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mv1simp · 10 months ago

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Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you will. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

#tw eating issues #tw ed disorder #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 x reader #chubby!reader #midsize!reader #plus size!reader

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itsaintmebabe · 20 days ago

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he stands up for you in an interview (midsize!reader)

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ drivers: charles leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris, max verstappen and carlos sainz

notes: this kinda came to me during the spanish gp today, let me know how you guys feel about it cause i’m not entirely sure abt it so lmk!! <3

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ masterlist

₊˚⊹ᰔ CHARLES LECLERC

He’d just come off the podium, drenched in champagne and Ferrari red, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips as he stepped into the media pen. Charles was running on adrenaline and pride until a journalist leaned in with a knowing look.

“Charles, you’ve been seen out with your girlfriend a lot lately. Some fans are saying she’s not what they expected from someone in your position. How do you respond to that kind of surprise?”

Charles blinked once.

“What they expected?”

His voice was calm, but the chill in it made the reporter hesitate.

“Yeah, just, you know… public figures usually date a certain ‘type’ and—”

Charles cut him off gently but firmly.

“She’s exactly my type.”

He folded his arms loosely, still not raising his voice, but something steel-like settled into his expression.

“She’s smart. She’s kind. She knows me better than anyone else, and she’s beautiful to me,” he emphasized. “If people are surprised, maybe they should spend less time imagining what kind of woman someone like me should be with, and more time questioning why they think they get a say at all.”

He gave the reporter a tight, diplomatic smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Next question, please.”

₊˚⊹ᰔ OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar had just scored a clean P2 and was relaxed, arms crossed, posture easy. He was talking about race starts and tire temps, until someone slipped in a question that made his brow twitch.

“Oscar, some people think your girlfriend isn’t really the ‘look’ they associate with someone at the top of Formula 1. Does that kind of public reaction ever give you pause?”

Oscar’s entire body went still.

“No. It gives you pause, apparently.”

The reporter blinked. “Just saying, there’s a certain image that comes with being in your position—”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed.

“You know what image I care about? The one I see when I come home after a race. When she’s curled up with a book and one of my hoodies. That’s it.”

He shrugged, voice still even but there was a bite now.

“If that doesn’t fit into someone’s aesthetic fantasy, that’s their problem. Not mine. Not hers.”

He glanced at the camera with a smirk.

“And definitely not yours.”

₊˚⊹ᰔ LANDO NORRIS

Lando had just taken the win and was practically bouncing, messy curls, cheeky grin, and post-race glow. He was in a good mood… until someone tried to sour it.

“Lando, fans online have been debating whether your girlfriend’s the ‘right look’ for someone who’s becoming a brand icon. Do you ever think about image in that way?”

Lando laughed. He actually laughed.

“Are you for real?”

The reporter started to respond, but Lando shook his head.

“You think I’m dating someone because it looks good in a photoshoot? Mate, I date her because she’s wicked. She's hilarious. She's sharp. She's a bit stubborn sometimes—” he grinned, fond “—but she gets me. And yeah, she’s hot as hell.”

He leaned toward the mic, playful but very pointed.

“I’m not worried about my image. I’m more concerned with whether she’s gonna beat me at Mario Kart again tonight and talk shit about it for a week.”

Lando shot the camera a wink and gave the next interviewer a wave.

“Let’s talk about the race now, yeah?”

₊˚⊹ᰔ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max wasn’t in the mood.

P2 felt like a loss, and the media pen was the last place he wanted to be. But he was standing there anyway stone-faced, giving short answers, until someone really pushed it.

“Max, your girlfriend’s not exactly what we expect from an F1 champion’s partner. Do you ever feel like you could be with someone who fits the image more?”

Silence.

Max stared at the reporter. No blink. No shift in expression. Just complete, icy stillness.

Then, very slowly.

“Did you just ask if I’d trade my girlfriend for a better… image?”

The reporter tried to reword, but Max held up one hand.

“No. Don’t backpedal. I heard what you said.”

He took a breath, voice low and flat.

“She doesn’t need to be anything other than who she is. I don’t date people to impress strangers. I date her because she makes me feel like myself. Because she’s brilliant. And yeah I think she’s stunning.”

Max looked the reporter straight in the eye.

“If that bothers you, I’d say that’s your issue. Not mine.”

Then he turned to walk away no fanfare, no press officer needed just gone.

₊˚⊹ᰔ CARLOS SAINZ

Carlos was in good spirits, having fought his way to a gritty P4. He was laughing with the Spanish press, animated and bright, when a British journalist edged in with a question that turned the air a little colder.

