#plus-size reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nackrosor · 1 year

Text

~Slutty Feline Jester~

Eddie Munson x plus-size!reader

warnings: body dysmorphia, body image issues, slight panic attack, there's some fat-shaming talk but other than that this is pretty much fluff-hurt/comfort synopsys: your boyfriend had his hands on you, grabbing your tummy and playing with your jiggly forearms, like he's used to doing and you were used to it, too. You even liked it. A disgusted look from one stranger walking by your table is all it took that day to make your confident facade slip away and reveal how insecure about your body you actually are. word count: 4,5k.

[a/n: a HUGE thank you to @noodleboyluke for helping me proof-reading and editing this story. I really hope you guys like it!

ps: apparently there's a guy from the Hellfire Club who has no name so I just called him Frank lol enjoy!!!]

You know you're different from most of the girls at your school. Your difference lies in the way you look. You're not as slim as them; you're overweight. It's as clear as day! Each part of your body is covered with excessive fat. You see it, everyday, whenever you look at yourself in the mirror or inadvertently catch a glimpse of your reflection on some surface. And yet, you're not fazed by it; you're sure that's what the others think when they see you acting like you're not 80 pounds heavier than them, at least. But why would you act differently? Why should you? Your weight doesn't prevent you from living your life as you should, as everybody else does. You've been called brave for that, you don't remember by who, you're not even sure they meant it as a compliment but, if respecting your body means being brave then you're the bravest person on the whole fucking Earth. Hell, you're even sure that it was your so-called 'bravery' that attracted Eddie to you. You've been together for almost a year now and he's been worshiping every inch of you for the whole time. His love does help you, you recognise it but you haven't really changed from the brave fat girl that caught his eye in the first place.

So it's true, you're not fazed by your weight, your size doesn't negatively affect your life... most of the time. Yes, because even brave people like you have their cowardly moments, sometimes. They're not as frequent but when they hit you, they hit you hard.

You woke up like any other day. You bravely got up, prepared yourself for school, wore one of your usual outfits that highlighted your curves and that your boyfriend loved so much. You bravely walked to school and across the halls with your head held high as you reached your classes. At the sound of the bell signaling lunchtime, you bravely entered the cafeteria and jogged towards Eddie, who was waiting for you by the Hellfire Club's table, with open arms ready to engulf you in a crushing hug. You bravely ate your food, no better yet, you savored it and enjoyed it because why shouldn't you? You were as hungry as everybody else.

Everything was going fine, by routine, you would say. You were happily having your meal and chatting with your friends, as usual. Eddie even had his hands on you, grabbing your tummy or playing with your jiggly forearms, like he's used to doing and you were used to it, too. You even liked it.

You weren't at all prepared for the huge bucket of coward-ice hitting you fair and square in the face. All it took was a disgusted look from one stranger walking by your table. Only one. You would have normally brushed it off with a mocking scoff or by simply ignoring it any other day but something at that moment prevented you from doing either of it.

It only took that one single look to tear off the blinders that you auto-imposed on yourself for protection and all of a sudden you could see clearly. The hard truth of it was terrifying. The way everyone was looking at you, even your own friends or the kids, the way their gazes would drop on where Eddie's hands were placed on your body and laugh or frown as he unconsciously kept touching you. It was overwhelming. Suddenly, you could feel the clothes clinging on every roll of your stomach, arms bulging out the stiff sleeves of your tee, thighs over-stretching the constricting fabric of your jeans. The repulsion your body instilled in others, you could feel it too, ten thousands stronger.

All it took for Eddie to notice something was off, on the other hand, was the way you scooted away from him, his hands clasping air all of a sudden. When he tried to pull you closer you swatted his hands away without even glancing at him. You could feel his confused stare on you and it made the gnawing feeling in your stomach even worse.

"Baby?"

He called you softly, leaning toward you, worry and hurt clearly marking his tone.

You couldn't answer even if you wanted to; your breathing was ragged, you were gasping for air. All you wanted to do was run away as far as possible but by rushing out of the cafeteria you would definitely make a scene and just the thought of drawing everyone's attention on you caused your stomach to drop.

You tried to keep your panicky feelings under control as best as you could, not wanting to draw any suspicion from your friends. Well, from anyone else; Eddie was the only one who had noticed your discomfort, by that point. He was still looking at you, his face growing graver by the second.

You could see his hands twitch in his lap, his leg shaking nervously. You knew him too well; he was worried about you and the fact that he had no idea of what had made you react like that all of a sudden, was gnawing at him.

You kept your eyes lowered to avoid meeting anyone's gazes as you scooted back closer to Eddie.

If running away was not an option, then you would need to, at least, cover yourself up to ease your panic while you waited for lunchtime to be over.

Eddie immediately leaned forward, hands moving toward you, by instinct, but the way you flinched made them instantly retract.

You took a long shaky breath, eyes shyly raising to meet his. You could clearly see on his face the thousands of questions that bothered his mind but he dared not to ask. His doe-eyes roamed frantically over your face as he waited for you to speak first.

"Can you give me your jacket?"

He only stalled for a moment as he registered your request. A second later he was holding the denim vest in one hand and the leather jacket in the other. He held out the latter to you, a frown making its way upon his face.

"Are you cold?" he tentatively asked before he leaned further toward you, his voice turning into a whisper, "...or is it that time of the month already?"

Oh Eddie, bless you - you said to yourself as a soft sigh escaped you. You remembered when, a few months back, your period had completely caught you unprepared, blood staining the back of your pants and Eddie had offered you his jacket for cover without any hesitation and made you wait in the bathroom as he had rushed to your female friends to ask for spare pads. That memory temporarily overshadowed your discomfort and a small smile made its way upon your lips.

"No Eddie, I just feel a little bit cold…", you whispered, one arm protectively encircling your side as you raised the other to take the jacket from him. "...and your rings made me shiver all over'', you added, hoping to make your lie more believable.

He visibly relaxed at your words, smiling apologetically at you but he still hesitated to go back to his usual goofy self. He didn't hesitate, however, to anticipate you by settling his jacket on your shoulders himself. He even bent forward to place a soft kiss on your head, palms squeezing gently your forearms.

You tensed a little in response to his touch, your eyes fluttering close.

"Uhm… Are you OK?"

Your odd display must have interrupted their passionate discussion on board games because the whole table had their eyes on you at that point.

The question had come from Dustin and you mustered a smile as you nodded. "Yeah, feeling a bit chilly, that's all."

"Chilly? I'm boiling over here!" Mike stated, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt to blow himself some air as most of the table nodded in agreement.

"You must have caught a cold!" Lucas piped in, a frown spreading on his face as he warily glanced your way. "I can't catch it too, I have a game in a week!"

You heard Eddie sigh deeply behind you and you looked up to see him brush his hand over his face. Your gazes met and he wryly rolled his eyes as he slid back onto his seat at the head of the table.

You couldn't suppress the knowing smile that spread over your lips.

"You need a larger jacket than that if you want to get warmer, though…"

Mike's voice drew everyone's attention once again, especially yours. Your smile faltered and your stomach dropped.

"That's way too small for you!", he added earnestly, unaware of how his words stung, "Big Frank, you should give her yours!"

The startled look that popped up on Frank's face as his eyes darted from the kid's face to yours; and the way he silently started peeling off one of his jacket sleeves as he blinked at you, made you feel bad for him, too.

You mustered a smile and lightly shook your head at him. He nodded at your mouthed "don't worry" and adjusted his jacket back.

You could feel tears starting to well in your eyes but you fought them back as best as you could. There was no way you'd burst out crying in front of your friends, especially not at Mike's words. You knew he didn't mean to hurt you, he was a cool kid after all, just like Dustin and Lucas were and they had never, never made fun of you. He had only stated a fact; Eddie's jacket was small for you. You knew it already so why was it affecting you so much?

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as you tugged at your boyfriend's jacket and adjusted it on you. You expected too much of it, being at least three sizes smaller than what you'd normally wear.

As much as you tried to disappear, you could feel the apprehensive looks your friends would give you and share between them. They were probably wondering why you weren't brushing off Mike's words with a joke or one of your sarcastic comebacks, as you would usually do. You were wondering about it yourself.

The atmosphere of the table had indeed drastically changed. Mike's serious expression had turned into a confused frown after one by one all the other boys had casted sideways glances his way.

"What is it? Why are y'all looking at me like that?"

Dustin hushed his friend with a not so subtle nudge of his elbow and forced a smile to his face as he addressed the whole table in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Sooo… movie night at my house tonight?" His eyes eagerly darted from one face to the other, lingering on yours for a longer moment before passing over to Eddie's.

Eddie had strangely kept silent the whole time, which was unusual for him, to say the least. When you tentatively looked his way, taking advantage of the late reaction Dustin's offer had stirred in the others, you instantly met his gaze.

Had he been staring at you the whole time? There was a deep frown on his face which immediately turned into a broken look as soon as he noticed your watery eyes.

His mouth opened to say something, what you don't know. The harsh sound of the bell brought a deafening chaos with it as all the students raised their voices to conclude their conversations or to express their reluctance to leave.

You did not stall. As soon as you heard the bell, you bolted out of your seat and sprinted toward the exit. In your rush, even over the loud chattering made by the other students, you carefully tried to avoid bumping into in your escape, you could clearly hear Eddie's booming voice as he hissed, "I'll murder you, Wheeler!" And the poor kid cried out, "What did I dooo???"

You didn't turn back. You made a beeline for the bathroom, planning to lock yourself in and wait until those stupid tears would leave you alone. You had made it to the end of the hall, hand reaching forward for the handle of the bathroom door when a strong arm enveloped your waist and pulled you back, spinning you around.

Your startled look met Eddie's serious face.

“You’re not going to shut me out”, he asserted in a stern but hushed tone, his hold tightening around your middle. His voice and demeanor, however, quickly turned softer as his hand raised to gently cup your cheek, a plea in his eyes, “please, don’t shut me out, baby.”

Despite your efforts, tears started rolling down your face way before you had reached the hall and you only then realized it as Eddie wiped both your cheeks with care.

The lump growing in your throat prevented you from uttering even a single word; you only nodded compliantly in response before you leaned forward and hid your face in his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling your body flush against his.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re gonna be ok.”

He whispered those words soothingly in your ear and then pressed a soft kiss on your temple.

“Do you want to leave?”

The way you sniffled and tugged harder at the fabric of his tee was enough for him to make up his mind. After securing a protective arm around your shoulders, he firmly led you toward the exit, passing by the last few students who were scrambling the opposite way headed toward their classes.

You let him guide you out of the school and to the parking lot where his van was. Tears were copiously lining your cheeks and you kept your head lowered as Eddie opened the door for you and helped you up. Only when you found yourself safely set on the familiar worn out seat, momentarily alone while Eddie made his way to the driver's side, did you let out a shuddering breath in an attempt to regain some control over yourself.

You hated crying in front of others, especially in front of your boyfriend; he had only seen you upset a couple of times before, however never to this magnitude and never when those rare “cowardly”moments came upon you. It was embarrassing for you, especially if you considered how you had overreacted. How could you have let something so stupid affect you so much?

The disgusted looks you had received instantly snaked their way back to your mind, soon followed by the strong feeling of repulsion your body had suddenly caused you. Your hands instinctively moved onto the jacket still wrapped around your shoulders and tugged it down to lie it over your tummy, the particular area of your body that in your seated position was bulging out the most and that day, out of all days, made you tremendously self-conscious.

The sound of the door clicking closed startled you and you turned around to see Eddie crash onto his seat and wrap his hands around the steering wheel, giving it a good squeeze out of habit before setting his gaze on you. He instantly noticed the way his jacket was now laid over your torso and thighs in a sloppy attempt to cover yourself and his brows furrowed out of hurt or confusion, you couldn't tell.

He averted his gaze and you did the same. You knew one hell of an uncomfortable conversation awaited you and you wished with all your might it would end up being short and easy. How? You didn't care. You only wanted it to be quick and as painless as possible.

"Listen Eddie, I'm-"

"I'm sorry, baby-"

You had spoken at the same time and immediately turned to look at each other.

Confusion made its way upon your features as you registered what he had said.

"You're sorry? What for?”, you blinked at him, shaking your head, “you don't have to apologize! You did nothing wrong!"

The very last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty or responsible in some way for what had happened.

He sighed and lowered his head, gaze fixed on his lap where his hands fidgeted nervously.

"I should have said something."

He looked and sounded so disconsolate that you almost started crying again. You really wanted to reassure him but he started talking again before you could find the words.

“At first I wasn’t sure what had made you react like that all of a sudden and when you told me you were feeling cold I thought it was strange but I believed you. When I saw you flinch at that stupid kid’s words though I knew you had told me a lie… but I couldn't really understand what had happened! You never let that kind of comments reach you! So I was confused and I was afraid that by giving Mike's words more weight than they deserved I would only make things worse for you. I don't know…” Eddie shook his head with a sigh, eyes awkwardly darting around before settling on your face.

