorough and so deep she swore if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was in her stomach. “You’re giving it… so good.” She slurred, eyes watering slightly as his hand wrapped around her hair and tugged. A whine left her as she was forced up, scrambling to use her hands as he fucked into her sopping cunt like it belonged to him. “Hit me again- please.” She begged as his hand in her hair made her arch her back. 

The man chuckled in disbelief, bringing his free hand down against her ass again, and again. Watching as the spot moved and her ass rippled from the force of his thrusts. The moans coming from her felt too good to be true, but as he pulled her up and had her on her knees, he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped an arm around her own, his other hand turning her head so he could kiss her. Albeit sloppy at this angle, Y/N was feeling like she was in a dream as he cooed against her cheek. 

“So fucking wet for me, you’re dripping. Naughty girl. Like it when I rough you up a little, hm?” A yank of her hair made her mewl, doing her best to nod. “Was going to go nice and slow, make love t’you… but you had to tell me to fuck the gentleness. Had to make me fuck you like a little whore.”  The slight degradation made her cry out, clutching the arm bracing her to his chest as she searched out his lips- but he wasn’t done talking. “Knew you were dirty… But getting off on this? Being called a whore, being fucked bare and on your knees? Never knew my sweet little Sugar had it in her.” He released her hair to collar her throat, his strong hand wrapping firmly around her neck as he jostled her with his thrusts. 

“My sweet girl didn’t want soft. No… You wanted the fucking only I could give you, Yeah? All the rest couldn’t fuck you right, but you knew that I could.” His lips dragged against her ear, making her shiver. “And that’s why you’re letting me keep you. Cause I love this beautiful body, wany every single inch to crave my touch. M’gonna train you to want me everywhere. Your neck, your cunt, your stomach, your thighs… You’re going t’feel every bit of beautiful as you are.” His voice was darker, rougher, and it went straight to her cunt. Y/N swore she could cum just from that. 

“Yeah, yes, only you can fuck me like this.” She babbled back, knowing it was the truth- but she couldn’t wait until later one when she showed him it was the same for him. Only she would fuck him the way he wanted. She would take control at some point and show him that, but for now she was more than happy to let him take the lead. He did an incredible job. 

It felt like she was on fire, the tips of her nerves buzzing as he fucked into her over and over again. With whispered permission, he closed his fingers around the side of her neck in a practiced way, cutting off a bit of air and giving her the headrush she needed. “Gonna cum- I’m gonna cum, Harry.” She said frantically, voice slightly strained as the mix of his cock hitting the spot she needed, the words and his hand around her neck having her barrelling towards orgasm much faster than she had before. It was almost rare, before, to cum during penetrative sex, but he was getting her in that exact way she needed. 

“Go on, baby.” He encouraged. “Soak me, c’mon. Cum on my cock, my perfect little whore. Sweet little goddess… Show me how good you feel.” He continued the same pace, not wanting to change a thing so she could meet her end. It fueled him to know it was his doing as he watched her begin to fall over the edge. 

Y/N’s ears were ringing as she came, all she could focus on was the pleasure. White hot, spilling from her belly to her clit, all the way to her eyes as they watered. The most pathetic little scream was given as she began to tremble in his arms, nails digging into the one holding her up as her cunt fluttered around him. Her breathing caught in her throat, even as he released the grip and simply held her he worked her through it, but it was difficult to stop. She began to go limp, unable to keep herself up. 

Harry was right at the edge, feeling that orgasm- but he was gentle as he lowered her down, body following after her as he chased her orgasm. Now weighted on top of her, he used one hand to make sure he didn’t crush her while the other stayed on her throat while he buried his face into her neck, grunting as he felt his orgasm crest. It hit him like a train, his own pathetic whine leaving his chest as he shuddered on top of her, sloppy final thrusts pushing him over the edge. A moan of her name left his swollen lips into her neck as the first ribbon of cum spilled into her, stalling as his balls began to pulse and the thickened load of cum began to fill her up. 

It was more intense than either of them had felt before. Both felt stinging in their eyes, a need to stay close, and want to hold on- so they did. Recovering slowly, Harry stayed buried in her cunt as he pressed kissed silently to her cheek and neck as his cock gave its final twitches inside. Spent. It was unusually comfortable despite the stickiness between bodies, and when Y/N gathered the strength she lifted her head and whined softly for a kiss which the man happily gave. 

“You okay?” He asked softly after a few moments of quiet breathing and her body stayed under his. He was blown away, if he was honest, but he didn’t know how to verbalize it to her. 

“M’so good.” Y/N giggled, feeling his nose against hers as he smiled. “I don’t know what got into us, but I loved it.” The woman knew how rare good sex actually was at this point, especially for her, but Harry had almost read her mind. She’d directed a little, but he followed every cue her body had given. He’d taken control, was a little degrading but not too mean. She’d get him to be meaner later- or show him how mean she could be. 

“Me too.” He admitted, hissing as he adjusted in her. He was sensitive for now. “Gotta pull out in a minute. D’you want to take a shower?” His fingers were gentle as he removed them from her throat, moving the hair that was stuck to her face. “Need to make sure you’re all taken care of.”

It warmed her heart to know he cared. He actually gave a fuck if she was okay and knew what aftercare was. She’d gotten lucky. 

“Yeah. Just give me a minute.” She yawned, burying her head into the pillow. “My legs are like jell-o. You can be smug about it.” The permission was heavily earned. 

“Well, I will be. But I want you to be comfortable first.” He sighed. “I'll give us a minute but m”gonna have to change the bed.”  Harry didn’t want to assume anything of her for another round, but she answered that herself. 

“Don’t bother.” She mumbled. “You’re going to be back inside of me before we get out of bed tomorrow.”  Harry couldn’t argue with that. All he knew was, he had gotten a proper taste of Sugar- and he was an addict.

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[sunshine-on-my-mind]

Mind and Heart

pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Plus Size Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angsty, fluff, romance, softness, Sherlock Holmes (he is a warning!!), reader has low self-esteem, mentions of being ridiculed (not in detail)

a/n: this is my first time writing for Sherlock and I am nervous and excited at the same time. Initially it was not my plan to write for plus size readers but I couldn’t help but be drawn towards idea, so here I am. I really hope you all enjoy it. I’m writing after some time and this type of writing (old english/victorian english) is not something I’m used to hence there might be some mistakes. FEEDBACK is appreciated.

One fortunate day, you crossed paths with a wise young girl, named Enola Holmes and that fortunate event eventually introduced you to a certain famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.

You were not the most confident in matters of your appearance but you took pride in your intelligence. Indeed you could not live up to the intelligence of the Holmes’ siblings but you did have wit and will.

Enola was a sweet and kind girl, you helped her on a particular case and since then the two of you bonded. One day when you were at her detective agency, having a chat with her, the door opened to a broad shouldered man, who adorned beautiful curly hair. You couldn’t help but gaze at him.

The man seemed indifferent to your presence and went straight ahead to talk to Enola. It was her who introduced you to each other.

Sherlock, with a slight nod of his head, proceeded to talk about why he was visiting his sister. You felt out of place and decided to excuse yourself but before you could leave, the man spoke.

“It will just take a minute, Miss. I would be out of here soon.” Sherlock gave you another polite nod. You tried to not overhear their conversation and got yourself busy with a newspaper that was on the table, you moved away and decided to go through the pages while the siblings engaged in conversation.

You could not help but steal glances at the man, there was an air of confidence that surrounded him. Although you knew very well, a man like that, would not spare another look at you.

So did happen when he was done with the conversation and turned around to leave, though as you expected him to open the door and move out, he suddenly turned towards you.

“Thank you for helping my sister,” and with that he left. You did not even get a chance to respond.

“My brother is not the most talkative person. He can come off a bit rude I think, but his heart is in the right place.” Enola paused for a second and chuckled, “Well I am not sure about his heart but his mind is definitely in the right place. Always is.”

You were always intrigued by detective work and mystery, though not so adventurous yourself, the idea of mystery did provide you a certain thrill. Hence when you were invited by Enola to accompany her to Baker Street, to the famous detective’s residence, you were overjoyed to say the least. You were nervous as well, your last meeting with Mr. Holmes was not exactly ideal, and you were worried about overstepping since the invitation did not come directly from him. None the less, you thought this might be a rare opportunity and decided to jump in.

The apartment was… unorganised. Sure it smelled like mystery and adventure but you were expecting it to be more organised considering how detectives need things to be in place.

You were greeted by Sherlock Holmes with a polite smile on his face.

“It is nice to be here.” You told him and his response was just a nod. Enola excused herself to the bathroom and left you two in an uncertain silence.

“Is this where you plan your steps? uncover the details?” Again, Sherlock gave you nod, and that time a polite ‘yes’ as well. You felt it was made quite clear that he did not intend to have a conversation. Roaming around the flat seemed a better option.

Once Enola was back, she planned on making tea for everyone.

“Let me help you.” You told her but she shook her head.

“Oh I will manage just fine, I know your tea is much better than mine but why don’t you look around, or ask Sherlock the questions you had? You are here at Baker Street after all.”

You smiled at her politely and took the sofa opposite to Sherlock, who was looking outside the window. You fidgeted with your hands. Clearing your throat, you gained courage to talk to the the man of mystery once again.

“What was your first case like? If you don’t mind sharing?” Sherlock looked at you, and for a second you felt his eyes lingered on you a tad bit longer. You tried to brush aside any such thought.

“It was challenging, but I am an admirer of challenges.” His answer was better than the usual nods he threw your way but he did not try to engage in a conversation, in fact he quickly turned his vision back to the window. It seemed like he was avoiding you.

“Pardon me Sir, am I being bothersome?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. A shocked expression came across his face but he remained silent. You could feel your tears building up.

“Tea is ready.” Enola announced with a smile as she came back in the living room.

“I think- I think I should take your leave. It was quite a nice experience to come here, thank you.” You stood up and smiled towards Enola, quickly making your way towards the door.

The Holmes’ siblings were taken aback, especially the younger one. Sherlock stood up but froze in his spot.

“What did you do Sherlock?”

“Nothing!” the detective, who always had proper replies, could barely say a word out loud at that moment.

“Oh brother,” Enola shook her head in disapproval. “go after her!” At that Sherlock seemed to have gain consciousness again and quickly made his way after you.

You were trying to hail a cab when you heard your name being called out. You turned to see the man you least expected to.

“Miss, please wait.” Sherlock was out of breath as he came near you. “Let me explain…”

“There is no need Sir, I understood that I was being intrusive and I-“

“I invited you here today…” Sherlock interrupted you. You looked at him perplexed.

“I asked my sister to invite you here today.” Sherlock let out a deep breath. “I have some explaining to do, please be kind and give me a chance.”

The man seemed earnest, and you decided to hear him out, you were intrigued to say the least. As you went up to his apartment, you found Enola welcoming you both.

“I shall leave you two alone. Do not mind my brother please, he is not very intelligent in this matter I suppose.” With a little smile on her face, she left.

Sherlock asked you to sit down and you did. He took the sofa opposite to you, and looked down at his hands, nervous. It was quite an odd sight to see the famous detective nervous.

“I had heard about you, from my sister.” He finally looked up at you. “Enola rarely speaks about someone with such admiration like she did about you, it intrigued me. She mentioned how you helped her, how you are always so kind to her and how you’ve become close to her. My sister admires you and your wit. The way she talked about you, got my attention, I could not help but wished to meet you. It does not usually happen with me.” He cleared his throat in between.

“And then I did, I saw you. I did not realise what was happening, I was drawn towards you, I was charmed by you.”

“Detective Holmes, I am not quite sure I understand what you are saying.” An esteemed, intelligent and beautiful man, Sherlock Holmes was hinting that he fancied you, it was not something you were used to. You always considered yourself as someone who will never find love, never find someone who could fancy you.

“Believe me, I hardly understand myself these days.” the man smiled softly. “I may be a good detective, I know I am able to solve mysteries, but this particular one, is not just affecting my mind, but my heart. I am afraid that my mind works faster than most, but I’m still foreign to the whereabouts of my heart.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, what your were seeing, Sherlock Holmes was flustered.

“I wanted to know you more, I asked my sister to help me. She did tease me quite a lot, but I do not blame her, it is quite unusual for me to…” Sherlock looked at you intently, took in every little curve, every little feature of your body. You felt your cheeks heating up.

“It is unusual for me to be intrigued by someone this much, to be charmed by someone.” You could feel his stare fixated on your lips as he uttered the next words. “to fancy someone.”

Sherlock got up from his place and took a seat beside you. You were still trying to come in terms with reality.

“If I may?“ Sherlock asked as he softly took your hand in his. His touch felt electric and a small gasp escaped your lips. Sherlock smiled realising you have not withdrawn your hand.

“I apologise if I have upset you. It was not my intention.”

“It is alright detective Holmes I-“

“Sherlock, please.” A smile crept up your face.

“Sherlock, I thought I was being intrusive, I assumed you weren’t interested in having a conversation with me since you were hardly speaking to me. The first time we met, you hardly even looked at me, not that it is unusual. I am not someone people usually look at, unless they want to ridicule me I suppose.”

“Firstly dear girl, most people are fools, trust me. Secondly, I can understand how it may have seemed to you but the reason I could not talk to you, could hardly even look at you was because I was nervous, I was speechless. Your beauty, your charm, your smile made me speechless.” Sherlock’s deep gaze made you look down.

“Look at me please, do not deprive me of the honour to take in your beauty.”

“I do not know what to say. You are someone I am intrigued by, someone I could not help but simply admire, and to know you feel the same, makes this feel like a dream.”

“Are you saying you share my feelings, beautiful?” You smiled and gave him a nod, and the biggest smile appeared on Sherlock’s face.

“Please give me a chance to know you better, perhaps over a cup of tea. Mind you this is all new to me, I may do or say something out of place but my heart- my heart is in the right place, at least it is now.” Sherlock confessed with a gorgeous smile.

