#and then at least two of his 'always up for it' are fat women but one mostly being very femme and the other very butch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gubsbuubs · 8 months

Text

Friendly Cupid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, slow burn? smut, creampie.

Summary: Despite their closeness, Y/N and Spencer's relationship always stayed within the bounds of friendship. That's until a very fateful Valentine's Day, when a friend decided to play cupid.

A/N: Hi my loves! The "Friends to Lovers" trope won the poll, thanks to your votes. Any thoughts or suggestions for what's next? I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

My requests are open!

English is not my first language.

The team basked in a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as we settled into our seats on the jet, heading back home after successfully closing another case. The subtle hum of the engines seemed to echo the collective satisfaction that enveloped us.

We had just finished a case where the unsub targeted individuals with a deep passion for books. Each victim was chosen based on their preference for a particular literary work. The killer orchestrated scenarios inspired by famous novels, challenging us to decipher the connections between the crime scenes and the literary references.

From my seat across from his, at the meeting table in the Nevada police department's, I observed Spencer in awe. His deep concentration, the way his fingers danced over the pages, and the thoughtful furrow of his brow—he looked so handsome, absorbed in the task of perusing a pile of books that would have taken me at least two years to read.

I cherished watching Spencer at work; his intellect, passion, and dedication were captivating. There was an undeniable admiration that had grown within me as we spent countless hours in shared pursuit of justice.

I vividly recall the first time our connection became something more. After a grueling case left him drained, slowly succumbing to fatigue, his head found refuge on my shoulder during the flight back. It was an unexpectedly intimate encounter—his tousled hair brushing against my neck and the faint scent of lemon shampoo lingering close to my nose. Though innocent, the closeness left an indelible mark, and often I think about the weight of his head resting against me.

Fast forward to another sweet moment; it was forever engraved in my mind when I first noticed that he cared for me. Spencer and I were staked out in a park that an unsub used to frequent in Boston. The autumn winds whispered through the colorful foliage, and the chilling breeze made my arms shiver. It was getting cold, and I scolded myself for not bringing my jacket. Spencer, ever observant, noticed how I hugged myself for warmth and asked, "Hey, are you cold?"

"What? No, it's just a bit chilly, but I can take it," I chuckled, my teeth almost clacking against each other as I shivered.

"I can clearly see you're cold, Y/N."

"Okay, fine. I may be a little bit cold; we left in a hurry, and I forgot my jacket," I admitted.

Without hesitation, he took off his FBI jacket and handed it to me. "No, Spencer, I can't accept this. If it's cold for me, it will be cold for you too," I protested.

"Compared to men, women have less muscle, which is a natural heat producer. They also have 6 to 11 percent more body fat than men, which keeps the inner organs toasty but blocks the flow of blood carrying heat to the skin and extremities." He started to ramble while holding the jacket in front of me.

So I gave up, not wanting to hear him talk about this for the rest of the night, and accepted his offer. As the jacket touched my body, I could still feel his warmth, and the scent of his perfume enveloped me. His tall stature made the jacket too big for me, and I struggled with the oversized jacket's zipper. Looking down as I tried to zip it, I felt his hand on mine. "Hey, come here! Let me help you." I looked up to meet his beautiful brown eyes as he held his gaze on mine. His gentle hands zipped up the jacket. "There you go; now you'll feel warm," he added with a sweet smile.

We had a connection—an undeniable force drawing us together. For example, with Spencer and I, the casual "sorry, Y/n, passing through" was never just a phrase; it accompanied the gentle press of his hand on my side.

When shared laughter ensued, it almost always led to a playful nudge against my shoulder, a light and affectionate gesture.

And there were times when Spencer would reach out with a reassuring touch on my arm during tense discussions or a challenging moment. His fingertips, feather-light yet grounding, conveyed a silent reassurance that we were in this together.

I’d like to think that our connection extended beyond the realm of solving cases and catching serial killers, finding roots in those quiet spaces between words, because unspoken sentiments resonated louder than any conversation we had.

These simple and innocent touches left me curious, especially considering Spencer's general aversion to physical contact, often sidestepping handshakes. Each touch, though understated, carried a significance that lingered, prompting me to ponder the depths of our friendship.

Yet, somehow, we were never more than friends. Perhaps because of the lingering fear of disrupting the delicate balance we had, I hesitated to act upon the emotions that quietly blossomed within.

So, Spencer and I stayed comfortably within the boundaries of friendship, keeping the unexplored depths of our connection confined to the realm of what-ifs and maybes.

Rather than risking it all, I chose the simplicity of silent observation and opted for the quiet intimacy of just watching him while he worked. There was an unspoken fascination with witnessing Spencer's mind at play.

The breakthrough came when Spencer uncovered a pattern in the victims' book preferences, his face lighting up at the realization. The Unsub, it seemed, orchestrated his killings based on the ominous narratives found within these chosen novels. Each victim unwittingly acquired a literary prelude to their tragic end as the killer turned the pages of their lives into a haunting script of their own demise.

With this knowledge, we were able to predict the next target and swoop in just in time to prevent another tragedy. The final confrontation took place in an abandoned library, where the unsub attempted to stage his twisted interpretation of a tragic love story. With swift and coordinated action, we thwarted his plans and brought justice to the victims.

So, with the unsub's twisted plans foiled, we found solace in the fact that we had saved the couple from his dark intentions.

Amidst the chatter on the jet, the mood shifted to a more relaxed and celebratory tone. The weight of the case had dissipated, replaced by a comforting conversation and shared laughter.

"Hey, Prentiss, any hot plans for Valentine's Day? Morgan teased, giving Emily a mischievous grin.

"Valentine's Day? Seriously, Morgan? After all the chaos of this week, I just want a quiet night with a good bottle of wine," Emily responded, leaning further into her seat.

"Valentine's Day is this weekend, and I completely forgot! Will and I will have to just stay at home," JJ confessed, sounding a bit bummed.

"Well, Beth and I will be taking Jack to the cinema to watch a movie. Would you like us to also take Henry so you and Will can have a date?" Hotch offered.

"Oh, Hotch, that’s very sweet. If you don't mind, yes! We would really appreciate it," JJ replied gratefully.

"What about you, pretty boy? Got any plans?" Morgan playfully mussed up Spencer's hair.

"Well… I…” He cleared his throat. "I, um… I actually do have a date," Spencer stammered, his face immediately turning a bright shade of red.

"A date, Reid? Come on, spill the details. What's her name?" Morgan proceeded to probe.

“It's a blind date, so I'd rather not jinx it by talking about it.” Spencer spoke with a faint smile.

As I learned about Spencer's date, I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the sheer coincidence—both of us had blind dates on Valentine's Day. What were the odds?

Then it hit me, and as much as I tried to dismiss it, there was a subtle pang of envy that Spencer also had a date. I understood the irony of feeling jealous while I was also going on a blind date this weekend.

Earlier that week, my friend from the previous division I worked in—International Affairs and Counterterrorism—set me up with a guy. According to him, this guy was perfect for me—smart, kind, and seemingly attuned to my taste. So, I've decided to give it a shot and go on this date. It was Valentine's Day after all. So yes, I was also going on a date, and I acknowledged how contradictory it sounded to feel envious of Spencer's date. Nevertheless, a twinge of jealousy lingered.

Yet, in the grand scheme, I genuinely wished for Spencer to have a fantastic time this weekend. After all, we were nothing more than friends, and his happiness was something I truly valued.

Morgan, with a playful glint in his eye, turned his attention to me and chimed, "Alright, Reid's stepping into the world of romance, so what's the deal, Y/N? Any Valentine's plans on your agenda?"

"No, I don't really have plans. It'll be a normal weekend for me." I spoke with a smile, gently sidestepping Morgan's inquiry. I preferred to keep certain aspects of my life private, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Saturday night came around pretty quickly.

I chose a simple red dress and black stilettos for the occasion—it was Valentine's Day, after all, and opportunities for dates were not a frequent occurrence for me. Since joining the FBI, I haven't had many opportunities to look like this. Typically reserved for pantsuits and white shirts, it was refreshing to see myself look so put-together.

What awaited me on this evening could be a mistake or, just maybe, the start of something unexpectedly wonderful. Despite the flutter of reservations in my stomach, I resolved to push through the uncertainty.

Before stepping inside, I paused at the entrance, reminding myself to take a deep breath; it was just a date after all—no need to be nervous. The restaurant, my absolute favorite, bore the name "Bella Luna," renowned for its delectable pastas. It had become my go-to spot for a delightful meal, offering a perfect blend of cozy ambiance and culinary excellence.

My friend, the mastermind behind this blind date, had given the gentleman a specific directive: reserve the table with a view of the river—my favorite spot in the house. This strategic move not only catered to my preferences but also had the practical benefit of simplifying the identification of my date.

As I stood by the entrance, lost in my thoughts, I almost jumped, caught by surprise, as someone bumped into me. "Hey, where were you goi..."

“Y/N! Hi!” His eyes were widening with surprise as he recognized me.

“Spencer! Hi! I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing. Didn’t you say you didn’t have plans?” He asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Yeah!" I laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I, uh, decided to give in to the Valentine's Day spirit, I suppose." Spencer chuckled softly, his warm demeanor putting me at ease.

"How are you anyway, feeling good about your blind date?" I inquired, genuinely curious about his well-being.

"To be honest," he admitted, "I'm actually kind of nervous."

"What? Why?"

He hesitated before sharing, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why wouldn't she like you?" The words left my mouth so fast, a testament to my incomprehension of how someone could not like the guy standing before me.

"Because I'm weird. I slouch; my hair's too long; my tie's perpetually crooked." His words were almost a whisper, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

I smiled softly, reaching my hands to fix his crooked tie. "Here, your tie is now straight. And Spencer, you're not weird; you look really good tonight. I think you'll do very well."

He smiled softly, thanking me, and said, "Well, you do too! You look very beautiful tonight, Y/N.” My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. He blushed slightly before adding, “I should really get going. I don't want to be late for my date.”

“Go get him, tiger,” I encouraged with a smile as I stayed behind, watching him leave.

Fuck, he looked so good; his dark blue suit fit him in all the right places. Though not a radical departure from his usual attire, the effort put into his appearance fueled my jealousy. The realization that he was heading on a date with someone else lingered in my thoughts, intensifying the sting.

To make matters worse, we´re at the same restaurant, and I would have to endure the evening watching him, attempting to engage in my own date while inwardly yearning for his company.

The challenge would be to keep my eyes from straying towards him, wishing the girl by his side was me.

Shaking my head to dispel thoughts of Spencer, I took a deep breath before entering the restaurant. I traversed the restaurant, consciously keeping my head down until I arrived at the table with the view of the river, and it was only then that I allowed myself to look around.

To my surprise, when I looked at the table, I found Spencer sitting there.

Confusion clouded my mind as I stood there, staring at Spencer, seated at the table, facing away from me. Disbelief hung in the air like a heavy fog. This had to be a misunderstanding; it couldn't be Spencer. My friend John specifically directed the blind date; he arranged for me to sit at this table, but Spencer was here.

The possibilities raced through my mind like a whirlwind of uncertainty. Did the receptionist make an error? Could there be another table with a view of the river where they seated my actual blind date? Could this guy look a lot like Spencer from behind? My thoughts spiraled into a maze of questions, each more perplexing than the last. I was caught in a web of doubt, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Could Spencer and John know each other? How would they even know each other? Although we all work at the FBI, they work in totally different divisions.

As I approached the table, just a few feet away, I confirmed my suspicion: it was him—Spencer. Even though he wasn't facing me, I recognized his curls, almost catching a whiff of his distinctive perfume. It was undeniably him. How did this happen?

My heels clacked on the ground, a sound that drew Spencer's attention. His gaze shifted, expecting another woman, preparing for a polite greeting. "Hi, nice to meet y…” His words now caught in his throat.

As I pulled the chair and sat down in front of him, he halted his movements, confusion etched on his face. It seemed like he was ready to stand up, perhaps shake hands, and greet another person. But as he realized it was me, his expression transformed into one of utter bewilderment.

"Y/N, what is going on?" Spencer asked, his face a mix of confusion and concern as he settled back into his chair.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "How do you know John Watters, Jonathan Watters?" I questioned, peering at him with an intense gaze.

"What? What do you mean, Y/N?" Spencer replied, clearly confused by the sudden turn of events.

"Spencer, how do you know John?" I repeated, my eyes locked onto his, seeking an explanation for the unexpected twist in our supposed blind date.

"John Watters and I play chess in the park. We met a couple of months ago, and now we play together regularly," Spencer explained, his confusion still evident in his expression. “Y/N, what is going on?” he added, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Spencer…” I began, a faint smile creeping onto my face as it reddened, my hands immediately meeting my face. It dawned on me; John had set us both up, and it seemed he might not have known Spencer and I already knew each other.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes widening. He seemed to have a eureka moment. "Do you know him?" he asked, his tone still a little unsure. I only nodded, my faint smile hidden behind my fingers, covering how embarrassed I was.

Then Spencer fired questions left and right. "What? How do you know John?” He set you up with me. Like… did you know? You wanted to have a date with me and asked him to do it? I mean, I have talked…." He was blushing like crazy, so I decided to interrupt.

"No, No... I mean, yes, but..." I stumbled on my words as I tried to answer. "I do know John, yes, but I didn't know he set us up... But yes, I wouldn't... I wouldn’t mind a date with you." The last part slipped my tongue way too quickly, the confession escaping my lips.

"Are you serious? A date with me?" He sounded excited but mostly surprised.

"I mean, we're already here, so we might as well do it. He clearly thought we were a good pair," I offered, keeping my head down. My face felt hot, and I was smiling like a stupid little kid.

“I can't believe this; I can't believe this is happening. You don't know how long I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you out, and now this is happening." His head fell back as he inhaled deeply. “Is this real? Can you pinch me, Y/N? You look so pretty, so beautiful. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must be dreaming." His excitement was palpable, and his gaze was fixed on me with a mix of joy and disbelief.

“You're definitely awake; this is real!” I reached out my hand to him and held his hand. “See, this is real—a very strange coincidence, but undeniably real.”

The evening unfolded gracefully. Spencer took my recommendation, and we ordered the Carbonara, complemented by a shared bottle of Cabernet. I couldn't help but savor the moments when our laughter harmonized, creating a melody of shared joy. A subtle warmth spread across our faces, not just from the ambiance but also from the wine. Our laughter became a touch more carefree, perhaps a little tipsy, adding an extra layer of delight to the evening. The restaurant seemed to fade into the background as we continued to enjoy each other’s company.

As the plates were cleared away and the restaurant emptied out, Spencer's gaze remained locked on mine. We sat in silence for a little bit as a warm feeling settled, enjoying the lingering aura of the evening. Spencer smiled softly, leaning closer to me and taking my hands in his. "Let me walk you home," he suggests. "It's a beautiful night, and I'd love to spend more time with you."

As we stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights played on the surface of the river, casting a gentle glow on our path. Spencer and I began to stroll along the riverbank towards my apartment. The soft murmur of the water provided a soothing background to our conversation, and amidst our banter, our attention was drawn to an old lady with a basket of roses.

"Hello there," the old lady said, greeting Spencer with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you like to buy a rose for your beautiful girlfriend?"

"Oh, but I'm not his girlf..." Before I could clarify, Spencer, wearing a confident smile, chimed in, "Yet..." He told the sweet lady "So yes, I would love to buy her a rose." He turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

The old lady chuckled warmly. "Here you go, young man, a rose for your not-yet-girlfriend. May your love bloom as beautifully as this rose," she said, handing the vibrant flower to Spencer.

I thanked him as he handed me the rose, appreciating the beautiful gesture. We then continued our walk, the soft glow of the city lights guiding our way.

"So, a rose for the 'not-yet-girlfriend'," I teased, a playful smile on my lips.

"Well," he began, "I thought a rose might be a good start, but who's to say what the future holds?"

"Fair enough," I replied, a teasing glint in my eye. "A rose is a good start but what's your plan for the rest of our 'not-yet' journey?"

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about this," he began, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I won't disappoint you, that's for sure."

I felt a subtle warmth spread—a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "Is that so?" I replied with a playful glint in my eye. "I guess I'll have to wait and see what surprises you have in store.”

As we continued our walk to my apartment and reached my doorstep, the night seemed to invite us to linger a little longer.

"I had a lot of fun, Y/N. I regretted every moment we weren't doing this sooner," Spencer confessed.

"I loved this night too, Spencer," I began, a genuine warmth in my voice. "This is not how I imagined my night ending at all; I definitely never expected you to be my blind date."

"I just can't believe this happened. Who would have thought you would go on a date with me?" His soft hand reached for mine; his touch was warm and inviting.

"Well, Jonathan apparently did," I laughed, the surreal nature of the evening sinking in.

"Of course, he thinks I want to date you. I talk about you all the time..." Spencer shyly admitted, his gaze avoiding mine.

"Wait! You talk about me?" My voice lifted with happiness.

"Well, I just tell him about my day... and how I love being by your side. You're so understanding, always listening to me. Your attentive gaze makes my heart skip a beat, and your eyes, Y/N, they sparkle so beautifully. And your smile—oh, it's the prettiest I've ever seen." His words were tender, and his brown eyes never left mine. "Jonathan never told me he knew you; I guess he sensed I was too scared to act upon my feelings and took matters in to his own hands." He chuckled. "And now you're here, and we went on this date—a wonderful date, may I add—and you look absolutely stunning."

As Spencer's words lingered in the quiet night, I felt a soft warmth enveloping us and an unspoken connection deepening.

"I would really to kiss you." He whisperd. His gaze held a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability, mirroring the sentiments that resonated within me.

"You know what, Spence?" I began, a gentle smile playing on my lips. "I'd really like that too."

His eyes brightened with joy, and as if a shared understanding passed between us, he leaned in slowly. His hands cradled my face, creating an intimate connection as he closed the remaining space between us. The world around us faded into a soft blur as our lips finally met.

The kiss was tender, his lips warm and inviting, and the sensation sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

As we pulled away, a shared smile painted across our faces, our foreheads pressed together in a moment of quiet closeness.

"Wow," Spencer whispered.

"Wow indeed," I replied, my heart echoing the sentiment.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," he said, kissing me again, this time with more force and desire.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing against mine with a newfound intensity, fueled by the longing we had both harbored for so long. It was a fusion of heat and tenderness, with each movement deliberate and purposeful.