“When I saw you crying I knew I had fucked up, though."

“No…”, you lamented out of protest, reaching forward for his hands, taking them in yours, “no Eddie, don’t say that. I overreacted, that’s all. It was stupid of me to make such a scene… and make you worry for nothing! I’m sorry. Really. I also ruined the mood at the table! I’ll have to apologize to the others-”

He tugged at your hands, immediately drawing your attention and making you stop rambling. It was so evident that you were trying to belittle what had happened and what you had felt. You were trying so hard to convince him that it was nothing. In an attempt to reassure him but, what you were really doing, was trying to convince yourself first and foremost.

“It can’t be nothing if it makes you cry.”

You searched his eyes for a moment, gaze roaming over his earnest features. Tears started to well in your eyes once again and you instantly turned around and slammed your back to the seat with a groan.

"You must find it ridiculous, I’m sure!”, you blurted out in a mocking tone. You felt angry. You weren’t angry at him but at yourself. At the way you had handled the whole situation. Angry at the way you had allowed some stupid strangers to make you hate your body. “Where's the y/n you've learned to know and like? The brave girl that doesn't give a shit how fat she is? You’re wondering that, aren’t you?"

You pressed yourself further against the door as soon as you felt his hand tentatively grab your shoulder.

"I just-”, you groaned again, brushing the back of your hand against your damp eyelids, “-I just don't want you to think any less of me."

"Sweetheart… I don’t and I would never.”

Eddie reclaimed your attention by tugging at your arm and making you turn toward him, not without some resistance from your part though. He made sure you were looking at him before he started speaking again.

“Sure, I love that side of you… Your confidence is inspiring-"

You interrupted him with a scoff. "I'm inspiring because I'm fat and I don't act like it?"

"You're inspiring…", he stressed, a scolding nuance in both his tone and look, "...because you don't let those stupid people drag you down! You brush their comments and stares off like they're nothing, 'cause they are nothing! You never give those assholes the time of the day. You also don’t take yourself too seriously and make those self-deprecating jokes of yours…". He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I love that about you. But you can’t always be as tough as you want to be.”

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest.

He was making sense. You were so used to hiding yourself behind that confident facade you created that you allowed it to make you blind to the truth of things. Convincing yourself that you had no issues whatsoever with how you looked didn't make them disappear into nothing, as much as you wanted them to. Inevitably, from time to time, one of those stares, comments, or sneers would slip through your facade and hurt you real bad. You were insecure; no amount of jokes or eyerolls would make that part of you go away.

"Besides…", he muttered, drawing your attention back to the moment, "...those people are wrong in the head, if you ask me."

"And why is that?"

He looked pleased by your question, a cheeky smile spreading over his lips.

"’Cause you're the most perfect girl in Hawkins, baby! And I bet in the whole world, too."

You rolled your eyes at him but you couldn't suppress the smile that made its way upon your face.

"Oh, shut up Eddie! That's bullshit."

"The hell it is!" he protested, eyes opening wide, "baby, you're so smart. Annoyingly smart! So smart that I look like I have brain damage when I’m with you… but I don't care. I like it, honestly. As long as I'm with you, I'll eventually rub some of that smartness off of you, right?"

"So… you're with me because I can help you with your homework."

He grinned at you as he sneaked a finger under your still crossed arms to poke your side, making you flinch and break your defensive stance.

"That's only one of the billions of perks of being your boyfriend, you silly girl! Ask me what the others are!"

You let out a deep sigh but you secretly enjoyed the funny turn the conversation had taken. At least Eddie was his goofy self again and that had made you keep your guard down as well.

"And what would the others be?"

"I'm glad you asked!" he exclaimed with a wink and dramatically swirled his forefinger in your direction. "Your beautiful smile… the light of my days! Makes the sun shine even in the darkest times!"

"Oh, no…", you rub a hand over your face, "forget I asked, please."

He ignored your plea and charged ahead.

"Those sexy eyes of yours, baby… they pierce right through my poor weak heart each time you lay 'em on me!"

He was using his deep and dramatic dungeon master's voice therefore making his cheesy lines even more embarrassing for you to hear.

You kept your hand at the level of your eyes to hide from him but he grabbed your wrist and pulled on it to free the subject of his reveries.

As soon as your eyes met his, he let out a strangled moan and moved your palm on his chest.

"Feel what you do to me?"

The funny thing was that you actually couldn't feel anything and that made you bite your lip as you barely held back a chuckle.

"There's no heartbeat, Eddie…"

He silently stared at you for a moment, then lowered his eyes on his chest where your hand was placed before looking back at you.

"Oh! I knew you would kill me one day!"

At that point you couldn't hold back any longer and bursted out laughing.

"You're such a clown!"

Eddie was struggling to hold back his own laughter but managed somehow not to break his acting.

"Wait, I haven't finished!

"Please don't-"

"No no, I saved the best for last! I must mention that soft squishy body of yours!"

Before you could truly register what he had said, his hands were on you, grabbing, squeezing, poking, tickling every inch of flesh he could find. His jacket inevitably fell from your thighs as you flinched and jumped, half-laughing and half-protesting for him to stop.

When he decided you had enough, he retreated slightly, a grin plastered on his face and his hands firmly set on your sides as he waited for you to regain your breathing.

"You have no idea of the struggle I have to fight to not nut in my pants every time I'm allowed to get my hands on you."

You shook your head and struggled to hide a smirk.

"You're a clown and a pervert on top of it. What a catch, uh?"

"Excuse you! I prefer 'slutty jester'."

You snorted at the over the top insulted look he gave you.

"Your slutty jester, my queen." He whispered in his sultry voice, "mmm yes, your humble servant." He bit his lips, hands pressing harder on your soft sides as he moved closer.

"What are you-"

He leaned forward with his whole body, hands moving on the seat to help himself up as he snuck toward you, squirming past the center console until his upper body laid in your lap. He looked so uncomfortable in that position. You were about to protest and push him back up but he made a face and hushed you before you could open your mouth. “Nope! You won’t take my Nirvana away from me!” and taking advantage of your temporary stupor he pulled up the hem of your tee and sank his face in your tummy with a satisfied moan.

"Eddie!"

His hot breath warmed your skin and you thought you heard him say, "my favorite pillow" in between weird cooing sounds before he wrapped his arm around your hips and pulled you closer.

It wasn't unusual for Eddie to pull something like that from time to time and although at first it made your body tense, you soon felt your muscles relax, hands snaking in his hair to brush it gently.

"I didn't know you were a cat."

"Mmm", he moaned again as he pulled back a little to brush his forehead against your skin, "I wish I was so I could sit in your lap and never ever move again."

He looked up at you, a sincere love drunk look hovering on his face.

"I adore you baby."

Your heart skipped a beat. A smile instantly spread over your lips, you could even feel warmth rising in your cheeks. You moved your fingers onto his forehead to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes.

"So much." he added and you bit your lip. Your hand moved lower to caress his cheek and you bent forward to press your lips on his forehead. Eddie grabbed the back of your neck and pulled himself up enough to meet you in a tender but passionate kiss.

"I adore you too, my slutty feline jester." You whispered upon his lips before meeting him again in a searing kiss, letting his love wash over you.

You let the fondness and care of his touches temporarily numb those intrusive thoughts perennially present in the back of your mind, occasionally coming up front to put you down and make you think less of yourself. You let his words sink in and counter your insecurity. Knowing that he loves you no matter what, and that he's always ready to remind you of that, wraps your heart and provides you with a safe-haven you can retreat to whenever you feel the world or even your own mind turning a bit too cruel toward you.

Eddie's right; you're smart, beautiful, strong and your squishy body is just perfect the way it is, no matter what the others see, think or say. Why would you care about others when you have such a perfect loving boyfriend, anyway?

MORE STORIES 🥀

[LIKE, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED READING MY STORY. Also consider leaving a tip here on Tumblr or buying me a coffee if you particularly liked what you read. Thank you! 🥀]

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x chubby reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #plus-size reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things x y/n

374 notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Note

PT x plus size reader opinion - all the boys could be become SO for our dear reader but in different circumstances. Here is my take:

Bucky and Curtis seems like type of men who would be interested in Reader after few interaction (not quite 'love at first sight', but 'I know you for a month and it is enough for me to know you are perfect), but they are awkward/too serious/can't talk about their emotions and Reader is confused. They both would do things for her and take care of her needs while giving no signs of 'hey, let's make out and date and maybe marry each other in few weeks' and are more like 'fuck this world, but you are cool, but fuck this world' vibe, so Reader who obviously has a crush doesn't know what to do.

Jake would probably bond with her daughter, taking a role of new uncle with Natasha and Wanda as aunts. While Reader is confident, she doesn't think Jake is interested in her (and she doesn't let herself even think about him becoming a dad to her daughter even though their relationship is so cute) - he is just lovely and dorky person who obviously is good with kids and happens to know her girlfriends. And Jake? He is dying inside because Reader is perfect, he loves her daughter and all he dreams about is them making out for the rest of their lives.

Steve quickly becomes Reader's gym buddy, but Reader is intimidated, because he looks like a Greek God. But he is true gentleman and actually quite shy. So, their romance slowly began to blossom while both of them don't acknowledge their feelings until tension is so strong that Steve fucks Reader in the gym or elsewhere - location doesn't matter, because the sex is 🔥 everywhere. (I feel like there should be an angsty part. Like Reader overheard a nasty comment made by other PT who implies that Steve has a sexual relationship with Reader 'for fun' and believed it).

Ari strikes me a owner of gym and girls make him meet with Reader because she can help him business wise. They bond over the gym (both sport and business parts) and Ari doesn't mind adding romantic part to their relationship, but Reader has complicated relationship with father of her child and her daughter is absolutely hostile towards him (she is just intimidated by the giant and obviously whole mess with her father doesn't let her open up to him). So, if he really wants to be with Reader, he has to win not only Reader's heart and trust, but her daughter's too.

First, I love how in depth this is! This is incredible and I admire you so much for it! Thank you!

Bucky and Curtis — 💯 they give me vibes of touch her and die, or she is mine/ours but she doesn’t know she’s mine/ours. Both a little cantankerous, they’re genuine with few people and reader/her daughter at at the core of their niceties

“Fuck then all, fuck everyone else.” “Except you two.”

Jake is the quickest (imo) to be all in all at once while Reader is hesitant because he’s so goofy and dorky and he makes everyone smile and why would he bother with a single mother?

Jake waves his hand in front of you with a cockeyed grin, picturing the rest of his life with you and your daughter. “You are the girls I’m looking for.”

Steve is a giant, he’s second only to Ari and he knows that Reader’s scared of him, but not truly scared more intimidated. He starts slow with her, knowing he’s got to ease her into a place of comfort. He starts with a fresh water bottle when she first gets in, and it slowly builds until the tension between them is electrifying—and then he takes her, reassuring her that everything she hears about his past, or what his intentions are with her, are lies

“Give me one more,” his lips suckle on the shell of your ear, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as his fingers fill you, his hands already drawing multiple orgasms from you without deeper penetration, “and tell me what I want to hear.”

I think with Ari he would’ve seen her around before with Nat & Wanda, maybe during some parties or events Reader is invited to, and he’s drawn to her. Without knowing much about her, he talks to Nat & Wanda who want to be matchmakers and know that Ari would be good for her. However Reader’s ex is an ass and that took a toll on her daughter and Ari needs to fix what was damaged

“Honeybee and bumblebee,” he crouched before her, gently nuzzling the stuffed bee into her arms, “you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not gonna hurt you, honeybee. I promise, I’m going to keep you safe from every monster whose ever frightened you.”

#personal trainer!Ari Levinson x plus-size!Reader #personal trainer!Bucky Barnes x plus-size!Reader #personal trainer!Curtis Everett x plus-size!Reader #personal trainer!Steve Rogers x plus-size!Reader #personal trainer!Jake Jensen x plus-size!Reader #plus-size reader #plus size!Reader #plus-size!singlemom!Reader #singlemom!reader

90 notes · View notes

five-bi-five-mind · 2 years

Note

hii, what about a jj x tall plus size reader, and the reader is insecure about the size difference between them? im plus sized and tall myself and i rarely see any plus sized reader x jj fics

Self-Conscious

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: JJ x fem!plus-size!Reader

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Words: 1.7k+

Summary: Sometimes you let yourself get too wrapped up in your own mind, comparing yourself to your girlfriend. But JJ is there to remind you of exactly how she sees you.

Warnings: Lots of talk about anxiety and insecurity; good ol' fluffy smut, oral (r receiving), very brief barely there hint of fatphobia in past relationships

A/N: Hi anon! Sorry for your wait! Hope you like this fluffy little fic. Also I didn't really talk much about height, that's my bad.