“It is new to me as well, but I would love to spend more time with you.” you returned him the smile.

That was how your journey began with Detective Sherlock Holmes, your Sherlock.

——————————

tagging: @eviesaurusrex @sarahrogersevans

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes henry cavill #henry cavill #enola holmes #sherlock holmes x plus size reader #sherlock x plus size reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x plus size!reader #enola 2 #plus size fanfic #plus size readers #sherlock holmes fluff

[minervadashwood]

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 32

~~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

~~~~~~~~

Summary: It's been a week or so since Glenn and T-Dog saved Rick. Now, your pack is getting settled in new place. Word count: 3K This chapter contains: Nesting, going into heat, firearms, smut.

Author's note: I am a little behind on posting chapters to tumblr. So I'll be trying to fix that in the next few days.

==

Nest.

It was all you could think about as you took water and soap to every surface in the kitchen. The other rooms had been cleaned, from top to bottom, including the loft and the basement. The loft had a low ceiling, but Ro and Merle had made their bed up there, using an air mattress and sleeping bags. Carl slept on the main floor, closest to the wood stove, while you, Rick, and Daryl had a makeshift bed in the basement. It was a far cry from your house, a home filled with Daryl’s handiwork, not to mention modern furniture. All that remained were some old, hand-made chairs and a small kitchen table.

This cabin, like the others around it, was old, from the 1850s, you’d guessed, based on the structure and style. In more recent years the land had been repossessed then abandoned. Before then, generations of Dixons had lived here, in their own version of Walton’s mountain, before the Great Depression.

Despite the bedding downstairs in the basement of this old, cozy cabin, your omega was desperate for safety, seclusion, and comfort.

As you cleaned, you were also looking after Carl. He sat at the table, still and focused as he drew pictures to give Lori and Shane when they arrived. He’d grown quiet over the last few days, since you left home.

You hoped, for his sake, that Lori and Shane would get here soon.

The past few days remained a chaotic whirlwind, made all the worse by your biological imperative. Soon after you met Glenn and T-Dog, your mates decided it was time to get out of town, before things got worse.

The next morning, you packed what you could: clothes, food, and supplies. When it came time to pack up the pillows and blankets from your nest, you sat frozen in your nest, trying not to cry. That’s how Daryl found you when it was almost time to go.

“C’mon, Bubbie,” he said, clearing space so he could sit next to you. “You’ll make a new one.”

“You built this for me,” you replied gesturing at the bed, then running your hand along the shelves behind it. “You made this a home. For us.”

Daryl gathered you in his arms. “Yer the one who made it a home. ‘Sides we’ll come back when it dies down.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think we will. The way Glenn describes the city…I don’t think this will be safe for a long time if the dead are migrating here.” You took a deep breath. “I know we have to go.”

“Don’ mean it’s easy,” he said, hugging you. After a moment, he got off the bed and opened one of the cherry wood chests he’d made for your nesting materials. He dumped out all the unused, pillows and blankets, still in their plastic wrapping.

What to take was your decision, but Daryl helped you, arranging everything in the chest, and packing it tightly.

Later, when it was time to go, Rick reassured you, too. “We’ll get you a place for your nest in time.”

“What if we have to move again, while I’m in heat?” you asked. “It will be soon.”

“I know. We both do. That’s why we’re goin’ now. And it’s why we need to stick together. Not just us, but the new guys, too.”

You nodded. Rick wrapped you up in a tight hug.

“We owe them. I owe them,” you said. “They brought you back to me.” Even in the short time you’d known Glenn and T, you knew them to be good people. T-Dog, an alpha, kept his distance from you; he must have known you were close to your heat, but you’d gotten to know Glenn a little. He had strategic way of thinking, and you thought maybe he was some sort of weekend warrior. But no, just a delivery driver.

Now, in the cabin, you gripped the edge of the sink, panic rising. Trying to control your breathing, you glanced at the wooden chest sitting by the basement door. Then, you stared at Carl’s back, as a sudden, unwelcome wave of frustration came over you. Your omega didn’t want him near your nest. In fact, it didn’t even want your mates near it, not yet.

Outside, Merle and Ro kept watch while your mates were clearing out other cabins, making them livable. T and Glenn took one, next to yours. You bristled at having strangers so close by when your heat was imminent, but you owed them.

The front door swung open, and you flinched, letting out a whimper of surprise. Despite the gust of cold wind from the door, you were too hot to even notice, but Carl shivered.

Daryl stepped in, quickly closing the door, and going to add logs to the wood stove.

He took one look at you, and whether it was your bond or Daryl’s keen eye, he seemed to know exactly what you needed. Jutting his chin toward the basement, he sat down next to Carl, distracting the boy while you went to make your nest.

The chest was too heavy for you to carry, and through your bond you felt Daryl’s impulse to help you. Rejecting it and putting up a mental wall, you grabbed armfuls of your blankets and pillows, making a few trips up and down the basement stairs. When you were done, you locked the door at the top of the steps and got to work.

The padded mats you cleaned earlier had dried. One still held hints of Daryl’s musk, pine, so you put it in the center foundation of your nest and started arranging everything around it. Nestled in the corner of the room, the nest began to grow. Releasing your perfume, you set about making the entire area yours. Blankets were piled on top of each other, pillows lined the walls. After hours of work, you were almost satisfied and crept back up the stairs to find the house empty except for Daryl and Rick, who were both pacing in the open-spaced living room and kitchen.

“Carl?” you said, still on edge, but in control of your anxiety for the moment.

“With Jesus.” Rick assured you.

“Whaddaya need from us, Bubbie?” Daryl asked, his voice low and soft.

“I need your clothes, something,” you said, your voice almost whiny. Your first heat had been so perfect. But this heat was different. You couldn’t be sure your pack would even be safe here, or how long you could stay in one place. Especially with Rick and Daryl unable to protect everyone like they had been.

Wasn’t it selfish of you to need them like you did? Not just one, but both? Yet how could you choose? Yes, you were more in sync with Daryl, but he’d claimed you and been with you for half a year now. You cared just as much for Rick, and soon you’d be bonded with him, too.

Daryl started striding across the room, but you backed away, shaking your head.

“Not yet.”

Rick shrugged out of his fur-lined deputy’s coat and untucked his shirt, unbuttoning it as you watched. His bare chest gleamed with sweat, his soft dusting of hair enticing. Your stomach clenched and all you wanted was to lay on top of him and let him ease the growing ache in your belly.

Meanwhile, Daryl froze in place, and, although it took you a moment, you finally realized what you’d inadvertently asked of him. Quickly, you opened your suitcase and started pulling out unwrapped Christmas presents. What a simpler time that had been, when your most pressing worry was dropped stitches and miscounted rows.

Setting some things on the kitchen table, you approached Daryl with his poncho, it was hooded, with two layers of thick wool.

“Trade for your coat?” you asked him.

He took it and brought it to his nose, sniffing deeply.

“Ya make this? Fer me?”

You nodded. “I did some research and it’s supposed to keep you warm while you use your crossbow.”

Your mate’s face was red, and he was blinking quickly as he stared down at the gift.

“Merry Christmas,” you said quietly. Daryl nodded without looking up, refusing to meet your eyes or Rick’s.

“I-I-I have more,” you stammered, unnerved by Daryl’s reaction. Why would he cry over a poncho? You gave Rick his wide scarf and matching gloves. Daryl had a pair of gloves, too, fingerless with rubber grips sewn on the underside—for driving his motorcycle.

“Bunny,” Rick breathed, still shirtless and sniffing his scarf. “These are amazing. And your scent is all over them.”

Daryl grunted, and got out of his coat, handing it to you, and putting on his poncho.

“’S real nice, ‘mega,” he said, adjusting the poncho on his shoulders then grabbing his crossbow from where it sat nearby.

Clutching Daryl’s coat and then grabbing Rick’s shirt, you said. “Soon. But --”

Daryl looked up. “Ya dun wan’ anyone in ‘ere but us.”

You nodded.

Rick said, “While your finishin’ up, we’ll get Carl settled in with Jesus. Already talked to him about your heat.”

“You did?”

“Carl knows that you’ll need me— us -- for a few days.”

Of course, children knew, vaguely what an omega in heat entailed. Not the actual mating, but the privacy, the duty of alphas to care for their partners.

“And the others?” you asked.

“Merle swore off drinkin’ an’ Ro’s good with the kid. Glenn and T helpin’ with keepin’ watch.”

Their reassurances consoled you. Besides, the betas in your pack knew what they needed to do, and you trusted them. But Carl…he had been taken from his mom and now his dad, too.

You pointed to two crocheted Woobles on the table. “These are for Carl.” Both were dinosaurs from his favorite cartoon.

“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Rick said.

“Go’n now,” Daryl told you, jutting his chin at the basement door. “Be dark soon, an’ cold.”

You nodded, renewed determination compelling you to tweak your nest until it was perfect and cozy for your alphas, for yourself, and for the days that followed.

*

Finally, your nest was as close to perfect as it was going to get. Surveying the pile of blankets and pillows, your omega was finally happy to have a place to share with your mates.

Despite the stress of the past few days, a glimmer of happiness bloomed. Rick could claim you. Daryl would make love to you. And the world outside would fall away.

Skin still hot, you left the basement in search of your men. You’d been cramping steadily for the past hour, nothing unmanageable but growing more intense as time went on.

Outside, you heard the rumble of engines, and a wave of tension hit you. Not your own, but Daryl’s

Grabbing your coat, you ran outside, finding Daryl on the porch and Rick standing in the worn path near the house. A little behind Rick were Merle and Ro; Merle with a shotgun pointed at the winding path that led to the cabins.

In the distance, three vehicles approached, a Jeep, a Cherokee, and an RV.

“That’s Shane and Lori,” Rick said, but his hand was on the butt of his revolver, you noticed.

You approached Daryl, standing next to him as he held his crossbow, lowered, but seemingly ready to aim at a moment’s notice.

“You said it was just them two,” Merle shouted. “Then explain the rest of ‘em.”

The cars continued to approach, Rick glanced around, his eyes landing on Merle, who had his rifle raised.

“Put that down, Merle,” Rick ordered.

“Ya gonna make me?”

Daryl gruffly shouted, “Merle!”

Merle shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. If y’all wanna risk it, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Glenn, from across the way, spoke up. “It’s all good. More people, yeah? Safer that way.”

You agreed with Glenn and Rick, at least on principle. Yet, right now, on the verge of your heat, the thought of strangers being near you or your nest, felt like a threat on your pack’s territory.

Just then, Carl ran out of the cabin next door, without a coat on. Merle lowered his gun even more at the sight of the pup, but you could still see the tension in his shoulders. Next to him, Ro was quiet and still, his hand at his side holding a gun.

The red Jeep barely came to a stop before Lori appeared, throwing herself out of the passenger side door and running to Carl. Shane got out, too, and you relaxed at that. If Rick trusted Shane enough to tell him about this place, then the people with Shane had to be trustworthy, too, right?

Shane’s scent didn’t alarm you, not like it had the first time you’d met him, but there were more alphas’ scents emanating as other people emerged from their vehicles. One alpha’s odor burnt in your nostrils; when a balding, scowling man looked your way, you knew it was him. In the same car were a thin woman and a cowering little girl, who was around Carl’s age.

The alpha stared at you, his eyes bulging, it seemed, making you gasp and hide behind Daryl. Daryl squared his shoulders and adjusted his grip on the crossbow as Rick took an intimidating step toward the strange alpha.

Still, the frightening man didn’t look away.

Rick’s voice sliced through your fog. “Inside. Now.”

Not a command, and not directed at you.

Daryl said, “Holler if—”

“I will,” Rick replied, keeping his eyes on the strangers.

Daryl took you by the arm and guided you back into the cabin. Inside the warm living room, you took off your outerwear as quickly as you donned it moments ago. Your body was at war with your mind. Cramps of need swept through your middle, beginning the incessant pulsing at your core. You reached for the kitchen table to steady yourself, but Daryl caught you, holding you tightly against him, your backside pressing against his front. Slick moistened your underwear, and Daryl’s reaction was nearly instantaneous as you felt him grow hard against you.

Glancing out the windows to see Rick shaking hands with the strangers, you trembled as Daryl let out a possessive growl and rubbed his scent on you. Melting against him with a whimper, you let your instincts take over, ignoring the activity outside. With a huff, Daryl let go of you for just a moment to shoulder his crossbow, then he practically shoved you to the basement door. Eagerly you obeyed, flying down the stairs and burrowing on top of your nest.

“Daryl,” you whined, stripping off your layers of warm clothing and gazing up at him.

He locked the door, and after placing his weapon nearby, Daryl laid next to you, pulling you against him and running his teeth along your neck.

“Fuck, Bubbie,” he groaned, and began kissing his mark. With his hand on your hip, he pulled you to him and threw a leg over you, kissing and fondling you onto your back. Ridding himself quickly of his clothes, Daryl lowered himself above you, his bare skin on yours as he settled between your legs and kissed you again.

Your core throbbed, clenching and unclenching, demanding more than kisses from the alpha on top of you. Daryl started pressing his cock to the apex of your thighs, just slowly grinding his hips against you as his mouth and hands worked you to a fever pitch. You grabbed at him, too, sinking your nails into his back, squeezing his upper arms, reaching for his ass to urge him closer. Daryl was frantic and somehow still gentle, knowing all your favorite places for his mouth and hands. The scent of your arousal only grew stronger, and Daryl groaned in response. Fumbling, he rearranged himself so he rested on one forearm while his other hand cupped your mound. Taking one breast into his mouth, Daryl sucked and nipped at your sensitive bud as he slipped a finger inside you.

“Yer so wet, ‘mega’” he told you, “Jus’ lettin’ me right in. Feel so good on my hand.”

Your belly fluttered at his praise. Raising your hips to meet his hand you moved slowly, then with more intensity as he added another finger. His hand knew just how to make you come unraveled.

“Yes, Daryl, please .” you begged, getting close.

Suddenly, Daryl’s fingers left you, and you cried out in protest. He silenced you with a kiss on your mouth, immediately breaching the seam of your lips with his tongue. At the same time, his cock slipped through your folds and found its home in your soaking, needy pussy.

“Ye-e-e-sss,” you moaned. His cock was so big and perfect, stretching you and filling you. When he started moving you hung onto him for dear life, savoring the feel of him inside you, of his mouth on yours, of his entire body caging you in.

In your soul, you felt Daryl too, his passion and his desire, crashing into you the more he worked your body. He paused his kisses and locked eyes with you, holding your face in his hands as he thrust, the steady movement of his cock inside you sending you over the edge.

