#freaknloser

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 1

⚠ Content Warning: fluff, a man, stalker-ish if you squint? Context: You were doing your shopping, when you both reached for the gun same box of cereal. Tall, muscular, handsome—and respectively appreciating your curves. Word count: 1,368   │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hi hi hi!! ヾ(・ω・) This is a story I've been working on and this is just the first part, I swear... And it will get steamy as it continues. Honestly? It's that time of the month and I just wanted to make something cute and fluffy. I tried to be a vague as possible with reader, but there were definitely some things that I did decide to base off of myself. So, reader can walk, drive, and is over 21. Also, I am not super used to POV writing, so I hope I did okay. Like always, my inbox and asks are open for suggestions and ideas—or if you just want to say hello! The second part of this story will be released soon!

The speaker overhead mumbled a half-coherent call for an employee on isle 3 for a clean-up, a shopping cart squeaking from behind you as another shopper walked by. You were doing your weekly shopping, everything was the same dull routine as usual.

The same store, same crowd, same items. The glass jars in your cart clinked together as you pushed it towards your next target: the cereal aisle.

As you reach to grab your favorite cereal, another set of hands reach for the same box, knocking it from both of your hands, and sending it dramatically crashing to the floor. You quietly gasp, looking over at the figure beside you to start apologizing, but your words are cut off when you lock eyes with the man beside you.

Tall: way tall. Easily 6 foot; and broad. A strong jawline, sharp features, and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Eyes bluer than the ocean and dark hair curled perfectly in place on his forehead.

“Oh,” you say, blush already pinkening your cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

Meanwhile, this stranger is looking at you as if he’s completely entranced. He was, as respectfully is possible, gazing over your entire figure. The flare of your hips, the way the fabric of your jeans stretched over your thick thighs, how your shirt clung to your tummy.

He was a man, after all—but the first thing he noticed was how the fluorescent lighting of the store made your eyes glitter like they were full of fireflies. How your lips parted slightly as you looked up at him, already forming an apology before it came out. The curve of your jaw, the plumpness of your pink cheeks.

But the most important detail he made sure to check for: a ring. Seeing none, his eyes returned to yours.

Just a beat after your apology, he smiled. “My fault, really. I should have been paying more attention.”

His long arms flexing as he reached down and picked up the dented box of cereal from the floor. He tucked it in his cart before grabbing an uncrumpled box and offering it to you. “I guess I was distracted,” he said with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

That only made your cheeks darken. The way his eyes raked over your face, like he was trying to memorize every detail, making your chest tighten and stomach flutter.

“Distracted, huh? Sounds like a likely story,” you finally manage with a smile, taking the box of cereal from his large hand. You toss it into your cart half-mindedly before returning your gaze to the handsome stranger.

“Well, thank you.”

Then you expected that to be the end of the conversation: a thank you and goodbye… Yet he lingered.

“No, thank you,” he insisted, the smirk finally managing to fully grow on his lips. “I’m Daniel. And you are…”

You looked down to see his hand extended towards you. A handshake? You haven’t had someone outside of a professional setting ever offer you their hand. With a small laugh, you put your hand in his and offer your name.

“Y/N,” he echoed, fingers gently wrapping around your hand; not shaking, just holding. A thumb softly grazed the back of your hand, almost not there, nothing more than a ghost of a touch. After a moment, he reluctantly released your hand.

He asked if you were in a hurry—you were—and you said no. He asked to join you; and as you looked up at him, you found yourself accepting. He reached things on the top shelves for you, walked patiently beside you, smiling warmly as you spoke. His eyes barely left you and his basket never having a single item added to it.

He was completely transfixed by you. The way your brows scrunched slightly when you were debating between two brands, how your hips swayed as you pushed your cart: you were like a goddess before him and all he wanted to do was admire your beauty.

You turned towards him, your smile faltering for a moment as you see his gaze on you. His shoulders were slumped forward slightly, eyes heavy-lidded, and a wide smile splitting his face. Your smile returned as a smirk as you lightly teased him.

“You okay?”

He nodded absentmindedly. Then realized how stupid he must look; quickly straightening his spine to stand straight, once again towering over you. A hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously, his eyes shifting towards the shelf of macaroni noodles beside them.

“Ah,” he started before chuckling nervously, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just—” His eyes met yours, stopping his train of thoughts faster than a brick wall.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, eyes softening as he gazed down at you.

You couldn’t believe how he looked at you. Sure, you’d dated and were by no means innocent; but this was different. It wasn’t lust—okay, maybe that was there, too… But he looked at you like you were the only one worth seeing.

“I know this is really bold, but could I get your number? I’d love to take you out.”

“My number?” You blinked; and though you usually never hesitated to decline giving your number to strangers, you did. Only for a moment, but the fleeting thought almost sprung forward. “Hmm… I don’t make habit of giving my number out.”

While he was glad to know you were safe with personal details, he also couldn’t fully hide the disappointment that creeped into his features.

“I understand,” he quickly replied with a soft smile. He looked down at you, already trying to figure out how to see you again. “Do you… shop here often?”

You did. Every week. Same day, same routine—though he didn’t need all those details.

You nod, his smile grew.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he suggested; even though he was already planning on coming back regularly to a shop he’d never been to before.

He fell in line behind you, your shopping cart full and his basket only holding the same two items that were there before. You, of course, commented on it as you waited.

“Needed to walk around for a while anyway,” he offered dismissively with a small shrug of his shoulders.

You pay for your things, loading them back into the cart to push to your vehicle. You smile and give a small wave as a goodbye before making your way to the parking lot.

As you packed the last paper bag into your car, you heard footsteps behind you, a voice cutting through the air before you can fully turn.

“Can I take your cart back for you?”

Your eyes met Daniel’s once more as you turned your back to your vehicle.

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by seeing him again so soon. Yet, here he was, still looking at you like he was memorizing your face.

Maybe he was; because, God forbid, what if he never saw you again? What if this was the closest he would ever come to being the one to make you smile?

“Um, that’s okay. I got it.”

Daniel’s hands left the cart, he stepped back, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “If you’re sure.” He paused, wanting to say the right thing.

“I hope I see you again.” He smiled warmly, something behind his eyes resembling… longing?

You felt the blush creeping back into your cheeks at his raw confession; but maybe a part of you hoped for the same thing.

“We’ll have to see, hm?” You smile back, reaching behind you and closing the back of your car.

Then you properly say your goodbyes, and somehow he still ended up taking your cart for you. And that was it—you parted ways. You slide into your car, him in his. You pull out first, and you never saw his pull out.

As you make your way home, the radio playing softly in the background, a smile pulls at your lips. Would you see him again? Only time would tell; but suddenly the thought of doing your weekly shopping didn’t seem so boring.

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[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 5

⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, minor sexual content, angst, slow-burn, fluff, a fat "joke". Context: The day leading up to your date was fairly uneventful, minus a customer that seemed to peek behind your customer service mask. You try to keep your nerves contained until you're delivered to the address Daniel gave you. And—oh. Um... Where the hell are you?! Word count: 7,528 │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hihihi! Look who's back! (～￣▽￣)～ This is definitely the longest thing I've written in a long time, I just couldn't find a good place to end. I won't lie, it took a lot out of me, but I couldn't stop! As always, I hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait! ♡

[Comments, asks, and messages make me smile. Constructive criticism welcomed and encouraged! Let me know what you think and if I should continue this series.]

“This register open?”

A woman’s voice jarred you from your daydream, your eyes refocusing, head jerking from the palm of your hand. You stood straight, looking at the elderly woman with a small smile gracing her wrinkled lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, mirroring her smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

She chuckled, taking the items from her basket to place on the conveyor belt one-by-one. Small beeps rang out, mixing with the others in the background, as you dragged each barcode over the red laser.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart,” she drawled, a southern accent stretching her words into a thick, warm sound; even with the small click in the back of her throat making her words crackle. “Ya’ seem ta’ be miles away… A boy?”

Your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, acid rising to fill its place. Your date was in less than four hours and you wasn’t sure how to feel. Daniel had never shown you anything less than respect; never pushing back anytime you said no, doting you with cute pet names, complimenting you any chance he could get.

Yet reminiscing on the way his voice changed filled you with dread.

“You’re observant,” you finally responded.

She observed you with careful eye, nodding her head slowly, a knowing look on her face. “I been around a while, young lady.”

You finished scanning her things, stated her total, and rested your palms against the cold metal of the register. Her hands dug through her purse, movements slow as syrup. Yet you were patient, even helping when she couldn’t see the small screen of the card reader.

After paying, she took a moment to offer you some unsolicited advice.

“Ya’ know,” she started, gathering her bags in fragile hands, “I’m jus’a silly ol’ lady, but I hope you’ll hear me out. I had a man courtin’ me when I was your age. He was so handsome, the nicest person ya’ ever could meet…”

She looked to you once more, the loss showed clearly, her brows turned up and lips down. The years of longing and sorrow permanently etched into deep lines on her face, making your heart clenched in your chest from the sheer intensity of it all.

“But my mama didn’t approve an’ I was too scared a disappointin’ her. Now, I don’t know why you’re scared, but don’t let it stop you, too.”

That was it; she gave you a small wave accompanied with an even smaller smile then shuffled towards the sliding doors. You blinked, staring at her small figure disappear through the doors, the glass sliding closed behind her.

“Very observant,” you muttered to yourself.

The rest of your shift wore on with forced smiles and empty smalltalk. Cash exchanged, cards swiped, receipts given—but all you could think about was the date and the older woman who seemed to look into your soul with her piercing grey eyes. The last four hours of your shift somehow dragged by even slower, a mix of eagerness and panic making the hours feel like days.

Amanda picked you up when your shift ended, promising to help you prepare for either a great date or a potentially soul-crushing one. Your silence led her to fill the space. While you tried not to think about what the night could hold, she was rambling about work—almost talking about the mysterious blonde man—before shifting to rant about her landlord. She paid almost twice the amount you did, and her apartment looked nicer; but at least your landlord would come to your aid if you called about a broken water heater.

Soon after, you were in your cluttered apartment, one elbow on the second-hand vanity in your bedroom, leaned so close to the mirror that you breath subtly fogged the glass. You examined your makeup, a finger coming to smudge away a small smear of lipstick trying to escape your bottom lip line. The bed creaked behind you as Amanda rolled onto her back.

“I mean, it could be nothing,” she continued, her hair splayed across your mattress like flames. Her head tilted to look over at you. “And it probably is. You have been known to overthink.”

“Don’t,” you snipped, turning in your chair to face her.

“I’m just saying. Remember that time you were convinced that tree outside your window was a man trying to break in?”

You gasped, feigning offense with a hand coming to cover your heart. “I just said ‘don’t’ and you bring up my trauma anyway.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff, bringing her phone back to her face. “You’re so theatrical.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

You smirked, standing from your chair to make your way to your closet. Your movement grabbed her attention from her phone, which was quickly tossed to the side, and she somehow managed to beat you through your closet door. She assumed her self appointed role of picking your dress, digging through the options carefully.

“I don’t know, ‘Manda. I just—”

“You’re worried he’s going to peel your skin off and wear it like a suit?”

“Hey!” Your voice came out as a bark, louder than you meant, but you still took a half-step towards her with a finger in her face. “There’s a documented case of someone actually doing that! And there was a guy that made furniture with skin!”