“Carlos, with so many drivers dating models and influencers, fans were surprised to see you with someone a bit different. Is that a deliberate choice, maybe to be more lowkey?”

Carlos tilted his head, smile still on his face but his eyes had narrowed just slightly.

“I didn’t know love was a PR strategy.”

The reporter coughed, flustered. “Well—of course not, but—”

Carlos raised a hand, cutting him off gently.

“Look. She’s not ‘lowkey.’ She’s just real. No filter. No act. She’s herself all the time. And to me, that’s rare.”

His voice softened, but not his resolve.

“I don’t care what anyone expects. She’s smart, she’s loyal, she’s beautiful and when I look at her, I don’t see a comparison. I see her. That’s enough.”

Then, in classic Sainz fashion, he smiled again calm and a little smug.

“And trust me, if you met her, you’d get it.”

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moviestarmartini · 1 year ago

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mirrors. — jude bellingham x reader

summary: your boyfriend is adamant in showing you why you have no reason to be insecure.

wc: 1.8k

warnings: midsize!reader, insecure!reader, nsfw (18+) , unprotected sex (don't ♡) , mirror sex, lots and lots of compliments, soft dom!jude, fingering, creampie, happy ending.

A/N: this is a quick read since that one scene in bridgerton got a bit of muse back from me!! thank you to all the girlies (gn) who dropped by la sobremesa to beg for jude lmao. i have a few other requests i may or may not honor hehe but enjoy!!

The door to the hotel room slammed shut, and you felt as though it might have rattled the whole building. You couldn’t hear past your panting and deafening heartbeat, not knowing what to do but pace around.

You’ve come to learn in that gala that, even though it wasn’t likely, people on the internet were kinder with their cruel words. Nothing could compare to the looks of disdain you got as you hung around your boyfriend. It didn’t make sense, you’ve been dating Jude for almost two years, and nothing compared to those models and influencer types staring you down.

You muttered something to him earlier about having a tummy ache, leaving the event and heading up to the shared hotel room in the same venue. You didn’t even catch the beep of a card being swiped on the door, your stupor too high to notice your boyfriend approaching you concerned.

“Love…” His voice started softly, effectively startling you half to death. But his brows furrowed softly as he noticed your panic, taking your hands in his. “What’s wrong? Tell me— no, wait, let’s breathe.” He squeezed your hands and guided your breathing with large intakes and exhales until your bottom lip effectively stopped quivering.

“Do I embarrass you?” You couldn’t help but ask, a baffled expression growing in his face before the realization settled in.

“Oh, honey,” He cooed in a sigh, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Those women are just envious. If you didn’t mind them, you would know I spent all night looking at you and only at you.”

“But—“ You tried arguing, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“No, none of that.” Over time in both your friendship and subsequent relationship, Jude had given you confidence that had pushed you forward in every aspect of your life. He looked around the room trying to find a device to get his point across, his face softening landing his eyes on the full body mirror next to the balcony.

“C’mere.” Jude pulled you towards the item, his hand gently on yours. His hand opened to guide you to stand in front of it, staring at your reflection. He stood behind you, his hand on your waist.

“Look at you…” His voice was soft but still sultry. “You’re perfect. The way your curves hug that dress perfectly anyone would think it was made for you and nobody else.” A smile twitched in your mouth, but the whispering flashed by from one ear to another, snapping you out of the temporary happiness.

“It’s just us here, okay?” He could read you like an open book, his other hand gently cupping your jaw to maintain your look towards your reflection. “It’s also how your skin is so soft it shines under the light.” The hand on your waist ran up your exposed arm, forming a trail of goosebumps on the skin.

“And all those other parts of you I worship constantly.” He leaned in to place his chin on your shoulder, looking back at the two of you.

“How are you so sure?” Your chest heaved but for a completely different reason once you asked sheepishly, a smile forming in response before he put the words out there.

“Because you’re the love of my life,” He replied simply. “Besides, we’ve been together for so long, you’re my reflection. And I’m yours.” He kissed your cheek delicately before parting ways with your body.

But everything was long forgotten already by you, turning around to pull him into a kiss. His hands found the way to your waist, pulling you close briefly before he broke the kiss.

“I love you more than anything in this universe.” He brushed his nose against yours before twirling you around to face the mirror again. “And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

While a hand pinched the bottom of the zipper, the other pulled it down painfully slowly, never breaking eye contact through the mirror. The gown soon pooled at your feet, and it was as if he took a moment to admire the work of art in front of him; you were wearing just heels and panties, your nipples hardened from the sudden cold of the room.