“I love you, Daryl,” you moaned, pulsing around him and holding his gaze. His knot notched into place, and he came, filling you even more. Nuzzling your gland and his mark, Daryl kissed you gently, then his mouth moved, lightly kissing your jaw then your mouth. He collapsed on top of you then rolled you over so you could lay on his chest, his knot holding you together. Reaching beside you, you found one of your favorite knitted blankets and covered you both.

Still breathing heavily, Daryl cradled you in his arms, teeth teasing your earlobe as you sighed against him.

“I love ya, too, Bubbie,” he whispered, speaking the words aloud for the first time.

You wondered if he felt the fullness of your heart through the bond. He must have because he sighed and relaxed, whispering more sweet words in your ear.

“So perfect, my omega, so strong.”

Almost nothing else existed as Daryl held you in your makeshift nest. Only one piece was missing, and as you nestled into Daryl’s chest, you hoped that Rick would join you soon.

==

To be continued.

==

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#mdop #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #minerva writes #the cop and the criminal #omegaverse #alpha beta omega dynamics #a/b/o #nonbinary reader #enby reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #daryl dixon x reader x rick grimes #rick grimes x reader x daryl dixon #6739

[melodygatesauthor]

Preciously Plump

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X f!plus size!Reader

First time writing about Santi but can't stop thinking about the fact that I think he might be into plus size ladies. I'm plus size personally but usually my characters need to be more on the petite side either for their jobs or situations they are in so this will be fun!

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, reader is plus size, unprotected sex, praise kink, reader has some self esteem issues, anal, p in v (totally not projecting why would you think that?)

When you first met Santi you were surprised that he even talked to you. Guys like him usually weren't interested in girls like you, especially when they could have someone that fit the "standard" of beauty that you were convinced you fell short of. He looked you up and down, like you were the most delicious thing he'd laid eyes on licking his bottom lip before biting it.

He tried to play it off like he wasn't mentally taking off your clothes piece by piece when he looked at you sat at your barstool. You were charmed by his smooth talk and the way he leaned against the counter, eyes never wavering from you.

After grabbing your number he would start texting you about how cute he thinks you are and he would ask you on a date. Part of you would still be convinced that this was too good to be true, but the other part of you would be screaming internally with excitement and so you'd say yes, of course.

Like a true gentleman, he would pick you up for the date and open the car door for you. You'd never know but he also just really wanted an excuse to touch your sides as he helped you into the car. When he opened the door at the restaurant he let you walk in ahead of him so he could stare at your thick ass in front of him. He'd be glad when you were both able to get a seat at the table so he wouldn't have to keep holding his jacket in front of himself in attempt to hide his growing erection.

Despite his clear physical attraction to you, he would also genuinely enjoy hearing about your hobbies and interests. Likewise, you would love an opportunity to pick his brain as well.

During dinner he would do his best to keep his eyes on yours but you just had to wear that damn low cut top to tease him. He would subconsciously bite his lip without realizing while he shifted himself frequently just trying to quiet the screaming in his pants.

It was after a few more dates, but when he finally got his hands on you, all bets were off. The first time he saw you naked, you were gingerly trying to cover yourself, but he wouldn't have it. He would wipe his hand over his mouth while he looked at you and then walk over. "Don't cover yourself sweetheart. Let me look at you." He would say in a breathy tone.

Self consciously you would lower your hands and feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He would shake his head and say, "wow, aren't you beautiful." To which you would chuckle nervously. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing you right then and there. When he wrapped his arms around you he would lower his hands down to grip that ass he'd been admiring through denim for a while.

He'd want to kiss down your chest and would relish in the fact that he got to squeeze your plump tummy. He'd savor the softness of your skin against his lips and be unable to stop himself from squeezing your thick hips while he did so.

This man would demand you get on the bed and even get down on those shitty knees just to spread your legs and kiss the inside of your thighs. He'd love it if you would give him a grip of death with your legs while he was suffocating in your wet folds. He would comment that he'd "never tasted anything so good in his life cariño." To which you would squirm. His words of approval would send a rush to your core.

He would revel in the way his fingers gripped on your hips while he assaulted your hole with his mouth. He would enjoy your squirming while while he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. When you finally come, you can bet he is devouring every bit of the juices that flow from your pussy without hesitation and enjoying holding you down by your plump tummy while you tremble from the overstimulation.

He then can't decide which side of you he wants to look at while he's fucking you. Does he want to slam himself into your precious and already wet cunt and watch your tits bouncing and squeeze your adorable stomach? Or does he want to push himself between your intoxicating cheeks for some anal play?

Unable to choose, he would start with that sweet and soaking pussy. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my thick cock." He would say in a breathy moan before pushing himself into you. His one hand would be holding up your right leg so he could get as deep as possible. His other hand would squeeze your breast, teasing at the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Once he was sure you had come at least one more time, he would turn you over. Your ass, that gorgeous voluptuous round thing that he wanted to bury himself into over and over again would be presented to him in that moment. He would spread your cheeks and use the juices from your sopping cunt to lubricate your anus. He would coax you, telling you to "relax, let me take care of you." He would go in, one finger first to test you. When three fingers fit somewhat comfortably, he decided you were ready.

When he was sure he couldn't handle himself anymore he would push past your cheeks into your tight ass. He'd moan, telling you "you're so tight, fuck." You would have your hands gripping the sheets tightly while he reached around your hip with one hand to stimulate your clit with his fingers, and the other would be holding on to your ass, squeezing.

Neither of you would last much longer, feeling him exploding inside of you and stretching your lesser penetrated hole as his cock throbbed, filling you with his heat. You would feel your already oversensitive pussy contracting in waves as you reached your climax as well.

Finally, yes, he's calling you for more dates because he cannot get enough after having you once.

#santiago garcia #Santiago Garcia smut #Oscar Isaac fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santi x reader #santi garcia smut #plus size fanfic #reader is plus size

[austinstyles]

Love

Harry Styles x plus size autistic reader

Note: Harry Styles and the reader are friends and fall for each other. And this might be a short fanfic for some. But I felt like I was inspired to write a short one.

Warning: spelling mistakes. And tell me if I missed something.

Harry pov

I always enjoy spending time with my family and friends. And one of my many great friends I enjoy spending time with is y/n. Me and y/n meet when we were both 9 years old. She has been by my side ever since. I love to just hang out and enjoy all the great chats we have and we have so much fun together. We have had this friendship for 15 years. And I am so happy we have kept this friendship even with my busy schedule.

Y/n is an amazing friend. We actually don’t fight, we have never had one in our friendship. But I have over the years started to develop a crush on her. I want to be with her, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship if we ever broke up. But I do hope one day we can start a relationship together. I love her and I wish I could kiss her and love her as my girlfriend.

Maybe one day. All of this can happen.

Y/n pov

I love my friendship with Harry. I love all the time we spend together. He is so supportive and kind. Also he is genuine, amazing. He is all this good things. I also love that he is just so sweet and thoughtful. Harry has been so supportive of my autistic journey in this world. I can’t imagine my life without Harry in it.

I have been keeping something form Harry for 3 years now, and that is I have fallen in love with him. I imagine kissing him. And watching movies with him while he has his hand on my shoulder.

But as much as I want to be with him I a romantic way, I also don’t want to lose my amazing friendship with Harry.

I have had a crush on my best friend since I was 21. And I haven’t ever told him about it. And a big part of me hopes one day in the future maybe we are actually together romantically.

No one pov

Finally today after a 15 year friendship. The two 24 year olds Harry and y/n are dating. And it turns out both felt exactly the same romantically for each other.

Harry and y/n got the relationship they wanted with each other true the ups and downs. Harry is so supportive of his girlfriend and y/n is so supportive of er boyfriend.

Harry also loves y/n for whom she is. And they share a love that will never die.

And this is only the beginning of this journey.

Thanks for reading this. I am sorry that I ended this short and that I didn’t put in the way they confessed their feelings for each other. And I don’t think I will be writing a part 2 for this. And as always my request are open. And I am sorry if this fanfic isn’t very good. But please don’t show hate. I hope everyone has a great day. Take care.

🩷😃👍🏻🌸🖤

Grace

#austinstyles #austinstyles writing #request are open #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #fanfiction #fanfic #plus size fanfic #plus size reader #autistic reader #multifandom writer #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

[chaithetics]

'A Most Violent Year' has just dropped on Netflix in my country, so in honour of that, LET ME COOK... Abel Morales fanfic with a plus size reader! Abel Morales being an absolute SIMP in that little turtle neck!

Do the people want this? I am thirsting over Oscar Isaac more and more each day, I fear.

#oscar isaac i am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you #you continue to bewitch me body and soul #oscar isaac fandom #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac fanfiction #abel morales #abel morales x reader #abel morales x plus size reader #oscar isaac x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #plus size fanfic #a most violent year

[indripwelust]

#fashion dress #fashion nova #beach babe #stunner babe #babe #thickaf #thickwomen #thick ebony #thick hips #thick wife #thick babe #thick vibes only #plus size #plus size fashion #plus size fanfic #fantasy #beautiful women #beauty #beautiful #oh wow #denim #tight denim #womens clothing #womens clothes #lixurylifestyle #luxurious #luxury #luxury purse #beauttiful girls #fall season

[grimfabulist]

I just posted three new chapters!! 

Chapters: 16/? Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Shane Walsh/Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Female Character Characters: Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Theodore "T-Dog" Douglas, Dale Horvath, Glenn Rhee, Andrea (Walking Dead), Shane Walsh, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Plus-Size Original Character, Domestic Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault, POV First Person, Dirty Talk, Canon-Typical Violence, Light Dom/sub, Suicidal Thoughts, Insecurity, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, Slow Build Series: Part 1 of The Life Of Murphy Summary:

"Once you got over your little “Daryl sucks for even existing” phase."

Murphy McCourt is a former med student who escaped a decade-long abusive relationship, only took the apocalypse for her to get the courage to. She along with her best friend Abagail and company navigate their way through the new world, meeting up with Rick's group. She's used to handling everything on her own, relying on no one. The group changes that.

Insert Daryl Dixon. A man who resembles her ex-abuser who also fits into the term 'redneck.' Murphy starts out despising Daryl, judging a book by its cover. She'll learn that while Daryl comes off as brash and angry, he is nothing like her abuser. Though reluctant at first, she'll slowly learn that Daryl may just be the key to healing herself and she may just help him do some healing as well.

[A rewrite of an old fiction, coupled with an old RPG I did years ago. I wanted to give this story a fresh start. My OC is from a Twitter RPG, the story was written as a fiction and then roleplayed out. I also suck at summaries]

#the walking dead fanfiction #walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon oc #original character #plus size #plus size fanfic #plus size original character

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #reader insert #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #smut #cod smut #reader insert smut #one shot #Ghost with OCD is my roman empire #he’s so much more well adjusted than I usually write him but it was fun #holly writes

[s1ckh1mb0]

Every once in a while I remember that free use trope and how Gojo would be an absolute slut for it. Like just the idea of you being bent over by him whenever he wants is so fucking hot to him.

You’re busy trying to set the table, bending over making your shorts rise up over the curve of your ass, catching the attention of Satoru. You don’t even hear him come behind you but you definitely do feel him. Suddenly being pinned against the table, his bulge pressing against your ass. Next thing you know he has you screaming and crying his name out as he fucks you dumb. You think you’re being loud? Satoru is wayyy worse than you. He’s whimpering and telling you how fucking good you feel.

“Ngh! Fuck baby. God can’t get enough. Can I cum in you? Please I swear it’s just this one time. Feels too good, like I’m in fucking heaven. Love this shit s-so much baby. All mine. Tell me you’re all mine, please.”

@silas-222

#fanfic #x character #x reader #spotify #x black reader #x black male reader #x male reader #x black plus size reader #x bottom male reader #smut #gojo headcanons #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #Spotify

[jarofstyles]

Sugar Sugar 11

they are back 😜 next part is the smut I promise don’t yell at me.

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Wc- 3.9k

Warnings- mention of cheating, witchcraft, relationship traumas

Series Masterlist

—-

Y/N was still thinking about the woman the next day. She hadn’t mentioned it to Harry yet, wanting to gauge his reaction in person. It had unsettled something, made her wonder why the hell she needed to contact him. It also made her realize that Harry really didn’t tell her too much about himself.

It wasn’t that she was necessarily suspicious- though her gut was urging her to ask questions- it was that she realized she had given him a lot of information and he hadn’t done it back. She was a pretty rational person, and figured it was probably because he hadn’t wanted to overshadow her sharing. It probably was. But something made her think Harry was hiding something he didn’t want anyone to know yet.

It wasn’t something horrid. That would have made her senses alert when she met him- but it was something that she wanted to know. She was patient but also a little nosy.

Y/N was broken out of her thoughts when warm hands wrapped around her body, making her squeal as soft, cool lips connected to her neck. As soon as she realized who it was her body relaxed, melting into his own as he let out a deep sigh. “Missed my Sugar today.” His voice vibrated against her skin, raising chills over it. “Long fucking day.” It was 7 right now and she had been closing up shop when he had snuck inside. It was a sort of a routine now, her smoky pink cloud of infatuation swirling around and engulfing the two as soon as his presence braced her.