Her upper lip curled in revulsion as she looked at you, hands grasping two different dresses held by plastic hangers.

“You know the weirdest shit,” she commented with unconcealed disgust.

You shrugged your shoulders upwards once, watching her go back to her self-appointed task of picking out your wardrobe. “… I read a lot.”

She finally landed on a dress, jerking it from the metal rod, turning and holding it to your body. You complained, saying you didn’t want your arms exposed, and were met with a sern frown.

You looked in the full length mirror, fingers hooking in the top of the dress to tug it upwards. Of course she picked strapless, why wouldn’t she? And more importantly, why do you still own this thing when your breasts struggled to stay contained in the built-in bra?

You swiveled towards her, the satin navy fabric flowing to your ankles, your hands coming to your hips while giving her a dissatisfied look—and you were met with one in return.

“Let me try again,” she said, already disappearing back through the closet door.

You remind her with a raised voice: “He said it was a nice restaurant!”

Three dress changes later, you were slipping your heels on and grabbing your purse.

“I’m raiding your fridge while you’re gone,” Amanda chirped as you checked your makeup and hair once more in the mirror by the front door. She waited for no reply, already padding towards the kitchen. Only, prior to crossing the threshold, she stopped.

She turned on her heels towards you, her face devoid of any humor. Instead, her brows were knitted together and lips drawn into a tight line.

“Remember what we said?”

Hearing the concern in her voice, your head snap towards her. You studied her face for a moment ahead of trying to give a convincing smile.

“Yes. I have 360 and my location on, my phone is on 100%—”

“Check in every 30 minutes, even if it’s just a word. And if he gets weird: lock yourself in the bathroom and I’ll come get you.”

Oh, the joys of being a woman simply going on a date.

You nod your agreement, understanding the terms fully. While your first date went well, there were added stressors to this one. Without warning, Amanda was running at you, her small arms wrapping around your torso as well as they could.

“You’re going to be okay,” she muttered, but you felt maybe she was saying it more for herself.

Your arms wrapped around her tiny frame, hugging her tightly. Even with the weight of uncertainty, you still managed: “I’m going to be fine.”

Your heart sped more with each step, almost drowning out the sound of your heels echoing on the tile as you walked through the hallways. By the time you were crossing the sidewalk towards your Uber, your knees started to shake. You stared at the silver car as your pace slowed.

This was it, the car that would deliver you to whatever fate had in store for you.

After confirming your name, you crawled into the back seat. As the car pulled away from the building, your stomach twisted violently, as if you were free falling through the air with nothing to grab on to. The reality fully sitting in as your breathing quickened.

Your phone chimed from your purse: ‘on ur way? :)’

You didn’t reply; instead staring at the message as you sunk further into the faux leather seat. You double checked everything on your phone once more: Location on, Life360 sharing with Amanda, battery on 98 percent. The address he had texted you was nearby, luckily. It wouldn’t take her long to get to you if you did need her.

After a deep inhale through your nose, you replied as you slowly exhale through pursed lips until there was nothing left: ‘Yup! I’m almost there.’

The sound of a soft click keeping perfect rhythm almost slipped passed your ears; you glanced up, seeing an orange light flashing in time with the sound. You were close, you had followed the direction on the maps app on your phone about ten times, plotting out when to text Amanda; and this was it. ‘Almost to the place. Talk in 30.’

The car stopped moving, yet you just sat still; staring blankly at your phone.

“Uh… Ma’am?”

You shook your head, trying to realign your vision, glancing at the man behind the wheel.

“Oh, sorry. Thank you,” you croaked as you shoved the door open. Your heels clicked against the concrete as you stepped out into the dim glow of the fading sun. As soon as the door closed and you turned your back, the silver car was was speeding away.

You scanned the building, double checked the address, and you were sure your legs would give out from under you. It was nothing: an empty brick building that looked like it had been painted with tar. Obviously abandoned years ago, made clear by the sun-bleached ‘for rent’ sign in the window.

Your heart jumped into your throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Your blurred vision didn’t stop your eyes from darting around the building, and you silently begged that it was a prop that would fall away and reveal the real restaurant behind it.

Where were you? Why didn’t you look up the address to see where you were going? Are you suicidal or just stupid?

Your mind raced, quivering hands diving into your purse to find your phone—but out of nowhere, a deep voice rang out behind you, causing your hand to still as it breached the flap of your bag.

“Shortcake! You made it.”

Somehow, you managed to swiftly gather yourself, forcing a smile as mask to cover the fear lurking just below the surface. Turning towards him as you compelled the corners of your mouth to pull upwards.

“Wow…” It fell from his tongue with no thought. He stared; actually gawked. His jaw hanged slack, basking in the entirety of your form, in every dip and swell concealed beneath the soft black dress. “Your dress…”

You watched him slowly drink you in, shameless but appreciative. Your dress was low cut enough to show the curve of your neck, but covered the expanse of your shoulders. The way the black fabric stretched across your hips, the slit in the skirt offered a teasing peek of the soft skin just above your knee.

With small hearts reflecting in the depths of those blue eyes that seemed to threaten to steal your breath, he looked back into your eyes. The once forced smile you wore shifted into something genuine without you realizing.

“You look stunning. How are you more beautiful every time I see you?”

“Thank you,” you say softly, but his sweet words that threatened to make you blush didn’t quite hold enough power to achieve it. Not when the address you gave Amanda was a nothing more than a vacant building.

“But um…” You shot a glance at the darkened building over your shoulder once more, feeling your stomach flip and acid burn your throat. “It looks like the restaurant is closed…”

Daniel’s jaw ticked, his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. One of his hands slid into the pocket of his slacks, the other combed through his hair, the curl of hair that always refused to stay in place fell forward against his forehead.

“Please, don’t be mad.”

You waited a couple of seconds, but the only sound he made was the small slap of his palm slapping his thigh as he dropped his arm to his side. You observed closer; his eyebrows were slightly drawn upward, the once large smile now looking more forced.

“I can’t promise I won’t be,” you replied, holding his gaze.

His smile fell completely, and you swore you could see the vein jumping in his neck like his heart was racing—and that was because it was. Although Daniel was always cool and calculated, you never failed to crack his shell.

“Forgive me for lying, Y/N. I shouldn’t have.” His gaze dropped to your feet. “This isn’t where I planned on taking you…”

As he confessed, your heart kicked into overdrive, hammering in your throat as you struggled to swallow it down.

“I just-I wanted to surprise you,” he muttered, shame dripping from his words. His black oxford shoe scuffed against a pebble in front of him, kicking it away from the both of you, refusing to meet your glare. “It was stupid of me.”

“Daniel?”

His entire body went rigid as you spoke his name, but he still peeped up at you through his lashes like a kicked puppy.

“Wanting to surprise me isn’t an excuse for lying after I told you I would rather have my own ride.” How you managed to keep your tone so firm was beyond you, especially when your knees were almost rattling together under the long skirt of your dress.

Your words hit him harder than any punch ever had—because you were right. His face drew into a pout, complete with downcast eyes and a frown, drooped shoulders adding to the disappointment emitting from him.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, shoving his other hand into his pocket, spine bending forward. “I didn’t think it through.”

If you weren’t so terrified, it would honestly be a entertaining sight; adorable even. Daniel: 6’3”, about 240 pounds of muscle, dressed in a full suit… and standing in front of you with his head down as if you were beating him.

“Daniel, please—”

He flinched, a full bodied shudder like your words could physically cut him.

“Stop being dramatic,” you huffed, folding your arms over your chest. “It just isn’t a good look, you know?”

He nodded frantically, quickly agreeing with your criticism before whispering, “I know.”

Risking a glance at you, it finally clicked. The breath left is lungs in a harsh hiss as his heart shattered in his chest. The look in your eyes, the shimmer that revealed what you were trying to hide. It was something he’s seen plenty of times, been the reason for more than he could ever attempt to count. You were scared; and for once, he regretted being the cause of someone’s fear.

“Y/N...” His hands came from his pockets, instinctually reaching towards you; but he stopped himself, twisting his fists to his chest.

“You’re right,” he spoke fervently, the tightening in his throat not slowing the words from spilling out, “of course you’re right. I shouldn’t have tricked you. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You didn’t budge, staying firm in your stance, somehow tricking yourself into thinking you were braver than you actually were. Though it probably was only due to the fact that a man who looked like he could pick up a small car was cowering in front of you.

“Let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, words almost disintegrating in the space between you. “I’ll do anything.”

“Give me the address of where you want to take me,” you demanded.

“Yes, yeah!” He nodded again, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

You followed suit, bringing your own out and forwarding his message to Amanda. You waited for a response, only getting question marks which led to your phone ringing. You answered, openly staring at Daniel as you explained what happened.

“Put me on speakerphone.”

“No,” you reply firmly, “I’m not doing that. I’m…” You fell silent, seeing the desperation in Daniel’s face. His face turning red as he held his breath, silently begging you for another chance.

“… I’m going to hear him out.”

The phone jerked away from your ear as curses and screams blared into your eardrum. After threatening the both of you, she was reduced to huffs and you were able to finish.

“I’ll text you when we get to the restaurant.”

Daniels spine straightened, a grin splitting his face as you hung up, avoiding more of Amanda’s high pitched protests. Your hand, still clutching your phone, jerked towards him to point a finger at his face as yours twisted into a scowl.

“This is the only time I will overlook a lie… Only because I can almost see why you would do it.”

“I promise, it wasn’t—”

“I believe you,” you said, cutting off his explanation. “Let’s just try to turn this night around.”

He agreed, bringing his keys from his pocket as he gestured towards a black car by the curb. Maybe it was a bad idea—it did sound like the beginning of a horror movie—but you followed him away from the vacant building, even as your brain and heart waged a war inside you.

A short, but silent, ride in a car that looked like it cost more than everything you owned collectively. You memorized the logo on the steering wheel, committing it to memory so you could look it up later. Something resembling a trident, and it was everywhere. On every headrest, the gear shift, even the small analog clock on the center of the dash.

You thought you knew what a new car smelled like—you didn’t. It was richer than any of the synthetic sprays, leather and warmth that you had nothing to compare to. You were so lost in admiring the interior, seeing the pride that went into every red stitch that lined every curve, you didn’t notice the extravagant building looming beside you until you felt the car stop.

“We’re here,” he whispered, shattering the silence of the cab. Your face snapped towards the window, seeing a young man in a red jacket trotting towards you.

“Where is ‘here’?”

“The Gilded Dish.”

He slid out his door, quickly making his way around to open yours. You ignored his outreached hand, standing on your own. He closed your door, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his chest at your denial, yet knowing he deserved it. You sent the text you promised before observing your surroundings.

The sound of a water fountain quickly found your ears, the only sound besides the traffic buzzing in the distance. Extravagant wasn’t a strong enough word, the place oozed wealth, practically laughing at your off-the-rack dress. Floor to ceiling windows, staff waiting to take keys, an abstract sculpture looming just inside the glass door.

Knowing he was pressing his luck, he still offered an arm, a nervous smile making the muscles in his chin twitch. “Ready?”

Feeling out of your element, you stepped closer, wrapping a hand around the firmness of his forearm.

“I thought we agreed on nothing fancy?”

“No,” his hand rested against the back of yours as he lead you to the door, “you said you didn’t see the point in spending so much on food. I said I did.”