His hands, which had cradled my face so gently before, now moved with a purpose, exploring the contours of my back and waist. The taste of him was intoxicating—a blend of warmth and desire that left me breathless.

"Spencer," I began, feeling our breaths mingle. "Would you like to come in?

Spencer's eyes darkened in response, his nod signaling his agreement.

As the door shut behind us, I carefully placed the rose he gave me on a small side table by the entrance, wanting to preserve the sweet gesture. Spencer, without saying a word, pulled me against him again.

I guided us through the familiar space of my home with an urgency that spoke of unspoken desires. As we reached the bedroom, our bodies entwined again.

I laid back on the bed, letting my body sink into the softness of the mattress. Spencer's body was right above mine, and our lips met in a hot, messy kiss. It was like everything else melted away, and all that was left was us in this moment. I could feel the heat of his body on top of mine, and the rush of intimacy was palpable. I wanted this moment to last forever, clinging tight to his every touch.

Spencer's hands glided along the curves of my body, caressing me with an intimacy that left me wanting more. His lips left mine to roam lower, descending slowly towards my breasts. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my chest.

Spencer's voice broke through the intensity. "Are you sure?"

A smile played on my lips as I whispered, "Yes, please Spence."

The sudden touch of his finger on my skin sent a shiver down my spine as his hand slowly drifted down my shoulder and pulled the strap of my dress down. As my nipple became exposed, he kissed it gently, sending a wave of arousal through my body.

He looked so pretty like this; his smooth hand cradled my breast as his lips left soft kisses. His slow hums of satisfaction were accompanied by the thrusts of his hips against my clothed core.

Sensing the escalating desire between us, Spencer then took the initiative, smoothly pulling my dress off. I felt exposed as his hands traveled down my body, lowering himself and planting soft kisses on my stomach.

"You look so beautiful and you smell so good." His whispers of admiration filled the air. "I bet you taste even better." He placed a soft kiss where I wanted him the most. I moaned at his words, not expecting them.

He then proceeded to slide my panties to the side, slowly licking a long stripe. The warmth of his tongue against my skin sent shivers through my body, and the anticipation built with every teasing touch.

“Fuck, it's even better than I imagined." His words were muffled as he spoke from between my legs, looking into my eyes. My moans filled the room, joined by the sound of his mouth devouring my wetness. My hands met his hair as I pulled him closer by his curls.

"Spencer..." My voice caught in my throat.

"What, baby?" The enduring name leaving his lips made my heart flutter.

"I need you," I pleaded.

"Need me to what, baby?" His middle finger breached my entrance. "Use your words," he said, caressing my opening. The sensation of his finger chills of pleasure down my spine. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and I could feel a rush of arousal building inside me. "I need you inside, please," I begged, moving my body against his.

Sensing my urge, he stood, undressing me and then himself. "Since you asked so nicely," he lined up and slowly sank in, his head resting on my shoulder, and his soft moan muffled on my neck.

Our kisses were slow and passionate, our lips brushing against each other with every movement of our bodies. His hands caressed my body, sending a wave of pleasure through me that only increased with every thrust.

Each rhythmic movement brought us closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each caress and whispered word. "You feel so good, Y/N; it’s like you were made for me." Spencer's voice was laden with desire as I moaned into his lips.

The intensity grew with each passionate thrust, and we were both lost in a world of pleasure. Our bodies were tightly intertwined, pressed up against each other as we let our emotions take over. Our moans filled the room, and our breathing became shallow and fast. We both wanted this moment to last forever, clinging to each other with all the strength we could muster.

"Spencer, I can't,” I cried out.

"Can you hold it for me, just a little, pretty girl?" he said, looking into my eyes. My eyes fluttered, closing at the words.

"No, no, no, keep your eyes on me," he said. "Yes, just like that." He kept thrusting with force, and I couldn't take it anymore. “I want to see your pretty face as you cum, baby.”

"Spence... please inside." I begged him, and that was all it took. I didn't have to wait any longer. The tension in the room reached its peak, and I could feel him release, his climax echoing mine.

Our bodies trembled together in the aftermath, the shared intensity of the moment lingering in the air. The room was filled with the sounds of our rapid breaths and the soft rustle of sheets as we came down from the euphoric high.

As we lay there, a playful smile crossed Spencer's lips. "So, about that 'not-yet-girlfriend' situation..." he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled, tracing circles on his chest. "Well, it looks like we just fast-tracked that process."

Spencer grinned. "Guess we skipped a few steps."

I gave him a playful look. "Steps? Who needs steps when you have Jonathan playing cupid?”.

Spencer gave a playful shrug. "Well, I'll be sure to thank the man.”

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hurlingdown · 4 months

Note

Grr i love your zoro fic, do you write for ftm character? If you do please ftm sanji x domtop male reader 🫠🫠🫠 WANNA EAT HIM OUT SB

I WANT MORE! — TOP MALE READER X VINSMOKE SANJI

synopsis. sex with sanji always feels good. it's exciting. and fun. there's an issue though: it's just good, but never too good. well, here's the thing — sometimes, overwhelming pleasure bordering on overstimulation might be a good way to spice things up . . . wc. 1.7k

tags. ftm! brat! sanji, dom! reader. cunnilingus, squirting, multiple orgasms, cum eating, overstimulation, choking with thighs, reader's a little little mean, fluff!

Sanji gasped into the back of his hand, panting desperately.

Two warm palms had reached between his thighs and gently pried them open, a wet sensation digging into his clothed cunt.

“F-fucking hell, sweetheart,” Sanji muttered as your tongue drew up to swipe against his soaked clit. He let out a sharp exhale as you mouthed him through his boxers, wetly sucking at the fat nub. “What—what is this? Where’d you learn this from?”

You didn’t respond, too occupied with what was in front of you. The stain only grew in size as you buried your face into the sweet, musky scent, and you hummed with satisfaction, making him jolt with a whine as the vibration sent a shockwave of pleasure straight into him.

“Answer—hn, me!” Strong thighs clamped down around your head as he mindlessly rutted back against your mouth, making you see stars. “Who taught you?”

“No one,” you said, or at least tried to say, as your mouth was muzzled by Sanji pushing his wet cunt at you, smearing your face with saliva and slick. You had read about it in one of Robin’s books, and had wanted to try it.

“What? Who?” he asked dumbly, throwing his head back onto the pillow as he rocked his hips against your mouth, trying to coax your tongue out. “It better not have been those—hngh, women at the island!”

You almost wanted to laugh at how ironic it was, that the infamous Vinsmoke Sanji—known for being a womaniser—was now jealous of the women he usually fawned over.

“Hn, hah, this ain’t half bad—”

You growled, annoyed at him for using your mouth like one of his toys. You held his thighs still over your shoulder to stop him from moving, lips curling with amusement at the way his hips bucked, not understanding your displeasure. “What?” Sanji panted, raising his head to glance at you irritatedly. “Get on movin’!”

You frowned. Who did he think he was?

With measured strength, you pulled back just enough to show him a sickly sweet smile. “Shall I help you take it off, Sanji?” Fingers grasped the hem of his boxers as you pressed two thumbs into his lower crotch, enjoying the way he squirmed at your touch.

“Y-yeah,” he muttered. “Take it off already.”

What a brat. Perhaps you spoiled him a little too often.

You peeled the clothing off, revealing a lovely, fleshy pink cunt, its lips parted and drooling all over the sheets already. It was always a sight to have him under you, his hole pulsing around you as you drilled your thick cock into him, but this—this was something else entirely.

“Hold your legs open for me.”

“What?”

“Do it, or you won’t be coming tonight.”

Sanji frowned, opening his mouth as though to argue back but then deciding against it, that getting to come was far more important than any sense of self-worth tonight. He reluctantly brought his legs up and slowly spread them for you, flushing and trembling as the action exposed the entirety of his pussy to you.

Sanji thrust up against you impatiently and you immediately grabbed his hips, tight enough to bruise. You glared up at him with a warning, to which he completely ignored. “Hurry up, sweetheart,” he griped, rubbing his wet folds on your lips. “Wanna come.”

Oh. So that was all that he thought of you: something for him to hump on. You were going to teach him a lesson.

“Yeah?” You grinned. “You wanna come?”

“So bad,” Sanji whined, hips bucking as you held him still. “Just fucking go already!”

You pretended to frown and pull away, only to have him whimper, eyes widening and shaking his head frantically. “You want me to go? I’ll go.”

“No! Not what I meant—goddammit, sweetheart, you know what I want, so give it to me already.”

You barked out a laugh. “I’m not a mind reader, am I? How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

Sanji glowered at you, almost shivering with frustration. He knew what you wanted. You wanted to see him beg, to come undone before you even touched him properly, and he was so close to doing whatever you wanted him to if it meant he would finally be able to come. He squeezed his eyes shut, sparing them of any humiliation.

“Please,” he whined your name softly. “Fuck me with your tongue.”

You smiled, pleased. “Fine with me.”

Without wasting a moment, you shoved his hips up at the same time as your tongue plunged down, sliding between the slick folds of his pussy to penetrate him. Sanji jackknifed off the bed with a hoarse scream, one hand letting go of his thigh to blindly grab for your hair, tugging at the strands painfully.

“Oh fuck—please!” he cried out, legs spasming as he shoved your mouth deeper into his cunt. You lapped at his insides with abandon, drinking and swallowing greedily the slick that drenched his hole, enjoying the way the salty tang of it rolled deep down your throat and left a fragrant aftertaste.

Drool dripped down your chin as you ate him out messily, loosening the most tender parts of his insides the way you had never been able to: by pounding your fat cock inside his pussy, or having him take your thick fingers as you stretched him out—those were good, too, but no, this was so much more sensual, and tasted so much better, and you were almost angry at yourself for not trying this sooner.

Sanji was a sobbing, whining mess when you raised your head to look at him again, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he cried out your name, begging you to take him and then take more of him. “So fuckin’—good!” he moaned loudly. “I want more!”

It’s filthy, humiliating, and so fucking arousing, and before he knew it, he was rutting back against your face, lost in so much pleasure, all at once way too much and not nearly enough to satisfy just yet—

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come!” Sanji screamed, back bowing off the bed as he came all over your face, thighs involuntarily clamping down hard around your neck, choking you so hard you blacked out for a second.

The next thing he saw when he came to his senses was your face, shiny with his come and slick, edging toward his pulsing cunt again.

You grinned at him, almost wickedly.

“No, no, no.” Sanji shook his head wildly. “No more. I just came, please, sweetheart, please—”

“You said you wanted more.”

“Just give me a second—I’ll be ready for you in a second. Please, baby.”

You ignored him. “I’m going to give you what you want, since you’ve been so good for me. Right, Sanji?”

Without waiting for his answer, you grabbed him by the ass and hoisted him up into the air, sucking eagerly at his oversensitive clit as his breath seized up, lips parting and yet unable to make noise anymore, just trembling and convulsing as the muscles in his thighs continued to spasm with too much pleasure it nearly bordered on pain.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as Sanji gasped and shuddered, clutching your hair so hard you thought you felt them getting torn up by the roots. And then you committed the next atrocity. Instead of diving in and slurping his pussy like you did before, you stuck your tongue out, using the hands gripping his ass to slowly push his cunt up your tongue, and then down, and then up again, repeatedly—fucking your tongue with his hole.

Sanji gave a helpless whimper that sounded suspiciously like your name as he writhed on your tongue, pupils so dilated you could barely see their rim. “Please,” you thought you heard him sob faintly, as though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for anymore.

“Please what?”

This was his last chance to stop you—you weren’t that cruel, after all.

“Please,” he cried weakly, “make me come again!”

You grinned, a sense of pride overwhelming you as you dove back in to finish the job—he was so well-trained, so good for you. And who were you to deny him? He was begging so nicely, after all.

Sanji let out a stream of broken moans as you continued your assault on his pussy, his thighs clenching around your head so tightly that stars pooled at the edges of your vision. Your tongue reached deep inside him and caressed a spot so good and fucking right that the coil of pleasure in his stomach started to get looser, and wetter, like a dam being driven to burst—a feeling he scarcely ever felt, but whenever he did, whenever he did—

You latched your mouth over his entrance, sealing it properly as he squirted down your throat.

His lower half went limp in your arms as he continued to tremble and whimper, and you feared for a second that you might have broken him. But when he opened his half-lidded eyes to look at you with a tenderness that you rarely ever saw, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“Never knew—” Sanji panted for breath, “that you could be so mean.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to do it again?”

He snapped out of his daze, eyes widening with horror.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Not now. I meant after.”

“Oh,” Sanji said, softly. “That would be wonderful, sweetheart.” A second shock seized him as he looked at you, almost guiltily. “What about you? You haven’t come yet.”

“No. Making you feel good was enough.” You smiled reassuringly, despite the fact that you were so hard it fucking hurt, aching with the need to feel his cunt tightening around it, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to take it. You’d take care of it later, in the shower, maybe, jerking off to thoughts of earlier.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go sleep, I know you’re tired. I’ll clean you up. And, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbled tiredly. “So much.”

masterlist! # i apologise for accidentally blue-balling the reader again it was not my intention; also i love you anon i didn't know i needed this until i started imagining it

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ccrites · 6 months

Text

chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain.

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket.

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by.

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring.

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning.

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot?

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours.

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet.

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

#cc writes #soap #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #fat reader #chubby reader #john soap mactavish x fat reader #pwp #call of duty #fanfiction #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod #plus size reader #john soap mactavish #my man knows how to eat pussy and he ENJOYS it #ignore my attempt at writing his scottish accent i tried okay?

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wherenymphsroam · 10 months

Note

I READ DAD BOD LEON AND LIKE JDFKD imagine praising him and getting him all flustered and needy and just 😭 he is such a hottie I NEED HIM sorry im just a lil feral abt him

GRAHHHH YES !!!!

cw: leon finally in his retirement era ??? (probably not canon but we can only hope), chubby leon, older leon, body worship, very light scent thing, a messy blowjob, he’s insecure at first the poor thing, uhhhh not proofread <3

w/c: 1.5k

like, leon is sooooo relieved when he’s (somehow) allowed to retire. genuinely probably just passes out for a good couple of days, drowsy and catching up on years of sleep he missed for a month or so. takes things day by day, waning contentedly through different hobbies, interests, just trying to like…. find his personality back after basically becoming the governments dog for the most of his adult life.

and some things really like … don’t click at first.

that he’s not nearly as active without the physically demanding day to day. the mission every other month or so that sheds him of all his bodies resources, the ones that basically force upon him that consistently low body fat percentage. sure, he still works out because at this point, it’s weird Not To after putting in so much physical work for so long.

but he’s older now, his metabolism has changed. commercial gyms don’t exactly offer the same amount of intensity that his body is so used to having to work through. and naturally, parts of him grow complacent. he eats more, rightfully so. actually has the time to go out to eat on a consistent basis, and doordash is viewed as a god sent app.

he doesn’t really notice the pounds that have crept up on him until suddenly his favorite pair of jeans doesn’t need a belt to keep them up anymore. it’s when he tucks in his shirt for a more upscale night out that he realizes his button down is more fitted against him than maybe it was the last time he dug out his nicer clothes.

but once he realizes it, he shies away from it, avoids changing in front of mirrors. and when he starts refusing to change in front of you that you notice.

sure, leon was always attractive in your eyes. but it was never the muscles, the trim ‘v’ of his waistline that kept you around. you loved him, genuinely so. and to have him around more often, able to revel in some of the domestic things you couldn’t exactly soak up when he was still an agent? it’s like heaven on earth with him.

so when you notice the slight increase in his weight — the softness that begins to pad his strong biceps when he wraps his arms around you from behind, the extra bit you’re able to hold onto when you hug him — you don’t point it out. it’s welcomed, has you touching him a bit more than maybe necessary nowadays.

the first time he abruptly turns around when you walk in while he was changing, you don’t question it. it’s when he starts to dim the lights before the two of you topple onto the bed in a passionate display that you grow suspicious. your last straw is plucked when he starts coming to bed with a shirt on. an oversized one at that. he had never worn shirts to bed before, always complained about the materials feeling against him becoming irritating throughout the night.

he tries to deny when you first confront him. plays off the way the newfound pliant skin of his sides swells out over the top of his jeans waistband. shakes his head and makes a face at you, even goes so far as to roll his eyes when you reason with him, pointing out his recent ‘preference’ of keeping the lights lower when you fuck.

“I think you’re imagining this, sweetheart. I’m still sexy,” he reasons cheekily, trying to distract you with his cheesy nature.

“I didn’t say you’re not sexy,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely still sexy. I’m just saying you look sexy with the extra bit on you,” you hum, leaning against the bedroom door.

it takes Leon a second, trying to allow ‘sexiness’ and ‘weight’ to coexist in his head. at least not in terms of himself. he loved women, all shapes and bodies and weights included. it was a no brainer to say that yes, your logic that sexiness could coexist with more weight was correct. but on him…? he’s Leon Kennedy. he’s not fat.