“A long day?” She placed the swiffer duster down on the table, turning in his arms to look at his face. He looked tired. Slight dark circles under his eyes, hair flopped over on his face and more stubble than usual, she felt her bottom lip slope out in a bit of a pout as she rose a hand to cup his cheek. “What’s the matter?” She could feel he was tired. Just being around him, she could feel his energy was off. Murky instead of the normal crystalline pool of soft blue green she was used to sensing around his aura.

He leaned into her warm hand, visibly relaxing as he rubbed his scratchy cheek against the smooth skin. Y/N had an ability to soothe just with her touch, he was positive about that. Any time she got her hands on him he felt like he could melt. Sighing, he debated on telling her.

It wasn’t something he fully felt ready to talk about. As much confidence as he had in the fact that she was definitely not at all like the people he had walked away from in his old life, he was still paranoid. Nervous that at some point she would look at him differently, in a bad way. The circle he used to run in wasn’t known for the things he had tried to implement in his personality now, with her. He had effectively gotten away without a trace, and he didn’t need that to ruin the carefully cultivated dream world he was living in now.

“S’just… you know when old thoughts haunt you?” He asked, eyes closing when her fingers continued their soothing. “Couldn’t sleep well. Missed you. And I just can’t get some thoughts out of my head. It’s a bit ridiculous too, cause it’s irrational. Doesn’t mean my head got the memo.” The weak laugh was supposed to make her giggle as well, but it didn’t. His eyes opened to see the concern on her face, the rings on her fingers cooling his skin as she inspected him.

“I understand that.” Boy, did she fucking ever. Y/N had struggled with her own personal demons herself, things she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy, and sometimes they still found little cracks and crevices to hide in. They popped out of the dark to taunt her, to try and ruin her moods but she had worked hard to protect her energy. “Doesn’t mean I like seeing you upset. Your energy is off.” She murmured, sighing as she went to remove her hand from his face. Harry’s palm stopped it, pulling it back.

“Wasn’t done.” He tried to lighten the mood slightly. “Dunno how you can read energy like that, but I trust you in saying it’s off. I just… don’t know how to fix it. All day I’ve been waiting to see you.” There was a pause as he decided to just speak how he wanted, not worrying about being too much in their little bubble. “You always seem to make it better. Make me forget a lot of the bad shit.”

Y/N had a feeling that Harry was struggling with some things. It’s partially why she was waiting to question Claire's appearance. Something told her that he would know, and selfishly she wanted to ignore that for a little bit. Her gut was usually never wrong. How he knew her was a mystery, but her inky, cloudy energy had been radiating possessiveness. Something Y/N didn’t do well with.

Not when this pretty, tired man was hers.

“I’m glad.” She felt the heated tingle in her stomach, leaning up to catch his lips in a kiss. A supposed chaste kiss that he followed when she went to pull away, opposite hand curling around the back of her neck and dragging her back in. Warm and sweet and slightly chapped, his lips pressed against hers harder and made her forget why she had even wanted to pull back.

She gave in. Harry wanted to kiss her and she didn’t see why not, the firm hold on the back of her neck and the thumb brushing her wrist as he held her hand to his face making her shiver slightly. Every kiss with him, she could feel his attraction and fondness for her. Feel how he was holding himself back a little because he didn’t want to scare her. They’d been taking it somewhat slow but Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to wait too much longer to get intimate with him.

A startled squeak left her mouth as her back hit the counter, his slow steps backing her up having been ignored until right now when she succeeded in pulling back. With a laugh, she pressed her hand to his chest and craned her neck back, smiling at his pout. The man wanted more of her, the greediness evident in his grip on her and how close he had pressed his body to hers, but she didn’t want to do this here.

“Hi.” She peeped, looking up at him. His soft hair that had fallen from its usual pushed back state, evident that it was the end of his day and he had worked hard. He was beautiful, this man.

“Hello.” He replies, his voice grittier than it had been before. “Too much?” His tone didn’t give away much, but a flash of nervousness had gone through his face when she had stopped him. It was always a learning curve, as he reminded himself. Every relationship was different but there was something so familiar about her. Like he knew her soul. The comfort was so natural that sometimes he felt like had known each other their whole lives.

“Not at all.” The girl’s breathy tone made her want to wince. “I just… I was thinking that maybe we can go to your place. We can get food delivered or… we don’t have to.” She peeled up at him, looking away from his chest where her hand was resting on his thundering heart. “Probably more comfortable than the shop.” And if Delilah knew they did anything in the front she would hex her.

“Oh. Oh.” He blinked at her suggestion. “Yeah. Course. Did you want to like… stay over? Cause we have the day off tomorrow?” They were going to see one another anyways. It made sense, and he really, really wanted to wake up to her. He wanted his sheets to smell of her, he wanted to see her in his kitchen with messy hair and sleepy eyes.

“If that’s okay.” Her smile was shy, excitement blooming in her chest. “I’m just gonna run home and grab some stuff, some clothes for tomorrow and I’ve got t’feed the cats. Then I’ll be over.”

“Well, don’t be too long. Or M’gonna come and drag you over to mine. Or worse.” He teased. “I’ll set up camp there. You’ll never get rid of me.” It was a slight joke. Harry was obsessed. He didn’t think she could do much to have him leave her at this point. It would be scary if he didn’t like the feeling so much.

“I wouldn’t want to, but okay, pretty boy.” She shook her head at his antics. “I’ll be 30 minutes at most. Go home and decide what you’d like to eat.”

—-

Harry was panicking slightly.

After a quick shower, he realized that he needed to change his sheets. And his laundry basket was full. So he struggled with the fitted sheet, cursing to himself as he changed the pillow cases, lighting an incense stick Y/N had left and pulled on loose gym shorts. He had thought about dressing in jeans again, but Y/N would want him to be comfortable at home.

“Fucks sake.” He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. Why he was this level of nervous; he didn’t know. It was just the crippling need to impress her. She had helped put together his place, she knew what it looked like and what his bed felt like, but his mind was racing as he walked around to pick up the clutter that had accumulated and put it in its rightful spot- stuffed into the hall closet.

The food had been delivered and sat hot on his kitchen counter, Chinese food being the choice. She had texted him her usuals that he could choose from to surprise her and he had gone with his veggie lo mein, vegetable dumplings and fried rice. He wasn’t a full vegetarian, but he limited his consumption. Taking out two plates, he set them on the counter neatly before he shook his head. “Get a grip, mate.”

Harry had been dying to get his hands on her. When she had gone down on him and sucked his cock into her soft mouth, he was pretty sure he had his soul sucked out of him and she had held it in her soft palms ever since. His hands were greedy and grabby all the time, feeling her softness against his hands and he had been itching to uncover her in any way he could- but now he was nervous.

Y/N wasn’t just a hookup. This was his girlfriend. This was the first time he had done things properly, the first time it had been fully his choice to do so and he wanted it to be as perfect. As understanding as Sugar was, he would die of embarrassment if he fucked this up. The need to make her happy, to make her know that he was the one for her was so strong. All he wanted to do was prove it.

But he couldn’t deny the idea of finally getting to be inside of her, being truly intimate wasn’t making his body hot. He wanted to see her soft body exposed for him, see her laid out on his bed without a stitch of clothing hiding the body he had come to drool over. He wanted to feel her plush thighs against his face and squeeze her waist, watch her as ripple as he fucked into her- he wanted every bit of her raw and vulnerable so he could return it.

The knock at the door broke up his horny daydream, a thick swallow taken before he nearly jogged to the door.

There she stood. His pretty girl, soft gray cotton shorts hugging her hips and a flowing tank top with her shop’s logo on it on her body. It was disgusting, how his body was so unhinged that he felt the twitch in his cock as soon as his eyes dipped down to see a peek of cleavage. He felt like a mere boy getting his first glance of tits. God damn it.

“There she is.” He cooed despite his obvious check out of her body. “Come in. Do y’want me to put your bag away?”

Her smiling face was his reward for all the panic he had been feeling prior to her calmness walking through the door. “Course. Sorry it took me a minute, I grabbed a quick shower.” Her hair was still slightly damp, a sunflower shaped claw clip holding it back with two tendrils in her face that were seemingly too short to be held back. “I brought some dessert. I had this at home and thought I’d bring it.” From the plastic bag she pulled two cartons of Ben n’ Jerry’s. “I realized on the drive here that I wasn’t sure it was smart to bring sweets to your house since you’re always making them, but ice cream is different, right?” She had to laugh.

“Oh! Yes, I actually love this flavor.” He saw the name written on the tub, the swirly writing declaring it as ‘Half Baked.’ Mayhaps ironic, but he really did enjoy it. The fact that Y/N had thought to bring it over was only a plus. “You can put it in the freezer if y’want, I’m going to go tuck your bag away. I’ll be right back.”

Harry left her in his somewhat familiar kitchen, Y/N doing as requested by placing the softening treat into the freezer so it wouldn’t be soup by the time they got to it. Turning around, she got to observing how he had changed the place up. It hadn’t been much, but she saw that he had finally filled the frames that they’d gotten on their excursion. Walking into the living room, she went to the mantle over the fireplace and smiled as she saw that he had, indeed, been using the incense. The ceramic cup that held the incense sticks had far fewer than had started there, ash from the burning on the bottom of the holder still. It made her feel good that he hadn’t used it just to humor her- Harry actually liked it.

Eyes dragged back to the main event, the photos in the frames. One held him in a suit along with a younger woman that resembled him quite a bit in a blue gown. It had to be his sister. He didn’t often speak of his family but he had mentioned her in passing. He was smiling in the photo, just barely. Looking at it made her a little sad. It wasn’t the dimpled grin she had come to adore, the one that would rise right before he said a terrible joke. It was lackluster. Something she had never known the man to be.

The others held other men, a bigger smile on his face as a younger Harry looked back at her. The theme ran along them, Harry being younger and with the same group of boys.What surprised her was some of the locations. One looked to be a beach, the other in Paris in front of the tower, another in a lush looking pool. All places that didn’t look cheap in the slightest. She didn’t want to judge at all, but she had to wonder if he had money- why had he gone for a bare bones place? Y/N loved it, don’t get it wrong. It was comfortable and open, someplace she could be very comfortable living if she had the choice- it just wasn’t the type that had that air.

Maybe it was just some budget vacations? He had wealthy friends? Who knew. She was going to worry about it later. Even with the slight tug in her belly, she turned to look at how he kept the rest of the room. She had set it up a certain way when they’d come back to fix it up and he hadn’t strayed from it. If anything? It was just more clean. A tad more personal. The couch had a new throw pillow, an ornately beaded cartoon tiger that was very cute. She hadn’t thrifted that with him so he must have had it or ordered it later. Her eyes did a sweep, impressed on how the floor was spotless and he managed to keep clutter away when his footsteps interrupted her train of thought.

“I need to know…” She crossed her arms over her chest, startling Harry as he entered the kitchen to hear her voice coming from across the living room. “Have you always been this tidy? It looks immaculate in here.”

“I regret to inform you that I unfortunately have not been.” Tha man sighed, brushing a hand through his hair while he made his way over to her. “I tend to kick my ass into gear when I’ve got pretty girls coming over to spend the night.” Greedy hands reached for her, his fingers digging into her waist as he tugged her into his body to feel some of her warmth. It was obsessive and maybe a bit gross but the man was clingy. Clingy with a capital C.

“Oh?” Y/N’s brow rose on her face as she uncrossed her arms to rest her hands on his chest. “You have lots of pretty girls here to spend the night?” It was a tease, knowing what he meant, but she could see the flash of panic in his eyes as he blinked down at her.

“No! No- not here, not since meeting you. I promise-” His words were interrupted by her laugh, head falling back with a trill of her giggle. Her hands clutched his shirt, a shake of her head given as she righted herself.

“H, m’just joking.” She soothed, gently scratching over his shirt to smooth out where she had grabbed. “I know. I would know if you were cheating.” It was a reassurance but also a warning. Y/N always knew. Most women did. “A woman’s intuition is sharp and precise, darling.” Fingers gently pinched his blushing cheek, leaning up to peck the opposite one.

Y/N had felt it in the past. When her partners would pull away, when they’d avoid subjects. Even people she wasn’t in real relationships with. She could feel that deep rooted icky smoke billowing up from her stomach to her chest, making it squeeze. Harry had never once made her feel like she had to worry- even if her insecurities tried to suffocate her at night when they’d sometime slip through her confident wall’s cracks.

“I would never.” His face was serious despite her joking tone. “I promise. That’s… I know how that feels. I would never cheat. I think it’s one of the worst things you can do to a person.” A thick swallow was followed by sweeter words. “I haven’t looked at anyone since I met you. I wasn’t… I had actually told myself not to date or hook up or do anything as soon as I moved here. Then you came into my bakery and that idea smashed to bits. I couldn’t… Not pursue you once I’d met you.” Strawberry tongue swiped over petal pink lips, hand fiddling with the clasp of her necklace. “I wouldn’t do anything to risk that. I know you were joking but I really never want to joke about that. Hurts to think about.”

Y/N felt bad immediately. Granted, she hadn’t known that would be a touchy subject with him, but she still didn’t like how tight his brows were knit and how he had seemed nervous about her not believing him. For once, she had a feeling a man was being honest. He wasn’t afraid of her knowing, it was a fear of losing her.

“I’m sorry.” She sobered up quickly, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “I didn’t know it would upset you. I never thought you would. I won’t joke about it again.” Eyes gazed into his, a sad smile raising on her lips as her thumb brushed over the slight scruff on his jaw.

“S’okay. I know you were joking. I just hate that people do that to one another. Y’know? I’d never be stupid enough to put this at risk for something dumb like that. Besides, you’re the only one I want.” He leaned into her soothing touch. “It’s why I've been so.. Maybe weird? I dunno. Sometimes I feel clingy and it’s not normal for me. I’ve never been like this in a relationship but I just want to be around you all the time.”

The admission had taken her by surprise. “Hey… I really don’t think that’s weird considering I feel the same way.” Thank god she hadn’t been alone in this. “Had to stop myself some days from telling you to come over because I wanted to give you space and not crowd you. I was told a lot uh….” Her throat tightened as she went to speak. “When I was in my first relationship, he told me I was really clingy and he needed a break from listening to me talk. From being around me. It hurt my feelings a lot and even though I’ve healed a lot from that, It makes me feel really good that my urges aren’t one sided.” She paused. “But it was never as intense as this. It’s way worse with you. I was a puppy following him around because I wanted any attention I could get back then. I really enjoy just your attention now.”