You couldn’t argue, that was true. So, you remained quiet as you stepped inside. Walking through the door, you were met with the strong smell of wood, something you could confidently say had never been the first thing you’d noticed stepping into a restaurant. Spices and herbs lingered, but the musk of oak was almost overpowering.

A short woman appeared from behind a curtain, skin and bones with long black hair. She tried—and failed—to be welcoming as she scanned you, subtly unimpressed with what she was seeing. She asked for a name, seemingly uncaring to the presence of either of you.

“Daniel Sideris.”

Her neck audibly popped as her head snapped towards him, ignoring the open book on the podium in front of her to look at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.

“Oh! Of-of course! Mr. Sideris!” She swiftly straightened her posture, seemingly trying to make herself appear taller as one hand gestured towards a doorway. “Right this way.”

She turned and lead the way into a quiet dining room. The smell of wood faded, replaced purely by savory scents hanging like smoke in the air. You examined the dining room, you immediately felt foolish for thinking the outside looked so fancy because holy shit.

Deep purple fabrics draped from the walls, ebony wood tables with white ceramic plates and glassware strategically placed on top, a golden stand proudly holding a single white candle in the center. Then there was the open kitchen, which was something you thought only existed on television. A quiet hum of conversations gently overpowered by the lull of a piano being played from the corner of the room.

You were lead to a secluded table, bumping against Daniel’s side as you drank in the environment. He released your hand after a small squeeze, then pulled a chair, waiting patiently. Deciding not to press his luck, he didn’t allow his eyes drop to the top of your dress as you sat below him.

After carefully nudging your chair forward, he slid into his own across from you. “Have you been here before?”

He was obviously trying to make small talk; or maybe just get you to say something to show you didn’t hate him. You had to choke back a laugh, your chest tight as you held your breath. Only, he wasn’t laughing.

“Are you being serious?”

He studied you as if he was trying to solve a math equation. “I am.”

The laugh sprung out, your head tilting back as your mouth hinged open, hands coming to grip your stomach. You couldn’t hold back at the seriousness in his tone, or stop when every eye in the room narrowed at you.

Though he wasn’t sure what he had done to be graced with that rich sound, he relished in it anyway. He sighed deeply as the tightness in his shoulders melted.

“What’s so funny?”

You gained your composure, shaking your head from side to side as your laughter trailed into giggles.

“I’ve never even been in the driveway before,” you finally said as the grin clung to your face. “Fine dining isn’t really my thing.”

“Hmm…” His elbows came to the table, fingers steepling under his chin. “I doubt that, shortcake. Something tells me you just haven’t given it a chance before.”

“I just don’t see the point of spending a so much money and having nothing to show for it,” you retorted, pulling a menu to your face. While you had always been curious, you couldn’t justify spending so much and risk not enjoying it.

“But you will have something to show for it...”

The single white page lowered as you peered over it at him with your brows scrunched together, being met with dreamy eyes and a warm smile.

“A full stomach and a memory,” he finished. “The menu changes, too, so you’ll never have the same thing here twice.”

“Never?”

His response was a simple head shake.

“What if I like what I order and want it again?”

“I’ll make it for you,” he replied without hesitation, giving a small shrug of a shoulder to convey how little he cared to do so.

The cardstock held in your grip found its way to the table in front of you, though your fingers still held on. He just smiled at you, admiring the subtle shock written on your face.

“You cook?”

“No, but I’ll learn.”

His response came natural as rain, timely and genuine. Daniel knew he would do anything to be the reason you smiled, even if it meant taking up a hobby he was sure would make him the butt of every joke between his subordinates. None of that mattered, not if it meant hearing your laugh or being graced with the warmth of your smile.

Out of nowhere, a man with a thin mustache and upturned nose appeared at the side of your table, causing you to jump when he spoke, carefully extenuating every syllable of every word.

“Good evening, Mr. Sideris. I apologize for your—” He paused, glancing downwards at you, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “—wait… Would you like to begin your experience with a bottle wine?”

‘Experience’? It was dinner. Also: nice jab at your weight. How original!

Your eyes dropped back to the menu, trying to ignore the way your throat threatened to close and chest tightened. Daniel noticed your discomfort immediately, side-eyeing the server with an unapproving glare.

“Apologize.” It was one word, spoken level and controlled, but it held that sharpness. The same deep, dark tone you’d been stressing over. “Make it convincing.”

Before you could even fully look at him, the server was already starting his fast-spoken apology. His eyes were closed, shoulders bent towards you in a bow, head dropped in either shame or fear.

“I apologize, Miss. That was incredibly rude of me; I had no right to speak that way.” Terror made his frame tremble enough for his voice to shake. “I don’t know what possessed me. Please forgive me.”

“It… It’s okay,” you whispered, brain malfunctioning as a million questions flooded your skull.

“It’s not okay,” Daniel chimed in before turning his attention back to the smaller man.

“My favorite wine,” he said firmly, holding the man’s eyes with an intensity that made a chill run down your spine. “And have someone else bring it out. I don’t want to see you again.”

The server darted from your table, shouldering through a black door—never to be seen again throughout the night.

Turning your attention back to Daniel, you watched as a single hand tugged the buttons of his jacket open and a finger hooked in his tie to pull it slack. Slow and calm, like his tone alone the most threatening thing you’d ever heard outside of something echoing through a theater.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that,” he muttered, quiet and remorseful, a steady hand came to rest on the table. “He won’t bother you again, I promise.”

“Daniel?” You watched as his brows raised slightly at his name. “I have a question.”

“Of course! Ask away.”

Though you weren’t sure he would tell you the truth, or if you even wanted to know the truth, you drew in a steadying breath.

“What do you do for a living?”

His lips quirked into a smirk, yet something flickered in the depths of those ocean blues. “I own a few businesses.”

“A few? Impressive,” you remarked; and it really was. “That’s really interesting. What kind of businesses?”

“Just a couple of corner stores. A laundry mat, a nightclub. Boring stuff, really,” he said casually.

A new server arrived as he was finishing, remaining silent until Daniel was. As he presented a green bottles label to Daniel, who barely glanced, telling him everything about the wine from its name to the year it was bottled. After a small nod of approval, you watched as the server uncorked the bottle.

It was incredibly thought through, every flick of the man’s wrist was done with intent. You never knew up to that point that there was a way to open wine without either the signature POP or the small splash that always found a way to your white shirt. He poured nothing more than a small taste into a glass in front of Daniel.

“That doesn’t sound boring at all.” You glance at Daniel, who is watching you carefully track every movement of the server. If he hadn’t of ended up being such a dick, you would have kind of felt back for mentally berading the first server who called it a experience.

You watched as Daniel lifted the glass by the stim, swirling the deep burgundy liquid in the wine glass, carefully studying the way it clung to the crystal.

“It is,” he said flatly, bringing the glass to his lips to take a small sip.

It was all so natural, something he had obviously done to the point of becoming muscle memory. His glass came to the table with a click, he gestured towards the glass. The server gave a small bow before filling your glass before Daniel’s, every movement smooth and steady.

The smaller man spoke after placing the cork beside the wine bottle on the table, “I believe you haven’t been served. I apologize for the inconvenience. Would you like to hear the specials?”

You gasped as you realized you’d been too busy watching the man pour wine and using your menu as a mask instead of actually looking at it. Hands quickly jerking the paper from the table—and quickly realizing you didn’t know how to even begin how to pronounce most of the words punched onto the paper. Your internal panic didn’t go unnoticed.

“Take your time, cupcake,” he whispered sweetly. “If you have questions, ask. That’s why our server is here.”

His voice wrapped around you like velvet, comforting your growing anxiety. After a couple of questions, and a very patient server, you’d ordered chicken, though you still weren’t sure what it consisted of. Daniel ordered some lamb dish, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly. Another bow, then it was just the two of you again.

“I have no idea what I just got,” you joked, reaching for the glass of wine. As you took a drink, the rich and earthy with hint of sweetness flavor coated every crevice of your mouth.

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why did you order it then?”

“Chicken is safe,” you said as if it were fact; and it just made his smile break into a grin.

“Fair. So, you asked about me—” That reminded you that you got a barebones answer. Why wouldn’t someone his age not want to brag about being a business owner? “—now it’s your turn. What do you do?”

You never really liked your job; the pay was shit and the customers were even worse, but the management was great and your co-workers were nice. Still, comparing a retail position to a owning businesses was enough to make your face feel warm.

“Oh, I, um… I work at Stitch and Stone at the mall.”

His brows furrowed. “The home goods store?”

“Yeah.” You almost grimaced, teeth clamped together tightly. “That’s it.”

“Okay, yeah. I wanted to make sure I had the right place,” he said as his expression relaxed. “I’ve never been. Do you like working there?”

“It’s okay.”

“Hmm…” He hummed as he observed you closely. “That wasn’t very believable.”

“No,” you quickly rebutted, “as far as retail goes, it’s the best place I’ve worked. It’s just… Well, retail.”

You smiled sheepishly, he chuckled again. You nearly didn’t catch yourself leaning forward to follow the warmth of the sound.

“Well, let me know if you’re ever looking for something else.”

A laugh bubbled up into your throat, caught behind a swift hand moving to your lips. Your hand left to take your wine glass as you tilted your head.

“Why? Do you have a job for me?”

While you meant it as a tease, he swallowed hard, trying to force away the filthy images invading his mind. He shifted in his chair, leaning forward onto his arms folded across the table, doing his best to ignore the stirring in his slacks.

“You could say that,” he murmured; and then it was like a lightbulb went off in his head. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, an eyebrow lifting, before adding, “Or I could just take care of you.”

Shock filled your face, your eyes opening wide and breath hitching in your throat. Daniel laughed, full bodied, perfect teeth shining in the flickering candle light.

“I’m kidding… kind of.”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore how your ears burned, using your wine as an excuse to prolong the timing of your response. You watched him over the rim of your glass, trying to somehow mentally dissect him.

“So,” you began, sitting your glass back to the table, “tell me more. Do you enjoy your work?”

You were prying; there was just something that made you feel like he was hiding something. Not that he was lying, just that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“It’s okay,” he replied with a smirk.

“Using my own words against me? That’s rude.”

He chuckled, leaning backing in his chair, a finger fidgeting the fork in front of him. “I’m just always talking about work. I’ll tell you anything else.”

“Okay then,” you agreed, folding your arms on the table and leaning forward, filing away his lack of response for later. “Tell me something then. Do you have family nearby?”

“Not really, no. I have two sisters, but they live a few hundred miles away. My parents are in Greece.”

“Greece?” Your eyebrows raised.

He nodded, explaining that they moved overseas after retirement, leaving him a single corner store he turned into multiple. You would be lying you if you said you weren’t impressed. The hard work it would take, the dedication he must have. While he openly talked about his sisters, bragged about his parents, yet every time you tried to dig into more about his businesses, the conversation would shift.

Eventually, you were talking about your family, him asking the questions. As you fell into a spill about your home life, the server delivered the food, setting down the most beautiful looking plate of food you had ever seen. Not a single drop of pink on the rim of the edge of a white bowl, mushrooms soaking a creamy red sauce pooling around a steaming chicken breast resting perfectly centered.

After checking, the server refilled your wine glasses before disappearing once more. Daniel watched as you ritualistically sent a text message, then wasted no more time to saw into your food with a fork and knife. As you took your first bite, you realized this was, in fact, an experience.