“You’re not gonna break me, darling,” JJ chuckles softly.

She’s looking up at you from where she lay beneath you, her eyes filled with nothing but utter admiration and a soft smile spread across her face as her hands rest on the tops of your thighs. You, on the other hand, are straddling her waist and struggling with all your might to keep yourself from pressing your body fully down onto hers. It’s been a minute since you’ve been in this position and you can feel your legs starting to strain and shake from the position you’re in, currently hovering over her and only balancing yourself on your legs. You were self conscious enough to be in just a shirt and underwear in front of her, but to be fully on top of her too was becoming too much for your nerves.

“But I-” Before you could even finish that protest, in one swift move, JJ sits up and pushes your thighs down so that your entire body is pressed to hers.

“I told you, it’s okay princess.” Her hands move from the top of your thighs to grab at your waist and she’s slowly trying to urge you to start to move your hips. You’re still hesitant as you look down from where your body is now flush with hers and back up to meet her eyes. She’s just looking back at you with eyes filled with lust and just seeing that look is giving you a huge burst of confidence you didn’t expect.

See, the thing is, you two haven’t been together for very long. You started dating her maybe two months ago, and even then you haven’t spent a lot of time being physical. There was only one reason for that and it was your insecurities getting in the way. JJ, being the wonderful amazing woman that she was, was nothing but understanding and reassuring. She never pushed you, never made you feel like you had a reason to be self conscious. In fact, she treated you like you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and, honestly, the more you were with her the more you felt your insecurities slowly start to melt away. But slowly is the key word here.

You still were incredibly aware of your differences. She was tall, blonde, and toned with muscles for days. You were the exact opposite of all of that. Yet, whenever you even hinted at thinking she was out of your league, JJ would stop you right then and there and go on tangents about how perfect she thought you were. It took everything in you not to outwardly cringe as she went on and on about it. Not that you hated hearing it, just that you weren’t used to it and didn’t know how to react. Loving JJ, you quickly realized, also meant you needed to learn to love yourself.

“Hey,” JJ’s hand reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

You shook your head and gave her a forced smile, feeling guilty that you got distracted with your own self consciousness when you were currently sitting on top of the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

“Nothing important,” you offered, hoping she wouldn’t press.

“It’s not nothing,” JJ gave you a knowing look. Of course, it’s JJ. She always pressed.

You sighed and shook your head, leaning in for a kiss in hopes that it would distract her. Before you could, she leaned back and completely dodged your lips, reaching up to grab your chin to stop you from trying again.

“Please, (Y/N)?”

You huffed and knew you weren’t getting away from this one.

“It’s just…” you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I get a little wrapped up in my own head sometimes. I get worried…”

“Worried about what?”

“I don’t know,” you tried to look away from JJ, but when you started to move your head down, the grip she had on your chin tightened.

“Why are you worried?” JJ repeated. Her tone wasn’t harsh, she wasn’t frustrated. She continued to have a softness to her questions and a look of only concern.

“That you won’t like my body. That maybe you’ll realize I’m not as beautiful as you say I-“

“No.” JJ cut you off short.

“But what if-“

“No.” JJ repeated even firmer, her hand squeezing your chin tighter for emphasis. “You’re beautiful, you’re perfect, you’re everything I could ever want. I know you don’t see yourself the way I do and it kills me to see you cut yourself down all the time.”

Suddenly JJ released your chin, only to push you off her lap and straight onto the bed in one swift move. In the blink of an eye, she was hovering over you, pushing your shirt up and off of you before you could protest.

“I know it takes time,” she murmured as she began to kiss down from your neck to your chest. “I know that people before me made you feel terrible about your body.” She continued to kiss down your body, past your chest and onto your stomach. You couldn’t help but turn to hide your face in the pillow as you felt her lips continue their trail down.

“I wish I could convince you that they were wrong, that how you see yourself is wrong.” JJ was now kissing right above the elastic of your underwear and you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through your body when you felt her fingers graze between your legs. “You’re gorgeous and I’ll never stop reminding you of that.”

With that, you felt her yank your underwear down and pull it off your body. You still couldn’t bear to look down at her, you felt so vulnerable and exposed. It didn’t help that she was pushing your legs apart and grazing her lips up and down both your thighs. Yet, as nervous as you were, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop her. You didn’t want her to stop.

When you felt her tongue run up your slit, your brain practically short circuited. You let out a low whine that was muffled by your hands still covering your face. Her hands were squeezing your thighs, forcing them to stay spread open for her. Any other time you’d be consumed by your own inner critic for the way you looked when someone touched you like this, but it’s JJ. All she’s said tonight and every other night you’ve spent as her girlfriend has made you more comfortable with your own body than you’ve ever been.

You felt JJ’s tongue circle your clit before she started to lap at it with her tongue. It took everything in you not to continuously moan her name at how good it felt. Yet, you still kept your face hidden, too nervous to look down and see the mess of blonde hair you knew was waiting for you between your thighs. What you couldn’t help, though, was the buck of your hips when her lips wrapped around your clit. You tried with all of your might to keep your reactions contained, but it was starting to get difficult. JJ was really fucking good at what she was doing.

“Hey,” JJ whispered in between your legs. “Don’t hide from me or I’ll stop.”

It only took you a second to contemplate what she was demanding of you. Hesitantly, you dropped your hands from your face and looked down at the blonde. The sight of her between your legs, eyes looking up at you with pure hunger, made your heart stop for a moment. Without much thought, you let your hand drift down to her head, running your fingers through her hair for a brief moment only to squeeze your hand into a fist the moment she dove back in.

That only spurred her on more. Her hands moved to the backs of your thighs as her tongue went back to hungrily lapping at your clit. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, moaning and gasping periodically. The hands on your thighs encouraged you to move your hips and grind against her mouth and you completely gave into the feeling. When her tongue dipped down and slid inside you, any ounce of restraint was completely gone and you let out a moan that you were only slightly worried the neighbors would hear.

You couldn’t stop your thighs from shaking and your hips began to grind faster against JJ’s mouth. She could tell that you were close, you just needed a little more. Her tongue returned to your clit as she moved her hand to slide two fingers inside of you, setting a pace to match the rhythm of her mouth. It only took a few pumps of her fingers, curved to hit at just the right spot before you were pulling at her hair and begging her not to stop. Your back arched when she added a third finger, feeling completely stretched out by her, but you adjusted fast. It took two… three hard pumps of her fingers and suddenly you found yourself coming all over them, groaning her name as you did.

JJ gave you a moment to come down from your orgasm before slowly sliding her fingers out of you. You watched with hooded eyes as she licked them clean before crawling back up your body.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” JJ whispered before kissing your lips. Tasting yourself on her tongue made you dizzy. She pulled back to look at you, her hands roaming all over your body as she did.

“You’re so beautiful like this, baby,” JJ repeated. You were naked, panting still from the intensity of the orgasm she just gave you, an utter mess for her. Your usual response would be to disagree, but with the way JJ was looking at you, the way she had made you feel all night, all you could manage to do was continue to melt into her touch.

JJ continued to spend the rest of that night telling you just how perfect she thought you were in between each kiss and each time she touched you. By the end of the night, you both fell asleep naked and entangled in each other's arms. You knew that loving JJ meant you were learning to love yourself and every moment with her made it that much easier.

taglist: @louderfortheback

Join my taglist here

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jj x reader #jj x you #fanfic #wlw #criminal minds #five-bi-five-mind #plus-size reader #jennifer jareau x plus-size reader #jj x plus-size reader

178 notes · View notes

havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

Text

Especially for an autobiography

***Reader Request***

Relationships - Fabulously confident reader x domestic dork Daryl. That’s right, fabulously confident and plus-sized reader from Simply one of those days is back! Have fun, kids, and thank you for the request, anonymous friend!

Pronouns - she/her

Perspective - 2nd person You, 3rd person Him.

When - Alexandria, pre-Negan

Genre - fluffy and romantic! Also might could be a tad steamy; it’s the hormones. Daryl doesn’t mind. Y’all are married.

TWs - it’s not unsafe for work, but you are feeling rather...amorous. Otherwise, we have some crude language during Daryl’s POV

Word count - oh, let me have my fun

Masterlist for more stuff and thangs, and a link to. . . Kofi :D

Him

He couldn’t help but laugh when she dramatically flopped back onto the bed and sighed, “Ugh, I’m so tired!”

And as soon as he did crack up, she was quick to toss back, “Daryl darling, are you teasing me?”

But the pout she was giving him wasn’t serious, a fact proven by her wink as she flipped onto her stomach.

“Oof, apologies, my sweet,” she exclaimed before readjusting so she wasn’t directly on her stomach. “Can’t lay like that anymore, I suppose.”

“Y’okay?” he quickly checked, forgetting all about buttoning his shirt back up to jog over and kneel beside the bed.

“We’re fabulous, don’t you worry.” She hummed and gave him a look he’d very happily grown familiar with. “You’re so sexy when you get all concerned about us,” she purred, and reached out to lightly drag her fingers through his hair to pull him close.

Yeah, that was another thing about her being five months along.

Her own exact words regarding it were: “Lordy, every time I look at you, I want to yank your jeans down, mount you, and have at it.”

His cheeks got all warm as he remembered that particular afternoon. Both because he was currently (rapidly) getting in the mood as he felt her kissing his neck, but also because of the memory itself.

She’d accidentally said that—yes, that, the whole quote, word-for-word—right in earshot of most of the group.

Tara and Glenn were fucking rolling, and he’d never seen Abraham get so red as he wheezed alongside Carol and Rick. Even the reverend guy—sorry, ‘Father Gabriel’—coughed awkwardly to try and hide his laughter from his spot in the corner.

Then Carl had come downstairs wanting to know what was so funny, and for some reason, Eugene had actually started to repeat the damn thing.

Luckily, Michonne spoke up louder, wiping her eyes as she told Carl that “Y/N was being funny about her hormonal changes.”

“You know how I have a flair for the theatric, sweet boy,” she’d told the kid with a wave of her hand and a shrug of her shoulders, even while covering her eyes in embarrassment and trying not to giggle.

Meanwhile in real time, his wife was very effectively getting ready for another round.

He wasn’t complaining.

By then on top of him, she breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, handsome, I won’t keep you too long.”

His hands were on her beautiful curves, savoring every inch. “Keep me all day, gorgeous, I won’t mind,” he managed to murmur back.

She hummed. Tossed her hair in that confident way he loved so much, and gave him a wicked little smile that turned him on like nothing else. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You

He’s always so tender afterward. Even after you two ‘have fun’ in a less-than-tender place.

Mmm, like when you’d done it against the back wall of the house that time...or the other time...or that time in the garage on the work bench...or that time on his bike behind the building during that supply run...or the other time...or when...

Lordy, you had no idea how wildly randy you’d be at this point in your pregnancy. Granted, you’d been pregnant just about as long as you two have been physical. Honeymoon baby. When Maggie had correctly guessed the news, she’d playfully lauded your efficiency.

Anyway, for the past several weeks, you swear it’s as if you’re insatiable! In your defense, Denise said it’s entirely normal at this stage.

And, in your defense, your husband is exceedingly sexy, truly a work of art.

The thing that knocks your socks off is the fact that he’s only been at this for five months. He was a remarkable student. And just so...attentive. Generous, you might add.

And it’s so deliciously sweet that whenever you try to praise him about it, he shakes his head and mumbles that “You’re the one who showed me the ropes.”

You gaze down at him sleepily as you lay in bed together. His bare back with his scars and tattoos is showing the rise and fall of his breathing. His legs are barely covered by the sheet, likewise that stunning behind of his. And those strong arms you love to look at so much are draped around you.

You can’t get enough of this, how soft he becomes after. Pun not entirely intended...

And you’d be content to have him keep resting his head against your waist as you play with his messy, messy hair all day. His messy, sexy, rugged, masculine, even a little dirty hair—Lordy, you two only finished a several minutes ago and here you are gearing up again.

How can you be so exhausted and yet so ready to tumble again? You’d thought food cravings and some emotional ups and downs would be the standout of this adventure. Well, you certainly were mistaken.

Instead, you’re very tired and so very, very liable to get aroused.

So tired today, in fact, that you may even possibly, potentially, only maybe...

Oh, there’s no use in denying it: you’re too tired to go on the supply run today. Just thinking about it, you’re almost in tears at the idea of walking up all the steps and packing up boxes of books to lug back.

But you’re equally in near-tears at the thought that you won’t be doing so.

The supply run is to a library this time!

Well, it’s really to a fairly unpicked urgent care clinic abutting a dentistry office, but it’s a block away from a library! Your favorite place! And because you’re so thoroughly tired, all you want to do other than make out with your husband is read, which is just another reason you were so looking forward to going.

Worth a mention is that it’s high time this place had its book collection tended to.

C’est la vie, you suppose. This exhaustion is only temporary.