That was the difference that Harry could relate to. He had been similar when he was younger, but as he got older he was much more picky with who got his time. Now? He hand picked every single person in his life to avoid any sort of conflicts, any betrayals the best he could.

“Well.. I’m glad that you only want my attention, cause if there was someone else I’d have to take up witchcraft and curse them for it.” He joked, watching her roll her eyes before pushing out of his grip. “Hey! Come back here. I wasn’t done holding you yet.” She could hear the pout in his voice as she walked to his kitchen.

“Mhm. You can hold me later. We can do all sorts of things later.” She shot him a look over her shoulder, finding exactly what she had felt. His eyes had been on her ass. Blatantly. He didn't even have the decency to pretend he wasn’t looking, eyes dragging up her body. As if the slight insinuation had rewired his brain.

“And god, am I looking forward to that.” He muttered, running a hand over his face before following after her.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #sugar sugar #plus size y/n #plus size x harry styles #plus size harry styles #plus size fanfic #plus size fanfiction #plus size reader #baker harry styles #witch harry #harry smut blurb #harry smut #Harry styles au #harry styles fic

[fatecantstopme]

Spell Bound

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen...I couldn't help myself.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names. An excessive amount of heavy SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, oral (F receiving), multiple cream pies

"I freaking hate witches," Dean mumbled as he picked the lock on the apartment door.

You chuckled softly, very used to hearing him grumble every time you were hunting a witch.

He slowly walked into the apartment and you followed in after him.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" you asked quietly.

"Big scary magic book. Sam said it's probably on or near some kind of altar."

"Big scary magic book," you muttered under your breath. "Makes perfect sense."

You sighed as you walked into the living room and noticed several bookcases lined with large books. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Dean shot you a weary smile. "Guess it might take a little longer than I thought."

"You think?"

You took one side of the room and Dean took the other. Sam had described the look of the book to the both of you, but there was really no way to be 100% certain if you found it.

About 15 minutes into your perusal, you spotted a large leather-bound book tucked under what appeared to be an altar cloth. You slowly removed the cloth, wary of what you might uncover. The book was almost exactly as Sam had described, so you had a feeling it was the right one.

"I think I found it," you said aloud.

At almost the same exact moment, a crash sounded from behind you and Dean let out a string of curses.

You spun around to see the hunter brushing off some sort of florescent pink dust from his face. "What the hell did you do?"

"I was moving some of the books and this box fell out and some powder just kinda...sprayed my face."

"Seriously?"

He looked sheepish. "I didn't even see it."

You sighed. "Great. God only knows what the hell that was."

He looked at the box carefully, but there was nothing written on it to identify the powdery substance he had inhaled. He gave you another sheepish look and shrugged. "Maybe it's not harmful."

You shot him a stony look. "Dean...it's a witch. It's not gonna be fairy dust."

He sighed, knowing you were right. He started shifting his shoulders a bit as if he was uncomfortable.

"Let's get out of here. I'll call Sam on the way back to the motel and see if he has any idea what it could be."

Dean nodded and followed you out the door. By the time you got outside the building and to the car, he was twitching like an addict in need of a fix.

"Dean?" you asked tentatively.

"My skin feels like it's on fire and--and it's like--itchy. And there's a weird feeling inside that I can't describe, but it doesn't feel nice."

"Okay...how 'bout I drive?"

He looked up at you with concerned eyes, but he handed you the keys and got into the passenger seat. You knew he must really be feeling terrible if he was letting you drive Baby.

You started the car up and pulled out of the parking spot while simultaneously calling Sam on your cell. He answered on the third ring.

"Dean got some sort of witchy powder on his face and now he's...itchy?" you said quickly in lieu of a greeting.

Sam sighed. "What are his symptoms?"

You put the phone on speaker. "Dean, what are your symptoms?"

Dean couldn't look at you and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "I feel like crawling out of my own skin, everything aches, and I'm having a hard time breathing right. Oh and I can literally smell (Y/N)'s skin, which is totally not normal!"

"You can smell my skin?"

He grumbled under his breath. "I can smell your skin and your shampoo and your goddamn body wash, and I want--fuck. What the hell is wrong with me, Sam?"

"Uh, I honestly don't know. Let me call Bobby and see if he has any ideas."

You set the phone down on the seat beside you. "Maybe you're turning into some kind of animal?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean...you can smell me...which is weird and kind of--animalistic."

"I don't think that's it," he said harshly. "My body is aching in a way I can't even begin to describe to you, but I don't think I'm morphing into anything."

You eyed him carefully, worry etched into your face. He was your closest friend and trusted hunting partner, and you hated seeing him like this. Witches scared the shit out of you...you knew what they were capable of.

"Maybe drive a little faster," he hissed.

You pressed harder on the gas and the Impala shot down the road. When your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"So I think I might know what it is, but I have something I need to ask Dean first," Sam said.

"Okay." You looked at Dean. "Can you hold the phone? Sam wants to ask you something."

Dean took the phone from your hand, hissing as his skin made contact with yours. "What?" he grumbled.

"This is gonna be awkward, but I need to know, okay? Do you feel--umm--aroused at all?"

Dean was silent for a moment as he let his brother's question sink in. Ohhh fuuuuck, he thought to himself. He glanced down at his jeans and noticed the bulge straining against them. With the intense pain he was experiencing, he hadn't really noticed. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled. "Yeah."

"Okay, well the good news is, I know what it is. It's called sex pollen."

"It's called what?"

"Sex pollen. The name doesn't really matter, but you have all the symptoms. They're only going to get worse until--well until you die."

"Die? Is there a cure?"

You looked over at Dean in terror, your foot pressing down even further on the pedal. Dean's hand was shaking slightly as he put the phone on speaker so you could hear.

"You have to--uhh--well--shit. You have to umm...fuck it out."

"I have to what?"

"Dude, I know, okay? But you don't have a choice. If you don't you'll die a rather painful death."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "Can I, umm, take care of it myself?"

"According to what Bobby read, the only option is actual intercourse with another person."

"How long do I have?"

You were acutely aware of Dean's close proximity to you, and now you understood the nature of his pain. Your own breathing was more labored, but you desperately tried to maintain control of yourself. Don't make it weird, (Y/N), you thought to yourself.

"30 minutes from the time of contact until...until death," Sam answered.

"30 minutes?" you gasped. You started doing the math in your head as Dean continued talking to his brother. "We have maybe 10 more minutes until we get back to the motel and that leaves about 10 until..."

Dean looked over at you, his normally green eyes dark with need. "I'm so fucked," he muttered.

"That doesn't really leave us time to find someone for you to--you know," you said worriedly.

"Shit."

"Might wanna make it fast," Sam said.

"Obviously," Dean snapped. "How long will it take to...get out of my system?"

"That depends," Sam began. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

"Another story?"

"It could take a lot longer."

"Great," you mumbled.

"Sam, don't be there when we get there," Dean growled at his brother before hanging up the phone.

"Dean?" you questioned softly.

"Just drive, (Y/N)."

You continued driving, but your focus was most definitely not on the road. You could hear the heavy breathing and the soft pained sounds coming from the man beside you and it made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. It certainly didn't help that you had wanted him for years and seeing him like this was making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't be feeling.

Dean flirted with you regularly, but he flirted with almost every person he came into contact with. It's just a part of his personality, so you never read into it. While Dean quite obviously adored you (and you him), you were not his type. You were a good fighter, sure, but where you really excelled was research. You were brilliant--almost as knowledgable as Bobby, though you still had plenty to learn. You were also significantly more--voluptuous than the women Dean gravitated to. Soft, chubby, more to love--whatever you wanna call it. As such, you'd never made any sort of move to announce your feelings for him. You didn't want to face his rejection.

"Sweetheart, if you don't speed up, I'm liable to die before we make it there," Dean hissed.

You shot him a look. "We're less than two minutes away, so don't die on me yet, Winchester."

He exhaled sharply and nodded. "I'm not gonna make it either way, (Y/N). Like you said, we don't have enough time to find a, uh--partner."

You took a deep breath. "I can't let you die."

He looked over at you and you felt his gaze boring right into your soul. "I can't do that to you."

"I really don't see how we have much of a choice here."

You pulled into the motel parking lot before he could respond.

"Let's go," you said quickly as you got out of the car and made your way to your room.

Dean was right behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. As soon as the door was unlocked, Dean was pushing you through it and locking it behind you.

"Shit," he muttered. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"It's okay, Dean," you said softly. "I'm not afraid."

His eyes widened and he grabbed your chin. "You should be...I'm going to lose control."

"It's alright...use me."

He let out a low growl and squeezed your chin tighter. "I--I won't be able to make this good for you."

You pressed yourself against his body, feeling the hard ridges against you. "It's not about me. You need this."

That was all it took for Dean to let go. His lips attacked yours with a hunger you were not expecting despite the intensity of the situation. He was not at all gentle as he tore your clothes from your body, ripping his own off with equal force.

He tossed you down on the bed with shocking ease. He had absolutely no difficulty manhandling you. You weren't sure if it was the sex pollen or just him.

His lips and hands were everywhere, touching every inch of your soft skin he could possibly reach. He needed to be inside of you so badly it was almost impossible to breathe. His skin burned with each touch and his instincts screamed at him to just break you.

He moves his way down your body and you're surprised as he stops just above your core. "Dean, what are you doing?" You knew he needed a release--and soon--or he wasn't gonna make it.

A voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him this was (Y/N), his (Y/N). Even in his current state, he wanted to avoid hurting you if he could. "Need to get you ready," he grunted.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was devouring your pussy. The sounds he made were incredible, the feeling almost electrifying. He slid two fingers in and moved them in a scissoring motion to help loosen you up.

He was only down there for a 30 seconds before he came up and locked eyes with you. "I can't hold off anymore."

You nodded. "Just let go. I'll be okay."

He knew the moment he slid inside you, he'd be a goner. Whatever tiny amount of self control he'd managed to hang onto would disappear in an instant. But he could also feel the roaring agony inside him and he needed to feed it before it devoured him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear a split second before he sheathed himself fully inside you.

You cried out--pain mixing with pleasure as his large member stretched you in ways you'd never before experienced.

Dean couldn't give you time to adjust--he was too far gone. His hips began to move and his sole focus was on his own pleasure--his own release.

His thrusts were powerful and fast, so much so that your body started to scoot farther up the bed. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, pace never faltering. The sensations were almost painful given his size, but you wouldn't have stopped him even if you could have.

"Fuck, baby--you feel so good," he grunted.

You were more than a little surprised when he spoke--you hadn't pegged him as a dirty talker. Then again, it could very well have been the pollen. The same could be said of the sounds coming from his mouth. You'd never heard such sinful noises and you loved them.

"So tight--squeezing me so good. Feels like heaven."

You squeezed his cock purposefully, making him groan each time you clenched down. He needed his release and you were gonna make sure he got it. Your own enjoyment was far from your mind--this was essentially a transaction--a lifesaving measure. You had to view it that way to protect your heart...at least that's what you told yourself.

"Baby," he moaned. "Imma fill you up--so close."

Despite the voice in your head telling you this wasn't real--that you shouldn't have any emotional attachments--you reached up and touched his face, caressing it lovingly. "Cum for me, Dean," you whispered.

His eyes locked on yours and he bit his lip--hearing you say his name in the heat of the moment was a bigger turn on than he'd ever imagined. It pushed him right over the edge and he spilled inside of you with a grunt.

You lay beneath him, panting despite the minimal exertion on your part. He'd had his orgasm, but he was still moving, much to your surprise. "You're not done--?"

He shook his head. "Need more."

He pulled out and quickly flipped you over with no warning. You instinctively lifted your hips to allow him access, which he took without hesitation. His cock was still throbbing and the need still burned in his veins. His mind remained singularly focused on his relief--his pleasure.

He slammed into your pussy and set a brutal pace, earning a cry of pain from your lips. This new angle allowed him better access, sending his cock deeper inside of you. His head brushed against your cervix with each thrust, a stinging pain accompanying the pleasure.

Dean's large palm came down on your ass with a hard smack, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Your pussy clamped down on his cock as he landed another slap to your round cheek.

"Fuck baby, you like that don't you?" Smack. "You like it when I slap this sexy ass?" Smack. "Fuck--squeezing me so tight, sweetheart." Smack.

He was right though, you loved it. You always had, but there was something extra enjoyable about having your ass smacked by Dean Fucking Winchester. Even if you couldn't verbally express your pleasure to him, your pussy made it well-known.

Dean's right hand gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as he continued pumping. His left hand trailed up your back until he grabbed a fist full of hair at the base of your neck and pulled. Your head snapped back and you cried out, but you didn't fight him.

"Do you know how badly I've wanted to pull this hair, pretty girl? Fuck--I think about it all the time." His pace was relentless and his hand remained entangled in your hair.

You'd never really noticed him looking at your hair in any particular way, so you assumed once again the pollen was making him say such dirty little things.

After several more thrusts, Dean let go of your hair and pushed down on your upper back, forcing you to press your upper body into the mattress. Dean gripped your hips with both of his hands and slammed into you with an intensity that was unmatched by any of his previous actions.

You had a feeling he was close to another orgasm, at least if his grunts and curses were anything to go by. You clenched down around him again, intent on pushing him past the brink.