You both fell quiet as you enjoyed the bold flavors of your dish. Daniel offered you a bite of his, which was even better than what you had. Perfectly cooked lamb that was so tender, it nearly melted like butter on your tongue. You hummed your approval, to which he was already cutting off another piece for you. Though you said no, a small pile of perfectly bite sized pieces piled on the edge of his plate.

The candle flickered between you, silence only broken by random scrapes of a fork or clink of glass—yet it was comfortable. Though he remained quiet, he smiled every time your hand snuck across the table to grab another taste off his plate.

After a while, your fork and knife rested on your nearly empty plate, your stomach full and taste buds still dancing.

“So,” he said smugly, sitting his silverware on a clean plate, already knowing the answer. “What’s the verdict? Did I open your eyes to the world of fine dining?”

“Ha-ha,” it came out flat, even as you stifled the smile threatening to break out. “It was better than I expected, I’ll give you that.”

“I think you might have enjoyed it more than you’re letting on.”

“Hey,” you playfully snipped, narrowing your eyes as the corners of your mouth lifted, “I said it was better than I expected. But I can’t tell you if I enjoyed it until I see the bill.”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why would you do that?”

You returned his confusion. “Daniel, this place is ridiculously expensive. No prices on the menu was a dead giveaway. And if you think I’m the kind of woman who doesn’t carry her own, who only—”

“I know you do,” he interrupted with a small nod. “But I asked you out, Y/N. You aren’t paying.”

“You paid last time. It’s only right.”

“I said no, shortcake. Besides, I do need to make it up to you for lying, right?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly. He leaned forward, a large hand reaching across the table to gently take yours.

“Please, don’t argue,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand a tenderness that made your heart flutter. His blue eyes continuing to beg, even while his mouth remained closed.

“Okay,” you muttered, fingers curling around his hand. “But let’s do something that won’t require the selling of a kidney next time.”

His thumb stilled, a wide grin slowly overtaking his face. “‘Next time’?”

You hadn’t realized you said it, but now you were looking across the table as Daniel was looking at you like a dog that just heard their favorite word. Your smile grew as you watched his proverbial tail wag eagerly.

“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still on thin ice.”

He leaned forward on an elbow, wiggling his eyebrows. “Good thing I know how to skate.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, trying to bite back the laugh that strained your throat. “You’re an idiot.”

“Probably, but you laughed.”

You pulled your hand out from under his, playfully slapping his forearm, trying not to let yourself giggle like a little girl. “Shut up!”

His other hand came up, capturing yours, pressing your palm firmly against his forearm. Your smile fell, eyes dropping to your hand sandwiched between his warm skin and soft sleeve. Butterflies flapped wildly in your stomach, throat suddenly bone dry.

“You say that a lot, don’t you?”

“What?” Your eyes jerked back to his while your cheeks stained pink. “Wha-No? No! Shut—”

You cut off your words and Daniel laughed, his fingers lacing between yours, dwarfing your hand completely under his. The heat from his palm soaked into the back of your hand, sending a fresh wave of pink up your neck to color your face deeper. While your eyes were focused on him, the server reappeared.

“Miss,” the small man bowed towards you before turning back to Daniel. “Mr. Sideris. I trust everything was to your standards?”

“It was,” he replied, never looking away. His hand tightened subtly, not wanting to lose the contact between you.

“Marvalous. May I interest you in dessert?”

“What do you think, cupcake?” Daniel’s voice dropped to a teasing mutter, “Want something a slice of cake or am I sweet enough?”

“Cheesy,” you scoffed, though it held no true bite. “But no, I’m stuffed.”

He agreed, removing his fingers from between yours, but pushing your palm into his sleeve in a silent request. He reached into his jacket, shuffling around for a moment; and in his concentration, his gaze dropped to your lips. As he traced the outline of the color on your lips, he forgot what he was doing.

He blinked, his card emerged, landing in the hand of the server. That was the transaction, you never even had the chance to see the bill.

His hand came back to yours that never moved. He gushed about how wonderful of a time he had, tossing in sweet compliments about your dress. You couldn’t lie, you had a great time, minus the terrifying start… And seeing him take that same tone with the first server.

After his card was returned, he decided to live up to the title of idiot: “I hope we can do this again soon. Can I give you a ride?”

“Daniel…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Your hand pulled out from under his, grabbing your phone.

“Will I hear from you again?”

It caught you off guard, your thumbs freezing on your screen for a split-second before ordering your ride home. Another text, then your phone was resting on the table in front of you. Daniels arm was still reached across the table, silently begging for the contact that was taken from him too soon.

“Yeah,” you said softly, the corners of your lips forced downward as you tried not to grin stupidly. “Of course you will.”

He beamed, eyes almost crinkling shut as the grin overtook his face. “Great! That’s great!”

Then he was surging to his feet, shuffling around the table excitedly. One hand coming to the back of your chair in preparation to pull it out, the other palm up in offering. This time, you took his hand, letting him help you up.

He wrapped your hand around his arm, smiling down at you, walking you away from the evidence of the most delicious meal you had ever had in your life. The only time he released you was to hold the door and let you walk through first. By the time you had made it outside, a familiar ping rang out from your purse.

You glanced up, seeing the black Toyota matching the description from the app waiting for you. Repeating the same actions as your first date, Daniel lead you to the car when you pointed it out, making the man driving give him your name before releasing you. He tugged the door open, stepping out of your way.

“Let me know when you make it?”

You looked down at the back seat, then back at Daniel. Ignoring the tightness in your chest, the nerves threatened make your hands shake, you stepped forward. Pushing up onto your toes, a hand coming to his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn’t move, aside from leaning down enough for your lips to connect with his cheek.

“I had a nice time,” you said as you looked up at his red face, knowing your own was burning just as bright. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes fixed on your lips as he fought to keep himself from kissing you. From pressing his palms against the plumpness of your cheeks and taste the wine that stained your lips.

You said your goodbyes before you slid into the back seat, him giving you one last once-over before closing the door. You waved through the window as he took a couple of steps back, jamming his hand in his pockets with a large smile, waving back with the other. Then the car was moving, pulling out from the covered entrance way to begin your trip home.

“This is the first time I’ve ever picked anyone up from here,” the driver remarked, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Looks real nice.”

“It is,” you said with a smile, pulling your phone out to let Amanda know you’re on your way back. You turned to the window, looking out at the glow of the streetlights passing by. “It’s incredible, really.”

Though you still had questions, you had a bit of a better understanding of Daniel. You learned about his family… Kind of. Two sisters and he hinted that his parents were originally from Greece. He also managed slipped in a not-so-subtle brag about bench pressing 500 pounds while talking about helping his parents move.

As your mind retraced the conversations, you thought perhaps the way he was on the phone had something to do with one of his businesses. He seemed nonchalant, but it would have to be stressful to be the backbone for five businesses. That had to be it.

As far as the first server went, he deserved to be scolded, and you wouldn’t be completely truthful if you said it wasn’t nice that he was so willing to stand up for you. Still, the way the server reacted was interesting. The staff seemed to know his name, so maybe he had some kind of pull there, being a businessman and all. That made sense, right?

Though it started rough, it ended with you feeling as if you were floating. Daniel couldn’t be a bad guy, not when he looked at you with hearts beating in his eyes or held your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Besides, you had his full name now, and you knew Amanda would be doing a deep dive once she had it.

Between the two of you: you would find out exactly who Daniel Sideris was.

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[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 3

⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, minor sexual content, fluff, slow burn. Context: The long awaited date happens! That's it, that's the story. Word count: 3,577   │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hello again, my beautiful she's, he's, they's, and everyone in-between! So, this one is a bit longer to make up for the cliffhanger on the last part... And because I love you. (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ I hope I didn't get too carried away but I just live for a golden-retriever type man. I can imagine Daniel with puppy ears and a tail wagging frantically every time he sees you. Alt universe one-shot? Anyway; enjoy boo! [Insert me begging for comments, messages, and asks.]

The sweet smell of syrup hung in the air, the bacon sizzling on the grill was barely audible over the mumbling coming from the tv on the wall. A few patrons were still in the small mom and pop diner, but your eyes were locked on the man in the booth across from you.

“I’ll admit I was surprised to see you tonight,” you said, sitting your purse on the crackling bench seat beside you before meeting his eyes with a playful smirk. “I thought you were hiding from me.”

Daniel chuckled, his thick arms folded on the table between you as he leaned forward. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Your smirk fell as you tilted your head.

Lines formed on his forehead as his brows scruffed together; and for a moment, he silently observed you. His scrutiny was heavy, but not cruel—he just couldn’t understand why you would think such a thing. How could anyone not want to be around you?

“It is. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Why would I avoid you?”

You dropped your eyes to your hands in your lap, fingers lazily fidgeting with each other, as you try not to melt from his casual admission. His eyes never left you, seemingly waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unsaid words. Then he broke the dam.

“I went back every week.”

Your lips parted as your eyes found his once more. His face was stern—brows pinched tightly together, lips forming a small frown—and you just gawked.

“Even started going multiple times a week, honestly. I hope that’s not weird; I just wanted to see you again.” Then his eyes softened as a small smile tugged at his lips. “I was never hiding from you. Kind of the opposite, really.”

The heat radiated off your face, cheeks bright red. You wanted to call his bluff, to tease him and see if he would change his story… But the look on his face alone was enough to let you know he was, indeed, incredibly serious. His blue eyes gazed longingly at you and entire body tilted towards you.

“I-um,” the intensity in his eyes derailed your thoughts, never even giving you a chance to form a comprehensible sentence in your mind, let alone out loud.

And he grinned, wide and full of satisfaction, for the simple reason that you were reacting to his words like you felt the same pull he did. His eyes traced over the pink coloring your cheeks, admiring the smile spread across your face even as you fought it.

Just then, an older woman with a dirty white apron wrapped tightly around her waist stalked to the booth with a barely contained scowl. She greeted you half-heartedly and apologized for the wait, her words coming out as if she couldn’t care enough to put an ounce of emotion into them. As she gave her spiel, her eyes never left the coffee pot she held as she poured lukewarm coffee into two mugs.

“Get whatever you want,” he said as he motioned for you to order first.

You smiled up at the waitress, who was looking at you like she would rather be talking to anyone else, and politely request some breakfast platter from the menu—eggs, bacon, and a short stack of pancakes. Daniel nodded his agreement and ordered the same thing. She muttered something unintelligible as she was already walking away from the table.

You glanced back to Daniel, who was smirking at you. You felt your lips curl upwards.

“What?”

“Just admirin’,” he replied with a small shrug of his shoulders, making no attempt to look away.

You huffed, waving a hand through the air dismissively—even as your face glowed brightly and a grin split your lips.

“You’re just being cheesy now.”

“Probably.” His hands came to his chin, elbows planted firmly on the scarred wooden table, and he leaned forward once more. He knew how pathetic he looked, something akin to a lovesick puppy, but he simply couldn’t peel his eyes away from you.

Not like he wanted to, anyway.

“So, Y/N,” he mused, “tell me something about you.”

You hummed thoughtfully before taking a sip of your moderately warm coffee. It tasted like it had been brewed hours ago, making your face scrunch in disgust. Bitter and burnt, the offensive taste sticking to every inch of your tongue. No amount of creamer or sugar could have saved it; so, you politely set it to the side instead.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” he breathed eagerly as his chin sunk further into the heels of his palms. “Like… What do you like to you?”