“What was that sigh for, gorgeous?” your hear him ask you softly as he kisses your stomach and finds your hand to take into his. You could feel the rumble of his voice reverberate through your body from where his lay pressed against yours.

“I’m just being a little dramatic. I’m not looking forward having to get up and put on clothes. Then, the thought of carrying of all those books back to the tru—”

“—Still can’t believe Denise ain’t barred you from doin’ stuff like that,” he grunts to himself, his hand now absently drawing lines on your thigh.

You gave an indignant hmph, then reminded him with a kiss on his head that “It’s considered safe because I’m not adding any strenuous new activities, only maintaining what my body is used to.” You take his hand into yours and bring it to your lips. “And I’m far enough along that it isn’t a big concern.”

Another kiss, then you rest his hand on your breast for safekeeping. “Plus, I’m not lifting as much as I used to,” you add.

His thumb begins to move gently back and forth over it. “And you've been real excited to get more books.”

“Have I ever. I miss my book collection so much. It was fabulous, Daryl.”

Among your collection, you’d had all of Austen, all of the Brönte sisters, all of L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, an original copy of ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ and only the fancy-bound variety of Shakespeare’s plays plus a signed (signed!) copy of “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.”

You especially miss the book your mom gifted to you. It was an Evelyn Stuart Hardy illustrated edition from the 1910s of Jane Eyre, your absolute favorite book in the world! It reminded you of her like nothing else...it had been her favorite book, and your granny’s, too.

You’d packed it up and kept it with you after the world fell. It was still with you after most everything else you’d had was stolen.

Until you’d ultimately had to burn it during the winter, when you were still alone.

Not a day later is when you’d run into Beth at the stream. That’s when she brought you to Daryl, and just like that, they brought you into the group. The rest is history, but how you kicked yourself for burning it.

Straightening your posture even while reclining, you push your shoulders back and remind yourself that you made a necessary decision. You’d needed the warmth.

“The shelves here are woefully understocked, darling, and there are plenty of houses to fill up,” you begin to tell Daryl. “I was saying to Deanna just the other day how perhaps we could transform one of the empty ones into an entertainment venue of sorts, keep morale up. Library on the top floor—very convenient if one wishes to browse the stacks with her very handsome, work-of-art husband in private,” you hint.

Does he realize what he’s doing as he rubs his thumb over your breast back and forth like that? Eyeing him, you continue. “A movie theater type room on the bottom or perhaps in the basement, a gaming room, a music room, an art room with supplies in the attic!” You’re getting excited again just picturing it! “Wouldn’t that be so fabulous?”

You hum at the thought, then look down to find him gazing at you with the most...“Daryl? Please don’t look so utterly in love with me, you know how your being in love with me turns me on. And I might mention what you’re doing with my nipple?”

Him

He couldn’t help but snort again—and he stopped doing that thing with his thumb, obviously.

“Your being in love with me turns me on.” Hell yeah he was in love with her, it was impossible not to be. Other than being entertaining as fuck, her confidence and endless optimism had its own gravitational pull, she was smart, caring, and—shit—so damn attractive. And she liked him! That was the craziest part of it.

He’d probably let himself fall for her ever since that time she’d kissed him on the cheek at the outdoor goods place a year or so back.

It was either then or when he’d finally seen her again, after Terminus. It was because of what she’d said that made him finally realize it.

The words hadn’t even been to him, they’d been to Carol. “Alright now, you. Get yourself over there and hug your best friend. He’s missed you.” Those words, weird as it might seem, that was what made him see it.

That realization had been scary enough, so just imagine how he felt next. Her first words to him were spoken softly, so only he could hear.

“Daryl Dixon, I would like to marry you someday.”

And then she’d kissed him as if there was nobody else there at all.

Yeah. He's just glad that sometime after finding the reverend guy—sorry, ‘Father Gabriel’— that he’d gotten brave enough to finally bring up what she’d said. As much as he hated himself at that point in time, he felt safe enough with her that he couldn’t not ask. There was too much risk of losing her again.

“Y’know that thing you said? Before you kissed me that time, Y/N?”

“Which time, handsome?”

His pulse had been going hog wild. “...When I finally saw ya again.”

She’d smiled through her exhaustion, so much like that first day he’d met her. Winked at him.

“That was a very nice one, I must admit.”

And that’s when her eyes grew wide as she’d remembered exactly what she’d said before she’d done so, as well as noticed that he was nervously looking back and forth from her to the reverend guy.

“Oh!”

The morning they’d woken up in the barn after surviving that hurricane was almost when they’d gotten hitched. Almost; Aaron had showed up, though, so it got pushed back only until the group decided to go to Alexandria.

At that decision, she saw no reason to wait any longer. Neither did he.

“It’s just a pity we’ll need to wait until I can lay you down and show you my ‘form and function,’” she’d lightly teased in his ear as she wiped her tears away, fully aware that that time might never actually happen.

For all they knew, their marriage could have been as short as only that day, depending on what lay ahead in that place.

But, turns out, Alexandria was safe. A good place.

So, two days in, she’d brought him to a bedroom in the quiet part of the house, and...showed him the ropes.

And now, he and she had a kid. Honeymoon baby. He was so fucking excited about it.

Denise said in a month or two is when he’d be able to finally feel them kicking around in there.

“So, you’re tryin’ to bring home just how many books today?” he asked Y/N, scooching up from his nook against her waist so he could hold her in his arms. “The whole damn library’s worth?” he teased.

“I would have endeavored to make a dent, perhaps.” Was it his imagination or did she sound disappointed?

“Would have?”

She pulled his arm around her tighter. “I’m just too tired, darling,” she admitted quietly. So that was why she was down.

He curved his body against hers and breathed in the smell of her hair. He didn’t like it when she was down, seemed unnatural. “It won’t be the last time we go.”

“Certainly not. Sasha, Olivia, and myself were calculating just how many trips we might need to take to get enough volumes. Final estimation was three.”

The way she announced that made him grin. “But you had your hopes on comin’ today,” he stated more than asked as he wove his fingers in between hers.

“I did. Libraries and auditoriums are my favorite places. And, it’s simply been a while since I’ve ventured outside the walls. Well,” she considered. “Other than to check on sweet little Enid, she’s quite the escape artist.”

“What kinds of books were you gonna bring back?” he wanted to know. Because he was fixing to bring back every dang one.

But he felt her make a shrug as if it were unimportant, and then she waved it off. “I made a list, it’s on the kitchen island or the coffee table, if I recall.” It was kinda cute that she thought she could fool him into not knowing when she was disappointed.

“What are some of the things on it?” he pressed, gently caressing her belly.

He felt her shrug again. “The useful parts of the reference and how-to sections, especially agricultural ones for Maggie. Oh, and you’ll notice a note regarding a pasta-making book for Shelly.”

She shook her head in amusement. “I appreciate generous helping of homemade linguini myself, so why she hasn’t simply made some by hand to enjoy is beyond me. You simply roll it out flat and slice it, easy as can be, no machine required.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He moved back so she could turn and face him. “What else?” Come on, tell me what you want, gorgeous.

“Nothing, that’s all it takes to make homemade pasta.”

He grumbled only a little. “I meant the books, Y/N.”

She gave him another playful pout, then went on. “The teens and children here need some new reading material. Glenn will know which comic books are best, and he knows what Carl’s into. Oh, and our sweet Beth adored choose-you-own-adventures, so the kids will really enjoy those, if you find any.”

Fuck. He winced when she mentioned her name. That poor fucking girl. Losing her had been like losing Sophia all over again, but somehow worse because that time, it was undeniably his fau—

“—I can feel where your mind has gone, and as your wife would ask you to not think those things about yourself,” she told him firmly.

And after pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek and reminding him that she loved him, she resumed telling him more about the list.

“Tara could use one or two or several books on tape. She enjoys real histories, but reading is off limits until her concussion is healed more, so she was lamenting the other day. She’s bored to tears and going stir crazy.”

“I would be, too. Must suck.”

“There’s C.S. Lewis for Father Gabriel, ‘The Art of Peace’ for Morgan so he can have a backup copy. Carol and Rick enjoy Agatha Christie, Rick prefers her Poirot series. And Rosita has been very down, as you know, but she once mentioned a joke Fluffy told, so if the DVD section had any of Gabriel Iglesias’ stand-up specials, I was going to take them.”

Was Y/N gonna say what she wanted, though?

“And um,” She giggled and shook her head. “I was more of going to tease Eugene by taking him home an entire encyclopedia. Oh, and I just found out that Michonne is a fan of cozy mysteries, too! I thought she’d be more the Stephen King variety, but no.”

Okay, finally something Y/N was into: cozy mysteries. Cozy mysteries...um...“What are cozy mysteries?”

“They’re in the mystery section—”

“—Stop,” he snorted.

“In the mystery section, but you’ll know them by their absolutely fabulous titles. They’re all puns!”

Puns. Okay. Um… “W-what kind of puns?”

“I’ve read a lobster shack themed one with the title ‘Drawn and Buttered,’ and Scotland themed one called ‘Under Loch and Key,’ so on so forth.”

Huh. Interesting. He’d bring back some if he could find them, he guessed. Sounds kinda cute.

“Tell me about what you want.”

Believe it or not, she’d somehow managed to toss her hair while laying there, then angled herself to look at his face.

“I was, handsome.” She winked. “Though...”

You

You feel bad for relaying your list of things to Daryl as if he were a servant or as if you were a woman who thoughtlessly ordered her man about.

Maybe it’s your pride speaking, but having him search around for your favorite book(s) is a little too much for you to accept when you’re still so disappointed that you can’t go yourself.

You’re used to being very physically strong, so this stage of exhaustion is a change you’d prefer to ease into, rather than dive into. And you hypothesize that your beloved Jane Eyre would say the same.

“C’mon, let me bring you back at least one book. Just one, gorgeous?”

...You suppose you can mention your genre of choice, at least, especially when he’s asking so earnestly.

“If you bring me back a nice, clean historical romance, I won’t object. Please steer clear of the harlequin section, darling.”

“Done,” he’s quick to announce. Until he sounds confused as he repeats, “Harlequin?”

“The bodice rippers,” you clarify.

“Bodice-rippers.”

You smile, and twist your body so it’s once again flush to his, lay his hand on the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, then arch your back and stick our your chest to make a pose.

“The books covers look somewhat like this, only the woman would have a gown or nightdress on rather than be completely in the nude.” With a light peck to his jaw, you simply must mention next, “And the man on the cover won’t look nearly as delicious as you.”

Which is of course why you next hear “Daryl! Y/N!” called from the main floor.

Him

“We’re coming, Abe! Allow us a moment,” Y/N shouted back.

“Golly, don’t tell us exactly what you two are up to!” was the undeniable voice of Carol that echoed next through the house, as did a very loud blast of laughter from Abraham. What are they, thirteen?

At least his wife thought it was funny. She’d even clapped.

“We were discussing literature, you! Keep your minds out of the gutter!” Y/N cracked up as she called back.

So, he groaned and got himself off the bed, threw his clothes back on quickly, and helped her get hers on. She’d almost fallen back asleep when he was looking for her socks.

Denise said how tired she felt was normal, though, as was the...other thing she was experiencing.

He thought it was gonna be cravings and throwing up like women had on like TV and shit, but nah, just sore boobs and being sleepy in the beginning, and now real sleepy and real horny were how it was going for Y/N.

It was good she was gonna stay home today. He was getting more and more uncomfortable with the thought of her going outside the walls too far with or without him. After what happened to Noah on that supply run, he just...

But he didn’t want to seem controlling or over-protective, so he tried not to protest too much. And she was just so damned excited about the library run, how could he tell her he didn’t like her wanting to haul boxes of books around?

Well, he thanked whoever was up there that she was too tired today.

Plus, now he got to surprise her!

Because fuck yeah, he knew exactly what book he was gonna bring her. It didn’t hit him at first, but he knew the perfect one.

Like, obviously he was gonna grab all the books and stuff on that list, but first thing he was gonna find was that one.

He’d read it in high school. Loved it. Reread it. Reread it again.

Got a good-ass grade on a report about it, too. Did it again the following year, wrote a whole new report and got a good-ass grade on that as well!

He didn’t even realize it was considered a chick book until some asshole made fun of him for it.

Well, fuck that guy, ’cause that book was the shit. And it was an autobiography, the idiot.

And just because it was kinda romantic and the main character was a girl didn’t make it ‘just’ a chick book.

Nah: it was about a kid who wasn’t really loved or treated well, who grows up and tries to stay decent but doesn’t really know what she wants to do, only what’s been kinda laid out for her.

She’s got big balls, a backbone, and the story ends up being a mystery wrapped in a drama and all of it ties together because she makes peace with her family and discovers a new one, then makes one of her own!

Who wouldn’t like that shit?