It worked like a charm. Dean came with a cry of your name, thrusts continuing as he emptied inside of you once again.

You were exhausted and you hadn't had a single orgasm. Part of you really hoped Dean had gotten it all out of his system, but another part of you didn't want this to end. Even if it wasn't real--even if he didn't actually want to be having sex with you, you liked pretending, if only for a little while.

Dean pulled out of you slowly and rolled you over with a surprising gentleness. You assumed that meant he was satiated and the pollen was out of his system.

When you met his eyes, you were surprised by how brilliantly green they were. You'd almost gotten used to the dark forest color that had taken over as a result of the pollen. He was looking at you with an odd expression you couldn't quite place, but for some reason it made you want to scurry away and hide.

"Better?" you whispered.

He cocked his head to the side and a small smirk played on his lips. "Not even close," he murmured.

His lips met yours in a fiery kiss before you had time to respond. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was more passionate, more intense. It made your body tingle all over and a warmth spread through your veins.

Dean's brain fog had finally cleared enough that he could actually slow down and focus on what was happening--on what he was doing, or rather who. He hated that he'd cum twice without even thinking about you, let alone making you orgasm. Dean prided himself on being an excellent lover and he wasn't about to let you leave this bed unsatisfied.

His cock brushed against your pussy as he shifted to hold you closer. You both inhaled sharply, enjoying the sensation. Dean's lips began to travel down your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses in his wake. He nipped at your pulse point, earning an excited moan from you. He liked hearing that sound, so he sucked on that spot until you were panting heavily beneath him.

His hands traveled over your soft curves, touching and squeezing all the parts of your body you were self-conscious about. Dean didn't seem to give a damn that your stomach wasn't flat, that your hips weren't narrow and your thighs weren't skinny--in fact, he seemed to be reveling in the feeling of softness.

His lips were so gentle as he continued his downward movements. He kissed and licked and sucked on each of your breasts, spending several minutes focusing on each one. "You have such perfect breasts," he murmured.

You were too surprised, and perhaps too lost in pleasure, to formulate any kind of response to his words. Luckily, he didn't seem to need one, and he refocused his attention on you.

Once he was satisfied your breasts had received enough love, he continued moving down your stomach, stopping to place soft kisses to every mark and scar he saw.

When he reached your sweet pussy, he spread your legs as wide as he could and settled down between them. You were surprised at his actions, especially since you knew he was still hard--that he still needed another release.

Dean was now singularly focused on one thing--and that was you. Now that his damn brain was working properly, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this--even if it was a one time thing because you didn't want him to die, he wasn't about to walk away from this without making you scream his name at least once.

He breathed in deeply, smelling your arousal mixed with his own spend, and he smirked. His eyes flicked up to yours and his mouth latched onto your clit, unleashing an overwhelming assault on your swollen mound.

You gasped as the sudden pleasure washed over you. You couldn't take your eyes off the man between your legs--nor did he take his eyes off you. Every time your hips bucked or you tried to move, his strong arms held you in place so he could continue to watch you.

You were writhing against the sheets in what felt like seconds--it was probably longer, but either way you felt embarrassed at how quickly you fell apart under his touch. Your orgasm tore through you like a hurricane, broken moans dripping from your lips.

To your shock, and perhaps concern, Dean didn't stop his assault on your pussy. Even as you tried to squirm away, he held you in place, desperate to give you another orgasm. You whimpered that it was too much, begged him to give you a break, but all of those words quickly morphed into pleas to keep going--don't stop.

"Dean," you gasped as your fingers slipped into his hair, grabbing hold of the short locks by the roots. Your nails scrapped lightly against his scalp and he let out a soft groan.

His tongue seemed to dance across your clit, creating beautiful designs and languages only he seemed to know. He paid attention to what motions made you quiver, which ones made you moan, and which ones had you tugging on his hair with an iron grip.

"Dean, please--I--so close," you moaned.

He smiled, enjoying the immense pleasure he was giving you just as much as you seemed to enjoy it. A few moments later, you were once again coming apart against his mouth and he eagerly lapped up everything you had to give him.

This time as you tugged on his hair and squirmed away, he obliged, lifting himself up from between your thighs. He licked his lips as he looked down at your blissed out face.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he murmured. "Wanna taste?"

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes widened and you nodded hesitantly. He smiled wolfishly as he leaned down to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly, allowing you to taste yourself.

You moaned into the kiss and he held you even more tightly, lips sealed to yours like he needed your air to breathe.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to control his urges long enough to coax two orgasms from you, but he could feel that control waning. "I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so badly."

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. You lifted your hips to brush against his cock and he groaned at the contact. You nipped at his jaw and pulled him back down to you. "Fuck me, Dean. Please."

He groaned. "Yes ma'am."

He didn't hesitate as he gripped his cock firmly and lined it up with your entrance. He slipped inside easily, having plenty of lubrication to assist him. Despite having been inside of you multiple times at this point, he was still taken aback by how fucking incredible you felt.

"God, I love this pussy," he murmured. "She was made for me."

You moaned softly at his words and the feeling of him inside you once again. As he started to move, he was much more gentle and you found yourself enjoying the sensations--perhaps more than you should.

"You're so good for me, (Y/N)," Dean mumbled, already lost in the feeling of you.

You would have given anything to hear him say that, but the words broke your heart a little. Had he had any other choice, he likely wouldn't be here right now--you wouldn't be the one he was fucking.

"Hey," he whispered, a rough, calloused hand running along your cheek as he looked at you. "Where's that pretty little head at?"

You smiled at him. "Right here, Dean."

Somewhere inside of him, he knew you were lying, but the damn pollen was still affecting his senses. He accepted your response and went back to his actions, focusing on the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock like a vise.

He wanted to feel you cum one more time...wanted to feel the way you'd squeeze his cock as you came. He wanted to watch you come undone beneath him, lost in pleasure he gave you.

He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your hips, sliding the pillow under them. This provided him a new, improved angle, allowing him to cage you beneath him and hit that sweet spot inside you.

"Dean!" you gasped as the first thrust hit your g-spot.

He grinned and picked up his pace, slamming into it repeatedly. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge of an orgasm you knew would ruin you. Dean Winchester already made you feel things no other man ever had and his ability in bed was no exception. Damn him.

His thrusts were firm and measured, each one sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body. The familiar tightening in your gut was so intense you thought you might actually explode.

Dean's strong arms were on either side of your head and he was looking down at you with that same strange expression from earlier. "You're so damn beautiful, baby. I wanna watch this pretty face as you cum for me."

You gasped, unprepared for the way his words made you feel. You felt emboldened, so you asked for what you needed. "I need more, Dean."

His hand slipped between your bodies, a single finger gently massaging your clit as he continued to fuck you. "That better, baby?"

You nodded rapidly, earning a soft chuckle from his sweet lips.

"You gonna cum for me beautiful?"

You nodded again.

"Yeah? I want you to keep those pretty eyes open when you cum, okay? Wanna see you fall apart."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I know, sweet girl. I've got you."

Your brain seemed to short-circuit in that moment. All you could feel was a blinding hot pressure immediately followed by an intense euphoria. You heard someone scream "Dean!" and you belatedly realized it had been your voice.

The intensity of your orgasm sent Dean spiraling over the edge of his own. He hadn't even been prepared for it--the mixture of you screaming his name and the sensations of you squeezing him so tightly and the gorgeous way your face contorted as you came was all he needed.

He emptied into you a third and final time, his cock finally beginning to soften as he helped you ride out your high.

He pulled out and flopped down beside you on the bed, his body aching from what had to be some of the best sex of his life--sex pollen or not.

You were just as sore as Dean--probably more so given you literally couldn't move. The two of you laid there in silence, slowly coming down from the electrical highs you'd experienced, both trying to catch your breath for the first time in what felt like hours.

Dean was the first to recover. "Did I hurt you?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

You turned your head to look at him and your heart clenched at the expression on his face. He was genuinely worried, brows furrowed in concern. You contemplated lying to him, but you knew he'd see right through you.

"A little," you said honestly.

He winced and his beautiful eyes closed. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)--I would never hurt you on purpose--ever."

You offered him a small smile he couldn't see, until your hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes again. "I know."

There were a thousand other things you wanted to say--a thousand words you wanted to string together into just the right sentences, but you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself through it.

"Shower?" he asked softly.

"I honestly don't think I can stand."

A smirk played on his lips. "That should not make me feel so damn good."

You laughed lightly, glad to hear the teasing tone in his voice that you loved so much.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position. "It's not ideal, but there is a bathtub..." he trailed off.

"I wouldn't mind a bath," you admitted.

He nodded and got to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but managed to make his way to the bathroom. You heard the water running as he filled up the tub.

You laid there thinking about everything that had just happened. This was a position you'd never imagined you'd be in--with anyone, let alone Dean Winchester.

You knew this wasn't something you were going to be able to forget about, but you hoped things would go back to normal between the two of you and eventually this would just be a funny story.

Suddenly, Sam's words from earlier snapped into your mind. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

One and done...one and done. This most definitely had not been a 'one and done' scenario. But didn't that mean...? No. No way. Impossible. Dean Winchester does NOT have feelings for you.

You began to rationalize your thought process. Maybe "care about" included a friendly relationship. Yeah...yeah that made the most sense. Of course Dean cares about you. You're his best friend. There couldn't possibly be anything more to it...right?

As if on cue, Dean stepped back into the room. "Bath's ready."

"Okay." You tried to pull yourself up, but you immediately fell back against the mattress, body too worn out to sustain any kind of movement.

Dean chuckled lightly and came up to the side of the bed. He pulled the pillow out from under your hips and slipped his arms under your body, hoisting you up bridal style.

"Jesus!" you yelled. "Put me down! I'm too heavy--you'll throw out your back."

Dean laughed. "Calm down, (Y/N). I just threw you around this bed repeatedly with zero issues. I promise I can carry you to the bathroom without dying."

"But--"

He glared at you and tightened his grip on you as if to prove his point. "Ain't a damn thing wrong with your body, so shut it."

Your mouth closed immediately. His words sent a jolt directly to your core and you were almost annoyed by it. As if three orgasms wasn't enough...

Dean very gently set you on your feet in the bathroom and slowly helped you into the tub. As soon as he got you into a seated position, he got into the tub as well, slipping in behind you.

"Umm...whatcha doing?"

"Taking a bath."

"Isn't the tub a bit small for both of us?"

You could feel him shrug behind you. "I think it's perfect size. Now come here." He grabbed your shoulders and gently pulled you back so you were laying against his chest. "That's better," he muttered.

Your mind began to race once again as you laid there, body tense and uncomfortable.

"Okay, (Y/N), I know you better than anyone, so don't you dare lie to me. Where's your head at?"

"I--" you sighed. "I'm not really sure how to feel."

He nodded. "I know you didn't want this--I feel like I had to literally force myself onto you and I hate that. I know you only agreed so I wouldn't die, but--"

"Woah--stop." You sat up and turned your head to face him. "That's not true at all. You didn't force me to do anything."

"Okay, maybe 'force' is the wrong word...but you did have sex with me to save my life. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I'm painfully aware," you muttered.

He ran his hand over his face. "I'm not saying any of this right."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

He bit his lip. "Remember what Sammy said? About...how long the effects would last?"

You nodded.

"Well in case you didn't notice, I had three orgasms."

"Both me and my very sore vagina noticed," you said lightly.

He sighed. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, (Y/N)?"

You turned a little more so you could see his face better. He had that same look he'd had when he was making you feel incredible. "I need to hear you say it..." you whispered.

He nodded and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from yours. "He didn't mean 'care' as in 'we're friends, so I care about you'...he meant 'care' as in 'love'."

Your lips parted and you inhaled sharply.

"So you see, I don't just care about you as a friend...and I don't just love you as a friend...I'm in love with you."

"You--you love me?"

"In love," he repeated. "For as long as I can remember."

"You're in love--with me?"

He chuckled softly. "Who else would I be talking to, baby? Yes, I'm in love with you."

"I--I don't know--" you stuttered.

"The only thing you need to know is how you feel. Do you know how you feel about me, (Y/N)?" he whispered.

You nodded slowly.

"And?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He grinned widely. "Yeah?"

You nodded, cheeks turning red.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against him. He looked down at you with that expression he'd been wearing and you suddenly realized what it was...it was love--real, true, beautiful, heart aching love.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips, which you returned in kind. He held you tightly, loving the feeling of your body in his arms.

"We better get cleaned up before this water gets cold," he said softly, lips pressing to your hair.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

He chuckled. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me, babe."

"But I'm comfortable," you whined.

He smiled against your cheek. "Give me five minutes to clean you up and then we can sleep, okay?"

You looked over at him and smiled. "Deal."

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#supernatural #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfic #supernatural smut

[minervadashwood]

Daryl Dixon x gn!Reader (plus size) - Soulmate AU

Careful

Summary: You have a soulmate you've never met. When their injuries stop appearing on your body, you worry that they're dead. As the apocalypse starts, you're convinced of it. How very wrong you are.