You happily told him a few of your favorite things, your eyes lighting up as you spoke. “… and I really like reading.”

“Mm, a bookworm?”

“I guess you could say that,” you responded with a shy smile and small nod. “When I have time, I love losing myself in a good book.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“That’s such a hard question. There’s so many books and stories I like for different reasons…”

It was supposed to be a small list of books; but before long, you were fully rambling. You started naming a few of your top reads and explaining why you liked them: the way this author wrote, how you could smell the rain in a scene in that story, the character devolvement in the other one. The only time you stopped talking was to thank the disgruntled waitress when she sat your plates down in front of you, but you quickly picked back up where you left off.

While you lost yourself in your own words, he was memorizing every expression and gesture you made, no matter how small. The way your eyes glittered when you explained a plot, hands gliding through the air as if you were painting the scene for him, how your lip curled in disgust when you spoke about the antagonists. He hung on every syllable that fell from your painted lips, hypnotized by the passion dripping from your words.

While he had never been much of a reader, listening to you gush about them gave him the sudden urge to buy an entire bookstore and read everything contained in their walls.

After an embarrassing amount of time, you realized how long you had been talking, the sentence dying on your tongue as your hands stilled before falling to your lap. Your mouth clamped closed, teeth clicking together from the quick movement, humiliation crawling up your throat.

Info dumping on your first date? How romantic!

“Wow,” he sighed, barely tilting his head in his hands. “Your eyes sparkle when you talk about things you love. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

While you had received compliments before, nothing compared to that; it wasn’t a shallow compliment on how you looked, this was something deeper. It was as if he was looking into your soul and relishing in everything he saw. He finally leaned back in his seat as your eyes shyly fell to your plate.

“There you go being corny again,” you ribbed as your fork sawed through the stack of sticky pancakes.

“Can’t help it. It just comes out,” he retorted, taking his own fork in hand. “I think part of you likes it.”

Understatement of the century.

As you both ate, you both started sharing memories from childhood. His eyes crinkled at the corners as you told him about the puppy you had as a little girl and how you would put the poor thing into costumes to play dress up with you. You laughed full forced when he told you about the the time he played pirates with his cat and quickly learned that cats don’t like water.

Your laugh was the most heavenly symphony he had ever heard—warm and bright, full of sunshine—and he wanted more. So, he kept telling you anything he could think of could possibly pull more from you. No matter how embarrassing, he said it; like how he didn’t understand that it was the ‘Pacific’ Ocean and not ‘specific’ until he was 15.

After a few more, you were hugging your sides as if you were trying to yourself held together as you laughed relentlessly. You threw a hand up, shaking your head as you tried to catch your breath between the giggles that kept boiling up.

Daniel was utterly smitten, his eyes half-lidded and lips quirked into a goofy smile. He had already started another story, but you cackled, waving your hand frantically.

“Oh my god,” you gasped between laughter. “Please shut up.”

That drew a chuckle from him, his arms crossing on the table as he leaned onto his forearms. “C’mon, shortcake. You don’t mean that.”

There it was again. Your giggles slowly tapered into a grin as the pet name sunk in; you leaned towards him ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, his eyes fell to your lips.

“Shortcake?”

“Hmm?” His brows raised at your question.

“You called me ‘shortcake’… That was the second time.”

He leaned back in his seat, studying your nearly unreadable expression. Though he had delivered cheesy lines and told you all the embarrassing things he’d done as a boy, that was the first time he was almost ashamed of something he’d said to you.

“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement; an assumption really, and one you quickly protested by shaking your head side to side quickly.

“I didn’t say that. I was just wondering why.”

“Why?” A smile found his face again, his blue eyes twinkling with admiration. “Because you’re sweet and short... And I really like shortcake.”

You were sure he could hear your heart thudding against your ribs on account of that was almost all you could hear, the hum of the diner almost vanishing behind the blood rushing through your veins. That look he was giving you? Oh, he wasn’t talking about food.

“You do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Of course it was. He didn’t look at you like the goal was another notch in his bedpost. No, it seemed he wanted to learn everything about you; as if you held some great secret to the universe. While you did catch him scan your figure a few times—specifically your cleavage or your hands as you held your sides while you laughed—it wasn’t lascivious, it was reverent.

You weren’t a challenge or a bet; you were something worth cherishing, worth taking the time to slowly unravel… Even if his mind did occasionally flood with fantasies involving his hands caressing your thick thighs and his name breathlessly toppling from your lips.

The waitress chose that exact moment to scurry over and forcefully slap the check on the table. Her boney hands gathered your plates as she passive-aggressively muttered that you could check out at the register when you were ready. You glanced at the clock on the wall over the woman’s shoulder: it was almost midnight.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, quickly jerking your purse into your lap and searching it for your phone. Just as you expected: several missed calls and texts from your friends. They ranged from a tame “hope you’re having fun” to the more extreme of “please let me know your date didn’t skin you alive and leave your body in a ditch”.

You apologized to Daniel as your fingers glided over the screen. It felt like you had just gotten to the diner, and suddenly it had been over two hours. He patiently waited for you to finish with your replies, his smile growing as your eyes met his once more.

“I should get home,” you said half-heartedly. It wasn’t that you wanted to, not really, but you needed to. Your hand was already digging back in your purse as you formed the question, “Can I pay for my half?”

“You won’t hear this from me often, but no,” he firmly replied, shuffling to the end of the booth, the wooden structure faintly protesting under his weight.

Then it was your time to stare, because holy shit.

His muscles rippled under his shirt as his hand pushed off the table, the thin white fabric doing little to conceal the girth of his biceps; his vast chest tapered perfectly to a slim waist. The black dress pants clung to his thighs, stretching tightly across his lap to give you a tantalizing glimpse at the absolute monster between his legs.

You looked away quickly before he noticed where your eyes had ventured, trying to somehow will away the blush creeping its way back to your face as you carefully slid out of your seat. Before you could stand, his hand fell in front of your eyes; palm up, patient, and waiting.

Without thought, your hand fell into his; he helped you from the booth, not making any move to step back and put space between you. Instead, he was battling the urge to pull you closer, to feel your soft curves against him.

The air between you was thick with smell the syrup you poured over your pancakes melding the floral notes of your perfume, he could see the way your lips parted as you caught him staring—and it took every bit of strength not to kiss you in that moment.

“I’ll take care of the bill,” he almost whispered, his eyes glued to your lips.

Ultimately, he decided against it; you deserved better than a heat of the moment kiss in a crumby diner. You should be placed on an alter, be admired and treated like the supreme being you were. So, not now, not here. Besides, he was already formulating the perfect plan to make it the most memorable moment of your life.

Nothing went unnoticed in the tense moment, like time slowed down to a standstill. The way his gaze fixed to the curve of your lips, how the very tip of his tongue wet his lips subtly, seeing his blue eyes almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. You found yourself leaning closer, your bodies almost touching as the diner seemed to fall silent.

Instead of closing the distance between your lips, he pulled your hand to his face, pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckles. The fire flickering in his eyes stole the very breath from your lungs. No matter how hard you tried to look away, you were completely transfixed.

Though every fiber of his being was screaming at him not to let you go, again, he finally did. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, thumb tracing the delicate skin of the back of your hand, before releasing you as he took a half-step back.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, still lost in your eyes while a hand dug into his pocket. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Daniel made his way to the register to pay, you discreetly ogled him as his back was turned. You knew one thing for sure: he was definitely getting your phone number this time. Before he could turn and catch you almost gawking at how great his ass looked, you pulled your phone out to order yourself an Uber.

As your thumb finalized the request, Daniel seemingly rematerialized by your side.

“Do you need a ride home?”

You tilted your face upwards, being met with his eager smile. Your heart dropped; as much as you liked him, you weren’t ready for him to know where you lived. Honestly, he was still kind of a stranger; a hot one, and so sweet… But couldn’t the same be said for serial killers?

“Oh, I have one; but thank you for offering,” you softly respond—and watched the smile stay on his lips, but leave his eyes. Your heart clenched seeing him fight back the disappointment; but he evidently got over it quickly before trying something more subtle.

“Of course. Well… Can I give you my number so you can let me text me when you make it home? It is late,” he reasoned with confidence, “I would like to know you’re safe.”

It was endearing how fast he recovered, and adorable how little he cared to continuously put his ego on the line. Your eyes narrowed slightly before you swiveled your phone in your hand to extend to him with a knowing smile.

“Okay. Sure.” As if you hadn’t already planned on giving him your number anyway.

His grin was radiant, practically lighting up the entire diner, as he wasted no time taking your phone. His fingers methodically swiped across the screen before his eyes flicked over it, triple checking every digit. This was the most important time he had ever given his number to anyone, after all; he had to be sure it was right.

“You can use this any time, by the way,” he added, holding your phone back out to you.

“Any time? Even at 4 AM when I wake up from a weird nightmare?” You were joking, your eyebrows arching upwards—but his response was serious.

“Especially then.” One of his hands gestured towards the front door, the other arm folding behind his back. “Can I wait with you?”

You agree, and he could have lit the entirety of the dinner with his grin—because even if it was only five more minutes, it was five more minutes with you until he saw you again.

At least, he prayed he would see you again.

The distant smell of rain hit you as soon as he opened the door for you, a cool breeze stirring the skirt of the thin dress and spreading goosebumps up your legs and across your arms. Your hands clapped to your exposed upper arms as a shiver ran through your body.

Unable to miss the opportunity, Daniel immediately came to your aid, wrapping a firm arm around you and pulling you close to his side. His hands tenderly rubbed your arms, the heat from his palms seeping into your skin. The planes of his body was solid, an unmovable mass, but amazingly gentle. His warmth thoroughly enveloped you, spreading bone deep through your whole body.

At the same time, he was relishing the feeling of your smooth skin under his rough fingers, how your body molded against his side as he held you close. Though he hoped you wouldn’t push him away, he gave you the opportunity, not holding too tightly… And pulling you ever so closer when you didn’t.

He apologized for not having a coat for you, even though he was secretly thrilled that he accidently left it at the office, to which you laughed.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t owe me anything.”

That wasn’t true, not even a little. He owed you for the smile that barely left his face for nearly three hours, for the way his heart felt like it was going to overflow with happiness. Yet he stayed quiet, just giving you a warm smile instead.

Inevitably, a car fitting the description to the one on the app pulled up in front of the restaurant and you phone letting out a small ding from your purse.

“Well,” you glanced up at him. “I think this is me.”

His eyes shifted upwards, falling on the blue sedan. “Let’s make sure.”

A hand fell to the small of your back, steady and grounding. He was the first to open the door, asking the driver for the name of the passenger he was picking up, and the woman gave your name. He turned, blocking the back door for a moment.

“Don’t forget: you have my number.”

You chuckled, lips curling into a wide grin. “I promise, I’ll let you know when I make it home.”

That was enough; he moved out of the way, holding the door open for you as you slid into the cab of the obviously well-maintained backseat. The fabric of the seat clung to your dress, but you managed to show nothing more than a little knee. However, when you quickly glanced at Daniel, he wasn’t looking.