He didn’t even need to say anything, his eyes did the talking.

Jude leaned closer to kiss your neck, slowly, never breaking eye contact. He held you closer to his body with a hand resting on the soft pouch under your belly button. You thought you could melt into a puddle right then there, chest heaving as you noticed his hand lower even further and into the tiny piece of underwear— worn so it wouldn’t show with the dress.

“This pretty pussy is also so perfect.” He whispered in your ear, his slender fingers pressing against your clit. “I want to make love to you, with one condition.”

“Yes?” Your voice quivered, letting out a loud exhale at the way his lips curled into a snarky smile.

“It has to be facing this mirror.”

You didn’t even notice when you nodded, or when you sauntered over to the bed and laid on it per his request. It all felt like an out of body experience until he tugged off the tie, starting to strip in front of you.

You couldn’t help but smirk as he unbuttoned the expensive white shirt, the sound of his belt coming undone made your mouth water. He removed his shoes before taking off the pair of slacks, taking slow steps towards you before leaning down to kiss a trail up your stomach, chest, throat and up to your lips.

You moaned into the kiss as he laid on top of you, pinning your hands over your head. “Perfect,” He breathed out between kisses, “And all mine.”

His hand sneaked under your panties again, teasing your wet entrance with two slender fingers before pushing one first past your entrance. “F-fuck— Baby,” You squirmed, your back aching against his bare chest.

“Feels good, right?” He asked softly, pumping his finger in and out, his boner pressing against your upper thigh but he seemed too focused on working his magic.

You nodded between moans as he slipped another finger past. You’ve done this a thousand times already, but why did this time feel so… different? Your senses were clouding with each expert twist and tiny thrust he was giving you, the underwear practically ruined with your slick.

But he suddenly stopped, leaving you distraught as he removed the tiny item of clothing, taking off his underwear to match. No matter your weight, it was surprising how easily he could manhandle you, switching so you laid on top of him.

“You know what to do, love.” He cupped your face, and you nodded, taking his leaking cock in your hand to line it against your entrance.

You watched as he closed his eyes, almost squeezing them shut at your light teasing. You smiled before pushing him in completely, a groan escaping both of your lips once it was fully inside.

You rocked your hips, noticing how he had opened his eyes. Moans left your lips as his arm reached up, taking a hold of your jawline to tilt your face up. Once again, you met your eyes in the mirror, your stomach sucking in.

“Look at you,” He cooed. “You’re perfect when you ride me.”

You gave yourself a good look and couldn’t help but agree. The way your tits bounced with every rock of your hips was enticing, and now you felt like an idiot for even listening to the gossip downstairs.

After all, you were the one you had the man of their dreams under you, groaning with every bounce of your body on his cock.

“What’s that look on your face?” He noted breathlessly, and you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head. Yet again, without any words, he understood you perfectly. “There she is.” He winked up at you, holding you down to take his entire length. You groaned, noticing him shifting his weight to switch your bodies.

Now you laid under him, and you couldn’t help but notice once again how huge he was. His biceps morphed together could easily be bigger than your head.

You reached out to caress his face, “I love you so much. I’m so lucky to have you.” You admitted breathlessly as he started thrusting again, much faster than the speed your hips had established a mere second ago.

“No, I’m lucky to have you.” Jude insisted, kissing your hand. “My perfect girl…”

The build up to your orgasm lasted a few seconds. You were so concentrated on everything else to notice how close you were, only doing so when your stomach squeezed in. “Jude…” You warned, lips parted.

“Do it baby, cum on my cock.” He approved with a nod, quickly throwing one of your legs over his shoulder in order to gain an angle to touch your sensitive clit.

The moans got caught in your throat, and you caught your calf spasming from the pleasure. The brain fog from the pleasure was too much, enough for you to not notice Jude pulling out and easily manhandle you into laying in your stomach. He pulled your hips slightly up to gain the perfect angle, following his hand wrapping your hair in a fist and pulling you up to meet your eyes in the mirror once again.

“Look at you,” He cooed once again, and frankly, you looked overwhelmed in the pleasure he was giving you with each deep thrust, the sound of skin coming into contact filling the room along with the creaking of the bed and the sounds you both produced.

From the stuttering of his hips you could hint he was close too, but it wasn’t until he posed the question that you actually realized it. “Where do you want it, hm? Want me to cum all over your ass?” He groped the skin before giving sharp spanks, the surprise making you gasp.