Note: This story is a one-shot AU of the Scars and Stitches (Tumblr | AO3)  universe. I think it can be read as a standalone, but if you want to read the whole series first, go right ahead. There is one specific event referenced in the chapter "Safe" (Tumblr | AO3). You can check that single chapter if you’re curious. Huge thanks to @livingdeadblondequeen for giving me this idea of soulmates who experience each others’ injuries and pain.  This story contains: angst, scars, blood, a secretive Daryl Dixon, and a happy ending. Word count: 3.3K

Masterlist | Taglist

The first scar happened when you were only four. One day, you were playing outside, just after a summer storm, making mud pies with your little brother. There, up to your wrists in wet, squelchy mud, sudden scrapes appeared on your hands, your knees, and your left cheek. Your brother screamed for your mother, and he started weeping uncontrollably. “Y/N’s dying!” he said, over and over. But you weren’t. Each of your scrapes, including the slashing wound on your forehead that bled profusely, were treated at the kitchen sink. You bawled through it all, but back then your mother was gentle. She soothed you with kind words, a soft touch, and endless patience.

More injuries came after that. Your nose was broken in the third grade, your wrist in the fourth. Not a month went by when you didn’t get bruised or banged up. Your mom went back to work, taking the nightshift with your dad at the local coal refinery. You were racking up doctor’s bills right and left, and the insurance was better with both of them working.

When you were twelve, your mom sat you down one Friday night--morning for her--and told you about the birds and the bees, including soulmates. She explained that the reason you got hurt so much was because out in the world somewhere, your soulmate was getting hurt, too. You cried, worrying about the person who was injured so often.

After that, your own troubles started. Your parents took up drinking, and your cozy little trailer became a nightmarish prison. The first time your mother slapped you, you sent a silent apology to your soulmate. They’d been hurt so much already, and here you were making it worse.

At fourteen, a fight with your mother, who wielded a broken lamp, left you bleeding from a gash in your oblique. Your younger brother got in the family car, barely able to see over the steering wheel, and drove you to the doctor’s office to get you patched up. You had a jagged scar from that, and so must your soulmate. Every night you prayed to that distant person, telling them that you loved them and that you were sorry. Not for anything specific, but just because both your lives seemed to be filled with pain.

But the worst scars came when you were fifteen. You were in English class--your favorite--when your back erupted into a sharp, bruising pain that made every other injury feel like tiny scratch.  You wailed, right in the middle of class, falling out of your desk chair and writhing face down on the floor. You jerked as more and more pain hit you, the force of it shaking you right to your bones. Then the bleeding started. Huge cuts formed under your shirt, soaking the garment in seconds. Your teacher ordered all the students out of the room, and she called the nurse on the intercom. You were in a fog of pain and tears, and soon too weak for even that. You woke up in the hospital, laying facedown on a gurney, your little brother at your side.

More came later, bruises on your face from what you eventually realized were fistfights, once a sprained ankle. Another broken nose. Then a third. But as you grew up, left home, and got your library degree on a state scholarship, the hurts came less and less.

You half wondered, through most of your twenties, if your mate hadn’t simply died from all their hard living. But deep down, you still felt a connection to them. Whether that was false hope or something else, you weren’t sure. 

Now, you are somewhere in Georgia, staring down miles of abandoned cars. Your arm is in a sling because one of your companions put you in a wrist lock two nights ago. You have two friends here. A stressed out cop and a surly redneck. The latter keeps a close eye on you. He knows about your scars and about your mate, whom you are certain is dead.

After Shane hurt you, somehow Daryl found you. Tipsy from the liquor he’d been drinking, he took one look at you and demanded an explanation. After you showed him your arm, he wrapped it with an elastic bandage and fashioned you a sling from a pillowcase.  The whole time, you sat there and cried your eyes out. You went on and on about your lost soulmate, all the pain they’d been through--all the pain you’d been through. Daryl listened, silently, his expression sometimes tense and sometimes soft. He is a man of few words, to say the least.

(You never noticed that since that night he started favoring his left arm, and that he usually sleeveless hunter took to wearing long-sleeve flannel.)

Daryl catches your attention as the group begins to split up to search the nearby cars. “‘M goin’ up ahead to get some gas wi’ T-Dog.”

“Okay,” you say. “I guess I’ll look for clothes and medicine. Maybe find something that will actually fit me.”

“Will ya try ta stay close ta the RV?”

You nod with a half smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’m one handed at the moment, and not looking to be a hero.” Daryl leaves you with a nod, and you watch him walk away from you; his broad shoulders seem large enough to carry the weight of the world. Maybe they do.

Rick approaches you a few minutes later, convinced that Daryl is the one who hurt you. You fall back on the lies you and your brother would spin after your parents had too much to drink. Lori demanded your silence, and you want to keep your promise.

“It didn’t happen to me,” you explain, “I have a soulmate. I thought they were dead, but hey, guess what? Miracles do happen.” The end of the world apparently has made you snarky. You give Rick the short version--not the weeping monologue Daryl suffered through.

“Maybe you’ll find them,” Rick says, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly.

Getting back to your task, you somehow find a suitcase with plus size clothing. Most of it is in floral prints or with obnoxiously bedazzled phrases like “hot stuff” and “super cute” spread across the front. The other options include garish Hawaiian prints and stretched out polos. You aren’t picky. If something might fit, you grab it. 

You have a good-sized bundle when Daryl suddenly grabs you and pulls you to the ground. In doing so, he has saved your life, again. Under a jeep, you huddle with him, holding your breath as he glances around and grips a long knife in his hand. The walkers pass you by, miraculously, and Daryl helps you to your feet. Just as he did after the CDC exploded, he holds you close, his arms wrap tightly around your thick middle as he whispers in your ear.

“Ya did real good. It’s gonna be alrigh’.”  A moment passes before he loosens his arms and lets you go.

You wonder what he must think of you. Some helpless person who cried and moaned over a bruised wrist. Someone who needs constant looking after because they can’t protect themselves in this world.

Not all of your group fared as well as you and Daryl. In fact, he has disappeared into the forest. You sit with T-Dog, stitching up his arm and digging through long-lost Merle’s stash for antibiotics.

Later, as if you’re some child to be handled, Daryl demands that Glenn take you to the farm, ostensibly to take care of T-Dog. But you know better. You’re in the way and virtually helpless. Daryl doesn’t want you underfoot while he continues the search for Sophia.  You can’t blame him.

At the farm, your scant first aid knowledge isn’t much good when there’s an actual physician around. You are partially relieved. Carl has much better chances without you getting in the way.

Carol, practically a walking zombie--no, not that kind--only frets and cries. Normally, Lori would comfort her, but Lori has her own troubles.  You help organize the camp, before it gets too dark, pitching tents and making up beds for Daryl, Shane, and Carol.  After, you sit with Carol, and she tells you stories of Sophia, some that break your heart and some that make you smile. Her tirades against Rick bubble up in between the tales. You let her talk; it’s not like Rick’s around to hear, anyway.

Night has fallen long before you hear the now-familiar sound of Daryl’s motorcycle. He talks with Carol, and the woman cries and pounds her fists against his chest. The sight affects you so much that you feel pressure on your heart, the repetitive pulsing almost making your ribs ache. You watch as she cries herself out, and Daryl’s head hangs low. Unable to bear the sight, you leave to  get some food and water for him. 

Carol escapes into her tent, and as she leaves, you bring the food to Daryl. You sit next to him while he eats in silence.

You want to hug him again, like you did in his truck, like you did on the highway, but it’s clear his mind is elsewhere.

“Thanks fer the grub,” he mumbles, standing up.

“Sure, no problem. Did you get enough to eat? Drink?”

He nods, biting his thumbnail and looking at the ground.

You know he’s exhausted, but there is something boyish and lost in the way he stands and the drooping of his shoulders.  All at once, he reminds you of home, of family. Indeed, a wave of familiarity overtakes you, as if you have known Daryl all your life.

Ignoring the voices of your better angels, you reach up and gently draw his hand from his mouth to hold it in yours.

He lets out a long sigh and runs his thumb over your knuckles. “We got someone keepin’ watch?”

You stare at your joined hands in the moonlight, at Daryl’s thick, calloused thumb moving over your skin. His touch grounds you, somehow. Nothing is okay right now, but with Daryl next to you, this chaos feels almost bearable.

“Dale on the RV, T-Dog in the camp,” you answer. “We set up a tent for you. You need some rest.”

He nods.

Still holding his hand, you lead him to a small copse of trees, where his tent sits, apart from the others. You know that Daryl likes his privacy.  

On the way, you tell him about Carl, about Otis and Shane heading out in the morning. You tell him about Hershel, too, warning Daryl that the man is protective and opinionated. You finish just as you reach his tent, and you reluctantly let go of Daryl’s hand.

(You don’t notice how he clenches and unclenches his fist, or how he puts his other hand on that wrist, trying to dull the pain there.)

“Ya got a place to get some shut-eye?” he asks, his voice raspy and soft.

“With Carol. Don’t want to leave her alone overnight.”

He grunts, giving you a small nod. Resisting every urge to hug him, you turn and walk back to Carol’s tent. Sleep comes fast, but Carol’s cries wake you up in the night, over and over. Each time you try to  comfort her until eventually she falls asleep again.

The next day, in the late afternoon, the heat has taken its toll on you, so you find respite in a shaded part of camp, drinking from a bottle of water. The grass, soft and tempting, practically invites you to take a nap. Even without Daryl or Rick close by, you are relatively safe, so you give in.

When you wake up, Dale’s face is directly above yours. His hat askew, his brow covered in droplets of sweat, Dale’s mouth is moving, but you blink in and out of consciousness. Another concussion, you think, that would make three, now.

Forcing yourself to focus, to stay alert, you try to sit up, but Dale holds you down, his lips moving even faster now. A shadow moves above. It’s T-Dog with bandages and a bottle of tequila. His voice becomes a muffled sound, then all at once, you hear Dale saying your name, over and over, telling you to stay still. T-Dog shouts for Andrea, but she is nowhere to be seen.

“Wha--”

“Save your strength,” Dale tells you. “We’re just trying to stop the bleeding before we get you inside.”

The throbbing in your head gives way to a white-hot burning in your belly. You hurt from the inside out, as if something has clawed its way through you and left agony in its wake.

A soft touch wipes a cloth across your brow. The blood on it catches your eye. The throbbing in your head must be bleeding.

“Was it a bullet?” Carol’s voice asks. She cradles your head on her  lap. “They must have fallen and hit their head, too.”

“Can’t be. We would’ve heard somethin’,” T-Dog replies.

Aches, bruising and intense, bloom all over you, like smatterings of hammer blows on your joints, torso, and legs. A whimper passes your lips, but the others don’t seem to notice these fresh bumps. You start praying, like you did all those years ago, telling your soulmate that you love them, to be strong, to get themselves to safety.

Consciousness comes and goes, at one point your shoulders are caught in a bruising grip, but no one is actually touching you there. Quickly, after that, new agony rips through your open wound, making you scream and moan on the ground. 

Dale’s hands are shaky, you feel the trembling at your wound. All at once the three of them turn you on your side. You can’t help the piercing scream that erupts from your mouth. 

“Whatever it was, there’s an exit wound,” Dale says. “Didn’t see that at first.”

A pair of hands press against your belly and another at your back.

The new pain has you on the verge of fainting until the disembodied voice of Andrea shouts, “WALKER!” 

“Shit!” T-Dog exclaims.

All of a sudden, he lifts you. The world whizzes by, a steak of green in your peripheral and a wisp of clouds overhead.

Something slices across your temple, a quick burst of pain that fades in the wake of your torso being shaken and jostled as you are carried across uneven ground.

You can’t keep your eyes open. The voices around you are silenced and your vision goes dark. Again.

*

“That’s two more rounds of antibiotics, Rick. Your people can’t seem to stop getting hurt.”

“I understand that, Hershel. A few of us will go out in the morning and look for what you need. For now, I need to know if they’re going to be alright.”

“They’ll need some time to recover, but, yes, they’ll be fine. Eventually. Now, I need to check on my own family.”

You hear a door slam shut, and force open your eyes. “Rick?”

The room is dark except for the light from a lantern near the table. In a chair next to you sits the deputy.

“You gave us quite the scare today,” he tells you.

“What happened?” You try sitting up, but think better of it when you realize you are shirtless under the covers. You have more scars than words to explain them.

“Daryl was tracking Sophia, fell off his horse, and down a ravine.”

You clutch the covers to your chest. “Is he okay? How bad is it?” You tremble in the bed, sick with worry.

Rick smiles and says,, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You turn to see Daryl laying next to you, his head wrapped in gauze. Distantly a door opens and closes: Rick making a quick exit.

Daryl’s eyes are watery as he speaks. “Didn’ ‘spect ya ta find out like this.”

He takes your hand and places it on your forehead. Instead of hair, your fingertips trace over gauze. You realize it's wrapped around your forehead, just like it is his.

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest, sounding in your ears like the hastened beat of a bass drum.

Next to you, Daryl slowly pulls the covers down to his waist. He has a tank top on, but it does not cover the bandage on his stomach. The white gauze has been placed on the same part of his belly that caused you incredible pain before you blacked out.

“All I thought ‘bout out there was gettin’ back to ya.  Jus’ thinkin’ of ya hurt as bad as me. I had to pull the arrow out to stop the bleedin’. I know it hurt like hell.” He lays on his side, but under the covers, his hand finds the soft flesh of your stomach and rests there. “‘M so sorry. Fer this, fer everythin’. If I knew before--” his voice cracks, but he keeps talking. “If I knew ya was ou’ ‘ere, gettin’ hurt ‘cause of me, I woulda been more careful all them years. I knew I didn’ deserve ya the moment ya told me all them times ya prayed to your soulmate, worried ‘bout him, ‘bout me.”

You take his hand and use it to pull him closer. His rough fingertips find their way to your upper back and hold you gently.

“I don’ deserve a soulmate, let alone someone like you,” he whispers.  “Look what I done to ya. All yer life you been hurtin’. ‘Cause of me.”

Tears fall from your eyes. You cup his face, stroking your thumb on the apple of his cheek. The scruff from his beard pricks your skin, but the discomfort is welcome. “You’re real and here. That’s all that matters to me. You weren’t the one to carve up my back or break my nose. The world did that, to both of us.”

You move closer to him and cradle his neck until your noses almost touch. “I’ve been dreaming of you all my life, Daryl, scars and all. Your life--our lives are told on our bodies. Every scar a story of the time before we met. I want to write a new one. Together.”