And, okay, this is dumb, but it was also really funny how the writer used the word ‘ejaculated’ in like every damn chapter. Not one time did that word mean what that word usually means, either.

The first time he saw the word just chilling there in an otherwise normal book, he almost snarfed up the beer he’d snuck into school he was laughing so hard.

Anyway, it was called “Jane Eyre: An Autobiography” and it was fucking amazing. And because it’s set like way back when and there’s a love story without tits in it, that’s fits the criteria of a clean historical romance, right?

Y/N was gonna love it so damn much. He almost asked her if she’d read it already, but decided he’d make it a surprise. There was some fancy wrapping paper he’d seen in Eric and Aaron’s garage, so he was gonna wrap it up all nice, too.

Such a fucking good book.

You

Maggie was a doll and made you a cup of your favorite wild mint tea while you were in the midst of sniffling on the couch about the supply runners having left.

That poor, sweet boy Sam came over shortly thereafter, and you were going to play Mario Party with him like you’d promised, but ended up falling asleep again. You awoke on the couch to find Sam sitting by you, albeit on the floor, between the recliner and the wall, reading The Phantom Tollbooth.

“I read that one when I was your age! Please lend it to me when you’re finished, I’d adore to take that adventure again!” you gushed.

He’s coming out of his shell more and more, but it’s very slow-going. You suppose that with a father like his, it was only natural, even if the man was dead now.

But today, Sam was comfortable enough to smile and start to tell you about his favorite parts of the book, which was excellent.

What’s also excellent is that you falling asleep while he was there seemed to have encouraged Carol to make cookies for him. It was plain to see that she was trying to keep the boy at arm’s length.

She’s terrified of becoming attached to another child for whom she condemns herself inadequate to care for. Her wounds run deep, especially in terms of Sam; she sees parts of herself in his mother.

So, that she gave in and baked for him and didn’t immediately kick him out once you’d accidentally taken a nap was a good sign.

The cookies were fabulous, by the way, and with the mint tea, it made the chocolate (chocolate!) rations taste that much better.

After that, you went on wall duty so you’d be somewhat productive today.

Your official job assigned by Deanna was as a recruiter of sorts; ease newcomers into life here, and go with Aaron, Eric or Daryl when pertinent to talk to survivors.

Only thing was, you hadn’t gotten any new survivors yet, so wall duty and supply running and some babysitting was what filled your days.

But it is nice that yours and your husband’s jobs are connected. He recruits, you welcome.

“Say, sheriff, what time is it?” you called down when you saw Rick taking Judith for a walk.

He looked at his watch. “They’ll be back in about two hours, Y/N,” he let you know you with a smile.

The thought of waiting two more hours got you weepy again.

Although, maybe you could manage to squeeze in another nap after your shift was over.

Him

The place had like 7 copies of that book! Would it be a dick move to take all of them?

Fine, it would. Okay, he’d just take...four—no, three. He shouldn’t be greedy.

That new-looking one was a no-brainer, so that one was coming. Aw shit, and that one had a creepy cover. That one was his, he called dibs. And...shit, look at the really old one. Book people like old copies, don’t they? Aw shit, it’s got pictures in it, too? Damn, these are good-ass drawings.

This is the one. It’s perfect.

Once those were tucked away safely, Glenn helped him find all the other things on her list.

Meanwhile, the rest of the supply runners browsed for stuff like zip ties, tape, and toilet paper, and were getting very distracted by all the books and magazines. And since there weren’t that many walkers in there, it was a good time.

He even remembered the title of the other book he’d ever really liked. It was another he’d read in school, called ‘The Giver.’ He liked that one because the kid mans up big-time and saves the baby’s life. Carl would probably like it, so he packed that up, too.

Then, Glenn popped up from the books-on-tape and DVD section and held out what might have well been a gold bar. Turns out, the British made a whole damn TV series about Jane Eyre six-ish years ago, and this library had the box set.

“My baby sister loved this one. She was in the stage version of it in high school,” Glenn shared with him quietly. “It’ll be nice to watch it again, and Mags will enjoy it.” He coughed a little. What was that smirk for? “That is, if it won’t be intruding on you and Y/N’s private time.”

“Shut up.”

You

...zzz…zzz…zzz...zzz...

Him

It was fine, he could wait until morning. Unless she woke up and wanted a really late supper or something...?

...But Y/N was sleeping like a log.

He slumped his shoulders.

Denise insisted that his wife was fine, checked her blood pressure, all that. He’d been real worried, is all.

Y/N did give him a “Why hello there, Daryl darling” when Denise woke her up to check on her, but she went right back to sleep after, and very happily, by the looks of it.

He knew she needed the rest, but he was also bummed that she was asleep when he got back. Really disappointed, but it ain’t like it was her fault. She had their baby in there, that’s gotta take a lot out of somebody.

He looked at the wrapped present on the nightstand. Eric did him a solid by finding a bow for it.

Then he looked at the copy of Jane Eyre he’d decided to keep as his own, the one with the spooky cover.

And then he felt only moderately like a dick for being excited that he could crack it open and reread it without any interruptions.

Like a kid finding a toy they thought they’d lost, he opened it up, flipped to the first chapter.

Oh yeah, there was the good stuff: “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.”

That’s right, no long walk for you today, Jane, you get a break. Don’t worry, kid, I remember: you don’t like long, chilly walks ’cause it makes your toes too cold. I don’t like cold toes, neither, that shit ain’t no fun. Just sucks that your dickhead cousin is about to fuck shit up. It’ll be okay, you’ll get out of there.

Okay, kid, let’s see if we can’t get you out of Gateshead by the time I need to hit the sack...

You

When you woke up at 2:32 a.m. and needed to use the facilities like nothing else, you only knew that your husband was asleep in his clothes beside you on the bed, and that he’d apparently borrowed your booklight.

This didn’t phase you, and you went about using the toilet, washing your hands and face, brushing your teeth, and primping your hair as you normally would before bed.

What you learned after you came back was that he’d fallen asleep reading (and had rolled onto the paperback slightly).

That hadn’t happened yet in all five months you’d shared a bed and all of the two years give or take that you’d known him. It was also quite alluring to you, to say the least, and you felt delighted to have found one more thing to love about him as you grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand and took a few gulps.

But what made your panties liable to fall off right then and there was that he’d fallen asleep while reading your favorite book.

Jane Eyre!

Still floored and frozen in place when his groggy “Hey” reaches your ears, you blink out of it, remember to swallow the gulp of water that you’d forgotten about in your shock, and smile back at him.

“Good evening, Daryl,” you are able to respond, returning your glass to the nightstand and crawling back onto the bed.

He’s got an arm around your waist in seconds and has his lips on yours right after. “How you feelin’, gorgeous?”

You make the executive decision to crawl onto his lap and straddle his hips rather than crawl to your side of the bed.

“I’m feeling fabulous.”

“You hungry? I can go grab food, there’s leftover—”

“—Stay here with me, sweet man.”

“Done.” It was dark, but you could see a lazy, shy grin light up his face nonetheless. “I, um, brought ya back somethin’.”

But before he could say or do anything else, you have to kiss him again. And a second time. Might as well do a third for good measure. And by the third, you realize: he brought you ‘back’ something, not brought you ‘up’ something.

As in, he alluded to having brought something home, not to him having brought a snack upstairs earlier, as you initially thought he’d meant.

“You brought me back something from the supply run, you mean? Other than yourself alive and well?” you coo, nuzzling his neck, content to simply feel his heart beating against yours.

That explains that copy of Jane Eyre. How on earth he knew that was your favorite, you cannot fathom. Unless Carol remembered and told him at some point?

He must have been trying to read it before giving it to you so he’d be able to talk about it.

Your kisses get more frantic.

“Babe, hold up, let me grab the damn thing,” he giggles as you kiss that ticklish spot by his ear.

“It’s right here, handsome,” you let him know, intending to lean back and grab the book for him. That is, until he presents to you a lovely little wrapped gift with a bow on it.

What on earth?

Him

The surprised look on her face was reward enough, and she hadn’t even unwrapped it yet!

She looked almost bashful (Y/N, bashful! That in itself was something!) as she unseated herself from his lap and settled down beside him, taking the package and turning it over in her hands.

“I sense a book in here, I’m already thrilled,” she told him, and looked back into his eyes with that same surprised, almost kinda confused expression.

Finally, she began to unwrap it, so he was finally able to start telling her all about it.

“It’s this really old copy of this book. The story is damn good, I’m tellin’ ya. I even, um...” he trailed off. Shit.

All she was doing was staring at it. Hadn’t even unwrapped it fully.

Why was she just staring at it? Oh shit, and she’s crying. Shit, man. He knew she was hormonal and stuff, but shit, um, okay, what could he do to fix this? What did he do to cause it, though? He was such a fuck up—WHOA, never mind, now her lips were on his.

Kissing her was one of his favorite things, sure, but now he was the kinda confused one. She was crying while she was kissing him.

Over a book?

“Gorgeous, hey. Tell me what’s wrong,” he murmured into her ear when she stopped for air.

In response, she looked at him as if he’d just spoken gibberish.

“Wrong? Abs—absolutely nothing is wrong, you sweet, silly man!” She sniffed again and wiped her eyes before hugging the book to herself. She started kissing him again, too.

He was trying to gather the wherewithal to pull away and ask her again what was going on, buuuut he didn’t want to, not when kissing her was one of the best damn things.

Lucky for him, she ended up pulling back.

“Darling?” She broke out into that gorgeous smile and rested her forehead on his. “I had this exact edition. My, my mother bought it for me as a college graduation present,” she explained, slightly out of breath as she sat back up. “These are happy tears, don’t worry. Though, maybe a few unhappy tears because I miss her and dad but, oh my goodness, I’m so... I feel like I’ve got a piece of her back!”

For all that she just spilled, the best he could do was blink and ask “This same one?”

“The Collins Clear Press, E. Stuart Hardy Illustrated Edition. Oh, Daryl, I am feeling so many things right now!” She hugged it to herself again and sighed. “I had every work of the Brönte sisters, but no less than five copies of Jane Eyre. It’s my all time favorite.”

Okay. Okay, he felt better. So much damn better, shit.

But just to make sure, he had to check, “You like it?”

Yet another kiss was her first answer, followed by “Darling, I adore it.”

She then swallowed and pushed her hair behind her ears. Exhaled heavily, then drew herself onto her knees and—oh, okay, lovin’ this—straddled him again.

“Now, if you’re up for it, handsome, I would like to make very slow, long, drawn-out love to you?”

He made an unintentional groan by way of response, his jeans were getting tight. Oh right, he forgot to put bed stuff on. Pajamas, whatever you call them.

To which Y/N bit her lip and laughed softly. Tossed her hair the way she knew he loved so damn much. “But before I relieve us of our clothing, first I would like to know the mystery behind this.”

She leaned back to grab something…

Oh, his book. She’d grabbed his copy of—aw shit, had he fallen asleep on it? The pages got all bent.

Damn.

You

“If I have this copy, what is this one?”

“That one’s mine,” he tells you shyly. Or maybe he wasn’t speaking shyly as much as he’s getting out of breath because you’re lightly grinding your pelvis over his.

“You have your own copy, Daryl.” Not a question, more of a declaration, but you’re just proud you managed not to moan as you said it. Cool down, mama, let the man talk, you remind yourself.

“Just got it today. I took,” He cracked up and bowed his head as if embarrassed. “I took three of them. The old one was for you, there was a new one that I figured could go in your library, and that one I wanted to keep for me, I dunno.”

Perhaps you’re panting a little right now...“Oh, I think you do know,” you whisper back, endeavoring to slow yourself down. “Now, please tell me how on earth you came to want a copy of your own?”

He makes a shy little shrug. “It’s a good story. The book, I mean. I just, um, read it a bunch of times back in high school—mm, fuck!” he lets out an appreciative groan after you can’t help but buck your hips.

Ah, it's about time his hands found their way under your shirt.

“But, um, yeah, I just really liked it. ’Specially for an autobiography, those are usually so damn borin’—h-hot damn, Y/N,” he chokes out. Okay, you may have done that one on purpose...

You help him take your shirt off. “Everything that is coming out of your mouth, darling, is making me so hot.”

“I h-had a hunch,” he murmurs back with what’s almost a self-satisfied chuckle.

“May I finish removing your clothes, Mr. Dixon?

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’ll tell him that the book is entirely fictional and not really an autobiography later, because right now, you need to press your lips to his along with everywhere else that you can on his body.

Him

Judith was up real early today, he heard her squealing. She was almost walking on her own now, ain’t that wild?

Call him soft if you want, but he was so damn excited that another one was gonna be running around with her soon enough. His own kid, too, how insane was that? And maybe Glenn and Maggie would finally have one, too...

Hot damn, was he feeling soft this morning.