“Nor am I saying you’re fat, not by a long shot,” you continue, knowing all too well what that look on his face meant. the one he wore when he was thinking too hard about something.

he tries not to flinch when your hands reach out, capturing his sides. tries to stifle the sound that wants to escape when he realizes how much more sensitive the skin there is now with the extra weight. but the pounding of his heart and heat emanating off his body tells you all you need to know. so you continue.

you’re unashamed in how you explore how pliant his sides are now, in how you trace along where the firm cut lines of his abs formerly were. gently pinching and filling your fingers with the extra skin that lies over his lower abdomen, flattening your palm over the swell there and letting it fill your palm. his breath hitches, hands twitching at his sides, itching to slide your hands off him. he yearns to step out of your grasp, but knows that’ll be too telling. so he lets you continue, let’s you have your fun.

the button of his jeans pops audibly, and it’s clear that maybe he’s gonna have to let his favorite pair go pretty soon. but that’s okay. it’s obvious how okay it is when you slide his shirt up, up, up and out of the way. when your lips finds his sternum, trailing up and down its length before moving on to his pecs. silently appreciating how they’ve swelled a bit, how the hair that scatters across his skin has seemingly spread more. you tuck your nose in, inhaling him appreciatively when you slide your fingers under the waistband of his jeans, start to shimmy the denim down.

and oh god, you’re slowly lowering yourself, letting your lips ghost over his stomach now. you’ve grown sloppier, greedier in how you lick up the salt of his skin, bite into and suck at the pliant flesh. as if a fever had overcome you.

and really, that’s not all that far fetched of an idea. it was like you were seeing him naked for the first time all over again. except he’s softer, warmer… easier to paw and play with. responsive when your hands knead at his sides, his pecs. breathless and panting when he realizes his nipples are more sensitive for some reason when you drag the pads of your thumbs over them.

he could’ve gone bright pink when you ask him to strip completely. in front of the mirror no less. but he obliges, although begrudgingly. maybe a bit more hesitantly when you roll your desk chair over in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, instructing him to sit down. but that dissolves when you settle on your knees in front of it, as if sweetening the deal.

he doesn’t expect you to be so …. eager when you finally get yours hands on him. but fuck does he look good. softened thighs spread, the perfect mix between strong and soft in front of you. his soft cock, laid oh so prettily between them, ever so full balls nestled there. you really can’t help how quickly you find yourself burying your face into him, breathing him in and mouthing at his thighs.

your hands are greedy, so very greedy in how you grab at him. his thighs, the stomach that’s started to rest on them. his pecs you reach up to paw at when you realize they’ve started to create a crease between his chest and his stomach from below.

and at first, he doesn’t believe you when you tell him he looks even better like this. that if anything, you prefer him like this. doesn’t want to hear it when you try to coax him into repeating affirmations about himself, keeps his eyes off his reflection in the mirror.

but of course, he’s a weak man. you’re sat on your knees between his spread thighs, your ass practically begging to be ogled in those jeans.

and that’s what he focuses on at first. tries not to notice how you have to tilt your head slightly when you take him in your mouth, how you have to hold his tummy when you suck him off to keep it from inhabiting how far down you can get on his length. but as the heat in his body grows, as you get sloppier with spit dribbling down your chin, he has no choice but to look down at you.

and at that point, he can’t find it in him to care about the swell of his lower abdomen. he isn’t very worried about how much more space his thighs take up on the chair when you dip one of his balls into your mouth, licking and warming and soaking them in your feverish attempt to make him feel how sexy he is to you.

but by the time he’s coming ropes onto your pretty face, he finally gives in. finally obliges you fully and admits that maybe… maybe he was still sexy as fuck. maybe he did look better, healthier with the retirement weight on him.

#GRRRRRRRUFF EUFF #RUFF RUFF AWOOOOO #howling at the moon rn #chubby Leon is so important to me #chubby leon #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #someone push him into retirement already please #late night stroll.˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.#fairies. 𐦍 #yaps. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 months

Text

pairing: sanji x f!reader tags: fat reader, mentions of feederism (but it's just a misunderstanding, nothing malicious is happening here!), food, crack treated seriously, fluff, minors dni word count: 1.4k note: months ago i had a thought about sanji getting hard watching you eat - because of his trauma, him being himself, you just being too cute while enjoying his creations- and i just needed to flesh it out a little further.

It’s entirely too obvious.

You’ve been with the Straw Hats for a few weeks now, and even though you’re still getting used to them - there is a certain habit unique to one member in particular that you have recognized by now. The cook likes to watch you eat. A lot.

It’s no secret that he likes to watch in general - not with the way he’s dancing around you and the other two women, all smiles and overly polite gestures - but you’ve noticed how peculiar he gets whenever meals are served. And really, at first you thought he was just scoping you out; knowingly smiling at him whenever he hesitantly placed a larger-than-average portion in front of you. Ah, you mused, his eyes are working, as is his brain. Giving the fat one more to eat is sensible, after all, seeing as you do need more energy to maintain your physique compared to a thinner woman. Really, you thought he was just trying to get to know you and your habits better - figuring out if you were a snacker or more of a main meal girl, seeing if you’d be too shy to eat your share in front of others or maybe even take offense when presented with more.

But after some days (weeks at most), that little scouting mission should have been successful - only he keeps watching with the same intensity as he did when you first parted your lips to spoon one of his creations in between them. And watching. And watching. (Staring?)

A curiously tilted head while you take your knife and fork to a fine cut of meat, a lingering glance while you carefully scoop the top off a late-afternoon dessert on deck, a warm smile, a trill, even, when your face lights up at omelets early in the morning.

Always waiting. Always holding his breath. Always, well, watching.

How peculiar. By now you’ve figured out that he not only observes until you comment on his cooking. It goes beyond kind words and blissful smiles, so it’s not that he wants praise - no, he keeps watching well after that obligatory “oh, this is so good, Sanji” and stays at it. It’s not to fish for compliments and it’s not to get a better glimpse at your eating habits. With both of those possibilities ruled out, it leaves very few other options - and not all of them pleasant, you realize. What if he is one of those guys who gets off on feeding you fatter and fatter; who sees you as an easy target as you are already big? It doesn’t suit him, not at all, but what do you know? You’ve never met one of them in your years of travel, just heard the same old warning every fat girl is given once she reaches a certain age.

And it weighs on your mind.

Another three meals and half a dessert and you find it sours your stomach, actually. The thought is like poison once it has crossed you; and it taints every beautiful dish he plates for you, makes them all taste hollow. You can’t leave it up to speculation, you think, you have to know - have to know what you’re working with, at the very least. Maybe it’s the pie that he’s worked on so diligently that you feel is too nice to be tainted by an aftertaste; maybe it’s the fact that you can’t possibly spend another minute having a question burning through your stomach. It doesn’t matter, because at the second half of your dessert, you purse your lips and lean over the table shared between you two, that is so conveniently bare of any other of your crew. Now or never, you think, and dig into the crinkly dough again.

“Sanji, can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t even blink as he replies, with a tone that makes you feel like he has waited all of his life just to entertain one of your sudden whimsies. “Of course, my love. Anything.”

You whole-heartedly believe that.

“Hm”, you hum, then take another mouthful of pie. To bide time. To test a hypothesis.

As always, his eyes dip down with your dessert spoon, downright glittering as he observes. You almost pity him, knowing full-well that you’ll be taking away a good chunk of carefree fun he has had with this little quirk during all this time.

You smile innocently as you swallow and let the piece of cutlery pop out of your mouth, ready for your attack.

“You watch me.” It’s not the question you asked him for, it’s a statement. Said while you stare at your reflection behind fine, silver scratches in the metal. “You like to watch me eat, don’t you?”.

When you look up, he’s gone from a healthy, rosy complexion to beet-red. Like the kid getting caught with one hand already in the cookie jar, he just stares back at you, eyes about as wide as the plate your pie had been served on. He stutters. Then reaches to loosen his tie. And stutters some more.

“I-”, he says, the first coherent word he has been able to push out, while you push in another bit of caramelized apple smothered in cream.

“It’s not like that-”

Oh, so he knows what you’re hinting at. You briefly wonder if he has had this conversation before.

“Like what?”, you smile, feeling like you should play it a little cruel all of a sudden. “Enlighten me, Sanji.”

It’s what he deserves, you think. To have to sweat a little, to have to find his way out of this conversation in a way that leaves his reputation intact.

“I’m not a freak- Really-”, he stutters, all usual grandeur gone. “I’m not- I’m not into watching you eat, if it’s what you’re implying.”

You can’t help but quirk a brow at that. Definitely has had this conversation before. When you don’t placate him - just take another bite of apple pie while he loosens his tie further to alleviate some of the embarrassment - it almost squeaks out of him.

“I swear, I can explain myself, darling!”

It’s said with so much desperation and pain it makes your eyes snap up to a beyond flustered Sanji who might just be this close to tears. Earnest. A little pathetic. Cute. And still, you don’t have it in you to release him just yet. Instead, you lean over and curl one finger underneath your chin with an aloof ‘Oh?’.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. His shoulders sag with actual relief, he sighs - and then he tells you all about it. About the All Blue. The Orbit. Red-Leg Zeff. The shipwreck. The hunger. The way it shaped him into what he has become today - it seems like there is more but you don’t dwell on it, don’t try to get further. You simply listen and nod and hang on every word that leaves his mouth, genuinely shocked at the suffering he has lived through.

The plate in front of you is long empty when he comes to the conclusion of his little tale and blushes like a schoolboy as he bares his soul to you, so uncharacteristically serious it makes you feel somehow special, as though this side of him is one you rarely get a glance at.

“It’s good to know my friends are fed and safe. You, too”, he mumbles, looking so small, so vulnerable. “I don't ever want you to go hungry. And as long as I am able to, you never will. I promise you that.” He says it with so much fire it makes you swallow. He truly means it, it’s not some made-up front, some poor excuse. It still leaves questions to be answered but you don’t ask them, content with letting him cheat the gallows tonight. Why don’t you watch Luffy in that way? Zoro? Why do you linger by my side the longest, not Robin’s, not Nami’s?

Thoughts are swirling in both of your heads, you can tell - you desperately want to say something, maybe even apologize, while he still grapples with all he has just shared. In the end, you decide against it - your suspicion was fair, you think, and Sanji isn’t exactly the definition of subtle about his little peculiarities.

Instead, you lean over to him, cleavage spilling over two folded arms, while your dominant hand grabs his. You smile at him and he returns it eagerly, one fluttering eyelash away from slipping back into his old self at the sight in front of him.

The best defense is a good offense, you wager.

“So no food in bed?”

#sanji x reader #one piece x reader #fat reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #/one piece #/sanji

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spookykoolkat · 1 year

Text

always mine, forever - e.m.

main masterlist

pairing: eddie munson x plus size!reader

summary: hosting a movie night for you and all of your friends was the least stressful part of it all. the thing that worried you the most was how you were going to function with eddie the freak munson sleeping downstairs, the man you'd crushed on for the longest. what happens when eddie is the last one awake after everyone's gone to bed?

warnings: MDNI!!!!!! 18+ ONLY! minors r not welcome! (eddie is 20, reader is 19), mentions of mutual pining, harmless flirting, talks of body image, oral sex (f receiving), foreplay (fingering), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie/breeding, dirty talk, long buildup (lots of words.), virgin!reader, just filth and a bit of fluff? ENJOY!!!

•••

You agreed to being the host for movie night slash sleepover, so as you got everything ready for the group of teenagers spending the night in your home, you managed to pull out sheets, blankets and pillows for everyone to choose from. it was just going to be the older teens, the kids were sleeping over at Max's house, and in the morning we all decided to meet there to go out on the town together.

It was nice, having a small family consisting of everyone who witnessed the monstrosities that happened over the last four years. It was going to be you, Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Argyle, Robin, and Eddie, bunched up in a house that only held two long couches and a blow up bed. You warned everyone it might be tight but compared to everyone else's living spaces, it was the ideal sleepover spot.

You were honestly a little nervous having everyone here tonight, specifically Eddie. It wasn't like there was an obvious attraction between you two, hell you felt closer to everyone else but Eddie. He tried though, he did whatever it took to at least get a word out to you, or to acknowledge however he could. You knew who Eddie was, and frankly your aesthetic clashes hard with his.

Though you loved punk bands, you were more into the goth scene, but you listened to everything. You enjoyed creepy things, gorey movies, but you also had a bubbly side to you that usually overpowered everything else. While you drank and smoked, you didn't do it as much as everyone else and they never pressured you either. You or Robin would end up as the designated drivers, posing as the mothers of the group. You didn't like to not feel like yourself, so only on occasion did you smoke or drink.

Everyone respected it, including Eddie, which you enjoyed. he enjoyed the different aesthetics everyone had, but took a peculiar interest in yours. He kind of studied you, especially since you weren't someone who he would talk to under any other circumstance.

The beauty of the horrors that happened in Hawkins brought people together, even the oddest of combinations.

But Eddie. You knew how Eddie was even before you guys talked. He was one of the outcasts that truly didn't give a fuck that he was the outcast.

He took pride in that, and also didn't fight the generational cycle of being classified as a fuck up. He was a douchebag to everyone else, including your friends, except for you.

You heard the asshole comments that would come out of his mouth, his smart ass retorts, his sarcasm, but he never did that with you. You sort of started feeling something for him during the end of freshman year. You would secretly go to the area he and his friends would play, just to listen to the music. You were too nervous to be the girl that walks up to anyone first, let alone Eddie.

He intimidated you honestly, the rings and the metal music, his punk rock aesthetic. You had every reason to believe there was no way he'd even look your way, he didn't see like the type to love all types of women. You kept telling yourself that nobody truly liked fat girls, no one really finds us attractive. There's no way Eddie Munson would even look at you as anything more than a mere friend, or even friend of a friend.

But he did.

Eddie couldn't risk the truth when you first came into the group, he couldn't risk anyone knowing that he'd been crushing on you since freshman year. It was like clockwork, Eddie never failed to fall so hard for someone who didn't even look his way.

But he saw you, and the things that drew you to him was the fact that you dressed as you pleased, spoke how you wanted, and that it seemed to him you didn't know he existed. What was your issue? He would think to himself every time he thought maybe he'd catch you looking at him at least once.

Eddie felt he could not be a man without seeing your beauty. That any man who overlooked you was simply not a man, but a boy. The high school girls who made fun of your weight, the boys who snickered close enough for you to hear, just so you know that they think you look ridiculous, he saw everything, and he absolutely hated it.

He couldn't even fathom how anyone could take a look at you and decide you were ugly because of your weight. Or ugly in general. Eddie wanted to force them to see you, to see what everyone was missing out on, what he was missing out on.

"Maybe get some clothes that fit, fat ass." Basketball players, football players, the jocks, hell even the nerds.

"You're just mad cause you can't make it past the cheeks, asshole," you would retort. It didn't bother you the way it bothered Eddie.

It caused him to feel this certain rage, that someone could be so comfortable commenting on someone's body, but especially yours. He thought you were perfect. Eddie genuinely believed you could do no wrong, even if you hurt him a million times and more.

As you set up the DVDs on your TV mantle, you heard the doorbell ringing and it made you glance at the clock. 5:00PM. You walked over to the door, opening it to see Nancy and Robin, smiling widely with their overnight bags in hand and plastic bags, insinuating they brought snacks or goodies for their small get together.

You greeted them with tight hugs, complimenting their looks and inviting them inside.

"Are we the only ones here?" Nancy asked and you nodded with your lips pressed into a thin line and she shook her head.

"Of course we are Nance, they're boys. Always a littleeeee bit behind." Robin said as she set her bags down on the couch, keeping her plastic bag and going into the kitchen, you and Nance following her.

"What'd ya bring me?" You said smiling, as you sat on the barstool in front of your kitchen island, Nancy on your side and Robin across from you.

"Well, I figured Ed would bring the weed so I brought booze. And sprite because well, you're a little princess who shall not be tainted by us, the bad influences." Robin said sarcastically, giving a playful smile to let you know she's just joking.

"Shut up Robin, I can get crazy if I wanted to." You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the large bottles to examine.

"You? Get crazy?" Nance raised her eyebrows at you with a small smile, as in 'oh please.' You just smacked your lips and rolled your eyes.

"Yes! I can, watch." You say, almost like a bet to the girls.

"You don't have to, we're just joking." Robin replied, taking the bottle from you again.

"Well, I want to. I'm not driving and it's a Friday night." You replied, deciding to let loose a little tonight.

Before you could continue the conversation, the doorbell rings again followed by consistent obnoxious knocking. It's definitely the guys, so you go to open up the door and is greeted by 4 men, all taller than you, with dumb boyish grins on their faces. Eddie, being one of them is the first one to speak.

"Girl's night!!"

All the guys pour in and go to greet Nancy and Robin after greeting you, Eddie only pulling you in by the waist and hugging you. Robin eyed you from across the room.

"So, what's on the agenda tonight?" Steve asked, holding onto Nancy's waist as every starts situating themselves in the kitchen.

You watch as Eddie sits at the kitchen island and pulls out a tin lunchbox, unhooking it and taking out the bud, rolling papers, gar wraps, and lighters.

"Look, the pothead came prepared!" Robin joked, Eddie rolling his eyes at her.

"You know, I prefer to be referred to as a business man. I prioritize my clients, but friends come first! Plus, if it wasn't for everybody would be smoking dog shit in a rolling paper." He said proudly, not even looking at his fingers grinding the weed apart.

"No grinder man?" Argyle asked, almost tsking at him.

"What the hell is a grinder?" Nancy asked and looked at you. You just shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. You had no idea, or any knowledge behind marijuana.

"Not when I was born and blessed with nature's grinder," Eddie remarked, shimmying his fingers at him and smiling behind them.

"Anyways," You said, looking towards everyone.

"I'm thinking we can just watch movies, drink, smoke, play games—honestly I don't care we can do whatever." You said and they all agreed, smiling.

The playful banter continued, and it sparked more conversation amongst the group but you really weren't paying attention. You look over to Eddie to see his focused and kind of hunched over his work. You decided to walk over to him and sit down next to him, giving him a smile as he glanced up at you quickly.

"Whatchya doin'?" You sang in a tune, nodding your head towards the materials he has.

"Creating art," he exasperated, starting to sprinkle the green herb into something that looks like a small brown rectangle.

"Can I watch?" You ask, resting your chin on your knuckles.

"Making me a little nervous sweetheart, think I got performance anxiety," He said after seemingly poking a hole through the cigar wrap he was using.

"You? Eddie Munson? Performance anxiety?" You asked, pausing with every question.

"I can be.....how I am, and still be a bit shy when a pretty girl watches me do something I've done for years. Can't help it," He said shrugging. He was hoping that maybe by dropping hints you'd start to notice him more. But you did notice him. Always.

He started to tear small pieces of another cigar wrap and patching the hole up, acting as a surgeon.

You acknowledged all of his little tid-bits, his quirks, how his eyebrow sometimes twitches when he's focused or how when he's a little zoned out, his mouth hangs open slightly. You adored everything about the man sitting next to you and still for some reason you could not admit it, not even to Nancy or Robin.

"Didn't you have a band? It was like," You furrowed your eyebrows, digging for the memory of his music he played in during freshman year.

You tried to use it as a point of him being ridiculous for insinuating you make him nervous. Eddie looked up to you curiously before licking the wrap to seal it, and he couldn't even believe you knew he played music. He swore you never acknowledged him, or saw him how he saw you. He would walk by you on purpose, cutting corners to see you come out of class so he'd be in the hall the same time as you, and nothing.

What he didn't know was you stole small glances of him enough to not get caught. It was like you knew exactly when he was going to snap his head around to see who's eyes he felt on him, and you just pretended to act as if you weren't looking in his direction.

You listened to his conversations occasionally when he was loud enough, and believe he was loud.