His head was partially turned, body covering the door to politely block you from prying eyes. Yes, he obviously wanted to catch a peek at your thighs, but he was trying to be a gentleman… Even if it was tempting.

You said your goodbyes after getting adjusted, his eyes finding you again. He straightened his posture, wishing you a goodnight, before stepping back and carefully closing the door.

As your driver pulled from the curb, you returned the wave Daniel gave. Once a small way away, you completely broke: grinning so wide that it physically hurt. Your heart felt like it could burst, gut twisting in the best way. Your feet kicked, hands bunched into fists, and a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and squeal left your mouth.

The driver shot a concerned look at you in the rearview mirror, but you were too giddy to care. How did a night of you dressing up to go out with your friends end up with you on a late night date with a guy you met once in a grocery store?

As you already started replaying every glance he gave you in your mind, you finally looked at the contact saved on your phone:

Daniel (the guy who’s obsessed with you)

freaknloser.tumblr.com © 2025

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 4

⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, minor sexual content, fluff, slow burn, potential angst? Context: Brunch with your bestie who needs to hear about every single breath, glance, and touch that happened on your date. Later that night, a phone call starts cutely but leads to a bit of confusion and panic. Are you overthinking or did it mean something? Word count: 3.494   │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hey, shortcake! ヾ(≧▽≦)ゝ The weather seems to have calmed, so I was able to actually finish this part and start on the next... And, boy, it's coming along nicely. Anywho, I won't ramble too much. I hope your day is as wonderful as you are! ♡

[Did you like it? Let me know! Did you not? Leave a comment to tell me why so I can improve!]

It seemed your departure from the diner was far from the end of your conversation with Daniel. After your shower, the screen of your phone was the only thing illuminating your room; your head was sunk into the plush pillow on your bed and a smile was glued to your lips. His replied followed just as quickly as yours, seeming to be just as committed to ignoring the call of slumber to enjoy the silly discussions as you were.

Still, your eyelids grew heavier, your vision blurred from the tears filling your eyes with every yawn that punched its way from your throat. He had called you out for being sleepy, said your messages were starting to become shorter. Even though you protested, moments later your eyes were closed, soft snores coming from parted lips, but still holding the phone loosely in your hand.

The following morning, light filtered through the blinds of your bedroom, slowly illuminating the room with a warm glow. You grumbled as you tugged the blanket up to your forehead and rolled over, trying to cling onto slumber as long as possible. However, it seemed the universe—more specifically the fiery redhead you called your best friend—had other plans.

A fist connected with the wooden front door, banging echoing through your apartment like gunshots. You jerked up from the pillow, blinking as you tried to register if that was a dream or if you really heard it. Then it happened again, louder, more demanding.

With your hair jutting from your head in multiple directions, you threw the blanket off you and jumped from the bed, almost toppling to the floor in your panicked state. Your bare feet thudded against the vinyl flooring as you swiftly darted towards the front door. You leaned against the door, hands pushed against the wood as you peeked out the peephole.

Amanda stood in the dark, dank hallway outside your door, the displeasure clear on her face as she raised her fist and pounded against the wood so hard you felt the vibrations in your palms. You slung the door open just as her hand drew back to strike the wood.

“Y/N!” She grinned widely, pushing passed you to step into your apartment without an invitation. She turned to face you, her eyes dragging up and down as she took in your frazzled appearance with her head tilted.

“Were you in bed? Oops, did I wake you up?”

A yawn threatened your eyes with tears as you closed the door with a soft click. “You did.”

“Too bad,” she said with a smirk as she turned and tossed her purse on the nearly broken brown canvas couch. “I want food and you have to tell me about your date.”

You stopped a foot, the thump echoing through the small living room. “But I’m sleepy,” you whined.

It seemed your protests fell on deaf ears as Amanda was already making her way to your bedroom. As much as you wanted to sleep, you knew there was wiggling out of this; so now it was just about beating her to your closet before she tried to make you wear something that was too tight or too revealing for brunch.

A simplified morning routine with Amanda rushing followed; and before long, you were sitting outside a your frequented spot for brunch together. A breeze filtered through the open patio, carrying the sweet scent of the nearby flower shop within it. Amanda sat across from you, silently examining you with a critical eye over the rim of her glass as she took a slow gulp of her mimosa.

Conversations blurred together in the background, accompanied with the occasional small clinks of silverware and glasses. Plus the occasional shrill caw of that damned bird that always eyed your fries when you came here.

You sipped from your own drink, mirroring her mannerisms before speaking again. “Okay,” you sighed, sitting your own glass down, your eyes never leaving her green ones.

“I know you’re dying for details, but remember what I’ve said. We’re in public, so kee—”

Before you could even finish the word, let alone the sentence, she was cutting you off to ask said question.

“Did you fuck him?”

It was unreasonably loud, obnoxious even. Yet she was completely unbothered by her crude words or the fact the man who sat two tables from the two of you wore all black aside from the white band threading through the stiff collar of his top.

“Jesus, Amanda,” you muttered, glancing around at the nearby patrons; stilling momentarily on the pastor with a red face and refused to look in your direction.

Her glass clinked against the table, eyes never leaving yours. She arched an eyebrow at you, not understanding why your cheeks were turning pink.

“What?”

“You don’t have to be so loud. This is why I said we could have food delivered to my place... And for your information, I—”

Amanda grinned widely as you started your speech, thinking she just got her answer. She leaned over the table, immediately starting in on her rapid fire questioning, overpowering your words with hers once more.

“Oh my god, you did! You slut!” Her hands clapped to her cheeks, her face lighting up with the promise of steamy details. “Tell me, tell me! Was it good?”

Your nose scrunched slightly as your lips tugged into a frown. You stayed silent, simply staring at Amanda, who appeared as she was seemingly about to explode with excitement. She subtly wiggled in her seat, pushing the half-eaten omelet to the edge of the table so she could prop her elbows on the metal surface.

“Hmm… He’s so tall, I bet it’s huge,” she mused as she waggled her brows. “Spill the tea! I need to hear everything!”

When you kept the same blank face and didn’t answer, she groaned. Her palms came down against the tabletop with a loud SLAP. A startled gasp rang from a nearby table followed by daggers being shot into the back of your head.

“Ugh! Y/N, you’re killing me!”

You fold your arms over your chest, letting the silence stretch between you for several moments. Finally, as if you had been waiting for a child to stop throwing a temper tantrum, you spoke calmly.

“… Can I talk now?”

Amanda was always like this: she had to know every detail about everything. Not that it was used maliciously, she was just the nosiest person you had ever met.

She threw her hands up, nodding her head so frantically that her ponytail bounced over her shoulder. Her index and thumb came to her lips, locking them closed with a metaphorical key before tossing it over her shoulder, then she grinned meekly at you.

You force the corners of her mouth to stay in a frown, even as they try to curl upwards. While she had a flair for the dramatics, she was the most loyal person you had ever had by your side. Also, the faces she made were always hilarious.

“Alright, but if you interrupt me again, I’m keeping any and all future events to myself.” Your eyes narrow at her in warning.

She nodded her acceptance of your terms, scooting her chair around to the side of the table to be closer. “Whatever, just tell me!”

So, you did. You told her that he made you laugh so hard the muscles in your sides ached worse than when you hit the gym. The pet name he casually used for you, how he looked at you as if you were the only person in the whole world. As you continued with the innocent details of your date, she was looking at you with sparkling eyes and a small smile.

“You like him.”

“Duh,” you jeered with an eyeroll. Then your face turned solemn as you continued, “but it’s stupid, right? I barely know him… I don’t even know what he does for a living.”

Amanda leaned back in her chair, the metal legs scraping against the stone under foot. Her hand waved through the air dismissively, nose somewhat upturned and eyes nearly closed.

“That’s part of the boring stuff, anyway. There’s plenty of time to learn about him,” she retorted before meeting your eyes once more. “What’s really important is how he makes you feel.”

Your index finger absentmindedly stroked your the rim of your glass as your eyes flicked between hers, your nail catching on a small imperfection in the crystal.

That was a loaded question, wasn’t it? It was partially thrilling, the same feeling you get when you’re on a rollercoaster and your stomach does that flip as the carts stills just before dropping you multiple stories. On the other hand, it was also absolutely terrifying; an unknown with so many possible outcomes—many of which ending in pain.

Following brunch, Amanda drove you home, starting yet another spiel about the same co-worker from the night before now that she heard everything about your date. You gave her a knowing look, a smirk tugging at your lips.

It was your turn to tease her, using some of her own words against her before adding that she seems to be too obsessed to hate him. She retaliated, you pushed back with a giggle.

Once you got back to the apartment complex, she did everything but shove you out the door.

“Get out, traitor.”

“Traitor?”

She scowled at you, her lips drawn into a tight line as her eyes hurled knives at you. “Yes. Traitor,” she accentuated the word, drawing out the syllables to twist an imaginary blades in your gut.

But you just blinked before deadpanning your follow up, “How so?”

She gawked at you, her mouth opening and closing, appearing as a fish out of water. “Wut-are you-wah,” she stuttered, unbelieving of the audacity of your question. Finally, her brows pinched together as a frown pulled her mouth closed.

“I’m not obsessed,” she gritted before turning her actively flushing face towards the windshield. “He just makes me so mad.”

You smirked, raising your eyebrows. “Mhm, sure.”

“Out.”

Your laugh filled the cab before you reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don’t be a brat.”

She huffed before grumbling something under her breath about you being rude. You half-heartedly apologized then she didn’t look at you as if she wanted to strangle you, a small improvement but one you would take. A while later, you were walking to the foyer of your building while she was pulling away.

The rest of your day tried to fall into the same dull routine as before. You changed clothes and went to your boring retail job; but there was something different now: Daniel. A co-worker mentioned Hawaii and your face split into a grin while you thought about how hard you’d laughed alone in your room when he confessed that he still occasionally slipped and called it ‘specific ocean’.

The blue sky above you on your walk home, the musk of an almost familiar cologne belonging to a faceless stranger on the sidewalk: everything made him jump to the foreground of your mind.

If it were to continue, if you were going to allow yourself to feel this, you had to get to know him better. So far, all you knew was he lived alone, drove an expensive car, and that he would gladly do anything to pull a laugh from you.

That just wasn’t enough, was it?

You blankly stared at your laptop, the cursor blinking on the screen, impatiently waiting for you to continue the email you didn’t know how to reply to. The once steaming coffee now sat cold and forgotten to the side as you reread the email you had been trying to write for the last 10 minutes. Your phone buzzed, skittering across the wooden desk to grab your attention. ‘hey i kno weve been txtin all day but can i call u?’ ‘just wanna hear ur voice’

That was how your laptop ended up abandoned on the desk while you meandered through your apartment, phone held firmly against your ear, sweetly saying your hello.

“Hey,” his voice came through the receiver. Deep, warm, something you didn’t realized you were missing until you heard it again. “I hope it’s okay I asked to call you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, the grin already plastered on your face. “Did you have a good day?”

“Long, but better now.” You could practically hear the smile in his words. “How was your day, sweetness?”

“Mine was long, too, but not bad.” You kept idly wondering in and out of every room, eyes fixed on nothing. Your fingers dragging across the soft throw blanket draped across the back of the couch as you walked through the living room. “Just boring.”

“Boring? Maybe I could fix that. What are you doing now?”