“No!” You shook your head, “Cum inside, baby. Please.” You knew very well it was a trick question, and the mumbled praises he shot were the confirmation as he leaned in to kiss the back of your shoulder.

Similar to the previous one, your orgasm completely caught you off guard as it washed over you suddenly, the squeezing of your walls being the catalyst for your boyfriend’s own orgasm which he honored both of your wishes by filling you up with the thick white ropes of sticky liquid.

It took you both a second to ride off the highs, Jude rolling over to lay at your side.

“We should’ve fucked in the bathroom downstairs so everyone heard us.” You commented mindlessly, laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

At the sound of your boyfriend’s cackles, you couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, you really loved him. And he really loved you, too.

#speaking my truth as a low midsize girlie #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !

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sreidisms · 1 year ago

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Sweater Weather

Spencer Reid x Mid/Plussize!Fem!Reader

Summary: you wish you could be able to wear Spencer's clothes, but you wear completely different sizes. However, one day he comes home with a surprise.

Genre: ever so slight angst if you even notice it, fluff

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: insecurity, self-comparison, kissing. Only she/her pronouns are used, so trans girls and anyone who uses these pronouns, this is for you.

A/N: I read @tenpintsof-sundrop 's post about how SO many Spencer writers love the "girlfriend wearing their boyfriend's clothes" trope, and honestly as they should, but as a mid-size girl, it's not that realistic. So I took it upon myself to write a short blurb where Spencer wears one of your sweaters. Enjoy 😙

Autumn was undoubtedly your favourite season: the crisp air biting at your skin, the crunch of browned leaves on the pavement, the feeling of a freshly-made mug of tea warming your hands, and of course, wearing sweaters. Sweater weather, is what you called it.

What made it better was the fact you enjoyed experiencing all of this with your lovely boyfriend, Spencer. You could only describe it as luck that you both shared a deep love for autumn, and Halloween naturally. You and Spencer enjoyed taking walks in the afternoon dusk of October, watching obscure foreign films that only he could translate while you were wrapped up in a blanket, and baking cinnamon goods when sleep was long forgotten on the nights he was off work.

Nothing could disrupt your joy during this time - well, except maybe one thing. Both avid sweater collectors, they were all you wore during the colder months. And as usual boyfriend-girlfriend relationships go, you often thought about borrowing a sweater or two from his wardrobe. He had a red striped one which you adored, a memory of his younger self when you had met each other at a flea market and both grabbed the same vintage book. His brown argyle one was definitely your favourite though. And you would ask him to wear it if it wasn’t for one thing.

You wore a larger size than Spencer. It was always blaringly obvious to you how different your bodily proportions were. Although the taller one, your boyfriend wore trousers that you could hardly fit a thigh through and his shirts would only reach past your neck, or at least you assumed - you had never attempted to try.

It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. There were plenty of girls who were taller or chubbier than their romantic counterpart, but it still stung. There was nothing you wanted more during colder evenings than to steal one of his sweaters and bury yourself beneath the warm wool, enveloping yourself in his smell. So you opted for cuddling up as close to him as possible, letting him wrap his arms around you - it was as good as it could get.

However, one day during November, when you were alone at your shared apartment, a very wonderful thing occurred.

The kitchen had just been cleaned after another one of your baking fiascos. Amongst many things, you knocked the bag of flour while putting the tray of odd-looking cookies in the oven, and thus made a mess of the entire floor and counter. It took a while to clean up and it was not rewarding to open the oven door to deformed, sad-looking cookies. Whatever, you thought. It clearly wasn’t your day.

You found a place in your favourite armchair, your current read in your hands. It was the ideal way to pass the time since Spencer had texted you about his mountainous pile of reports he had to finish getting through. He could surely read faster than everyone else, but it didn’t mean they would be finished in a short period of time.

As you delved deeper and deeper into the story, you were startled when you heard the front door click open. You glanced at the clock up on the wall. Almost midnight, poor boy.

“Angel?”

“I’m in the living room!” you called out.

The shuffle of shoes and a gentle thump echoed through the corridor as Spencer took off his converse and dropped his messenger bag. The sound of soft footsteps neared you until the tall man rounded the corner and appeared in all his nerdy glory.

“Hey, finally home,” he sighed.