When you looked back at him to finally prove you remembered the name, your mind went blank seeing him looking at you licking the blunt to finally smoke. He was just so attractive, so sexy, everything about his hands to his tattoos to his face, he was everything to you and he didn't know. You have always wanted to tell him, you constantly told yourself that the worst he'd do is reject you.

"It was, uh, Corroded Coffin, no? " You said slowly, and he sat back up from his crouched position, setting the blunt on the table.

"Yes. Yes it was. And still is! We perform still, small gigs but it's more than enough for me right now." He said proudly, beginning to roll again but with a white paper.

"What's the difference between them? Why is that one like paper?" You asked, nodding towards his paraphernalia scattered on your counter.

"Well you see," He starts, leaning into you while picking both the paper and the pre-rolled blunt.

"This one, it's actually a cigar. But, when you split that cigar and remove the contents of said cigar, also called the 'guts' of the cigar, you have something like this," and removes the blunt from the spotlight, raising the paper to glorify its presence.

"But, this is just paper. Made for things like weed or tobacco, but you roll regular tobacco in this paper it's just a cigarette. Roll your weed in this paper, it's a joint." He teaches, and you actually listen.

You truly weren't the most amazing student, you're getting by in high school, a solid B/C student. But, listening to Eddie just now you learned the difference between two things pertaining to something you don't even really do. You just loved to listen to Eddie talk, especially about things he loves and is passionate about.

Every tangent he went on, every venting episode he's had, every weird conversation about things that could or could not exist—you listened. You were fascinated by his words, his way of speaking, it was possible you could listen to his voice for hours.

"I see, so is the one used with the cigar also tobacco?" You asked, picking it up yourself from his fingers and examining it.

"Mmm, yeah it's a tobacco leaf that is used to smoke tobacco. But someone got creative and freaky and decided to try something else. You know, I always wanted to try to smoke out of like a plant. That'd be cool." He said, and you smiled and laughed a little as he bumped you with his shoulder.

"Now give it back before you hurt yourself." He jokes, taking it from you and you roll your eyes.

"Whatever, I'm a big girl I can handle myself." You rolled your eyes and rested your forearms on the cold marble slab.

"I'm sure you can sweetheart."

You just smiled, and bumped him back decided to sit and watch him roll this next one. Everyone sort of made their way around the house, everyone doing their own thing or settling in before everyone starts to drink and relax.

"Hey, can we order pizza?"

-- ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ --

It was 8pm by the time everyone settled down into the couches, picking A Nightmare On Elm Street to watch, two blunts being passed around as well as red solo cups on each person. Everyone was chatting, laughing, and overall feeling really good being all together in each others presence. Nancy and Steve sat in a pair, as well as Jonathan and Argyle, leaving you, Eddie and Robin on the other couch.

You sat on the side of the couch where the armrest was, Eddie sitting next to you, and Robin decided to sit in front of the couch rather than on the couch after the first death in the movie. You smiled at her childlike position, almost sitting directly in front of the TV. You got passed the blunt from Argyle, him saying something about how tight this strain of weed was, not really registering gin your head because to you, weed was weed.

"Blue dream, never heard of it?" A voice came from next to you as you breathed in the smoke, the THC coating your lungs.

"I thought it was just weed," You choked out, finally exhaling and pulling another drag, respecting the rules of the rotation.

Eddie watched as you inhaled the second puff, passing it to him and he grabbed it from between your fingers, lingering a little to graze your skin. Everyone already got comfortable, everyone sitting in their respective PJs. You, sitting in a pair of fluffy shorts with a black tank top, still tight and still making your tits sit pretty without a bra.

Eddie didn't go without noticing, especially when the room is dark and the only light is emulating from the TV and small lights hanging above it.

Eddie hit the blunt twice, passing it to Robin who reaches back to grab it.

"Let Eddie do his marijuana 101 class, again," he said, scooting a little closer with his blanket.

Now you noticed him, his long hair and his wide brown eyes that still seemed wide even after being high. Your eyes on the otherhand feel lazy, low and dazed, still searching his face for new features you never noticed. Like his small moles peppered in weird places, a small light one placed right on the cupids bow of his lip.

"A weed strain is basically just a classification of the plant's makeup. So what makes weed, weed. It's like when animals breed, if an animal bred with another species. If that makes sense. Honestly, I'm kind of stoned out of my mind so. Just know every strain is different, and I talk a lotttt when I'm high, so." He summed up, feeling a little embarrassed about his whispered rambling. Everyone else was glued onto the TV screen, the score of the movie louder than the two of you.

"Mm, so you're a weed know -it-all?" You teased, your legs bent sideways to get more comfortable into the couch.

"Something like that." he said, his tone not really lighthearted anymore. He was too distracted watching you. Maybe it was the weed, but he truly couldn't focus on anything but you.

The conversation ends there, leaving you to focus back on the screen as Freddy attacks again. But as Eddie scopes out the room, the only people even awake at this moment was you, Eddie, Argyle and Nancy.

Robin ended up falling asleep on the floor after you all finished the first blunt, Steve is laid up on Nancy as she bats her eyes open, visibly fighting her sleep, and Argyle is still puffing clouds as the second blunt starts to get smaller and smaller.

The room is smokey, a little claustrophobic but not noticeable through your high, and Argyle passes it back to you so you can take another two hits from it. While you smoke, your mind starts to drift to think about the guy sitting next to you in his guitar printed pajama pants and black t-shirt, his usual silver chain sitting on his sternum.

You were able to see most of him through your peripheral vision, his hands resting on his own lap, his chest rising and falling, and the way his legs are spread while he's slumped against the cushion now.

You thought about you and him being the only people in the room, crawling on top of him and letting your ass press against him. You wanted him in the dirtiest ways right now and you felt the weed and little bit of alcohol you drank in your system. You felt incredibly needy for him, thinking of sinful thoughts while he's right next to you. You felt crazy, almost silly, you wanted to laugh at yourself.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He whispered lowly, weed and vodka on his breath, still not enough to make you repulsed. You didn't notice you were completely staring at his lips and jaw, not until you shook your head slightly and smiled.

"Yeah, m' sorry, got distracted.": You confessed, shifting your legs to lay across his lap. You needed some sort of contact, you didn't care what it was. You knew it would never go further than this, so you're allowed to dwell in it a little more.

"I need to stretch, you don't mind?" Like he'd say yes.

"Not at all, stretch as you please ma'am." He grinned, placing his arms to rest on your shins as he passed the blunt in Nancys direction, when she decided to tap out. Eddie reached and handed it to Argyle, letting him finish whatever was left.

"Yo dudes... I'm.. stonedddd." Argyle whispered and laughed, making you giggle at his tolerance as if him and Eddie didn't have the highest tolerance of the group.

"Me too," You agreed, looking at Eddie who smiled with squinted eyes, nodding in agreement.

"I need to take a wazz. Be right back," Argyle said, getting him from his sat position next to Jonathan's sleeping figure and goig to the restroom.

You glanced over at Nancy, and sure enough she's passed out, leaning against Steve under a blanket. It was just you and Eddie. but no words were said. Your body wasn't facing the TV anymore, instead your body faced Eddie since your legs laid on his.

"You feel okay?" He asked, his large, warm hand going to rub your leg, squeezing occasionally. You almost squirmed, his touch sent a sense of energy through you, straight to your core.

"Yeah, yeah, I am. What about you? My legs aren't too heavy for you?" You teased, resting your head against the couch cushion next to you.

"Mm, you could never be too heavy for me sweetheart. Bet I could lift you up and carry you where you needed to go." He said, squeezing your calf. Eddie tip toed around you, never exposing his truth to you or anyone, but everyone saw it. Nancy saw, Robin saw, hell even the guys saw how crazy Eddie was for you.

"I wouldn't be so confident about that. I weigh waaaay more than Chrissy Cunningham, sir. The girls you've been with were easy to pick up, I might be a bit of a challenge." You teased, and you felt his hand inch up towards the thickness of your bare thighs. You didn't know how to tell him to stop unless he wanted you on top of him.

"I"m Eddie Munson, sweet girl. I never shy away from a challenge, even though picking you up wouldn't be a challenge for me." The real challenge was picking you up and not holding you against a wall so he can slide in and out of you.

"How did you know I slept with Chrissy? That was like, sophomore year." He asked, genuinely curious.

Because of social statuses, Chrissy wanted to put it to the side, she said some things just weren't meant for other peoples eyes. But it didn't stop her from coming around Eddie in public, it just made Eddie more weary about sleeping with her. He felt better with her as his friend rather than fuck buddy simply because, Chrissy wasn't his type. Physically yes, but emotionally, no. He thought she was gorgeous, but he couldn't keep his attention her, or any other girl for that matter.

There was only you.

"I think I paid more attention to you than you did me. I know I was like, in the shadows and shit, so I don't blame you for like, not noticing me. But yeah, I saw her hanging around you a lot and then well, word gets around in the girls' bathroom." You confessed, your eyes still on his as his hand rested on your thigh, closer to your knee.

"And what was this word that was getting around, hm?" he asked, moving one hand to run through his hair.

"That you and Chrissy were like, a thing. Or that you guys hooked up a lot. Things of that nature." You admitted, looking down at your fingers then glancing back at him.

There was a pause of silence, and you started to feel like maybe you overstepped. Who are you to comment on his sex life? You're just friends!

"I did notice you." he said, moving his body to lean into you more, scooting closer to you on the couch with your legs still on top of his thighs.

"You don't have to lie Eddie, if it wasn't for Nancy I don't think we'd even be talking right now." You said, noticing his close proximity now.

Before he could reply, Argyle comes out of the restroom yawning, the room still completely dark so you couldn't see Eddie staring at you intently.

"I'm soo sleepy my dudes, I think I'm gonna hit the sack." He said and you move your legs from Eddie's lap and stand up so they can all start to rearrange themselves. Everyone slowly starts to wake up, still stoned, but now passing each other pillows and blankets. Eddie on the other hand, is stuck.

"I will see you guys in the morning, I'll be in my room if anyone needs me. Goodnight," you said and they all lazily murmured goodnight in unison.

You could just feel Eddie's eyes burning into your back, until you disappear upstairs and enter your room. You practically throw yourself against the bed, immediately shutting your eyes and squeezing your legs. You inhale and exhale, then remove your shorts to get comfortable and crawling inside your blankets.

Eddie, was forced to sleep on the floor with Jonathan and Argyle. Steve and Nancy took the couch with the ottoman so they could both fit, and Robin refused to sleep on the floor so she took the other couch. But as everyone around him fell back asleep, Eddie's eyes stayed open.

He couldn't stop thinking about you, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he wanted you more than anything, even just to be next to. He would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, he would never overstep, all he needed was to even be in your presence and he's completely satisfied.

But an hour went by. Then two hours, and then three. By the time Eddie started to feel his bladder fill up, it was one in the morning and still not a wink of sleep.

He knew that the only restroom there was is the one two doors from your room, upstairs. So he forced himself to get up, and trudge upstairs, past your room and into the restroom but the minute he walked in, the urge to pee was gone. He was too distracted, looking at himself in the mirror wondering if he should act on his impulses or not.

"It's not like you two never shared a bed before." He whispered to himself, looking back at the time you two had to bunk together at Will's house. But, at the time feelings and emotions weren't the focus.

He shook himself out of it, breathed in and out, and told himself it's just two friends sleeping in the same bed, if you even said yes.

A knock woke you out of your sleep, your eyes still squinted, the weed somehow hitting harder after a few hours of sleep.

"Mmm, who is it?" Your voice strained, sleep coating it making it hard for Eddie to hear.

"Uh, it's Eddie." He whispered yelled and you kind of got more alert, but didn't stop yourself from telling him to come in. The only light in the room after he shut the door behind him was the pink lava lamp on your bedside table. You saw him in pink through the blurriness of your vision, you sitting up on your elbow to see him.

"I, uh, couldn't sleep. Floor's uncomfortable. You think I can crash with you?" He asked, his hands behind his back. You didn't really think about it, you weren't uncomfortable or anything. You knew he was your friend and you thought you knew that there was no attraction on his end.

"Yeah, but um, I don't have shorts on so, just.. yeah." You were just too sleepy to explain yourself, hoping he'd get the hint that if he wasn't okay with it you weren't going to put them on, and he can leave.

"Don't mind me. Live your truth," He whispered, smiling and going to the other side of the bed to lift the sheets and crawl in with you. Your bed was pretty big, but you were a bigger girl so you could kinda feel the heat of his body against you.

Eddie faced your back, his head now against your pillows, in your bed, and he was in love with the smell. You smelled of coconuts and some kind of floral fragrance, and he basked in it the entire time he laid next to you.

"Are you awake?" He poked you and you sighed

"Yes Edward, I am awake." You moaned.

What could he possibly want right now? It's not that you were annoyed, you just wanted to go to sleep as fast as possible so you would forget you had Eddie fucking Munson in your bed.

"What's your favorite band?" he asked and you smiled to yourself, his randomness was also something that never failed to make you smile.

"Guess." You told him, knowing he probably wouldn't know, but it'd be worth a try.

But he knew, he knew exactly what your favorite band. He would listen to the songs that came out of your walk-man since you played it loud enough to hear.

"Sisters of Mercy." He said in a sure voice, and you were taken aback.

No one truly knew your music taste, you weren't one to play the music when you had guests over or friends to hang out with. He practically left you speechless, and you then thought about what else he knew about you that you don't remember mentioning to him. There was a small silence, something you took for granted as you tried to wonder how he knew. Almost like reading your mind and noticing your body shifting, he spoke.

"I noticed you." He said, moving his hands to rest under his cheek. He just kept his eyes on your back, taking advantage of the fact that your eyes weren't on him.

"What?" You said confused, more awake than ever now. Your eyes were almost popping out of your head the way you stared down the wall across from you.

"You said I didn't notice you and that I was lying. But I did notice you. I don't know how you never knew but I had the biggest fucking crush on you for like, ever. Maybe even since middle school. Which is kind of weird since we never talked? But, you were just like, woah," He said, his heart beating against the wall of his chest. It all spilled out like word vomit, he couldn't stop but also didn't want to stop.

"You're just so fucking pretty. Like do you understand how gorgeous you are? Not just to me but to everyone with a fucking brain?" This one was foreign to you, you were so frozen that Eddie was actually telling you that you were gorgeous. You kind of forgot how to breathe, especially with being able to just feel his presence next to you.

"Eds.. You don't actually like me do you? Like, I really didn't think that was ever even an option to consider." You insisted but he just kind of laughed it off behind you.

"I've liked you for a long time sweetheart, you're perfect to me. I really just want to shrink you so I can carry you in my pocket with me everywhere. I never not want to be around you. I only ever feel alive, or real when you look at me."

Eddie needed you to know now and spoke in a more serious manner, before he lives until he's 95 thinking about what could've been if he had went into your room to confess to you. He knew it was a big reach to assume you'd be receptive and feel the same way, but who was Eddie Munson without his lack of shame?

"Me too." You whispered, now Eddie was the frozen one.

"What was that?" He asked. He needed the clarification before he exploded, because if you meant what he thinks you meant, he didn't know what he'd do.

"I've liked you too. I think about you a lot honestly," You bit your lip and gripped your pillow, shifting your body. You could practically hear your heartbeat in the silence of the room.

"What?" He asked again, so you said it again.

"Eddie, I like you too. I want you too, and have for a while." Still facing the wall you just wait to hear his voice again.

"You, want me?" He whispered, lowly this time and you started to blush. Grateful he wasn't looking at you, you let yourself get a bit embarrassed. Confessing you've wanted him, thee Eddie Munson who could pretty much have whoever he wanted.

"I've wanted you forever. I was actually jealous of Chrissy. I kind of thought you'd never really go for someone who looked like me, so I kinda just kept my head down around you. It seemed like you always had someone to entertain yourself with and the someone in question were always like, skinny girls. Or fit girls. I didn't think, I don't know I feel like you saw me as more of one of the guys or something." You rambled and waited for his response. There was just silence, and you knew maybe he wasn't serious like you were. You had just confessed to wanting him and he wasn't saying anything.

Until you felt him scoot closer, and putting his hand at the curve of your waist. His hand caressed your side, feeling and almost massaging at your rolls and moving his hand to go towards your stomach.

"You don't have shit to be jealous about Chrissy. Size doesn't matter to me, I think you're fucking sexy. I'd rather see you dance around in that little cheer outfit, I'd rather see you in my bed," He said without a trace of goofiness.

He was serious, and he was starting to get hot and bothered by touching you. He gets closer and practically presses himself against you, his hands and fingers moving over your bare thighs to your side, to your stomach.

He was gripping and massaging and feeling all of you and you loved it. You even started to put your arm over his, letting it follow his as he feels your body under his touch. His hand covered a lot and he was able to grip almost all of you everywhere, and he was taking pleasure in having you this close to him, all to himself.

"I'd choose you a thousand times over. You don't know how bad I've fucking craved to see you, all of you. How I wished to be the asshole you were kissing in the hallways, how I've wanted to feel you like this for years." He kept going, tugging at your panties as you started to move your hips to grind into his hardening cock, and he groaned softly.

"Eddie, please. I, I need you. Want you inside, please," You whimpered and he moaned at the feeling of your ass rubbing into him, squeezing your side and putting his chin on your shoulder to see your tits from that angle. He wanted to see your face, to see your entire body, but for right now he can wait.

"You are so precious, baby. Look at you, grinding into me, who are you right now?" He breathed against your neck, his hand starting to move under your shirt and towards your panties.

"Do you want me like this, princess?" He asked you, tapping closer and closer to your mound.

"Yes, Eddie, I fucking want it please, please," You begged him, moving your legs and hips to try to get closer to his fingers.

"These panties are so cute baby, these polka dots?" He teased, moving your panties down enough with one hand to access your wet core.

You felt a little embarrassed at your granny panties but he loved them. Anything you were in, he loved. You could be wearing a prison jumpsuit and he'd think you were gorgeous, and innocent.

"Mmph, if I knew you were going to confess your love to me and start touching me, I would've wore different ones," You admitted, rushing to get your sentence out because before you know it his fingers were indulging in your wetness, feeling how warm you were and how fat your cunt was, coating his fingers before slowly rubbing your nub that he found easily. He loved every part of you, and feeling how you felt on his fingers, he knew he was going to be obsessed with you.