Your ears picked up on the subtle sound of fabric rustling in the background. Was he undressing? The sound of a zipper confirmed as your mind wandered to what what he may look like under the long sleeved dress shirt or loose fitting t-shirt you've seen him in. Abs or a soft layer of fat? Did he that deliciously carved V that dipped below his waistband?

“… Nothing,” you choked out.

“I was thinking about taking a walk.” He paused, falling so quiet that you pulled your phone away from your ear to check to be sure you didn’t get disconnected.

“I know it’s tradition to wait to ask you out; adding tension or something dumb like that,” he continued, his voice dropping to a murmur, “but honestly? I just want to see you again.”

Your phone left your ear as you silently screamed, padding in place.

“Y/N?”

Daniel’s voice ringing through the speaker made you realize you hadn’t replied.

“Oh!” The screen came back to your ear so quickly that it made a little slap sound against your plump cheek. “Um, I’m not really dressed to go out.”

“I don’t expect you to be dressed up for a walk in the park… But, it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

The way he said it wasn’t exactly disappointed, but something similar. Yearning, perhaps?

“Can I take you out tomorrow? Or the next night if you’re busy?” His tone never wavered as he tried again and again. Fully uncaring if you declined, and already formulating another plan in case you did. “Or you can just tell me a place, day, and time. I’ll be there.”

You laughed at his eagerness, even as the butterflies flapped wildly in your stomach. “I mean, I didn’t say no—”

“You didn’t?”

“Let me talk,” you quickly retorted, holding a finger in the air as to somehow hush him through the space separating you. And he did, clamping his mouth closed so suddenly you could hear the soft, wet pop of his lips.

“I’m already dressed for bed. But I am free tomorrow night, I guess.” You tried to sound casual, but the eagerness slipped into your voice.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed as a breath. You could hear shuffling before the clear sounds of papers rustling and a pen scratching.

“I’ll take it. Can I pick you up?”

Your cheeks ached all over again, an unguarded toothy grin holding the corners of your mouth upwards. “Maybe. What were you thinking?”

“Dinner,” he quickly responded, as if he had been planning it out. Probably because he had.

“I want to take you somewhere nice. Better than a diner with a waitress that smells like she smokes a pack of cigarettes an hour, at least. Then maybe a walk after if my luck continues.”

Before your brain—which was currently short-circuiting—could string words together to form a sentence, he was talking again.

“Wear something nice.” You could almost hear his brain click on before he quickly added, “I mean, you always look perfect, it’s just a nice place.”

The way he emphasized it made your heart still, your brows start to pinch together.

“I hope it isn’t too nice. I don’t…” You paused, not wanting to disclose your current financial struggle, even if the space around you made it obvious. “Hm… I don’t see the point of spending a lot of money on food.”

“I do,” he retorted. A warm chuckle filled your ear, sweet like honey and just as thick with amusement. “Just let me take you out. Don’t worry about anything. Please?”

Your eyes fixed on the lavender wallpaper peeling away from the corner of your kitchen as you thought, or pretended to at least. Then your ear picked up another voice: a man in the background, with a rough voice that was closer to a growl, spoke incoherently.

“Sorry, shortcake,” he murmured sweetly. “Give me just a second, okay?”

After you muttered your agreement, you heard the shuffle of his phone sitting on a surface, then the soft taps of footsteps. Three. Slow and calculated.

Tap… Tap… Tap…

Then he spoke, his voice a complete contrast to how he had just been speaking to you. Instead of warm and welcoming, it was darker. Firm, commanding, bordering on angry.

While you couldn’t understand everything, you got the jist of the one-sided conversation. Daniel frustratedly called something ‘uncalled for’ and ‘ridiculous’ before demanding the situation be rectified immediately. That was followed by muttered words you couldn’t hear, no matter how hard you pressed the phone against your ears or how tightly you closed your eyes.

Then you could hear footsteps once more, a door clicking closed, the rustling of his phone coming back to his ear. You snapped upright quickly as if he could somehow see you eavesdropping, appearing as a child who was caught with an ear pressed against a door to hear secrets.

“You still there, sweetness?” His tone was back to usual, calm and smooth as silk.

“I am,” you said flatly, blinking into your dark kitchen.

“I’m sorry, but I have some things I have to take care of. And I’m sure you’re about ready for bed. I know it’s late.���

Your eyes squinted at the soft green glow of the clock on the back of your stove. 9:45? How did it suddenly get so late? Didn’t you just got on the phone? A glance of the screen dismissed that thought as you seen you had been on the phone for nearly an hour.

“Oh, yeah. I should probably be getting to bed.”

You tried not to sound rattled by how his tone had changed so dramatically when he was talking to someone else. And who was he speaking to?

“Mhm, you should... But you need to answer my question first.”

You blinked, then arched one eyebrow. “Question?”

“Yes. Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

You tapped a finger against your bare thigh as your face twisted into a sceptical frown. “How about I meet you?”

Silence; you couldn’t even hear him breathe.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he whispered, small and vulnerable, sounding like a puppy being scolded. He cleared his throat before continuing with his usual tone. “But I understand. I’ll text you the address.”

With him leading the way, you said your goodbyes. You stared at your lock screen—even after it had turned black and reflected your frown back at you—as you tried to piece together why his tone changed so dramatically when he spoke to the other man. And who was the other man?

Your eyes barely moved as the screen lit up to show a new text from Daniel. You stood frozen for a few moments, like a deer caught in headlights.

Then you were padding to your bedroom, already calling Andrea to get her to talk some sense into you. The line trilled. Once, then twice. Once more. Then silence, fabric rustling, and finally, a groggy hello came through the speaker.

“Amanda, talk me down,” you spit frantically as you climbed onto your mattress.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I was on the phone with Daniel,” you started, the words pouring out of you so quickly they almost blurred together, “and somebody in the background said something and he started acting really weird. His voice changed, he sounded like someone else or something and he sounded intimidating and unlike any—”

“Girl, slow down!”

Amanda somehow ended up being the voice of reason, stopping your downward spiral in its place.

“What happened? And talk slower. You did just wake me up.”

With that, you fell into a spill about how his tone darkened, how he sounded angry and tyrannical. Then how it was suddenly over as soon as he was speaking to you again, like nothing had happened.

“So?”

“‘So’? Are you fucking with me?!” You pinched your bridge, letting out a long breath through pursed lips.

“Amanda, who the fuck am I going out with tomorrow?”

freaknloser.tumblr.com © 2025

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 2

⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, friends lovingly threatening your life, fluff, slow burn. Context: You can't stop thinking about Daniel, but he's not at the shop in the following weeks. Your life falls back into the same boring routine, same dull pop music playing overhead while you pluck things from shelves. Some time later, you go out with some friends for a much needed night of fun and—Wait... Who just said your name? Word count: 2,066   │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hello lovelies! ♡(˘ ε˘ʃƪ) This story is consuming my life. Ahhh! I kind of wrote this part three different times because I had so many ideas on how they would meet again. This is the one I landed on because I'm a selfish little brat who is indulging my own fantasies within this story. I hope you enjoy part 2! I know it's very cliff hang-y and open ended, but keep your eyes peeled for part 3. Maybe it will be released soon. (���̀ᴗ-)✧ As always, my inbox and asks are open! I would really love to hear from you—be it just a hello or constructive criticism! I promise I'm nice!

The following weeks went by with no sign of the man who admired you like you were a goddess under the unflattering glow of fluorescent lighting. Instead, nothing happened; no dramatic turn of fate driving you into each other’s arms on the street, no spotting him at a bus stop, no surprise introduction to a mysterious friend that ended up having black hair and blue eyes.

Your weekly shopping immediately went back to the same boring lull as before. Though sometimes, when you were reaching for something on a shelf, you would catch yourself looking at the doors as they were sliding open, but it was never him.

Though this wasn’t some romcom movie, part of you secretly hoped for a kind of shift in the tide that leads you back to each other. Yet the weeks turned into a month, and you were starting to think you had dreamt him up at this point.

“I don’t know,” you groaned as you flopped back onto your bed, your phone held to your ear as you looked at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think this is the universe telling me that maybe I wasn’t meant to see him again or something.”

“Girl. Don’t be stupid.” You could practically hear your friend, Amanda, roll her eyes through the phone. “It’s been a month and a half, not a year.”

You rolled onto your stomach to let out a protesting grumble into your mattress. “But he was so hot.”

“You sound pathetic.”

“Maybe I am,” you moaned, kicking your feet against the mattress dramatically.

She scoffed, the annoyance leaking into her tone with each word. “You are not pathetic. You just… Need laid or something.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. It had been a while—a long while—and the last guy was not impressive. It was maybe three minutes of uncoordinated thrusting before he collapsed on top of you, leaving you to take an Uber home unsatisfied and full of frustration.

You respond after a moment of silence, “Ouch… But fair.”

“I have an idea!”

You heard the sound of a door opening on the other side of the phone followed by the soft clattering of hangers. You knew what this meant, even before she said it.

“Bar?”

“No, that’s boring. I was thinking the club downtown. You know, the one that plays good music and doesn’t have that weird guy that sits in the corner staring at people.”

You laugh, already sitting up in bed, eyes moving to your own closet. You knew there was no point in protesting, your friends would show up at your door and drag you out in your pj’s if it came down to that. Also, to be truthful, you could use to let loose a bit.

“I mean, there’s probably going to be some guy like that there, too.”

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t kill my vibe.” A moment of silence followed by a small gasp. “Oh! This is the perfect time to wear that dress I bought at the mall. You going to wear the red one you got?”

You thoughtfully hummed as you stood and padded towards your closet. “I don’t know. I feel like it hugs my belly a bit too much.”

“Don’t even,” she snipped, words dripping with almost unrestrained rage, “or I will hurt you.”

You chuckle, plucking the dress from your closet rather than protesting.

“It looked so good on you. Just put it on. I’m coming over so we can get ready together.”

You rolled your eyes, moving back towards your bed to drape the silky red fabric over the mattress. “You mean you’re coming over so I can do your make-up.”

“Duh.”

“Okay, fine. But you’re buying first round,” you said with a grin.

She agreed; then about 20 minutes later, Amanda was perched in your computer chair with her long auburn hair pulled up in a messy bun. You gossiped about some new guy that started at her job—no, not him—some blonde guy that was apparently a complete prick.

By 9 o’clock, you were standing in line with three of your friends, giggling and gushing about how glad you were to see each other. Everyone looked stunning, their tight outfits extenuating their perfectly slim figures; and you couldn’t help but feel like you stood out between them.

The unforgiving fabric of your dress clinging tightly to the curve of your tummy, the dips of your hips, and swell of your breasts. Its thin straps doing little to hide your plump arms, leaving your skin exposed to the night air. While you weren’t incredibly insecure, this dress was increasing the anxiety building in your chest by the minute.

You fell quiet, listening to the ongoing tale of the mysterious blonde man who started at Amanda’s job. Even though she was scoffing and rolling her eyes, she couldn’t seem to stop talking about him. Just as you opened your mouth to crack a joke, a voice cut you off.

“Y/N?”

It was small, unbelieving, and was vaguely familiar though you couldn’t quite place it. You turned, and like something out of a corny movie, your gaze was drawn upwards and onto blue eyes. Your heart sputtered in your chest, stomach filling with butterflies, as you look up at the man that had been invading your mind so frequently.

“… Daniel?”