Kinda hard not to be. Y/N was still fast asleep with one thigh wrapped around his middle—oh, he’d just made a pun, didn’t he? Hard-not-to-be-soft. Wait, was that a pun or something else?

Y/n would know, is she awake yet? He looked away from the pages to check on her.

Nah, she’s still asleep. And shit, man, she was damn gorgeous whatever she was doing, just look at her.

Anyway, while his wife was still recharging and while neither of them had to get up just yet, he had gotten Jane all the way through her boarding school years and she’d just met the kid she was nannying.

It’s cool that this copy had footnotes, because he’d forgotten what the stuff the little French girl spoke meant. How do you even pronounce that stuff?

You

As you stretch awake, you have to make a little mmhm in appreciation.

“The first thing I see when I wake up is my husband reading our favorite book. Today’s going to be a very good day, I can tell.” You’re still exhausted today, but that’s alright.

The corners of his mouth prick up and his cheeks redden. “The first thing I got to see was you naked, so it’s already a real good one.”

Oh, how fabulous! He isn’t usually as forward as that, even in private. You’d say he even sounded proud of himself, which is in itself a triumph.

And after last night, oh, he has every right to be proud.

You reach behind you to grab your water glass from the nightstand and take a long, refreshing sip, then hop out of bed and saunter your way to the bathroom. Slowly.

When you turn your head back, you’re pleased to see him staring and adjusting his legs to hide the excitement you just caused.

After freshening up and using the toilet, you slip on some clean undies and pajamas, then pick up the copy he’d given you and clutch it to your chest before snuggling back into bed with him.

“So, how far did we get this morning?”

“Jane just asked Mrs. Thornfield-lady is there are any ghost stories about the mansion they live in.”

“Getting to the juicy parts.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Are you meant to head out again today for your official job?”

After a signature grumble, he closes the book and pulls you to him closer. “Can I bring this with me?”

“I won’t snitch that you’re reading while you’re out there.”

“I meant you, Y/N.” He pauses. “But I should take the book, too, s’good idea,” he grunts, almost as if to himself.

You lightly kiss his cheek. “Let’s get up, sweet man. All three of us need breakfast, and you, as much as I hate to say it, need to put on,” You roll your eyes and sigh in mock-disgust. “Clothes.”

Him

Not that he was good at it, but he was doing his best to try and flirt with her. She deserved all that romantic stuff. Part of him was just still in shock that she was into him at all.

“You sure you want me to put clothes on?” he teased under his breath. That was flirting, right?

He nervously glanced over and saw that she seemed to enjoy it. “I certainly do not. But I have something in mind for later. Would you like to hear what it is?”

Try to sound manly for her and shit.

“Y-yeah.”

Way to go.

“As soon as we’re both home, I would like to bring you back here...” Her fingers were trailing down his chest...then down his stomach…

...to where his book lay in his hands, upon which she tossed her hair and asked in the cutest damn way possible: “Then we can read for a few hours?”

He didn’t expect her to go in that direction, and he was so damn in love with that woman at that moment he thought he’d fucking burst.

“That sounds perfect, gorgeous,” he chuckled. “It’s a damn good book.”

She bit her lip and and giggled, taking one of his hands into hers and kissing it. "Especially for an ‘autobiography.’”

133 notes · View notes

ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 years

Text

“Shine”- a Loki/Reader one-shot

You finally get a break from being a personal assistant at the Avengers Compound when you get cast in a leading role in the local community theater’s production of Beauty and the Beast. Loki, as familiar with the theater as he is, can’t help but get worried and jealous of your leading man, and he has an idea on how to keep an eye on you…

Pairing: Loki x Plus Size!Reader CW: Dumb, contrived fluff, Jealous!Loki, stage fright, body insecurity Word Count: 2.8k

“I can’t believe I got Belle!” you said excitedly, sitting around the conference table with Clint, Bruce, and Steve. “I didn’t think I did well at the callback.”

Not to mention, a woman my size isn’t usually considered princess material, you thought, not wanting to say as much out loud in front of three attractive men. The last time you were under a size-10 was in middle school, and these days you hovered between an 18 and a 20. You were usually cast as the villain or the comedic relief on stage because of it, but this director had apparently loved your voice enough that your dress size didn’t matter to her. Finally, your chance at a lead had come.

“I can’t believe you’re willing to drive forty-five minutes each way to sing and act in front of strangers,” Bruce said, half-jokingly. “But I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Y’know, I played Belle once,” Clint quipped. “But then Lila told me she was tired and wanted to switch the DVD to something else.”

“I have to admit, these Disney cartoon films weren’t the first things I took in after being awoken,” Steve added, “But congratulations. I’ll be sure to buy tickets.”

You beamed. “I hope you all come! In fact, I bet I can convince the box office to comp you all. The Avengers endorsing a small-town theater would be a boon for them.”

“The only problem is, we still need a Gaston,” you added. “We need to find someone fast, but it IS a small town, and no one has the vocal range, or the cockiness in his personality, needed for the part. We may not have a show without a Gaston.”

You heard heavy bootsteps come up behind you, and you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“A children’s show?” Loki scoffed. “Why would you want to see something as inane as a musical derived from a cartoon?”

Ever since you were hired, you’d had it pretty bad for Loki. He was smart, funny, and his long, bouncy black hair made you swoon. However, you’d stayed away under the assumption that Loki could have any beautiful woman he wanted, and someone like you would never live up to the lovers of his past. Loki must’ve taken offense to this, for when he grew wise to your reasons for keeping your distance, he immediately closed the gap and began flirting with you in the hallways. You thought he was mocking you, and so, in spite of your crush on him, you always brushed by him, never acknowledging him as anything more than an Avenger.

You groaned. “Piss off, even you can’t rain on my parade today!”

Loki pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat. “And does this mean you’ll be quitting?”

You shook your head. “I know that’s what you’re hoping for, but no, it’s just in the evenings four times a week until tech.”

“And how much are you being paid?” he added. “As a leading character, hopefully plenty?”

You rolled your eyes. “I thank you not to judge my hobby. And no, it’s not a paid engagement.”

“I don’t judge your choice of pastime,” Loki countered. “In fact, I patronized the performing arts on Asgard frequently. My qualm is that you are willing to drive a long way from here, four days a week, to work amongst strangers for no money whatsoever, only to expose yourself before a live audience, who could either love you or laugh you out of the house.”

You could feel his icy words begin to affect you.

“Hey, come off it, Laufeyson,” Steve snapped. “Why can’t you be happy for her?”

“It’s my dream role,” you added.

“I imagine, as a leading woman, you will be kissing a leading man as well? Kissing a stranger in public!” Loki sighed. “Theater people will do anything for a bit! It just doesn’t seem very becoming of a single woman.”

You grunted and shot out of your seat. “Becoming?! The only thing I’m BECOMING is agitated, Loki! Jesus Christ, do you always have to cast a cloud of negativity over every little good thing that happens to one of us?”

“No,” he said as if it were simple fact. “Only when it happens to you.”

You bit your lip. “If this is your idea of flirting, Loki, you need to take a lesson or two.”

You went to leave, deciding to take the rest of your lunch break in the lab. Before you left the conference room, you turned back to Loki. “And yes, I’m kissing someone. He’s rather handsome, too, and his voice could remove my panties faster than your magic ever could.”

“Ouch!” Steve laughed.

“Nice one,” Bruce added.

Clint leaned back and folded his arms, amused. “There isn’t enough aloe in the country to soothe that burn.”

Loki looked down at his lap, smarting at your insult as you skipped away in triumph. Even so, he was already concocting a plan. He just needed to rent a certain film to do some research first…

“—ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered…”

Three days later, you were dressed ready for a one-on-one dance workshop with the choreographer when you first entered the space that, two months from now, would be shining spotlights on you as you belted out the final notes to “Home.”

The house was already populated with other actors and tech crew working. The Narrator’s deep bass was chilling.

“Y/N!” chimed out Bri, the choreographer waiting for you. You smiled as she came up to you. “Glad you’re on time! Thanks for bringing character shoes.”

You shrugged. “About time I took them out for a spin again! Hey, any updates on the Gaston situation?”

Bri nodded excitedly. “Actually, the director’s meeting with a candidate right now. He sure looks the part, at least I think so! He’s just got to audition—”

As if on cue, a rich, handsome baritone started singing some tune that was unfamiliar to you. It was upbeat and robust, but it was also a sweet melody.

Oh no, I might end up falling for the bad guy in the end if this man gets the role, you thought, shuffling towards the left wing, where a piano was being kept, and where an accompanist was plunking out the song the mysterious singer was gifting your ears with.

You brushed aside one of the curtains, only to stop in your tracks as you processed that it was Loki himself, singing that incredible song. The director was standing behind the accompanist, looking very pleased with him. Your jaw hit the floor.

After the final bar, the entirety of the cast had gathered around the left wing, and they all erupted in applause and cheers.

Marie, the director, quickly scooted around the piano to shake Loki’s hand. “Welcome to the cast, Gaston! Everyone, we have a full cast!”

Fuck. A. Duck.

Everyone clapped again as Marie gently turned Loki around to face you. “And I believe you already know our Belle! You two probably know how to work together already! So, Mr. Loki, go see Adele for costuming before the end of tonight if you would? And Y/N,” she turned to you. “I changed my mind, I want you and Garrett doing Intimacy Coaching with Marty in the green room, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, trying to hide your burning desire to kick Loki in his sack. As soon as Marie left you to your own devices, Loki smirked and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Intimacy Coaching?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

“Don’t get your hopes up, perv,” you groaned. “It’s just boundaries and limit-testing. We kiss twice at the end of the show and it’s to make sure we’re cool with each other, that’s all.”

“I’m sure your partner wouldn’t agree,” Loki murmured.

“Okay, first of all, Garrett is gay. Gayer than Christmas. So that’s already one problem solved,” you told him. “Second, just…why? Why, Loki? Was tormenting me at work not enough to get you off anymore?”

“I thought someone needed to keep an eye on you,” Loki growled. “And it’s been nearly a millennium since I’ve graced a stage with my presence, so I—”

“—you are ridiculous, you know that? You SHOULD be playing LeFou!” you barked, spinning on your heels and walking away before you lost your cool entirely.

Loki followed you with his eyes, his shoulder dropping as you left the house. Damn, he thought. I’m losing my touch. Sighing, he went to go retrieve a script from the stage manager as Garrett, the actor playing Beast, was practicing the final notes of his big ballad, which seemed to perfectly reflect the feelings in Loki’s own heart in that moment:

“Hope I could have loved her and that she'd set me free But it's not to be If I can't love her…”

Tech Week arrived faster than you thought; you were having such a blast rehearsing for the role of a lifetime. What’s more, when word got out that an Avenger was in the leading cast, ticket sales boomed so much that the company had to rent out another week from the building for a second weekend of the run, which of course meant even more people would be seeing you.

You didn’t say anything more to Loki than was absolutely mandated by your respective parts in the show. Even at music rehearsal, you sang away from him. If you’d just turned your head a few times during a solo, you would have seen that Loki was genuinely impressed by your vocals, and couldn’t hide the admiring look on his face.

Admittedly, the stage fright was beginning to crawl up your back, especially now as you were in the green room with the costumer, getting the final touches finished on your ball gown. Sadly, no version of the iconic yellow gown fit your full body, so a replica in the same size and shape, but in a crystal blue color more akin to Cinderella, was made. You still looked incredible, at least according to the seamstress, but the fact that there was no costume in the yellow you’d dreamed of wearing as a girl made your insecurity only grow. Now showtime was beginning to feel less like a looming adventure and more like a ticking clock. Would the audience receive you for who you were as a singer-slash-actor? Or would no one be able to get past your looks. After all, it was right there in the song lyrics: “it’s no wonder her name means ‘beauty.’”

“Would you like to go out and show everyone?” asked the costumer. You looked at yourself one more time in the mirror, sighing and admitting to yourself that you really looked all right.

Picking up the hem of your billowing skirt, you went upstairs and onto the stage, where two stagehands were standing under spotlights, so that the tech director could focus them.

“Oh, never mind, let her stand under the light,” the tech master yelled from the booth above the back of the house as you stepped onto the stage. The stagehands moved aside for you, and you could hear several people gasping from the house.

“Y/N!” cried out Marie. “You’re stunning! Can you move well enough to dance?”

“Yes,” you said meekly, stepping into the light, feeling vulnerable.

“Geddit, Bella!” you could hear Garrett calling from the wings, and you looked over at him, dressed in his own royal-blue best.

“Do a slow turn,” the tech master asked. You obeyed. “The light reflects this color differently than I thought…”

After a few minutes of standing in the light, hearing the encouragement from your cast and crewmates, you were given permission to step aside and to get out of your dress and into dance gear for the top of the show, but as you swiftly walked back into the wings, you heard Loki call out from near the curtain.

“Beautiful,” he mused, admiring you. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him oddly.