"Is that right? You have 'fuck me' panties hm?" He taunted and moved his fingers faster as you moved against his body and rubbed against his boner even more.

"Ed-Eddie, you, fuuck oh my god, how- fuck what the fuck," You moaned, trying to moan quietly so no one wakes up and remembers in the morning.

"I kind of like these though. Not kind of, I like them a lot." He confessed and watched you as you whined and squirmed against his body, against his fingers.

"Love the way your ass looks in these, just so fucking sexy,"

"You feel, s-so good. Don't stop, please," You said in a breathy moan, and honestly he almost painted his boxers with his cum.

"You are going to drive me fucking crazy like this, baby," He groaned against your neck and you started to feel your orgasm creep up on you the minute he pushes two of his thick, tattooed fingers inside of your dripping hole.

"Oh fuck, look at you, you're doing so good for me taking my fingers like that. You are so fucking intoxicating, princess." He groaned as you felt him push his pelvis into the cheek of your ass.

"You see what you do to me? You make me go feral," He said and you decided to take the hand that was gripping Eddie's wrist, and reach behind you to find your way into his pants, grabbing his hard on and gently stroking, making him start to blank out.

Eddie actually seems to forget everything around him but you, and loses every thought he ever hand as he feels your wrap try to grip him firmly so your hand could be fully grasping it. But without ever seeing Eddie's cock, you can just feel how big it was. He wasn't just big, he was thick and you were admittedly scared.

"Wait, Eds, I-" The minute you said wait his hand stopped, leaving your core and instead going to your side as he lifted himself up to see you fully. You rolled onto your back after taking your hand away from him and he searched your face worriedly.

"Are you okay? Did I do too much? I'm sorry I-" He started to apologize and you just wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, meeting your lips with his.

The minute your lips touch you know in your gut you'd never be able to kiss anyone else and have it feel the same as it does right now. Maybe you really were in love with him because you'd never felt like this before.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I want more, and i want you, it's just," You hesitated, wondering if the words that were going to come out of your mouth were going to scare him into not going further.

"You can talk to me, baby. I just told you how much I've always thought about you and looked at you which is borderline stalking. I'll listen." He pokes fun, his hand resting on top of your stomach.

The blankets were practically thrown off when Eddie decided to take your panties to your mid thigh, so now you lie there with your panties pulled back up and your tank top now showing your midriff.

"I'm, technically I'm like, a virgin." You confessed and his eyes went wide involuntarily, which made you cringe. You knew it'd be weird. Almost 19, graduating high school very soon, and not as much as a single guy fingering you ever.

"Like, fully? You've never done anything?" He asked, not a lick of judgement on his tongue.

"No, just, I mean I've obviously touched myself before," You begin and he opens his mouth.

"Obviously," He teased, like he was able to tell. You slapped his chest and laughed, shaking your head.

"Shut up," You said and continued, "I've just never let anyone go that far with me, and trust me there was never much of a line of guys to choose from either." You said and his hand went up to your face, touching your cheek and moving your frizzy hair from your face.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He reassured and you rested your hand against his, looking into his eyes.

"It's not that. I really want to. Like really, especially with you. Only if you're okay with being my first." You said and he almost looked shocked.

You were really asking him if he'd be okay taking your virginity, as if he'd ever say no. Anyone else, he'd say no. Too much emotional baggage for both parties honestly, he felt. But you, here you were just after riding his fingers, in a pair of panties and a thin measly tank top, saying you want him to be your first.

"If I'm okay with it? Only if you're okay with it, and only if this isn't a one time thing. Because I think I'm already obsessed with you and actually seeing you with someone else after this is going to send me to the psych ward." He said seriously, tapping your cheek with his pointer finger.

You loved it. You love the fact that there was this mutual attraction and mutual pining, but it made your core throb knowing he really only wanted you. That he'd lose his mind seeing you with someone else.

You don't answer him, instead you take his fingers from your cheek with your hand, grabbing the same two that were inside of you and teased them around your lips, your tongue poking out to act as if your lips were around his cock.

He couldn't believe what he was watching, how you swirled your tongue around his finger tips and ended up coating them with your spit, sucking on them and licking.

"You, you're-" He tried to spit out but nothing. His head was fucking empty except for this image burned into his mind, and he felt your teeth graze his knuckles as you took them from your mouth.

"I don't know how else to say it, Eddie. I need you." He wasted absolutely no time, diving down to your chest to kiss over your neck and collarbones. He ends up crawling on top of you and spreading your legs open with his knees so he can get between your legs.

"So that means no one's ever eaten this pretty pussy out before?" He asked against your chest, moving his hands up your shirt to your breasts that look absolutely mouth watering when you're on your back. And in general. Eddie just really loved boobs.

"No, I've never let anyone." You responded as he lifted your shirt up releasing your boobs from their confinement and enjoying the way they looked under this pink glow in the room.

"You want me to baby? Cus I reaaaally want to. Like reaaaally, reaaaaaally want to," He said as he brought his face closer to yours.

"I want you to eat me out, please Eddie." You begged in a whisper against his lips. You felt yourself clenching on nothing, still wet from having his fingers inside of you.

"Thank God," He breathed and started to kiss down your boobs, pushing them together with his hands and sucking gently on the skin around your nipples.

"You are so fucking sexy. I'm, fuck you are just, mmpfh," He grunted as he smothered his face in your chest, motor-boating you as you ran your fingers through you hair.

He plays with your tits for a bit, pinching and flicking and sucking your nipple until he makes his way down your stomach. He leaves kisses down every inch of you, gripping you and your stomach as he made his way down between your legs.

"I thought about you, um, like that a lot. I wanted to know how your lips felt on me." You confessed as you stuffed pillows behind your back so you're sitting up a little to see him. He almost felt his cock grow harder after you said that, making him rub gently against the bed.

"Yeah? My sweet girl thinkin' of me eating this pretty ass pussy, thinkin' of my tongue all over you? Is that right?" He asked as he rubbed his pointer finger over the wet spot on your panties, caressing your mound and the outline of your lips.

"I, yes fuck, yes I was. I always thought of, of how you'd feel inside me. I would-" You stopped yourself from saying too much as he continued to rub against your clothed pussy.

"Would what, baby?" He asked, moving his finger to the edge of your panties and running over the fat of your thigh.

"I, I would touch myself. To you." You confessed and Eddie almost fainted. He genuinely felt light headed as he started to picture you in this bed, your hand between those pretty pussy lips and dipping inside your heat.

"In this bed?" He asked, moving his head to kiss and nibble on your inner thigh.

"Yes, here, right here."

"Let me take these off for you baby," he said grabbing the hem of your panties and dragging them down. You lift your hips up and let him slide them off, opening your legs again do his face is right in front of your pussy. He honestly loved the hair you had, his hands going to tug in it.

"M' sorry, I haven't shaved in a bit," You confessed, looking down at him between your legs as his eyes looked up.

"You think I care baby? Love this shit, you're so fucking perfect. I bet you taste better than you look," He groaned as immediately moved his hand to take two fingers and spread your heat to expose your clit and hole.

"Look at this, fuck I'm trying not to bust right now, you are soaked. It's all for me angel?" He asked, rubbing his fingers along your slit and you're almost sat up with your knees bent, so your tits are pushed together and kind of in your face as you squirm and moan

"All for you Eddie, please. You make me so fucking wet," You confessed and threw your head back when his tongue laid flat on your clit.

"Fuck, Eddie oh my god," you moaned, leaning back more to push your mound into his face and he noticed. He let you push up to suffocate him with your pussy. He pulled away with a large breath.

"Don't be shy, baby. You want me to eat you out? Make me do it, ride my face if you want to, push my head into this pretty pussy. I will die by this fucking pussy, princess." He growled, looking into your eyes as you whimpered and nodded.

He smiled, kissing your inner thigh before going back to licking and suck at your clit before entering his two fingers.

You don't hold back with your moans, or the force your putting into grinding your cunt into his face.

"Baby, please please don't stop, fu-fuck it feels so good please," You cried, his eyes never leaving yours as he slurps and licks all your juices.

He was in heaven, there was nothing that could compare to watching you losing your mind over his tongue. He wanted you to feel good, to feel sexy, to feel loved. He needed you to know there was no one he'd rather do this with.

He just kept going, pumping his fingers in and out slowly, kissing over your pussy lips just to go back to licking you from your clit to your hole. Eddie kept lapping at your hole as he finger fucked you, then went up to your clit with his tongue and used his other hand to rub your clit and lick at the same time.

"Eddie, baby, I think you're gon-gonna make me cum," you said, placing your hands on either side of his head as he watched your eyebrows furrow and eyes fight to stay open so you could watch him as you cum.

You were a mess at this point, your pussy was glistening under the pink glow, your juices were all over his lips and chin, leaking down your ass.

"Give it to me baby, let me watch you cum on my fingers," he said after he pulled away, moving to rub your clit and finger you at the same time.

"I'm cumming, fuck fuck fuck, Eddieee," You cried out as you dragged his name. The pressure in your lower stomach reached its hilt, making you clench and arch your body as you came undone. You tried to close your legs to press your thighs together except Eddie held them open as he watched you tremble and your legs shake.

"Oh baby, I could watch you all fucking day, every day. My pretty girl, all fucking mine," he said, licking up your cum as you flinch from the sensitivity.

"All yours?" You asked in a breath, and he removed himself from between your legs to stand up.

He stands on your side of the bed and undresses himself, removing his shirt to show his inked skin and your eyes followed his tattooed fingers to his pajama pants, pulling both his pants and boxers down.

Your eyes were glued on his cock, at a loss for words seeing it bob up and down being freed from his clothes. The tip even looked red in this lighting, and you could see a bit of precum coat it. You admired the veins and the length, the way it jerked and how thick he was. You didn't know if you'd be able to take all of him for your first time, but seeing him stand there naked made you even more wet, feeling that same horniness all over again.

You sat up and reached towards him after getting on your knees, and you pull him down on the bed, making your way to straddle his hips with your bare cunt against his shaft.

"Fuck, princess what are you doing?" He asked, grabbing a pillow to put behind his head so he could see you straddling him and slowly moving your hips against him to coat his cock in your wetness.

"I want it like this, wanna take my time," You moaned, kind of nervous to put your hands on his chest to hold up your weight, so you just took your shirt off and kind of rested your hands on your thighs as you grined into him a bit. He just watched as you basically took control.

"Get comfortable baby, put your hands on my chest," He said, almost reading your mind.

"I'm too heavy Eds, I'll literally break your sternum." You joked and he squeezed your bare hips harshly.

"I wasn't asking, pretty girl. Now let me see how you want me, show me," He encouraged, softly smacking your ass as you reluctantly placed your hands on his chest, but not before running over all of his tattoos and his abdomen.

"You're so pretty, Eds. I love looking at you." You murmured, kind of sitting on his cock now. You traced the lines of the different tattoos, then leaned down and started kissing them one by one.

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me, sweetheart," He said as he gripped your bare ass tighter, trying to contain himself as he feels your wetness against him. He couldn't accept the fact that you were naked on top of him, that he was able to move and grope your tits as they rested at their natural position, that he could see all of you.

"Can I put it inside?" You asked, moving your hands to his chest and situating your body further up so you can maneuver and slide him inside of you.

You noticed how your stomach kind of touch his even though you were far from leaning against him, realizing now you're bare naked on top of him, as he is bare naked below you. You weren't self conscious, just very aware of everything but didn't let it stop you. You wanted him and you were going to have him.

"You can do whatever you want with me baby, I'd do anything you tell me to do." He said, watching as you lifted yourself up and grabbed his cock, stifling a groan, and pressing your tip against your hole.

"Will it hurt?" You asked, feeling the pressure and tightness as his tip teased you.

"We don't have to do it like this baby, you can be my pillow princess and I'll do all the work," He said. He wanted you to relax and have nothing to worry about, not wanting to overwork yourself when he can make you feel equally as good without you making yourself uncomfortable.

"No. This is how I want it. Wanna feel you fill me up like this." You said and leaned on your hands that were on his chest, and slowly started to sink onto him. He was going in and out of consciousness practically, hearing you talk like this was so foreign to him but he wanted more of it.

He felt like he was disassociating, you were so enchanting on top of him, so attention grabbing—he was having a hard time trying to focus on your moans when he's watching the way all of you in your glory.

Inch after inch you felt that fullness you craved, making your eyes shut and your mouth hang open as Eddie takes it in. The confidence you had with being on top made him wonder what else you liked, what else you've always wanted to try, anything you've thought about. He wanted to know it all.

He can't even form a single word. Never in his life had he felt someone so wet, so tight, and all for him. He was going to ruin you and you fucking knew it, he wanted to live in this moment forever with you. He wanted to rewatch you sink onto him for the very first time ever. Eddie forced himself to stay still as you took your time adjusting to his length and girth, heavy breathing and panting as you stopped half way.

He let you do what you needed to do, and enjoyed the scene as you rested your hands against his chest and took in a deep, shaky breath.

"I, I just need a minute," You said with your voice wavering, holding yourself still for a few seconds then starting to move your hips up and down slowly on his shaft.

"Fuck, fuuuuck, are you kidding me," Eddie breathed as he watched you slowly ride him, his eyes focused on the way your tits hung in his face and how your pussy was engulfing his cock like a vacuum sealer. His hands went to grope your tits, playing with your nipples as you bounced on him. He just knew your body almost immediately, and you didn't even know it was possible to want him even more.

He loved the way your tummy looked, how your hips looked in this position, the way your thighs tensed under his touch as you rode. Every curve, every roll, every stretch mark he drank it in. You were so plush, so full, and he was in love.

"I, oh my god," You moaned, getting used to the size and the twinge of pain as you tried to speedup the movement, only stopping half way. You knew it'd be too much to try right now, you wanted to feel him stretch you out without too much pain.

"Wait, fuck, wait," He hissed and squeezed your hips, throwing his head back as you wait.

"Are you okay?" You asked and he looked at you with an almost angry look.

"I, I was gonna cum. You're just, fuck, you could tell me you think I'm sexy and I'd cum." He said and smiled. You waited and he finally gave you the greenlight, and this time you decide to sink onto him completely. You needed to feel all of him, to feel him reach your cervix, to feel what it's like to not be a virgin anymore. And you needed Eddie to be the one to experience all of it with you.

"I think you're so sexy, Eddie," you teased as you sunk down on him again, watching him grab your body and tits.

"Oh fuck, Eddie, fuck you're so big," You moaned, sitting completely on him as he hissed and watched as his cock disappeared inside of you.

Another thing he loved was your mouth, and the dirty things you'd tell him while he was inside of you. Eddie was so surprised you wanted him bare, raw, he didn't even know if you were on birth control or had any condoms. But he didn't care.

He felt all of you, he felt you clench and squeeze your walls as you softly bounced on his cock, and he felt himself getting near his release for the second time. But he could only watch you bounce on him for so long before he bends his knees and pushes you to his chest so that your bare chest is against his, and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Let me make you feel good, baby. Let me take what's mine. You're all fucking mine." He repeated in your ear as he began to thrust inside you repeatedly at a steady pace, rough but careful, something that makes you start to feel your build up again. He wanted to remind you that you were his and he was yours, and will always be that way.

"M' yours Eddie, please, I'm yours," you sobbed into his shoulder, feeling him stretch you out and reach inside your guts. It was almost a little painful as he fucked into you from the bottom, but you soon began to love it because it was Eddie.

Eddie was making you feel this way, you made Eddie feel that way, everything about this made you want to keep it for yourself forever. You loved how he held you right now, you loved the way he fit inside you and how he made you feel so sexy being filled up by him. You were unable to even acknowledge your reality, it was just you and him in this moment and that's all that mattered for you.

Eddie wasn't holding back anymore like he did. He simply couldn't, not with feeling how tight and how needy you were for him, how your cries sounded in the silence of your room. He wanted to ruin you but wanted to love you. He felt he could do both, so he did.

"Eddie, Eddie fuck oh my god you feel so fucking good," You cried out and he spanked you.

"Yeah? Fuck baby, this pussy was made just for me. Been my missing piece," He said as the sweat built up on his forehead.

His moans were loud and deep, he groaned every time you clenched your walls as he fucked into you. You couldn't describe the sounds the two of you made together, it was pure pornography. You loved the way Eddie was so vocal with you, you could cum to his voice if you wanted to, and before you'd never even imagine him talking dirty with you.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, sweetheart." He admitted, hooking his arms under your thighs and lifting his hips up, fucking into you like that so you're limp and fulling depending on him to hold you up.

"Mm, fuck, fuck fuck Eddie, I'm cumming for you, I'm gonna cum," You pleaded, your vision blurring as you felt that rubber band snap inside of you, forcing you to release and cum all over his cock as he kept thrusting inside of you chasing his high.

"Where do you want me to cum, sweet girl?" He asked as he felt your cunt squeeze him, refusing to let him go.

"In me, inside, fill me please, pretty fucking please," You cried as you rode out your high, but the way he kept fucking you even after you cried had you whining and moaning louder than you wanted to be, so you moved your head and bit down on Eddie's shoulder.

"Oh fuck," He groaned, the feeling of your teeth sunken into his skin as he was about to cum made him have an out of body experience, him thrusting a few more times as he painted your walls white while your hips stuttered against his.

Your teeth stay clamped onto his shoulder, his arms resting you back to your original position, his cock still buried inside you and your tits pressed into his chest. Eddie had his head thrown back as he tried to catch his breath, and he was undoubtedly aware that he was still resting inside you as you finally decided to release your bite and press your cheek against his shoulder.

"You bit me?" He asked, his hands resting on your back as he moved them to caress your skin. He rubbed over your back, your rolls, and the top of your ass as his chest hummed against your body.

"Sorry," You said shyly.

"I felt it was better than waking the whole house up," You finished and he chuckled, your body moving with his.

"Don't apologize. Apparently it's a very big turn on from me now, but I think only when you do it. Makes me feel like I did a good job, like I said I get performance anxiety with you," He joked and you smiled against his chest.

"Thank you. I don't think my first time could've been any better," You murmured. You felt your sleepiness creep up on you again and felt almost defeated by it because you didn't even bother to move after laying on top of him.

"Next time, I'm on top." He said and you moved to lift your head so you could look at his pretty face. It was a bit sweaty, but still in a daze of sex and pleasure.

"Whatever you want, I just want to be the only one you're on top of." You said and he stretched his neck to see your face.