He looked even more handsome than he did that day in the shop. His hair perfectly pushed back, other than the small curl that seemingly refused to fall in line with the rest—and his outfit? A perfectly ironed white dress shirt that stretched tightly over his muscles, a thin black tie hanging loosely from his collar, and black slacks gripping his thick thighs.

It was criminal how hot he was in anything from the sweatpants he wore when you first met to the cleaned up version that stood in front of you now.

His face was full of longing, his lips slightly parted as he studied you. He looked at you like you had unfairly been taken from him, like he never expected to see you again. His eyes flicked across your face, drinking in every detail all over again; and for a moment, it felt like you forgot how to breathe… Because he was real and he was looking at you.

“Y/N,” he echoed, savoring the way your eyes lit up when he said your name, his lips curling into a smile. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Mm… I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” you teased.

His eyes drifted to your dress. For a long moment, he remained silent, his face unreadable as he lost himself in admiring the shiny fabric extenuating your soft, plump figure.

“Why would I do something so stupid?”

The blush creeped up your neck as your eyes stayed on his; he wasn’t looking back in yours. No, his eyes were all over body, admiring your curves the way a man would admire a work of art.

A series of throats clearing coming from behind you snapped you out of your trance. As you turned towards your friends, you were met with eager grins. You couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up in your throat before introducing everyone.

Daniel was sweet, greeting everyone with a friendly smile, but his eyes kept falling back to you. He couldn’t help himself; appreciating how your ass looked in your dress and admiring the curves of your nearly bare shoulders. It was unfair, really; how exposed you were yet completely hidden from his view.

Then he noticed it: how your hands subtly tried to hide the way the fabric clung to your navel or tried to hang at your sides just so to hide the way it gripped the dip of your hips. His eyes met yours again, and in that moment, all that existed was you.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured with hearts in his eyes.

You could hear your pulse in your ears as you realized that look would absolutely be your downfall; and he was thinking the same thing about the way your face flushed and lips quirked into a smile. Only where you worried, he worshipped. Before you could reply to his compliment, he was already speaking.

“So, I know you’re obviously busy…” He paused, shooting a short glance at your friends. He had been rejected once, sure, but he would happily humiliate himself if there was a small chance you would say yes.

He cleared his throat, angling himself towards you, and leaning in ever so slightly. “But I was wondering if I could tempt you into joining me for a late night snack?”

His blue eyes glimmered under the streetlights and you could see the hope glowing in them. The small distance between you filled with the smell of his cologne: musky, deep, woodsy. You had to stop yourself from shouting your agreement and bouncing on your toes, from giggling like a schoolgirl.

But you were supposed to be going to the club with your friends. You start to turn back towards them, but Amanda’s hand found your shoulder.

She leaned in close, her mouth close enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath on your ear as she whispered, “If you don’t go with him, I’m going to murder you.”

And that was all the validation you needed. Your eyes met Daniel’s again as your smile grew. You nodded in agreement and he was sure his lips would be stuck in the stupid grin that broke out across his face for the rest of his life.

“Great!” His voice came out more eager than me meant for it to, but he couldn’t hide his giddiness. How could he when you were standing in front of him looking like that?

He put a hand out as an offering. “How about breakfast? There’s a diner just up the street that makes the best pancakes.”

“Breakfast?” You laughed, placing your hand in his—and your whole body reacted to the contact.

Your breath hitched, body tensed. His hands were rough, calloused from obvious years of hard work; the warmth from his palm seeped into yours as his fingers coiled around your hand.

“What? You don’t like breakfast?” He smirked, shaking his head slowly from side to side as he clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame.”

“Oh, you know that isn’t where I was going with that,” you playfully snipped, lightly squeezing his hand as you scrunched your nose. “Besides… What kind of person doesn’t like breakfast?”

You waved to your friends as you were gently lead away from the club. Daniel didn’t release your hand, not for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips. His entire brain screamed at him to weave his fingers between yours, to pull you close to his side and never let go.

Yet he just smiled down at you, opening his hand for you to pull away. Though you really didn’t want to, you did; wrapping your fingers around the strap of your purse instead. Neither of you spoke on the short walk, instead enjoying a comfortable silence and stolen glances.

As the soft glow of the white neon sign for the diner came into view, you looked up at him to say something, only to make direct eye contact. You grinned, arching an eyebrow, walking closer to his side.

“Are you going to stare all night?”

“If you let me.”

It came out with no hesitation, a raw thought that he hadn’t even fully processed before it tumbled from his mouth… But he would have said it regardless.

Your face burned as pink stained your skin, even stippling the tips of your ears with color. You looked away, trying to subdue the smile that was fighting so hard to break out on your face that it made your cheeks hurt.

When you got to the diner, he held the door for you, his eyes on yours as that wide smile clung to his lips.

“After you, shortcake.”

The sight of his eager face made your stomach flutter and chest tighten. After all this time, it seemed that the tide had turned in your favor after all; but if you were to ask him, he would have confidently said that he was the real winner that night.

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[freaknloser]

Nerdy!Best FriendxAmbiguous!Reader

"Are you a snake? Because I’d let you hiss sweet nothings into my ear."

⚠ Content Warning: Flash fiction, Adult content, Clothed sex (M+Gender Neutral Reader), Use of slang for genitals (dick, cock), Useless reptile facts. Context: Your best friend invited you over for a normal hang out session, but he looks so hot when he talks about his interests. Word count: 655

Your thighs stuck to the faux leather of your nerdy!best friend’s couch, making a slichhh sound every time you peeled them from the warm cushions. The television flickered in the background, a deep voiced narrator giving a detailed play-by-play of a leopard gecko fighting a scorpion.

You came over to hang out regularly, which always lead to you listening to him ramble about his newest hyperfixation. This time? Reptiles.

Your head tilted towards him perched on the other end of the couch as he was breaking down each stage of the regrowth of lizard tails. You weren’t sure when it happened, but sometime over the years, listening to his passionate babbling started making something in your chest tighten… And heat pool in the pit of your tummy.

“Oh!” His voice went up an octave as he looked over at you, pushing his thin silver-framed glasses back up by the bridge with his index finger. “And did you know when a rattlesnake shakes its tail, it’s muscles are actually moving faster than a hummingbird’s wings while hovering!”

His excitement to be able to gush about his current favorite topic was palitible, the intensity in his tone sending sparks down your spine. He wore a wide grin as he maundered on, those brown eyes shining brightly behind his glasses.

He took a deep breath before spewing out another fact—something about snakes and legs—but your eyes were fixed on how his fingers flexed through the air. How when he paused for a breath, his mouth hung open just enough for the light to catch against the wetness of his tongue.

After all the years of keeping the unspoken feelings concealed just below the surface, the shell cracked, and you broke.

As if someone else was controlling you, you were suddenly on his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. Your fingers threading into the short chocolate hair at the base of his skull, grinding your hips down, and a warm cheek pressed against his as you panted in his ear.

“Don’t stop talking.”

Your hips rolled, his length hardening quickly within the confines of his pants. His hands curled into fists against the vinyl couch as your fingers tugged at his soft locks. After a moment of stunned silence, he choked out another factoid.

“Crocodiles some—ah—” His hands shot to your waist, the pads of his fingers dimpling the skin under your shirt. A noise between a whimper and moan toppled from his mouth as you rocked.

“—sometimes eat rocks...”

The bulge in his pants pressed against your clothed core as the wet spot inside his boxers grew. Your teeth nipped his ear, leading to his brain short-circuiting and him completely forgetting every bit of knowledge it once held. While he didn’t know what made the band snap, and he was in no position to even try to give it thought.

His hands tightened, holding you in place as he rutted up against you, groaning like he was buried inside you. His words were replaced with pathetic whimpers and grunts, pulling you down onto his lap with each desperate movement.

You leaned back to see his glasses knocked sideways on his face, the lenses steamed almost opaque; pink cheeks and desperate eyes. You stilled, settling into place on his lap like you belonged there.

“Why would they do that?”

His eyes were practically as fogged as his glasses, looking up at you with a blank expression. He blinked, trying to clear the cloud from his mind and remember what he was saying.

“Eating rocks? That sounds fake,” you accused playfully, pulling your hands from his hair to gently fix his glasses.

That snapped him out of the transe you had him under. He arched an eyebrow, as if you had asked him the stupidest question he had ever heard; even as his dick pressed insistently against your inner thigh.

“… So they can dive into deeper water.”

.°˖✧! ᗯᗩIT !✧˖°.

Before you go; I just wanted to say hi! (°▽°)/ I have been seeing so many of these nerdy!best friend stories lately (don't judge) and UGH. Just wanna' bounce on it and watch the thoughts leave his eyes. Hehehehe. Anyway, just had to get this out of my head. Hope you like it! [You know the drill by this point: Tell me how you felt about it! Comments, messages, asks welcomed! Even if I don't reply, I promise I see you and you live rent free in my brain. Also, do we like my spills better down here?]

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[freaknloser]

Hey, boo! 👻

So, I've been working on Part 4 of Buff!MalexChubby!FemaleReader when I've been able to, but where I live has been having pretty severe weather this week. So, I haven't been able to work on it much between thunderstorms, tornado threats (as well as active ones), and losing power. Please be patient, I have been writing as I can, but... Well, I wanted to try something for a bonus kind of thing. I thought the texting part would be pretty boring to read—I tried so many times, it was so boring to write—and I got this idea from seeing similar things floating around this site. Between three websites and Krita, I have your text conversation with Daniel from after the date. Hehehe! I know it's so silly but I had fun making it.

Also, I was watching my daily episode of Devil May Cry, doodling in-between drooling over Dante, and I sketched Daniel... Well, kind of, this is sort of how I imagine him looking (drawing men is hard but I love this boi). Hope he's close to what you imagine; and if not, you never saw this. Oh, and I guess here's an intro to my art! („ಡωಡ„)

Imagine him with better hair and more masculine + handsome + muscular + drawn better. Also, if you're still here: I love your face. Part 4 coming soon! ♡

[freaknloser]

To my beautiful followers & lovely readers;

Okay so. I've been going HAM on Buff!MalexChubby!Reader story. I would say I'm about 3/4 finished, but it's already 5k words. Oopsie... (￣▽￣*)ゞ

So, I'm just curious:

I'll give it until the time this poll ends before making a decision. If the first option wins, I'll post as soon as it ends. Otherwise, I'll post on Friday (5/30).

Thanks for being here, by the way. I can't express how much I appreciate the interactions. I hope I you enjoy the way I put words together. ♡

[freaknloser]

Thinking about that pretty gasp girls do when you're on top of them kissing their neck with a hand up their shirt, and you push your knee between their thighs. UGH! The way their body tenses for a moment before their hips roll against your thigh, their nails biting into your back, and that breathy moan they try to suppress that comes out anyway.

Fuck, I love women.

[freaknloser]

Thinking about when a make-out session turns sloppy and desperate; then you're suddenly straddling their thigh, your hips moving like they're possessed, and you're panting into their mouth as if you're supplying them air to live. And the way their hands dig into the fat of your hips to guide your frantic movements while they nip at your bottom lip. And how they tell you that they can feel how wet you are through the fabric of your clothes in that mockingly sweet voice. And and when they

[freaknloser]

Yeah, getting your pussy ate is great... but that groan they do that vibrates through your cunt like they're the one about to cum? 10/10