He stares at you in the orange lantern light, and a few tears fall down his cheeks. Heart in your throat, you stay silent, watching him watch you. You lose yourself in his eyes, the soft way he gazes at you, unblinking and searching.

“I wanna kiss ya,” he mumbles. “I jus’ want ya to feel somethin’ good from me, an’ not all this pain.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

Daryl’s hand snakes up your back until it cradles the base of your head. The world goes silent the moment his lips touch yours. The taste of him sets off fireworks in your soul, as if part of you was not truly alive until this moment. You kiss him back, all those years of praying and crying over him coalescing so that you can forge this new path, together.

Some time later, you break apart, lips wet and swollen from endless, slow kisses, kisses trying to make up for decades spent apart.

“Was tha’ alrigh’?” Daryl asks, biting his bottom lip.

You smile for what feels like the first time in your life. “Not sure. We better do it again. Just in case.”

The end. Thank you for reading!

==Taglist==

@livingdeadblondequeen @phoenixblack89 @green-eyedladywrites @in-this-minute @takeabreathdeath @ravendixon @gypsytraveler86-blog @xojdmasf @daisy107 @angelrenee239 @sleepyamaya @no-tresspassing @carol @taintedxkisses @bl4ckt00thgr1n @glitch0o0 @micheleamidalajedi @lonelywolfheart @jad3djay @catholicraisin @harringtonstudios @brittney69 @littlelovebug98 @aureolinb

==

#mdop #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #minerva writes #scars and stitches #dd/xm #nonbinary reader #enby reader #gender neutral reader #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x gender neutral reader

[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles series

[austinstyles]

Love me, for me

Austin!Elvis x plus size reader

Note: I decided to write a plus size reader fanfic, since I myself am also not very slim. And you can imagine the reader however you want them to look like. I am not sure how many words for those of you how want the word count. And the reader uses she/her pronounce.

Warning: kissing, spelling mistakes, making out.

Y/n pov

The year was 1961 and me and Elvis have been dating for a year, after coming home form the army Elvis asked me out and we started our relationship after the first date. Today was our 1 year anniversary, and we were going to celebrate it tonight. I was getting ready and putting on my blue and white polkadots dress the dress was one of Elvis favorite dresses on me. The dress fits perfectly on my curvy body, and around my butt I look in the mirror and feel like tonight is going to be a good night. Down stairs I heard a nock on the front door. I can hear Elvis voice talking to my mother, and I walked down the stairs and see Elvis in a pair of pink pants and a black shirt. He looks so very handsome tonight.

In the car we were going to the park for our picnic in the night sky. It was a beautiful night and the stars were so amazing on this night. “ Here we are y/n” Elvis said as he parked the car. “It is a beautiful place for a picnic Elvis.” I told him and kissed his cheek.

Elvis pov

Y/n is so beautiful tonight, I can’t believe I meet this amazing person and the love we have for each other s so strong. I am falling for her more and more everyday. I put the blanket on the ground and we sit down on the blanket and start putting the food out, we started to dig in the two of us. My momma had made the food and help me pack the basket before I picked up my girlfriend. I love calling y/n my girlfriend. Here curves are one of the amazing things about her and she is confident in herself.

After eating we cleaned up the whole leftovers and packed the basket up again, we walked to the car and I opened the door for her and closed and sat in the car on the drivers side. We both toured to face each other and our lips touched and we were kissing. Sparks were flying everywhere.

Y/n pov

Kissing Elvis is the best felling In the entire world, and we started making out and we don’t stop for for the next minutes. We start to pull away and I look into his eyes and immediately “ I love that you love me, fore me Elvis. You are the best boyfriend in the world.” My mouth blurted out, and I meant everything I said. “ I am the luckiest in the world to love you y/n and I love you so much.” Elvis told me and my heart melted, he is amazing. And I love him and his singing.  “let’s get you home before your parents get mad at me for breaking your curfew.” Elvis told you and you agree even if you don’t the night to end.

Elvis dropped me off at home and walked me to the front door and we shard a goodbye kiss and I walked inside my house and saw Elvis driving away to his own house. I saw my parents sitting in the living room and heard “Who was the date tonight?” My mom asking with a smile. “ Amazing night with Elvis everything was perfect.” I said smile and thinking about the beautiful night with my boyfriend. “ I am going to bed good night.” I tell my family and go to my bedroom and get ready for bed.

2 weeks later.

Elvis pov

It is date night today and I am so excited to see my beautiful girlfriend again, we have not had a date night in a while so I am very excited.

I pick up y/n and I drive us to the restaurant, we had a reservation and we get there. We ate our food and get in the car and I drive us to a parking spot and turn to y/n and we started kissing. And kissing led to making out. And we were at it for 5 minutes and pulled away.

“I am the happiness person a live Elvis. I am so happy that you love me for me. “ “ I could never get enough of you my loving girlfriend. You are the best girlfriend in the world.” We told each other.

And started kissing again.

Best day of my life was the day of our relationship started. And I am so happy everyday I have her in my life.

Hope everyone enjoyed this fanfic. Feel free to request a fanfic you want me to write.

🩷😃👍🏻🌸🖤

Grace

#plus size reader #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis presley x reader #austinstyles #elvis 2022 #fanfic #austinstyles writing #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #austin elvis x reader #request are open #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis fanfic #plus size fanfic #fanfiction #multifandom writer #austin butler #austin!elvis

[kylopen]

Yes, My lord?

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Brain rotting SMUT, barely any plot, reader is 1 month pregnant (you could probs imagine she is not if you really wanted to) Mentions of body insecurities, super fluffy, Anthony is so whipped for Y/N. Borderline pregnancy/breeding kink? switch reader, switch Anthony. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it guys.

Summary: Since finding out you are pregnant Anthony simply cannot keep his hands to himself, and when you turn the tables his arousal runs wild.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Reader

Masterlist

Length: 1.8k words

Note: I could NOT get this scenario out of my head, i had to get this written and published *sobs*

----

"That was a rather delightful evening"

You smile as you and Anthony ascend to your bedchamber for the night. The two of you had planned a ball to tell your family and friends the news of your pregnancy. The night was filled with laughs and joy from the family, excited about Anthony's first child with you.

The two of you approach the door and Anthony opens it for you, ushering you inside.

"Indeed, dear wife."

Anthony's eyes crinkle lightly at the sides as he smiles at you, approaching you from behind, fingers expertly undoing your corset. You sigh in relief, goosebumps on your skin at the feeling of release from your day clothes. Turning to face him you also begin to help Anthony from his clothes as he laughs lightly at your eagerness to help him.

Now nude in the middle of the room, Anthony looks you over in the faint candle light, his hand softly moving along the curves of your body. He follows closely behind as you perch yourself at your vanity, ready to take out your elaborate hairstyle. Anthony's hand gently pushes yours away from your head as he begins to take it out for you, looking at you through the mirror. His gaze was intense but loving, his eyes trained thoroughly on your flustered response to the intimate gesture.

"Look at me"

The sentence was commanding but gentle. You lift your eyes and he reaches for the hairbrush just beside you on the table. he begins slowly brushing your hair, gently getting rid of any knots or tangles. Anthony was always a gentle lover, but immediately after finding out you were carrying his child he became dead set on helping you with what he could. His tender nature shining through as he aids you in your bedtime grooming process. The feeling of his hands softly grazing your neck as he brushes has you in a trance, the soothing feeling of knowing you are safe and well taken care of my a man that loves you.

He begins massaging your scalp carefully as you let out a hum of approval. Anthony lets out a quiet laugh as he watches the bliss form on your face.

"I love you, Mr Bridgerton" you tease his formal name.

"Likewise, Mrs Bridgerton, I will love you for the rest of my life"

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach as you realise just how exposed the two of you are. Then it dawns on you, looking down at your puffy stomach, feeling as though you have already gained some baby weight. It had only been a month and you weren't even really showing yet. A flash of insecurity dances across your features at the thought of getting bigger. At this point, the Viscount could read you like a book and he stops his movements in your hair to lean down and kiss your head.

"Speak what is on your mind, my love"

You think for a second before answering.

"...My... Body..." you trail off.

"You are the most beautiful woman i have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Even more so now you are carrying our child."

You look down and pinch your widened hips, and in response Anthony moves your hand away, caressing you. He then grabs your hand, pulling you up to stand with his chest touching your back.

"There is nothing more appealing to me than my beautiful wife swelling with my seed..." his eyes darken at the thought as he begins to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck, lightly nipping and sucking and you shiver in his arms.

Heat rushes straight to your cheeks and in between your legs as you feel a solid length press against your lower back. You breath out shakily as he presses it harder against your backside.

"Anthony..." You moan softly, bordering a whimper.

The second he hears his name from your lips in such a tone he struggles to hold back, the heat in the room thickening with lust. He pushes you gently onto the bed and settles himself behind you, spooning you. His slightly rough hand glides slowly up and down your side, upper thigh to hip to shoulders. He caresses every part of your body paying extra attention to the parts you were most conscious about. You let out more whimpers from the intimacy of it all, your face feeling incredibly hot and you squirm under the touch. Your thighs squeeze together to relieve yourself in some way, only making Anthony smirk and his touches becoming more daring. His fingertips ghost along your nipples, but fall back down elsewhere on your body.

"Anthony... I am already-" you shudder as he passes by a particularly sensitive spot. "I am already pregnant..."

His laugh rumbles against your back.

"I am aware. That does not mean we cannot enjoy each others bodies hm, dear?" His tone was devilish as his touches become more bold. You flip onto your back and slightly part your legs with a pleading look to Anthony.

"So needy and impatient Viscountess Bridgerton" He tuts with a smirk.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands you launch up, planting yourself on top of him with heated cheeks. If he will be so cruel and tease you even in his aroused state, you would use him yourself. A look of surprise flashes across his face before it grows into an incredibly cocky looking grin. His body betrays him, as his chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

"What is this? darling wife." he cocks his head to the side, the same grin on his face. His eyes hold a fiery hunger.

"It seems, dear husband-" you adjust yourself just enough to tease his length and he softly moans, "That you enjoy your Lady wife taking control" you smirk, a new found confidence flowing through you at the look of your husband from above him.

He grabs your hips with both hands and grinds your core against him.

"My Lord" you moan, breathless, aware of what the title does to him.

"Y/N... I am warning you-" he begins to speak, using your name but you cut him off, pinning his hands above his head.

"Yes, My Lord?" You smirk at him as you lean in close, your lips ghosting his, only to pull away when he goes in for a kiss. You keep one hand holding his up as your other hand begins exploring your husbands chest, teasing him the way he was teasing you. Your finger lightly brushes against his groin before going up to his nipple, softly pinching the bud and a guttural moan escapes his mouth.

"How improper my Lord" you feign a gasp and he lets out a soft chuckle at your words, enjoying the confidence from his beautiful wife. The thrill and excitement from you pinning his hands above his head is almost too much to bare as he gets impossibly harder against your core. He couldn't dare say it aloud but the feeling of being at your mercy, a simple toy to you made his body weak. He could very easily remove his hands from your grasp and the two of you know it, and yet he does not move.

You plant hot, open mouth kisses on his chiseled chest, your arousal already coating his groin. he shudders under your touch and the wet feeling on his lower torso.

"You seem excited my Lord... Has something got you so?" you cock your head to the side, feigning an innocence and he groans at the sight of the same woman he gave her first orgasm to have him completely at her mercy.

"I could ask you the same thing, My dear" His tease came across in gravelly voice that screamed he was ready to take you here and now.

His cock sandwiched firmly between his abdomen and your wet pussy, you begin to rock your hips back and forward, sliding easily. The pressure on your clit had you whimpering and had him moaning in a deep voice.

"You are going to be the death of me" he looks deep into your eyes as you slide him inside you, the two of you moaning at the feeling. The teasing you both had endured was very clearly affecting you both, being incredibly sensitive.

He watches with hooded eyes as you bring your hand to your clit and begin to stimulate yourself. He could have sworn he died that very moment at the sight. It was not long at all until you came, and he relished in the feeling of your cunt throbbing around him.

"Y/N" He moans, moving his hands to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh.

"Do you wish to finish my Lord?" You smile sweetly.

"Yes I do, my dear" His reply full of lust, and a hint of neediness.

"Beg" The sweetness was immediately replaced with cockiness.

The command was simple but powerful as you look into his eyes, holding his jaw with your hand. He felt a shock wave of pleasure shoot through his body.

"Please..." his flustered face was incredibly cute.

"You can do better than that" you move slightly, to tease the feeling.

"Please! Oh god please" you almost came at the sound of his begs.

"You are free to do so... My Lor-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he sat up, you still on his lap and inside him. His hands grasped at your hips as he bucked up into you, his moans coming out as grunts mixed with whines. Hitting up into your g-spot mixed with his needy grunts and thrusts you came again, causing his orgasm to reach its peak, he continues to bounce you on top of him as he spills his seed deep inside of you.

Anthony falls back, his face delirious and euphoric, yours looking similar as you flop down onto his chest, his cock still buried inside you, slowly softening.

Within minutes he snaps out of it, gently pulling you off him, and onto the bed, approaching a second later with a wet towel he opens your legs and cleans you up, slightly smirking at the mess and your flustered face. after cleaning you up he places a soft kiss to your inner thigh and crawls back into bed with you.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and you move your head onto his chest, feeling exhausted. The room was filled with your soft snores in no time at all and he places a kiss on top of your head, a smile on his face as he looks at you.

"I am incredibly lucky to have you, my beautiful wife" he whispers before softly touching your stomach.

"And you too, my beautiful baby"

~End~

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