"Always, baby. You're mine now, I'm literally never letting you go." He said and kissed the top of your head as you moved your head back to lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

That's how the two of you fell asleep—naked, you laying on top of him, and in your bed, hoping that this turns into more than you say it is.

#fat girls #plus size smut #smut #chubby smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #friends to lovers #chubby #chubby reader #eddie munson

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 3 months

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Hello! I just finished reading all your writing.. i feel like your characterisation of coop is just so good!

Lately i’ve been fixated on how Cooper would feel about a plus sized partner.. (definitely not just because I’m plus sized myself)

Part of me feels his postwar ghoul self would be feral (pardon the pun) for a woman with a soft squishy body, especially a soft tummy and ass he can sink his fingers into, because someone like that would be so rare in the wastelands, and because it would be so different to his own physique

(Anon, I have a secret to share with you before we even get into headcanon territory; I'm a size 14-16ish, myself, so I definitely relate. I try to keep my reader-insert characters as nondescript as is reasonable in order to keep them accessible, but honestly? Every single character I've ever written is fat, or at least midsized. I feel like my use of words like "soft" and "plush" to describe them, plus references to tummies and bellies, might expose me a bit on that front. Thanks for reading and thanks for the ask!)

Prewar!Cooper Howard just loves women in general, all shapes and sizes. Big fan. He appreciates the female form in every one of its many variations. Back home, he knew plenty of bigger girls, curvier girls, and dated several before he met and fell head over heels for Barb. Once the two of them move to California, there's a noticeable decline in the variation of body types around him, and while he finds the women around him beautiful as well, he also finds himself sort of missing the higher concentration of softer ladies.

After she gives birth to Janey, Barb is pretty self-conscious about her body, but Cooper is quick to reassure her that she is just as beautiful as she was before (even moreso to him since she's grown softer in such nice places, frankly, but he doesn't think that's a proper thing to say out loud). She experiences a lot of pressure to be conventionally thin in her role as an executive, and while he supports her ambitions and what she wants to do with herself, it makes him feel terrible to see her so down on her body sometimes when he loves her (and it) so much.

Post-divorce, I think that a bigger partner, especially someone comfortable in their looks, their personal style, would be a welcome change to him. Like I said in my response to the question about him with a partner with body hair, I think he'd enjoy being with someone who wasn't so "L.A. perfect"; more authentic, at least to him.

He really loves a soft belly on a woman, and it's a treat that's been denied to him for so long. Of course, his favorite place to cum is inside you in whatever form he can get it, but he also likes to spurt all over your breasts and tummy, the sight of the mess cooling on your skin enough to get him going again more often than not. It drives him doubly crazy if you play in it a bit.

Also likes a good tit fuck. Likes it even more if you've got big enough breasts to do it while you sit on the floor in front of him. Getting to smoke a cigarette and sit back and watch you jerk him off with your tits is high up on his list of favorite ways to relax after a stressful day, especially if you tease the head of his cock with your lips and tongue.

Finds big nipples/big areolas very sexy; if you've got either (and definitely if you've got both), you might end up having to fend him off of your chest every once in a while with as often as he'll like to suck and lick and nip the poor things until they're all puffy and sore.

Enjoys using his ability to still pick you up and toss you around as a way to show off to you. It makes him feel virile and strong, so I hope you don't mind a little manhandling from time to time...

The Ghoul is always very pleasantly surprised to see anyone with some substance to them, physically; it's not necessarily that fat or midsize people don't exist, but the incidence of folks who are malnourished, stunted, and emaciated has certainly increased as the centuries have crept by.

He has always been a fairly lean and wiry guy, and life has given him more and more hard edges, so he adores a plush partner; round face, full lips, soft overall features. Big, soft hair, even. It's such a fascinating contrast to himself, to everything around him. The Wasteland is so harsh and strips every last bit of life it can out of every last thing that inhabits it, so to see someone so vivacious and supple...you are spellbinding to him before he even gets to touch you, to say the least.

When he does get to touch you, he wants to be respectful, trying his hardest to control his urge to rip your clothes away and grip your supple skin in his bare hands. He's trying so hard to reconnect with the more tender, gentlemanly part of himself, if it even still exists. But you seemingly have no idea how wild you drive him, how badly he wants to pin you down and feel your warm, pliable form beneath his, kind and sweetly flirty as ever despite how thin his self control is wearing. It's not long before the feeling he's trying to ignore consumes you both and he becomes intimately familiar with just how soft your body really is.

The man already had a breeding kink long ago, but it comes back with a vengeance if he meets the right person. He already finds himself drawn to your wide hips and thick thighs, but once he's fallen for you, once he's decided that you're his and he wants you to be his forever, they take on a whole new light. All he can think about his how good those wide hips would feel in his hands as he pumps you full, how beautiful your little tummy would look adorned with a baby bump.

Big fan of thigh-fucking, especially if you're not particularly rad-resistant; its a nice way for him to put you on your back, your legs on his shoulders the way he likes, pumping away at you in a way that feels natural without having to worry about making you incredibly sick or hurting you if he can't pull out in time. Or if he produces a lot of precum, which he is prone to. You both love and hate it, the head of him bumping and teasing against your clit depending on the angle, but never stimulating you enough to make you cum yourself. Fortunately, he's quite faithful about planting his head between your thighs and finishing you off once he's done.

If you are rad resistant, he still loves it; in fact, he loves it even more because he can fuck your thighs until he's about to finish, and instead of coating your stomach and mound, he can shove his weeping cock inside you at the last second and breed you, the sudden, wet heat around him making him cum even harder. Best of both worlds.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #prewar!cooper howard #cooper howard headcanons #fallout tv show #fallout prime #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #submission

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beatrixstonehill2 · 1 month

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"Hello, my beautiful people, it's your girl Samantha out here enjoying the sun as I look forward to having my own place and being super independent! Don't get me wrong, I love living with my parents but it's a little embarrassing bringing guys home, getting fucked, and moaning with your parents trying to sleep in the next room. The amount of times they've barged in on me totally naked, riding some cute guy with my fake boobs bouncing, my cock in his hand getting jerked off is more than I care to count! Now I can have all the sex I want and put my cute body to the test for real! Soooo happy I stuff with it and transitioned, I turned out gorgeous and compliments to my surgeon, my boobs don't look all that natural or believable but he managed to pump me with so much saline! Three sizes bigger than we discussed, he said he wanted to make them extra large because it would really compliment my figure! I'm glad he went and made them so huge! Men love them, and I love showing them off for them.....

Well, since I have my Associate's and my streaming career really took off, I'm making more than enough money to support the kind of lifestyle I've always dreamed of. No parents to hold me back or tell me how many men or women I can bring home, what to wear, what to eat, I'm just gonna go nuts and do everything I've always wanted. My move in day is next week and you better believe I'm gonna have a housewarming party! I'm going to get passed around and fucked soooo good. I might get really kinky and just drink so much I black out, and when I wake up my friends can tell me just how many guys had their way with me, that sounds fun!

Then I'll be back to streaming, which of course will be way raunchier. I'll stream topless and aim my cam so you can see my erections stick up my skirt or the bulge in my shorts. It'll be fun getting to jerk off whenever I want, especially for you guys if you donate generously. And I know some of you have wanted me to eat my meals on cam, but my parents make me eat with them in the dining room, so I'll be sure to order out and do some mukbang content since I know it's really in demand with pretty streamers, especially ones with big bouncy fake boobs.

Oh well, I'm gonna find a group of cute guys to have some fun with, I see a few who keep looking over at me like they want to squeeze my tits until they pop. Hope they don't mind my seven-inch cock! Bye guys! ❤️"

"Oof..... well, this is what two years of independence can do to a girl, I guess. 😅 Fuckkkk my hot little body is gone. I can't believe how fat I've gotten. I'm close to 500lbs and my weight gain isn't slowing in the least! I guess I didn't realize how much my parents were controlling my portions and appetite.... Ever since I got this apartment I've just been eating nonstop, whether I'm streaming or not. And it doesn't help that I learned overeating makes my cock super hard. So I went from a hot, busty streamer girl to a fat slob stuffing her face nonstop. You can't even tell my boobs are fake anymore. My implants are buried under all the fat in my tits.

I can't believe how bad it's gotten. My apartment is covered in trash and food bags, there are flies and bugs everywhere. I haven't bathed in over a month, I probably smell so bad but I don't care, I just want to eat more. I don't care how fat I get I just want to keep eating and eating. I mean I'm already diabetic, I have super high blood pressure and cholesterol. My doctor told me I can probably expect my first heart attack this year, but he said it shouldn't be a huge one quite yet, so that's a relief. I kinda can't wait until it happens, I hope I'm streaming when it does, I'm going to try my hardest to jerk off when it happens!

On the subject of my cock it's almost a foot long now, since I'm so lazy I've been 'forgetting' to take my hrt and as a result my cock is way bigger, I'm way hornier, even though I guess it means I'm partially detransing? I don't mind as long as it means my cock is bigger, I think my voice got deeper but I still live as a girl so that's all that matters! Although once I'm 800lbs you probably won't be able to tell I'm supposed to be a girl. But who cares? I'm so addicted to overeating I can't possibly stop now. You've all seen the streams where I eat so much I puke all over myself, then pick right back up eating, covered in my puke. I kind of like being filthy, in a weird way, like it's so embarrassing that I've let myself become this it makes me rock hard.

I sit around on stream eating for almost ten hours a day. Half the time I don't get up to use the bathroom even, I'm such a hot mess. But if you sift through Twitch girls who've gotten fat a lot of them are trans and used to be super hot like me and now they're massively fat, and most of them are sitting in a pile of their own shit, happily adding to it as they stuff their faces and flirt with chat. So it's not like I'm the only girl who let herself go on this platform, there's a lot of us! So it's fine if I keep getting fatter and unhealthier. You guys seem to like watching me ruin my sexy body and turn into a morbidly obese slob! I'm just pleasing my fans! Which reminds me, once I'm immobile I might need some caretakers to keep me fed and help me get off once I'm too fat to jerk off. It's already such a struggle with this big fat gut in the way. If you're interested DM me! ❤️"

#mtf feedee #weight gain kink #slob kink #mtf ssbbw #trans ssbbw #trans feedee #morbid feedee #morbid feedism #scat kink

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mrs-nanami · 7 months

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Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but��tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

#jjk #nanami kento #my man #jjk drabble

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chuunai · 9 months

Note

may i request scenario (12) cheating on you with prompt 7 "only if you knew how much i liked you." drabble pls, with dazai, fyodor, and chuuya? those characters were the only ones that popped into my mind lmao . . .

yes ma’am the angst is gonna go crazy and this is gonna be without Fyodor because so many others asked for him TvT

✧˚ · . whose heart could I break today? - BSD men when they cheat on you

He loved you. But he couldn’t help it.

summary ⋆ ★ angst, cheating, minor NSFW, crying men (chuuya)

Dazai Osamu:

It was just a mission at first. You two were sent to infiltrate a party and intercept a parcel. Easy, right? That’s what you both thought at first. His lips gave yours a short kiss before walking into the building separately. No one should be able to link the two of you together, after all.

Of course soon after entering Dazai was already being pawed at by rich women cooing at him for just a second of his time. A small bit of desire had risen in his lower abdomen, but when he saw you across the room, he urged himself not to be misled. He was a scoundrel, but he wasn’t a cheater. So why was it that barely half an hour later he found himself locked in a room with some woman he hardly knew, hushing her with his fingers while he pounded into her?

A woman that wasn’t you. When he came back out, clothes slightly disheveled and skin glistening with sweat, you knew. Oh, how that dread hit you like a train. How you wished you really were hit by a train in that moment when he looked at you and knew that you knew. You felt so fucking dumb. So stupid to believe his words that he was loyal to you and you only.

There you were, a broken heart and the realization that your partner cheated on you. Your now ex-boyfriend.

When you left the party—the mission completely forgotten by the both of you—he soon followed after, fingers outstretched to grasp your shoulder, lips aching to say how sorry he was and that he just couldn’t resist her. But he held back. Let you walk away as he stood there in the rain, a sad smile on his face.

Yet another one lost. All because of him. Dazai Osamu couldn’t ever keep anything, could he?

Chuuya Nakahara:

Alcohol. The one thing that he resented now.

The thing that made him lose you. Dimmed his moral compass and loyalty to you. Chuuya’s always been such a loyal person. Hell, he was a puppy when it came to you. Or at least used to be. But he fucked it up. Became too tipsy one night at a bar when you weren’t there because you were at your job. Chuuya took another woman to your home, to your shared bed.

While you worked, he fucked.

Chuuya felt so guilty when the high wore off and the girl went home. When you got home, he immediately told you and begged for forgiveness, getting on his knees even and sobbing that he didn’t want you to leave. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he drunkenly rambled about how you were everything to him.

You left the next morning.

He took the day off—the whole event hitting him coupled with his hangover—and let the memories wash over him. Countless kisses stolen, nights in bed spent gossiping and binging Netflix. Not to mention the more tender ones. You going with him to the Flags’ graves on the anniversary of their deaths. Reassuring him that he was human when he swore he wasn’t. Why didn’t he realize how much you two were meant for one another?

Nakahara Chuuya once had a soulmate.

Now, he lacked one.

A.N: I think you can tell I put in more effort for Chuuya. don’t complain.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

#bungou gay dogs #bungou stray dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #soukoku x reader #cheating #bsd angst #angst #no comfort #no happy ending #ok why is my writing for Chuuya so much better than Dazai’s????#probably not that well proof read honestly

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lawva-girl · 4 months

Text

Jealousy

Law x fat!reader

reader is gender nuetral. :))))

WC: 1365

shout out to @sukunas-play-thing for the idea!!!! I hope you like this with my whole heart!!!!

I just know in my soul Law would go so incredibly well with a plussized person!!!!!!!

Boa Hancock. The most beautiful woman in the world. Looking at her made you feel like there wasn’t even a comparison between the two of you, she was so pretty. You were… average? It was hard to tell.

You, along with the Heart pirates, were all staring at her in amazement. You heard the voice of her sister, warning all the men of what could happen if their sister got upset. Saying something about how she isn’t afraid to turn allies either.

It didn’t matter, they all still looked. You wondered if it worked on women too, since Ikkaku was also staring with heart eyes. After a quick glance around, you found that Law was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly you were storming into his room, desperate to find him. You knew it wasn’t entirely plausible but what if he had gone off and turned to stone? You had to find him, you could probably convince Hancock to turn him back…

You turned the corner to leave his room, when a voice scared the fuck out of you.

“What are you doing here y/n-ya?”

Freezing in place, part of you was incredibly grateful he didn’t turn to stone, another part of you was freaking out that your beloved Law had caught you in his room.

“Oh Law… uhm the crew was staring at Hancock again… I came to get you.” You barely got the sentence out, since you were trying to make up a reason as to why you were here that wasn’t pathetic.

“Thank you for getting me, I’ll head out there now.”

Suddenly there was panic in your gut again, but he was already on the move to you, where the door was.

“Law, you shouldn’t go out there! You might see her!” You turned fully towards him and decided that you would refuse to let him pass.

“Why would that matter?” He didn’t even slow down, just opened a room and ‘shambles’ his way past you.

You turned as quickly as you could to look at him but his hat was the only thing you saw. He was gone.

You stood for only a second before beginning to chase after him.

Once outside, there was a peculiar scene.

The heart pirates were all sitting on their knees, head hung low. They were sitting in front of Hancock and Law, who were lecturing the group together.

Upon seeing you on the deck of the polar tang Law nodded, then went back to yelling. You stood there confused, clearly something had happened, but you felt like an outsider.

Not a clue as to what was happening.

Thankfully, Law decided to clue you in on what occurred later.

The two of you were sitting in the medical bay, where he was patching up a gash in your leg. It had been an eventful day to say the least. The bay itself was quiet and calm though, not showing any signs of what had occurred that day. With the exception of you and your leg of course.

“You can’t just run around however you want y/n-ya.” Law didn’t even look up at you as he spoke, instead focusing on the stitches he was putting in your leg.

“It’s not like I wanted to fall off the Tang… my depth perception was just a bit off. Plus I would’ve been fine if the repairs Shachi was working on were finished.” You closed your eyes when you felt the pinching pain Law was administering.

“I’ve had to yell at too many people today, can’t any of you behave?” He grumbled, making it obvious for you that he was upset.

“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t fall again. It’s not like anyone would be able to fish me out if I did.”

“What?”

Law stared at you now, you assumed he looked up in shock at one point or another.

“What did you have to yell at the others for?” You asked him, not giving him the chance to say anything.

Law took a deep breath, “they almost got turned to stone, Hancock caught them all staring. Thankfully she wasn’t upset, since we had helped Luffy.”

“Oh that’s good…” you laid back fully, closing your eyes. You had always worked as a somewhat friend to Law, hearing him rant and complain. It made you happy to have a use. It made you especially happy to have Law need you, despite knowing that you didn’t have a chance with him.

Law didn’t speak much in general, so if you wanted to know you kinda had to pry. You wanted to know so badly how he ended up lecturing beside Hancock, but you also did not want to know at all.

“So.. you weren’t staring with them?” You felt your heart quicken, but you didn’t say anything to take it back.

Law coughed a bit, then explained, “No. she’s pretty but I’m not… attracted to her.”

“Why not? She’s beautiful and she has the perfect body! Plus her hair is perfect and she’s so skinny, anyone could fish her out of water.” You spoke the words before you even realized it, feeling the consequences seconds later when Law hesitated to respond.

“I don’t like…” he paused and smiled into an evil smirk, like it was second nature, “I prefer women who have something I can hold onto.”

You sat up with eyes wide in shock, and mouth agape. “But…”

“What? I’m not allowed?” Law looked at you now, and you could swear there was something in his eyes. Something that you could get extremely familiar with.

While you remained there speechless, Law finished on your leg. As he smoothed the bandages over the slice, you stared at his hands.

“I’m done. Just make sure you take it easy for 3 days, unless you want it to reopen.” Law stood, turning swiftly and started to clean his tools and pack his equipment.

“You don’t like Hancock at all?” You called out from the hospital bed.

“No. I like people with something to hold onto. Like you.” Law turned slightly, you could just barely see his face enough to tell he was being serious.

“Oh! Uhm!”

“I like people who have soft thighs I can use as pillows, people who have a belly for me to grab while spooning, people that have a butt and love handles. I like to grab them and watch…”

Your eyes were wide, unsure of why he was telling you this and why he wouldn’t stop.