You couldn’t help but fail to stifle a laugh at Loki’s appearance in his own costume: the standard candy-apple red jacket and black ponytail. He looked the part for certain, but seeing him in such a recognizable suit was strange, to say the least.

Loki smiled and looked down at himself. “I know. I should have asked to play the clock.”

You smiled. “You look like Gaston,” you said.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Should I consider that an insult?”

“Um….no,” you answered. “He’s supposed to be the physical ideal. Herculean, y’know?”

Loki took this as a signal to slowly close the gap between you, looking you in the eye. “I knew Heracles,” he said quietly. “He’s not exactly someone I’d invite to supper.”

“Look, Loki,” you began, “About what’s been going on between us, I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe it’s worth it to talk things through? After all—”

“—Y/N, I didn’t make my intentions fully clear before,” he said. “I did not take this part because I was worried that you’d be swept off your feet by another. Well, perhaps not entirely.”

“You didn’t? Could have fooled me,” you quipped.

“Ever since Stark hired you,” he continued, “I’ve held a bit of a torch for you. That said, my knowledge of Midgardian flirting rituals are limited. Once I thought my attempts to get your attention were yielding the opposite result to what I was hoping for, maybe I became a bit spiteful.”

“So you DID ask for the part to torture me?”

He quickly shook his head. “I wanted to protect you.”

“From whom?” you asked.

Loki sighed. “One thing about Midgard I DO know about is the shallowness of the people here. I know you are a lady of beauty, but the humans out there can’t seem to appreciate anything that falls outside their norm. I was afraid they would come after you.”

You looked away from Loki, blushing and hoping he wouldn’t notice. “I guess I appreciate the gesture, cavalier and outdated as it is.”

“But,” Loki continued, putting up a hand. “After hearing your dulcet tones sweetening the air in the room, and seeing you grace the stage with your body in that immense dress, I don’t see a need to protect you any more.”

You cocked your head. “No?”

Loki smiled and took your hand, gently starting to remove the opera glove on your arm. “You are talented and graceful. Any audience that would judge you for a large frame and not your skills are mad and not worthy to attend the performance. But, with what you’ve been bringing, I think worrying is no longer required.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“And,” Loki continued, removing the glove and bringing your bare hand to his lips, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “If you would forgive me for my previous misguided transgressions, I would be honored if you’d let me escort you to the after party on our final evening.”

The light kiss on your hand sent electricity up your arm and down your spine.

“You’d willingly be seen with me?” you asked. “And you’d be proud of me?”

Loki took your arm and pulled you in even closer, taking his hand and running it gently along your cheek. “My dear, I’d be a beast not to be.”

Opening night, you felt the icy chill of stage fright cement you off in the right wing as the recorded narration and the opening scene played out for the audience.

Loki was right behind you, confident in his stride as always.

“How do you feel, Belle?” he asked gently, leaning by your ear from behind you as you stood watching for your cue. You shook your head, your skin shaking with fear. “Darling, your skin is trembling.”

He caressed your neck with a hand, and somehow, it did the trick, stopping the shakes underneath your skin and warming you.

“You really think they’re going to like me?” you asked. “What of--?”

“—no what ifs, Y/N,” Loki demanded. “This is your finest hour,” Loki said, encouraging you with a firm-but-kind hand on the small of your back. “Act like it.”

Giving you one last kiss for luck on your cheek, he gestured to the stage, where the scene was going black and the narration dying. “I do believe that is your cue. Go. Shine.”

You felt a tingle of courage (and pleasure) milk the adrenaline from your brain, giving you the fuel that you needed to take your place for your grand entrance. Once you did, and once the first spotlight and twinklings of “Belle” emitted from the orchestra pit, the audience clapped for you.

You immediately blew them away with your opening notes, Loki’s own heart began to tremble with admiration (and affection) as he watched you.

“Little town…such a quiet village…”

@el-zef @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @mochie85 @toozmanykids @xorpsbane @huntress-artemis @itsybitchylittlewitchy @the-fantasy-loving-angel @moonlightreader649 @littlemarvelmenfan @ficitve-sl0th

#MCU #MCU Loki #MCU fanfiction #Loki fanfiction #Loki fluff #Beauty and the Beast #MCU Avengers #fluff fic #fanfiction #theater #marvel #loki x reader #plus-size reader #loki/reader #loki x reader fluff #enemies to lovers

129 notes · View notes

verytalented · 1 year

Note

Can I request a Yugyeom x reader we’re Yugyeom’s s/o is plus size and wants to aerate his clothes but can’t because they are so small on her and she gets insecure because the other boys girlfriends wear their clothes and she can’t you can decide on the ending 😄👌🏼 ( sorry for my bad English it’s not my first language)

I got you here you go

link

#got7 #female reader #plus-size #vanilla content #plus-size reader

8 notes · View notes

lxvvie · 26 days

Text

Couples Shit with Simon Riley (Part 2):

Having a giggle/chuckle fest almost every time you are intimate. It first happened at the beginning of your relationship when you would giggle every time you two kissed. It opened the floodgates, had let that nervous energy out, and Simon was right there chuckling with you. ("Heh—aw, fuck me.")

Swearing up and down that you're gonna fuck each other's brains out but as soon as you hit the bed, you and Simon are out like a light. The last time this happened, he was supposed to go down on you, but the next thing you know, you woke up to him fast asleep with his head on your stomach.

Kissing the bridge of his crooked nose and Simon turning into putty every time. Hell, kissing any and every dent, bruise, and scar, and making your man melt.

A nice round of horizontal tango turning into a cuddle session after you comforted Simon through a charley horse. Poor baby.

Initially making the telly watch you two make sex but turns out whatever you're watching was pretty decent after all so you guys are back to watching the telly again.

Getting hot and heavy one time but you were so intrigued with the mole you discovered on Simon's inner thigh that you spent the next half-hour or so trying to find other moles on his body.

Telling Simon that you "always wanted to do this" and when you get him hot, bothered, and hard, it turns out what you always wanted to do was measure him. His disappointment was immeasurable... even if he was interested to know the number.

Twinning in some way, shape, or fashion whenever you're out together.

Talking mad shit about his snoring but let him tell it, he doesn't say shit when you take up about 80% of the bed, covers, and sleep under him.

Speaking of talking shit, having disagreements like every couple does and when you go to bed, you're angrily cuddling each other. And yes, Simon still wants your kisses in the morning, even if you two are still mad at each other. Simon doesn't give a shit, you're still gonna love on him, dammit. And him on you.

Being mad with Simon when he arrived too late to get the creepy crawler that was harassing you. Harassing you by doing what it does best: be a creepy crawler. Simon tells you you'll have to conquer your fear one day. You tell him to conquer the couch tonight lmao.

Agreeing to disagree about the superior ice cream flavor in the house. It's too bad there's not any of his favorite ice cream in the freezer. There's some of yours, though. Why? You didn't get any because it was so superior that you wouldn't "dare sully it with your hands". Cue the judgemental stare and him eating YOUR ice cream afterward. Rude.

Scaring the ever-living shit out of Simon on the rare occasions he gets to sleep in. He woke up to you sitting up in bed with his mask and paint on. Oh, and he calls bullshit. He did not nearly fall out the bed. Nor did he jump. Okay, Simon.

Chilling and drinking with Simon. Finding out he gets hot and sweaty pretty easily and off comes his clothes. Waking up hungover the next morning and you're the big spoon to a naked and equally hungover Simon. Choosing to do fuck all but sleep it off that day.

Playfully calling or referring to him as the Missus, especially in front of your co-workers. When they finally meet Simon and ask him who he is, he replies in pure deadpan Ghost fashion: "The Missus".

7K notes · View notes

swordsandholly · 14 days

Text

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.”

3K notes · View notes

suguruplsr · 18 days

Text

NEED THAT DICKOLOGY!

— fucking your mentor?

geto suguru x fem! virgin reader , v random + pure filthy smut , oral (f) , protected sex ! , overstimulation , folding position , bar restroom scene > car scene , face riding , fingering , hair pulling , choking + spitting n mouth , not proofread + rushed so lmk what i missed ! 🪐

⸝⸝ psychology.. the study of the mind. a beautiful study you’ve always found yourself interested in, along with the long hour videos of interrogations of criminals. so having a mentor for the job you’re aiming for as a criminal psychologist, is very helpful.

like when he takes you out to dinners with large politicians to study their behaviors. not everyone’s a good person, he reminds you.

not everyone’s a good person, when suguru’s looks fucking edible with his dress shirts and slacks, always leaving out a button undone and his beautiful hair draping around him like a water fall. when he looks like a trap you’d love to walk into.

you’d do anything to imprint the image of his stupidly handsome casual+formal look in your mind, the one you love to imagine him wearing when you’re thinking about him taking you on his office desk, so why not take him out for once?

who knew you’d get so lucky..

“we’re still in public,” suguru huffs with a smile, clearly teasing you with that glimmer in his eyes. ignorant, you continue to kiss against his lips, eager and hungry to the male pressed against your body in the shammy bar restroom. “please.” you beg, nearly whining and mewling for suguru with your drawled voice.

you lick at the lingering liquor transmitted from his lips. his hands gripping your waist. his cologne filling your nostrils. his stupid smile. why did your stupid mentor have this— even more stupid, affect on you?

“please what?” “i don’t know suguru,” you impatiently bite back, frowning at his deep seductive chuckle. the kind that pulls victims like you into his aura. into a man who’ll put you into a trance. which it does, “i just need you, please, touch me suguru..”

suguru lets out a deep sigh at your words, eyes speaking louder than his unspoken words. but you can feel his growing erection against your thigh, and you’d gladly point it out if he wasn’t looking at you like he needs you just as much as you need him.

poor girl, he thinks. one of his hands on your waist trail up. his right one, going up to your throat and giving it a comfortable squeeze. he holds you like you’re nothing, and it makes you want him even more, stomach turning with need as he tilts your head back.

soon he’s attacking your exposed neck— and you’d think he’s a vampire with a how the noises of his lips on your neck fill up the claustrophobic atmosphere. his kisses form a line directly up the middle of your neck, leaving you sensitive once they drop down to your cleavage. and suguru almost has half the mind to pull off your clothing with his teeth, choosing to suckle at the peeking skin of your breast that the sleeveless didn’t hide. “touch you hm? how much? just something like this or..” suguru’s laugh is hidden in your skin once his fingers slipped between the slit of your dress, feeling the damp spot on your panties.

the yellow blinking lights above you do no better to help your failing and swirling head. a mixture of alcohol and lust overtaking your senses— and suguru geto himself. one of his large fingers find your clit way too quick, but it’s as expected of a man who exhibits a sleek ambience of sexiness. he presses the bud through the ruined fabric, “or you want your pussy stuffed full of me. you probably haven’t been fucked good for a while— no offense there..” suguru rubs the area in tight circles, catching how your breath hitches, hands immediately latching to his button up shirt. he doesn’t care for the wrinkles, or how he can feel your nails slowly dig into the shirt, probably forming crescents into the skin underneath.

you’re just too cute.

“i’ve always admired how determined you are, such a smart girl huh? so focused on studies you don’t even have time to touch yourself. but it’s okay baby, you got me now.” you almost feel undermined, despite his words. the way he ignores your pathetic whines and whimpers with each second of his exploration around your cunt..it’s all too condescending.

“i’ll fill that cunt of yours with my fingers first, shit— you can probably only take one.” suguru’s observation is made when the pad of a finger doesn’t slip into your hole easily. your panties were forced to the side already and your cunt wet against his palm. the man kneels, sacrificing his expensive slacks to meet your darling pussy face to face. the psychologist pushes your dress up, to which you get the memo, holding the blue dress and bunching it up to your waist.

suguru holds your panties to the side again, squishing it with a single hand and his thumb kneading the skin of one of your thighs. “s’ fucking beautiful down here..” he whispers, speaking to the mess in front of him.

if only you knew how his mouth watered, drool almost coming up and his muscles fighting with each fiber of his body. he just wants to attach his mouth onto your pussy, let all of your juices and wetness fall into his mouth rather then let it uncomfortably mesh together between your thighs.

let him relieve it.

but, ever the man, suguru stays true to his words, licking his lips unconsciously and bringing a hand up to your folds. yet, unlike his usual patience and prudence, he’s quickly forcing one of his fingers into your cunt. your body jerks, “o-oh. wait! please! oh fuck..” you blabber off into a tandem, curses leaving you while his finger works its way into your virgin cunt. an abnormal feeling.

“already falling apart baby. not even moving it, c’mon, just a bit longer. we don’t want you to get dumbed out at some bar, right baby? not being in the right state of mind is dangerous..” caution is nonexistent in his tone, more-so mocking as he moves closer and lifts your left leg onto his shoulder. you know what he’s implying, his words are promises to how he’s going to break you and leave your mind a mess.

is it really sickening how you clench around his finger just from the thought? you already have him here between your legs and yet, he still keeps you on your toes with each damning word that leaves his mouth.