“I like people who have meat on their bones. Plus when a person like that is drowning, only a real man can save them. I can lift you, and I can lift you when you're soaked too.”

“Law I.. why are you,” you couldn’t think of the words you wanted to use, until Law interrupted.

“Why would I tell you?” You nodded fervently, “I’m telling you because I hope you’ll do something about it.”

You stared at him, he seemed so far from you. He wasn’t at all but you felt weird trying to stand on your leg that was freshly patched. So you motioned for him to come over to you with your hand.

“Why?” He was walking over as he spoke.

“I have to tell you something..” you motioned for him to come closer, so he did.

You again motioned for him to come closer, and he rolled his eyes but did again.

You leaned forward and closed the gap between you two, whispering to him “my type in men.. its men who are named Law.”

He turned his head towards yours in shock, and you chuckled. He took the opportunity of the proximity and pressed his lips to yours. Your chuckle died in your throat, as you pressed back into him.

It felt like magic. His lips were soft, and soo warm. You were convinced such a cold steely man would have a matching body.

Then you realized, all this time. Law wasn’t cold, he was just caring in a different way. He had answered every question you had. He never put you down, and he seemed to like you the way you are.

#trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #law x y/n #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #ARGH #this was a struggle for me to like plan out #but i feel good with the direction it went #i also realized i dont write to like #create a world or make beautiful images #i write to pretend like fictional characters can receive the love and feelings i have for them

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

Hurts Like Hell

prompt: first part of the ps au 😗 I hope you all enjoy

warnings: smut & angst, minors dni

If you would like to get two week early release, exclusive content/tropes, among other benefits - consider signing up for my Patreon for $3 a month :)

YN wasn’t nervous, she had never felt like that while performing in front of an audience or camera. She was confident in her curves and the beauty of her face, her quirky but sweet as honey personality.

She never thought she’d do porn - in all honesty but it was sort of a perfect storm when she broke up with her ex who she swore up and down was her soulmate that she was going to spend the rest of her life with and she got fired from her steady, reliable job that was getting her through graduate school.

The sudden lack of sex and money - well it made the most logical sense to her and once she realized how amazing the income was, she was hooked.

She was completely financially stable now, having paid off her school in full as well as her condominium with a pretty large amount in her savings.

YN mainly did cam work, making boatloads from private virtual shows and doing silly, basic things that got her tips generously.

She rarely did shoots with other actors, she wasn’t against having sex with strangers but she didn’t find that she enjoyed much either.

She knew she didn’t necessarily have to love it because it was her job but it almost made her stomach turn too much to want to do it.

The thing was, despite how many scenes (which wasn’t many) she’s had with different men and occasionally women, they could never make her come, or even get her wet enough where they wouldn’t have to use lubrication.

Nowhere close.

YN never got that tight burning feeling in the pit of her tummy that signaled she was about to feel a burst of euphoria that she craved.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to, she knew she wasn’t broken, and before this she wouldn’t have said that it was ever necessarily difficult to find release but it just didn’t happen like before.

Instead it always felt like a build-up to nothing, no matter how much they rubbed her clit or teased her nipples - nothing simmered to the surface and every experience had fallen flat.

It was the main reason that she did web shows and OnlyFans because at least she could guarantee that she could get herself off and not rely on anyone to do it for her and fail.

No one had ever made her come but her ex.

“You need to give me one more,” He huffed outbetween pants as he rolled his hips in perfectly to hit her spot, his thumb unrelenting in her swollen bud, “One more than I’ll run you a nice bath and cuddle you t’sleep like the lil’ pillow princess you are.”

“S’too much,” YN sniffles with a frustrated whine as she wriggled her hips forward to get more friction than away when it was overwhelming - fat tears down her cheeks and her core was positively pulsing.

He leans down, damp forehead against her as he makes direct eye contact - not slowing his hips one bit before he’s gritting out, she was feeling every inch of how thick he was, “You know your safe word. Either use it or shut the fuck up and come on me again, you little brat.”

YN is embarrassed to admit those words toss her straight over the edge as she lets her final, weak orgasm wrack through her body - thighs twitching and center throbbing as her back arches up into his strong chest.

He follows right after, slowing down to a more manageable speed as he’s pressing his puffy pink lips all over her face, kissing the tears and licking at the salty wetness, humming out soft praises.

“So so sweet, melt right under me, darlin’. Never had someone so perfect for me,” He murmurs against her temple before moving to her jaw, “I’m going t’keep you forever. I’m so in love with you, baby.”

“I love you more,” She manages out weakly, hand coming to brush his damp curls off his forehead as he collapses playfully on top of her and she doesn’t complain, kissing his neck and massaging his back as he groans in a different type of pleasure.

“Impossible,” He titters with a frown, rolling off the bed and pulling her towards the bathroom, “I love you more than anything that has ever existed. I love you the most.”

YN wasn’t quite prepared for the scene today but rarely did she need to read a script on the set of a porno, everything was ad-lib anyways and usually there weren’t many words anyways - just obnoxious, exaggerated moans.

Instead she decided to laze around with Niall after she’d gone into hair and makeup, it’s a bedroom scene so it was all minimal with her hair pulled up into a loose messy bun and just a bit of blush to give the appearance of just waking up.

There was a twist of nerves in her stomach, she didn’t do this often and when she did, she usually wanted it to be over as soon as possible - it always crossed her mind multiple times before shooting that she could just go home, she didn’t need the money - OnlyFans was plenty but she was doing her manager a favor.

The breakup has been just freshly a year.

It still felt like an open wound, YN tried to go on a few dates but her heart belonged to her soulmate and it wasn’t fair to anyone else so she didn’t bother after multiple ones failed with hurt feelings.

Her heart, mind, and body still ached for him desperately.

It was an unexpected break-up that had flipped her life upside down in the worst ways possible, she wished she could be living in that naive bliss with him, and that they built the life together that they had originally planned.

Before she realized he had cheated.

It had started with him snatching his phone out of her hands when she picked it up to check the weather, in the four years they’d been together - he had never done that before and it made her brows furrow.

He had denied that it was anything like that, it was that he was buying a present for her, and he didn’t want her to accidentally see it - she was skeptical but he’d never given her reason before and she’s able to shrug it off.

Then he changed the passcode to his phone.

When she got suspicious, he got defensive and told her there was nothing to worry about - that she needs to relax and let it go before changing the subject like she didn’t just raise a red flag.

She arrives home from classes a bit early as soon as she walks in the door, he’s quickly hanging up his phone call and shoving the cell into his inner suit pocket - when she asks who he’s talking to, he says his mum but then why’d he hang up like he didn’t want her to hear the conversation?

Then the icing on the cake, she had been walking home from the gym one night, passing the front of a restaurant - he had told her that he had to work late at the office because of some type of merger and to not wait for him to go workout with her like he usually did.

Mindlessly, she glances through the window as she walks past but is skidding to a halt when she notices a familiar face in the dimly lit building and does a double-take to make sure her eyes aren’t deceiving her.

It’s her boyfriend.

But he has company.

He’s sitting in a booth with a woman across from him, she’s definitely older than him but not out of the realm of possibility that they could be on a date - secluded in a both to the far left with wine glasses in fron to them.

YN felt it in her bones that this was the woman, the other woman - she somehow felt hurt by the age of the lady, she had to be ten to fifteen years his senior, was that what his type really was?

She manages to get her feet moving before he would have the chance to glance up and notice her - she nearly runs back to their shared apartment with angry tears running down her cheeks as she finds a sticky note on the fridge that says ‘love you darling x’.

It’s his one opportunity to come clean.

And she wasn’t going to forgive him then either but god, she just wanted the truth from him - YN had always, always been honest with him, even when it was hard, even when it was embarrassing. She thought he’d always done that same but it felt like a knife to her heart that this was unraveling.

YN sits her bum on their kitchen island, waits and waits for him to come over from his date with someone who’s not her.

It makes her want to cry when her phone buzzes and his name pops up with an ridiculous amount of emoji hearts after it.

Be home in ten. I love you, sweet girl. Missed you all day x

“Fucking liar,” She hisses through clenched teeth, wiping harshly at the tears that are falling without her permission, and slamming her phone down against the marble hard enough that she would not be surprised if her screen cracked.

She zones out as she ponders the possibilities of how this conversation will turn out, there was a numbness already sweeping through her body, as a protective measure because her body couldn’t even acknowledge the hurt.

She doesn’t even register the front door unlocking and opening.

Not until he’s in the kitchen, dropping his jacket over the barstool, and smiling so fucking fondly at her, “Hi darlin’, your allergies acting up again? I told you that the off brand just doesn’t work for you. Your eyes are swollen.”

It was aching how beautiful he was, his face was soft and open with deep dimples decorating his cheeks, his eyes twinkling and happy, and he’s stepping towards her with his tattooed arms outreached.

YN bats off his hand when he reaches to thumb at her cheek, confusion wrinkling his forehead because she can’t remember a time where she’s every denied his touch like she just did, she seethes out, “Don’t act like you fucking care.”

He’s clearly startled by her hostility, lips turning down when he asks with an offended edge, “Why wouldn’t I care? What’s gotten into you, hm?”

It’s like he’s not sure whether she’s playing or not because sometimes she would be short, act like a brat, just so that it could turn into a fun night of punishment and pleasure but even Harry knew that it wasn’t this - not by how rigid her body language was.

“I know your secret, what you’ve been trying to hide from me, and trying to act like I’m insane when I questioned you about it,” YN responds with her arms crossed, making it clear she doesn’t want any physical interaction, and he struggles to take a step back because it’s obvious how much he wants to embrace her right now.

And well, the look on his face is all the confirmation she needs - the confusion twists into surprise, shock swirling in his eyes, and something else that she wasn’t able to point her finger on but it almost looked like disappointment.

“H-how did you find out?” He stutters on the first syllable, his already deep voice somehow even more gravely, his accent accentuated, and she’s never heard him trip over his words before - his pouty bottom lip quivering a bit.

YN scoffs in disbelief, she regrets it but she chucks the glass next to her on the countertop at him and he manages to duck before it hits him - the facade of shock made her unbearably angry and she’s relieved the glass doesn’t hit him but feels a satisfaction when it shatters against their floor.

“I-Darlin’,” He tries to reason, hands out cautiously, and he swallows hard, “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

“Five fucking years down the drain,” YN lets the tears fall in a slow dance down her cheeks, letting them form into droplets on her jaw, “You fucking cheater.”

His jaw drops in disbelief, the softness in his face dissipating when he hears her words, “We are definitely not talking about the same thing. That’s for fucking sure. You think I’d cheat on you?”

“I don’t think, I know,” YN slips off the marble counter and avoids the broken glass - shattered into a million pieces on the ground, just like her heart, “Don’t ever, ever speak to me again. You knew what I went through with my parents when I was growing up. I trusted you because I told you how my dad’s cheating affected me.”

“You’re wrong,” He states bluntly, interrupting her and disregarding what she’s saying - his eyes hardening and his back becoming ramrod straight, tense and offended by the words.

“Who were you at dinner tonight with?” YN pressed with an unhappy smirk, “Who was the woman you were with? Is she the reason you’ve been hiding your phone from me?”

His lips draw in a tight line, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he stares her down.

No words though. Not quick enough. She wasn’t giving him more than three seconds to respond.

“That’s all I needed to know. This, this is done,” YN motions with her arms, her chest beginning to heave with the reality that the man she thought she would marry wasn’t going to be hers anymore.

That he was sharing himself with others.

YN is mentally hyping herself up for another round of sex that wouldn’t lead to anything, sure it was fine to mess around with someone but it more so filled the loneliness rather than the actual pleasure.

She felt pathetic that she was still so fucking love sick for her ex, that he’d ruined her so sustainably for anyone else in every faucet of the word, love, sex, friendship - it was destroyed.

“Hey, five minutes and we’re starting, let’s go,” Warren, the director, pops in his head with a final warning, meaning she needs to get her bum on set right now.

“Wish me luck,” YN chirps with fake enthusiasm to Niall, pinching his cheek until he bats her hand away and pushes her towards the door - he won’t watch, nor would she want him to.

“Have fun getting dick, I guess,” Her friend mumbles in his a monotone huff, giving her a look because he is supportive but doesn’t necessarily approve as he barely looks up from his phone.

After navigating the hallway to the bedroom set where she’ll be filming, she sees her co-star for the first time - well, the back of him, tall, towering over the others that he’s around.

He was faced towards Warren, most likely preparing, his shoulders were broad, muscles defined on every inch of his body but not obnoxiously, tapering off into narrow hips and lean but strong legs - bum small but still plump.

She would know that body anywhere, the way her heart drops to the floor tells her who it is before it connects with her brain but that doesn’t make sense does it?

She wonders for a brief second if she’s had a break with reality and she’s hallucinating.

YN can clearly, distinctly remember what that skin felt like under her fingers, the way his abdominal muscles twitched when he was close, how those long arms would encompass her, hold her through all the good and bad.

She was split between running for the hills, canceling the shoot, and purely only doing webcam business from here on out - it wasn’t worth the money but it was magnetic and her mind was fuzzy with wanting to just touch him.

Her other option, which her heart is proposing, is running straight into his arms, letting him brush his lips against her forehead as his fingertips dig into her hips but that probably wouldn't happen, would it?

Instead of either choice, her feet are cemented to the floor, she looked like a deer in headlights with wide eyes and trembling lips, shaking down to her fingertips with frozen fear.

“There’s our girl!” Warren announces happily when he sees her past her costar’s shoulder, tugging his headset off one of his ears as he smiles at his star and waves her over towards them.

The other man turns around, their eyes meeting for the first time in a year - the forestry green she loved so much met hers and recognition, confusion, anger crossed them in a span of mere seconds - his lips in a tight line but he doesn’t look angry as much as he looked disapproving.

Who is he to fucking judge?

They both don’t move automatically, staring at each other, and not knowing what to make of it - the tension was palpable between them and YN could feel it all the way to her bones.

Harry budges first, he always has as he takes the familiar long strides - just in a pair of tight briefs that hug him perfectly, hugging his thighs and highlighting the hard cut of muscle leading into the waistband, the familiar trail of sparse hairs that start at his bellybutton and travel down out of sight - she used to love to run her fingers over it and tease that spot before ducking lower.

Her eyes can’t help but dart down to his right upper thigh, her real name (not her stage name) was still inked permanently and dark into his tanned skin - she’d wondered if he had covered it by now but it was still in all of its original glory.

Warren is oblivious to anything out of the norm, he’s slapping Harry on the shoulder and telling YN with a wide smile, “Meet Axel. Axel meet Starlet, your co-star You two are going to make a hot fucking movie.”

It was comical, the faux anonymity, they knew everything about each other down to their blood type, first ever pet, and so they fact that they were being introduced as these corny fake names just makes it even stranger.

Harry puts his hand out to shake, YN hesitates with her chest still rising much too fast to be normal as she shakingly meets his, and she thinks she’s about to have a panic attack because right now, she can’t decipher up from down.

It hurts her, physically, to touch him again.

She loves him so much.

Present tense.

It isn’t fair that this is happening, she has always been loyal and good to him, and it feels like a punishment that she’s in this situation right now.

Warren gets distracted by another staff calling his name as they mess around with a tripod for one of the bigger cameras - there was a decent amount of people around for this shoot.

“Breathe,” Harry murmurs, hand still holding hers as he notices how elevated her breathing, his gaze is intimidatingly intense as he observes her, he knows that she’s panicking, “It’s okay, I promise I didn’t know. I can back out right now.”

YN for some reason doesn’t let go either, her eyes watering as she whispers, “Why are you here? Why are you doing…this?”

She couldn’t say what they were really doing, she wasn’t ashamed but it was boggling that he was here too - it wasn’t like either of them had a history of doing porn before their relationship.

Harry sighs, his free hand pushing his curls off his forehead, “The start-up I was working for went bankrupt and didn’t pay out my last three months worth of work as well as my commission. I had to figure out something to pay my bills until I can find a new job and a friend suggested this.”

“Then you need this just as much as I do. Clover Tech laid me and three hundred other employees off,” She replies, finally dropping his hand and awkwardly wringing her wrists - her nerves were tingling and she wanted to keep holding his hand.

Harry looks torn before he settles, “I know you don’t want to do this with me. I…I can do the shoot with the backup girl and split half of the check with you so you’re not out money.”

It’s so genuine that it makes her stomach churn, how could someone this sweet ruin everything by cheating.

“That’s…no. It’s fine unless you don’t want to,” YN trails off with a twinge of embarrassment at the thought he wouldn’t want to have sex with her because she obviously hadn’t been enough for him.

It had never been a concern when they were together, they were magnetic, and he was obsessed with getting his mouth, hands, anything on her whenever she would let him which had been often.

“Unless I don’t want to?” Harry prompts, not catching what she’s hinting at, fuck, he was so handsome she couldn’t think straight - his brow was furrowed and she could tell by his body language that he was stressed out.

“You know…have sex with me,” She mumbles lowly, eyes darting down to her feet for a moment but she soon realizes that Harrys waiting for her eye contact to speak because he doesn’t say anything until she sheepishly meets his gaze.

“Until you broke up with me. I was planning on only having sex with you for the rest of my life,” Harry rasps much too bluntly and without any regret in his eyes as he watches her, “I will never turn you down.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” YN scolds because it’s getting too emotional for a porn set and she shouldn’t feel like he’s telling the truth but because of how firm his tone is - the worst part is that she believes him and she shouldn’t.

Harry’s hand twitches like he’s about to reach out and grasp her jaw like he’d always done when he felt she wasn’t listening and she needed to, he’d bring her into his chest and whisper the words against her temple as he rubbed her hips.

“I’m telling the truth,” He states sincerely, hand moving instead to scratch at his bare stomach, “I’m only doing this on one condition. After we shoot, we need to talk. If not then I’m backing out and we’ll both be fucked for money.”

YN feels a bit of bitterness rise in her tone, who is he to make demands?

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

“Oh but there is. This time you're going to listen and not storm out of my life again,” His tone has anger behind it, an unusual occurrence because he was much better at staying calm then her.

“Fine, we can talk,” YN relents because deep down she really really wants to be intimate again and despite her mild protesting, her body is wired because sex with Harry means orgasm, good orgasms.

Not the ones by a vibrating massager or her fingers, he’s the only person who knows how to work her body like a fiddle until she’s a teary mess that doesn’t know if she wants more or not.

We - oh, fuck. H, we shouldn’t,” YN gasps into his mouth, she was panting already and he takes her plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his hand works under her dress with direct purpose.

“Tell me to stop then,” Harry challenged cockily, two fingers making her feel full as he curled them up to pet her spot that made her legs quiver against the countertop, his body keeping her upright.

She needs to tell him but she can’t find it in her because she doesn’t want him to stop, they were at his parent’s house for an anniversary dinner.

He had said he wanted to show her something upstairs but what really happened was he crowded her into a bathroom and yanked her dress down until her tits spilled out and his hand pushed her underwear to the side.

“Gonna tell me?” Harry prompts as his mouth ducks down to nip at her hard nipples, switching back and forth quickly, taking his time to move lower and suck bruises into the supple curve of her breast.

YN shakes her head, giving in to the pleasure, and letting her legs splay open against him, “Don’t want you to stop. You make me feel so good, baby.”

It was a bit too sweet for the situation they’re in but it makes Harry crack a fond, boyish smile as he stands straighter to kiss her again but it’s intimate and loving before whispering, “You’re my whole world, sweet girl. Always going to make you feel good. Now come on my fingers, baby.”

She’s snapped out of the memory by the director coming back over to where they’re standing tensely with a good amount of distance between them.

“Alright, now that you’ve met!” Warren claps his hands together, oblivious of anything out of the ordinary, “Time to get this show on the road. An easy scene, more romantic than raunchy. You’re a couple who are waking up for some morning sex. It’s that easy.”

YN honestly liked how Warren directed his films, there weren’t a million scene cuts or positions, he let the actors follow the natural rhythm and rarely had to redirect a shot - almost giving off a homemade vibe with studio quality.

She feels a sick mixture of anticipation and an oncoming panic attack, her palms are sweaty as she shucks her robe - leaving her in a oversize tee that falls to her mid thighs with a sheer pair of bikini cut panties under.

“Alright, YN right side. Slip under the duvet but make sure to turn on your side, left thigh out of the blanket,” Warren directed, once she’s laid down, he messes with the blankets until the curve of her bum and leg are on display - easy to shove off once they get started.

Harry follows as well, turning on his side so he’s spooned up right behind her, bum right in the cradle of his pelvis, and he’s already hard against her - it made her flashback to their mornings when they woke up together and had slow, giggly morning sex.

“Hard up for it?” YN murmurs quietly, she wasn’t sure if she was joking or if it was a jab at him - maybe both at this point because most men needed more to get hard to film than this.

“Considering I have dreams about your cunt nearly every night, can you blame me?” Harry whispers in her ear, ignoring the bustle of the people setting up, his hand splayed on her tummy, “You’ve lost weight. I don’t like it, missed grabbing on to you. Miss you filling my hands.”

“Everything’s been shit since we’ve broken up,” She admits shakily when his hand naturally starts to pet at the skin near the band only her panties - he was right, she had lost weight, not intentionally, but eating made her stomach churn most days.

“I know. It’s been hell,” Harry agrees with no judgment, it felt too comfortable to have him like this again, and she felt no discomfort as he traced her skin - thumbing at a scar she had on her hip that he always kissed.

It’s like they forget that they're here for a reason as Harry already tries to move the process along before they’re even rolling - he had always been impatient when he was horny and had no shame in his body during it.

YN gently grips his wrist when he tucks his fingers under the soft silk of her underwear to tease at her mound and shakes her head, “Not yet.”

“This goes against every instinct I have to let anyone watch you get fucked. The only way I can manage is to know that it’s going to me owning this body again. Has anyone made you come like I have, sweet girl?”

YN also missed this part too, he was by far the best talker during sex, everything he said sent an electric zip through her, and he had a mouth filthier than any sailor when he was on her.

“I’m-, yeah,” YN lies lamely, she can hear his warm chuckle as he palms her tummy once again and pulls her impossibly closer - she didn’t want him to have the power that he truly had over her.

“Are you telling me nobody’s made you come since we broke up?” Harry asks but he already knows the answer, “Know your cunt’s aching for me. You smell so good, m’mouth is watering. This is my first scene with another person, I’ve just been doing solo shit. You’re the last person I’ve touched.”

She shouldn’t feel satisfied at that but she does.

“You already know,” YN huffs out with an annoyed edge, she knows he has a cocky grin that makes his dimples pop boyishly - one of the first things she fell in love with and one of the things she missed the most.

“Quiet on set!” Warren announces to all the staff who are making small talk or any type of noise, he has a marker in his hand and starts now that all the noise has disappeared, “Mark. And Axel, Starlet, you're on.”

The lights are dimmed, to give the illusion of the sun barely kissing over the horizon, the bedrooms styled in a modern farmhouse vibe making it cozy and realistic, and the bed was surprisingly plush and comfortable.

YN closes her eyes to feign sleep as does Harry for a good minute before he begins to rouse with a deep inhale and a low groan as he stretches, his arms rustling above his head.

She can’t obviously see what he’s doing but instead feels when he leans forward to kiss the nape of her neck - it’s a jolt of shock because she’s missed it so much and it feels nice.

This all just seems like a fucked up fever dream.

“Sweetheart,” He murmurs softly, his hand moving up to tug the collar of her shirt off her shoulder so that his lips could make line from her ear to shoulder blade, “Wake up for me, baby.”

YN fakes a whiny grumble as she wriggles back into him, feeling his sharp intake of breath with the friction on his center, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more room to roam his lips along.

“Tired,” She complains brattily but it warps into a squeak when he nips the cap of her shoulder before soothing it with his tongue, back up to her jaw to suck a spot into her skin as he pulls her harder back into his groin.

“Please, darling,” Harry drawls against her skin, he kicks off the duvet to display their bodies, his hand moving to the hem of her shirt before slipping in and upwards against her warm skin, “I need you.”

His fingers raise goosebumps against her tummy before he’s cupping both of her breasts, hidden under her shirt but his thumbs come to her nipples - they’re already hard for him as he rubs them in lazy circles as his lips don’t stay still for a moment against her skin.

YN lets out a hurt mewl when he pinches at them before thumbing over the acute pain and easing it with softer touches - it was something intimate that he was hiding this from the camera, it was just them for a brief moment, “So desperate for me. Let’s get your shirt off, need to see these pretty tits.”

It scared her because it didn’t sound like acting, it sounded like how he talked when they were living together, when they were in their bed.

“Stop teasing,” She mumbles as she lets him tug the shirt over her head, his right hand moves to her mouth, tapping at her plush lips.

YN opens automatically and he presses two fingers inside her mouth, stroking at her tongue before taking them out to rub the sheen of spit on her nipples - he watches curiously as they pebble even more before pinching at them again.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning,” Harry hums with a hint of humor because it was actually true, she was not a morning bird at all.

“M’not grumpy,” YN disagrees, her voice hitching at the end when he gives a particularly hard tweak as they become more sensitive and taut, “Just want you to do something.”

“Do something,” Harry mocks in that deep, gravel accent before he’s kissing the hinge of her jaw and rasps, “Just remember, you asked for it. So desperate for my cock, it’s cute.”

Before she can bite back, Harry’s hand moves into the front of her panties, thick fingers sliding down her folds before two are tucking up right inside and curl against her velvet, warm walls.

He knew her body like the back of his hand because he’s petting her spot with precision like he remembered right where it was and how much pressure she preferred.

YN let out a loud, surprised moan.

It was authentic, really one of the first she’s ever let out that was real on set as her toes already begin to curl and she was struggling to keep her eyes open as electricity zipped through her.

“Did I find your spot, baby?” Harry asks innocently despite his actions, he’s grinding himself into her bum to get some relief as his thumb moves up to swirl on her clit with harsh movements.

“There, s’good,” YN gasps kittenishly, spreading her legs further to give him more room and beginning to roll her hips down onto his fingers, riding them without another thought, she wasn’t even registering the cameras anymore.

“Yeah, darlin’. I know all your sweet spots, hm? Hit ‘em just right to have you dripping down my hand like a good girl,” He praises before nipping at her jaw and twisting his fingers with a harsh, steady rhythm - he smelled so fucking good, like pumpkin spice and cedar, strong and heady - it made her dizzy with want.

“I-I’m cl-close, baby,” The pet name slips out as her muscles begin to tense, walls contracting against him, she doesn’t know if she’s ever come this fast, definitely not in a long time because it took her aback.

She missed it so much.

She missed him so much.

It felt like a sick joke to her to have to act out what used to be, what she missed, what she craved.

It was like groundhogs day but amplified by a million.

“Then fuckin’ give it to me. I’ve earned it yet? Soak my fingers, pet,” He encourages as he speeds up and presses down harder on her button - his bicep flexing deliciously, straining all of his strong muscles.

It has her tipping over the edge, it’s the first mind-numbing orgasm she’s had in a year and it’s with her cheating ex-boyfriend who she thought she was going to settle down with, house with a white picket fence, babies running around, and this was what she got instead.

Her eyes are squeezed shut as her body tremors through it, his hand slowing but not all together stopping either.

Her body was conditioned to respond to him and it gave in to him so sweetly that people watching this would be blind not to see - no one could act this well.

“Perfect, did just what I asked,” He hums as she comes down, he’s pulling the shirt off her head and tossing it to the floor before doing the same with her underwear.

His hand moved up her belly, leaving a damp trail in its wake from her wetness until he cups her breast, lips back to her neck with slow, wet kisses.

“Plea-please, H,” YN mewls as he pinches at her nipple but he punishes her with a nip, whispering in her ear, “No names, pet.”

It takes her a moment to realize her slip because she wasn’t fucking acting - she couldn’t even find it in her to be embarrassed.

She wanted to get her mouth on him before they got to the main event and so she’s wriggling out of his grip to turn and face him.

YN straddles his thighs, his big hands automatically coming to grip her hips - indenting enough to bruise and Harry looks vulnerable for the first time today.

His eyes are wider than usual, his lips parted, and his stomach was sucking in and out revealing his ribs before disappearing back into the strong muscle.

YN goes to shimmy down, he shoots up and grips her jaw hard, bringing their mouths back together in a hard kiss - her breasts pressing against his bare chest.

When she finally has a moment to pull back for a breath, Harry murmurs too low for the microphones to catch on, “Missed your perfect little mouth so much. If you even wrap those lips around me, I’ll come. Let me fuck you, darling.”

YN can do anything but nod, trying not to preen from the compliment - he squirms around for a moment as he shoves his briefs down his thighs and kicks them off his ankle.

God, she missed everything about him.

He was as pretty, thick, long as she remembers.

Her heart flutters when she spots the soft pinkish scar on his pubic bone a few inches up and to the left of his base - she’d forgotten about that.

“Bloody hell!” Harry yelps out in surprise, sitting up from the bed and looking down at his groin, “S’definitely not supposed to hurt that much.”

“You made sure this was meant for wax play right?” YN asks as she puts the candle back on the bedside table before examining the little blob of lavender wax on his pubic bone.

“I didn’t know there were specific candles!” Harry whines out as YN picks the wax off, a small bubbling blister already forming on his delicate skin.

“Baby,” YN chastised with a giggle and a shake of her head, “We better put some neosporin and a bandaid on this so it doesn’t get infected.”

“It hurts so bad, need you to take care of me,” Harry’s pouts as she disappears to get the supplies from their bathroom.

“How are you still hard?” YN laughs as he winces in pain as she gently dabs the medication on the wound and unwraps the bandaid.

“Don’t make fun of me,” He grumbles as he tries to hide a smile, his hand moving to rub her plushy hip, and his nose nudging at her cheek, “You constantly make me hard. S’gonna nearly be impossible for me to lose a stiffy around you.”

“Who said romance is dead,” She rolls her eyes but it’s fond and she can’t stop giggling because he just makes her so happy.

“Never going t’be,” Harry murmurs, sex voice one hundred perfect back in motion, now that he has a purple bandaid on his burn, and he’s leans forward to begin kissing her belly and his hands coming to knead at her bum.

The candle long forgotten.

She runs her fingers over the puffy skin where she had accidentally burnt him - she didn’t know why it made her eyes prick with emotion.

When YN glances up at him, Harry is watching her so intently as she traces over the memory - the moment doesn’t last for more than a minute but it moves in slow motion for her.

YN snaps out of it when she remembers exactly where she’s at and what she’s supposed to be doing right now - in front of cameras because this wasn’t an intimate moment, it was all for the cameras.

At least, that’s she’s telling herself to save her sanity.

Harry could always sense her mood, her emotion, and now is no different, and so he helps her get back on track, asking, “C’mon, darling. You want my cock? S’aching for you.”

“Please, want it,” YN agrees as Harry adjusts their position, his length sliding between her folds and it has him tilting his head back and moaning - it was loud and beautiful, deep but at the same time desperate as his hips twitch up.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry hisses as he grips his base to paint the tip through her folds, teasing at her entrance before moving up to smack the weight of it against her swollen clit - repeating that cycle a few times as he mouths at her nipples.

“Stop teasing,” She huffs out in frustration because she wants him in, she wants to come again, but at the same time, she never wants this to end - this right here is what she thought she would get for the rest of her life.

“Spoiled thing,” Harry chastises as he guides himself in, hands moving to her hips and pulling her down all the way onto him until she’s settled, it makes her feel so full, Harry must agrees because he’s groaning, “Darling, s’tight. Fuck, you feel good. Best thing I’ve ever had.”

It didn’t feel like he was lying.

“Ride me, baby,” Harry encourages as he leans back against the headboard, his strings hands moving her hips back and forth in a grinding motion, harsh circles that made her stomach tense, “Show me what a good girl you are.”

She wanted to show him what he fucked up, what he gave up.

YN rises up on her knees, pulling herself nearly off of him until his tip is just kissing at her core before sliding on the way back down, slow and purposeful as her hands move to cup her breasts.

“Stop tha’,” Harry scolds possessively, knocking her hands away and moving to grab them himself, fingers pinching at her nipples in the exact way she liked it, “Am I not doing good enough or are you just too greedy for your own good?”

YN lets out a wet mewl, falling forward until her chest is pressed against his, her forehead resting on his shoulder, “S’good, you’re so good. H, you’re so good, baby.”

Harry shushes her softly, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her into his chest as close as possible before he’s thrusting up into her with full force, the sound of skin meeting echoing through the room as he kisses the side of her face.

“God, I’ve fucking missed you,” Harry whispers in her ear, just for her, he’s panting as he exerts energy into fucking her, kissing her, hugging her, and YN falls off the edge for another orgasm, sobbing in pleasure into his neck, “That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, pet.”

He only thrusts up a few more times before he’s coming, keeping her still, deep in his lap as he works through it, lips moving to just press against her temple as he slows his hips and relaxes back more.

YN kept her head tucked against him, her cheeks were wet from tears, from a mixture of her multiple orgasms and heartbreak - she was sniffling and didn’t want the cameras to see this.

Harry hears the sniffle, the way her breathing is stuttered from trying to hold it back, and he’s looking up at the room of people, “Cut it. We’re done.”

The camera crew apparently doesn’t halt filming as quickly as Harry has asked and so he’s raising his voice loudly, “I said fucking cut it. Turn off the goddamn cameras. The scene’s over.”

Warren is coming over, a genuine concern on his face, “What’s going on? Is she hurt?”

The question offends Harry, he barks out, “I didn’t fucking hurt her. She’s okay. I got this.”

YN nods, muttering “I’m fine.” And wanting everyone else in the room to disappear.

Harry’s rustling them around a bit, having pulled out by now, and is shoving her big tee shirt back over her head to cover her up before moving them until he can wriggle her underwear and his back on.

“YN,” Harry’s voice is softer than when he was ordering everyone around a minute ago, “Baby, I need you to breathe. Everything’s okay. You’re okay.”

“You’re okay,” Harry coos as he holds her to his bare chest, “Everything’s okay.”

The water was cascading down on them, hot and steaming up the bathroom, as they stood under it - just embracing, unsure of how long they’ve been in there.

“I miss her,” YN cries into his chest, her chest hurt from how much she’d been crying - her eyes were swollen and sore, “It doesn’t get easier. I can’t believe it’s been two years. It feels like yesterday.”

“It does,” Harry agrees solemnly, he still remembers the day her mother was diagnosised with cancer, “I miss her too. She was an amazing woman. And she gave me you, the love of my life.”

“I couldn’t do this without you,” She says honestly, goosebumps prickling her skin even despite the temperature.

“Never have to do it without me,” Harry replies as he reaches to turn the water a little hotter, “S’a promise baby.”

“I’m fine,” YN spits out a bit harshly, shoving his hands off of her - he doesn’t get to comfort her like this when he fucking cheated on her.

She wishes she regret what she just did but she didn’t, however she needed a minute to breath and so she’s sliding off the bed and straightening out the shirt.

YN knows she’s running away but she doesn’t get far before Harry’s fingers are curling around her wrist and stopping her.

“Hey. We had a deal,” He reminds her firmly, his lips in a tight line - she has to ignore the blossoming hickeys she left all over his neck and chest, “We’re gonna talk.”

“Yeah,” YN lies breathlessly, “I really need to pee. Come to my dressing room in fifteen minutes?”

“Okay, m’going to shower real quick then,” Harry agrees, squeezing her wrist once more before he’s turning to go back to his dressing room.

YN is whipping open the door in a panic, “For fucks sake, Niall. We have to leave now.”

“Everything okay?” He asks from where he’s still lounged on the couch, “Do I need to kick someone’s arse?”

“I just did a scene with Harry,” YN whisper-shouts, tugging on her leggings and jamming her feet in her tennis shoes, “Let’s go.”

“Bloody hell,” Niall’s eyes go wide, he has so many questions but finally gets some urgency, shoving her shit into her duffle before swinging it over her shoulder and guiding them out the emergency exit.

Harry can’t seem to catch his breath on the shower, hard choking sobs wracking through his body as his forehead rests against the ceramic.

And he can’t stay in here much longer because she’s waiting to talk, he doesn’t know where to begin, how to apologize.

He’s tugging on a tee and running shorts before making his way back to her dressing room, his hands shaking with nerves - the confident pornstar long gone.

When he knocks, he doesn’t hear anything, and so he twists the knob, the room empty of anything beside the furniture - making it clear she was long gone.

“Fuck,” Harry hisses before punching his fist against the wall.

He wasn’t going to let her get away twice.

#pornstar!harry #pornstar!au #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #file

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