“let’s loosen you up a bit, or maybe you want some extra work with my tongue?” suguru tsks, unapologetically moving his finger inside you, thrusting it slowly before pulling it out completely to add another, “maybe let me spit on your sloppy pussy and treat it like a whore?” you mewl as he gives your clit a pitiful hit of his palm, then massaging it between his fingers, rolling the bud before slipping two fingers in with ease.

it’s all too much.

“i.. i don’t care, jus’ wanna cum— as long as it’s from you sugu..” you whined, looking down at him with tears filling your eyes, giving little sniffles from how his fingers nudge where you need him most, you just want to grab at him, pull at his hair as he fucks your pussy with his fingers.

suguru hisses, leaving your pussy with a kiss on your clit, “we’re getting the fuck outta here baby, not gonna fuck you here.” and as annoyed as you want to be for having to wait, you follow his words reluctantly, quickly making yourself as presentable as you possible could before he’s dragging you away.

you found yourself in multiple positions in the more comfortable sleek pink BMW— regardless of the limited space in the black interior. you continue your heated session in the stuffy backseat, ridding yourself of that bunchy dress and trying your best to get rid of his clothes before you were put in the position you’re in now.

“ride me baby, keep this pussy on my face, and don’t you dare fuckin’ hover.” suguru’s demand makes you bite your lip, crawling over on top of him and briefly resting on his now bare chest to admire him. his usual put together look was ruined by you. the best you could. perhaps the ideals he had promised to you, reflected onto him. his upper body is covered in stains of your gloss, mixed with your brown lip liner. and the cresent’s of your nails and purple hickies are only more decorative additions that stained his skin in the hours of the night.

suguru’s long hair is sprawled underneath him, undone once you had mentioned wanting to use it as leverage. and who is he to complain about your wishes?

“do you really wanna do this? you don’t have to..” your energy now is a stark contrast from before, unsettling hesitation within you as his arms wrap around your thighs, tugging you forward. a slick of your essence drags along his chest, a guttural sound escaping suguru from the warmth of it on him. “do i need to restate your words my love? i’d be happy to brag all about how you claimed to need me. especially when i can tell right now..” suguru scoffs, and you’re quickly lifted onto his face without warning, his mouth widened and is forcefully attached to your cunt.

the way he eat dines on your pussy is like a man starved. from the tight grip of his hands to the way his cock strains so uncomfortably in his pants. his tongue moves like a snake, flexing and gathering every single drop of you on it, then flicking into his mouth with a groan. suguru savored your taste each and every time, slowly rocking you onto his mouth until you were completely riding him with little cries and moans of your own, tugging his long soft strands.

your hands would fly to the handle of the back seat door, holding the black leather as you came or squirted. after so long, you never knew which it was— but you knew the man underneath you would eat it all up in mere seconds, his thirst for you never ending.

after so long, suguru had layed you back, his hands ghosting over the skin of your stomach with your legs sprawled around him. it wasn’t his ideal choice of scenery for the taking of your virginity, knowing it’s something so cherished. and of course, he’d want your first time, and your first time with him, to be more special than fucking you into the rough fabric of your back seats.

his girl is just so fucking needy.

“hah! ha— sug! um.. fuck you feel soo good!!” you nearly scream, voice breaking and your eyes rolled back.

suguru’s cock is stuffed inside your pussy, the only thing keeping him from your gummy walls was a condom around his dick. yet he hits all the right spots without hindrance, the thick member filling and molding you with each of his pounding thrusts. “yeahhh bet i do— clenchin’ around me baby, shit..” the long haired male groans, his arms are around your thighs— his favorite place obviously, not sure to keep you spread or to push your thighs up and fold you dumb.

rather, enjoy the creamy sight of your pussy around him, or fuck you how he wants to?

he chooses the latter, folding you easily and greeting you with a sloppy kiss that swallows down your moans. his thrusts are more methodical, but they have so much force, nudging your sweetest spot and leading you to cloud nine. his balls, slap against you ass loudly with each one thrust, stringed wet with your previous cum. suguru loves to feel it, the absolute mess between you.

“cum. go ahead princess, give it to me, don’t want you to hold back— not at all.” suguru encourages, pausing your wet and spit inducing make out session with a more firmer kiss on your lips. you whine, holding onto the broad escape of his shoulders, adding more scratches down to his back and clawing with each second you’re brought closer to your orgasm. “o-okay sugu.. g’nna cum..” you can barely speak, voice raspy and only getting worse with a thick hand wrapped around your neck. he really wants you gone, to let your consciousness float away and fuck you till you’re incoherent of even breathing.

at least that’s what it feels like once your eyes are rolling back, body stuttering as he fucks you through the impending feeling while a nasty glob of spit is forced down your throat which cause you to release around him suddenly. it’s too good, unable to feel anything, but feeling everything, at the same time.

youre awaken with his hot load shot out onto your stomach, tossing the soiled condom somewhere and jerking himself off to the sight of your cock-drunk state. through your blurry eyes, you see how his muscles contract and react, his head tilting back and his cock eventually giving all that’s left in little spurts. suguru’s mumbling to himself, probably things he’d say to you if he had came in your ex-virgin pussy.

“baby.. fuck.. you with me or dumbed out? seems i kept my promise, hm?” not trusting your voice, you nod obediently, closing your eyes in content as he sighs. “shit, lets get you cleaned up, then i’ll drive.” suguru grimaces, pulling you up to sit back, smiling from your whine of dissatisfaction. “m’tired sugu”

“me too sweetheart, me too,” suguru hushes, leaning into a soft kiss that only makes you want to fall asleep, sighing against his lips, “ you did so good princess, let me take care of you..”

3K notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

Text

Here’s Your Perfect — Prologue

The billowing skirts of the guests that had come and gone from the halls had been delicately crafted and created with ease and lightness that made those same women look as if they were physically floating across the detailed floor. You had watched them with enticing envy for their ability to steal glances from across the room and sweep hearts out from men’s chests with little thought. It was with that kind of envious draw that made you look at the dress you were wearing with subjugation.

There was no fine lace, there were no deep cuts and details that would have accentuated your waist, the only added benefit you had for being a woman with greater curves and density was the curvature of your breasts that were held by reinforced boning channels that had felt as if they were going to steal your breath.

You were hardly the woman any man had wanted and when it came to trying to find suitors for yourself, your father would have rather found another man for your brother to marry than yourself.

“We will find someone.” In the ways of this bitter trial to find a future husband, your mother and father had focused on pawning you off to men who would get a healthy sum of money, just to take you off their hands. “There’s plenty of men who are looking for…someone…like you.”

Your mother had declared herself a woman of intrigue and beauty, a woman who had stolen your father’s heart with enough power to make him leave his first wife for her. And their marriage had resulted in two children, your brother and yourself.

Unlike you, your mother was a beautiful and charming woman with a slender waist and the youthfulness that still clung to her despite being upwards of age. She conducted herself with an air of sophistication anywhere she had went and with her charm had come a great social circle that granted both her and your father with acquaintances.

Your brother was just as charming and just as attractive as both your parents were, and with his charm and charisma had come a great number of women fawning over him. He had an air of bravado and witticism that followed him, drawing many people to himself with easement.

You were the odd one out, you were the one who had seemingly not belonged to your family.

You were a woman who was quiet, demure yes, but only because you were made to be. You would never willingly attend parties for the sake of being social, you would rather spend hours in the library reading or in the garden admiring the beauty of nature. You had taken it upon yourself to be your own entertainment and friend.

“There are so many beautiful women here,” your brother had beamed when he arrived at the party, eager to spend the late hours of the party tucked away in some corner with a maid’s nipples in his mouth, “and then there’s you.”

Your hands ran traced the corset of your dress, eyes sweeping across the floor. No one had sought you out to dance, no one had sought you out for conversations or marriage.

You would be doomed to the brothel the moment your mother and father had gotten sick of you.

“No one wants a woman like you.”

Courtships and arranged marriages were all proper society had known, women who had no prospects were what the brothels craved.

“Your mother wanted me to inform you,” your father cornered you at the ball, his eyes spiteful and narrowed, “that we’ve both secured you in a marriage. Two poor fools have declared their intent to marry you.”

“Me?”

“A dowry was declined.” Your father seemed relived, and then boastful. “The men have given us a great sum to get rid of you.”

“Father-“

“You won’t be a whore at a brothel, but a whore in the marriage bed. Congratulation, daughter. There was a purpose for you after all.”

• Silverfox or childhood friends? • who do you want to see in this series?

#plus-size!Reader #plus-size reader #plus size!reader drabble #historic au #historic au series #here’s your perfect #here’s your perfect series #here’s your perfect prologue #here’s your perfect masterlist

116 notes · View notes

s1ckh1mb0 · 4 months

Text

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

4K notes · View notes

shaisuki · 10 months

Text

“c'mere megumi. i know you're tired.”

gojo calls out to him but the boy ignores him and continued to walk.

“he won't satoru. you traumatized him.” you quipped at him.

teleportation is fun and all but not to a fourth-grader megumi who got almost dropped mid-air from the teleportation skill gojo have, only to catch him mid-air before he truly drops.

“i catched him before he fell.” the white-haired male pouts.

“catched him before he fell?” scoffing at him. “he's a child, satoru. think before you do something to him. you almost endangered him with your antics and you can't do whatever you please when you want. you're an ass and you know it.” you spat at him and gojo pouts and he's like a child kneeling down while being scolded.

you crouched down to meet the height of megumi. patting his head and you began to speak in a soft voice. “i'll carry you, okay? i promise no funny business.” drawing a cross in your chest to convince megumi. the poor child is sleepy and fighting the urge to not sleep caused by the earlier wrongdoing of an pre-adult.

deciding to trust you, megumi comes closer to you and puts his arms around your neck before carrying his small body in front of you. your arms tucked under his thighs and it turns to snuggle you. his jaw in your shoulder.

megumi blankly stares at the adult behind you. immature, he thought but his eyes are getting heavy and sleep is calling to him. before his eyes closed he reminds himself not to be carried by that weird man.

it took a few seconds before the child snuggling in you fell asleep. you can tell from the lack of movements of his body and the small snores. patting his back before continuing to walk.

gojo followed you. he felt bad and it was like a punch to him in the gut when you scold him but he likes it. loves it when your cheeks puff and your eyes rolling at him in annoyance.

stopping at a bakery to get a few sweets to satisfy his sweet tooth and for the siblings to eat back home. you continued to walk, enjoying the little peace and quiet before a old lady approached at you three.

“oh my! what a cute family.” the old lady commented and your eye twitched at the comment. giving the lady a smile before briefly bowing.

taken a back at the sudden statement before gojo burst out in a laughter. “she called us a family, (y/n).”

“ha-ha-ha. funny.” you dryly responds to him and adjusting your arm to make megumi comfortably settle in you. the child is completely passed out in your grasp and you can't help but to kiss megumi's wild hair in which megumi groans before going back to sleep.

“aww, come on. i didn't mean it, okay?” gojo whines, blocking your way as he walked backwards to meant he really is sorry.

“okay.” you replied back to him. “just don't do it again.”

“okay!” he beams up and once again silence filled in the long way of walking.

dusk is beginning to settle down and the sky turns into orange. the sunlight giving it's final rays before the night falls.

“kind of you to take them both, satoru.” you break the silence and gojo hums. thinking about something.

despite gojo's stubbornness and his lack of tact in things, you like that he's willing to help the children to have a roof over their head and spoiled them like it's his own. even preventing megumi to be taken away from his clan and let him have a normal childhood with his sister.

“say, (y/n). what if we adopt them both?” gojo asks you.

“we? and adopt?” gojo nods. waiting for your answer. “i think it's fine. these two will have two guardians to look them over if the other one's not around and in case something's happen to one of us.”

“don't say that, (y/n).”

you raised an eyebrow at him and smiled.

“it's inevitable, satoru. in this line of work we have.” you said to him. referring how dangerous the jujutsu society is and you'll never know what the future may hold.

“i'll protect you. us”" his bright blue eyes peeking through his dark glasses with sincerity. looking at you and megumi sleeping in your arms.

“satoru....” you call him and his eyes full of sincerity.

“that's nice, satoru.” you smile at him but the expression in his face is anticipating something more.

“i know you will, satoru.” and he grins. pressing a tender kiss in your forehead and patting megumi's head. “stop that, sato. you'll wake him up and don't get too sappy with me. it's not you.” he pouts at that but kisses you again.

he can't wait to be with you forever.

#꩜ ⋮ shai's thirst/drabbles⸝⸝#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #jjk megumi #child megumi #x reader

7K notes · View notes

fatecantstopme · 4 months

Text

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."

Loved this fic? Support my work by buying me a coffee 💜

#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

3K notes · View notes