But you didn’t listen to what he was saying because you were too focused on something else: resting on his lanky frame was your sweater. One of your warmer ones. It was obviously a little too big on him, the material slipping off his right shoulder to reveal his white button-up underneath. The dark green sleeves were always a tad too long for your arms, and you’d assume they wouldn’t even reach Spencer’s wrists, but there they were covering his knuckles, only his fingertips poking out.

“Is everything alright? You seem distracted.” Spencer’s voice pierced your bubble of awe.

“Is that my sweater?”

He looked down and pulled on the hem of the sweater, a faint blush tainting his cheeks. “Uh yeah, it seems to be so. Does it bother you?”

Bother you was the last thing the image of your boyfriend in your clothing would do.

You cleared your throat as you tried to gather your thoughts into an intelligible sentence.

“N-Not at all! You just never asked me to wear anything of mine before … did you not have any sweaters left?”

“Oh no, I did! I um- well yesterday you wore it and left it on my desk chair, and it looked so warm and it … smelt of you.” His voice went up an octave at this last part. “And I thought I could wear it. Is that okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Wrong wasn’t the word you would use. Cute, adorable, heart-warming were adjectives that fit to describe the situation.

“Far from that, Spence. You look … you look adorable,” you said warmly.

He smiled in embarrassment and lifted his hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He truly was the spitting image of domesticity in this moment.

“C’mere.” You urged him to walk towards you, tucking your legs underneath your body. He shuffled closer while he picked at the stray ends of wool fraying at the sleeves.

Once he was close enough, you held his face in your hands and left a tender kiss on his plump, pink lips. He whined quietly at the sudden action, but let you do as you pleased - he couldn’t really say no, he was putty in your grasp.

After stopping the sweet kiss, your eyes traced over his outfit again - God, he was such a darling.

“Please wear my clothes more often, you look cute in them,” you said while looking into his hazel eyes.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he grinned.

Need him to wear my sweaters, I swear 🤧

#writingreidisms #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #mgg fluff #spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #midsize reader #plussize reader

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padmesweetheart · 2 months ago

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You’re My Everything

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Younger, Midsize Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Romance

Word Count: ~3,300

You sat quietly on the porch swing, staring out at the darkening sky. The day had been filled with a lazy warmth, the kind that made you feel safe and comfortable—except something was gnawing at you. Something you couldn’t shake.

Hayden was inside, grabbing some tea for both of you, but the quiet didn’t help your mind rest. It just let the doubts creep in, and you couldn’t stop them.

It had been one of those days where you caught yourself thinking about his past. The supermodels. The actresses. Those perfect women he’d been with before, the ones who all seemed to have bodies that were thin, tall, and model-esque.

And then there was you.

Midsize. Not quite curvy, not quite thin. In-between, but always feeling like you didn’t quite fit anywhere.

You ran your hands over your thighs, self-conscious, as if they’d grown larger in that one moment. The reality was, they hadn’t, but the thoughts just spiraled. Hayden was this strong, patient, kind man, and you couldn’t help but feel like you weren’t enough for him—especially when you thought about the women he had been with before.

Hayden had a history before you. That wasn’t a secret. But sometimes, the thought of him with them made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. You did, completely. But how could you not feel like you fell short when you constantly compared yourself to these beautiful women from his past?

The sound of the back door creaking open pulled you out of your thoughts, and you quickly wiped away the lone tear that had managed to escape. Hayden stepped out, a soft smile on his face, carrying two steaming mugs of tea.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting beside you on the swing, nudging your knee with his. “You okay?”

You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You took the mug from him, grateful for the warmth, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “Just… thinking.”

He didn’t buy it for a second. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You bit your lip. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him; it was just that you didn’t want to make him feel like you were being ridiculous or needy. “I know,” you whispered. “I just… sometimes I get insecure.”

“About what?” Hayden asked, gently cupping your chin and lifting it so you had to meet his eyes. His gaze was soft, concerned, and filled with so much love. You could never stay upset when he looked at you like that.

You hesitated, but your thoughts spilled out before you could stop them. “I keep thinking about your past. Your exes—your girlfriends. The models and actresses. And I just… I feel like I’m not enough, you know?”

His face softened, and he reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles soothingly. “You are more than enough.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts. “But I’m not like them, Hayden. I’m not as thin or as perfect. I just feel like… I’m not the kind of woman you’re used to.”

Hayden sighed deeply, his fingers gently wiping away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “Sweetheart, I don’t need ‘perfect.’ I just need you.”

You felt a sob catch in your throat as his words sank in, but you fought it down. You felt so foolish for feeling like this, but the emotions had built up so quietly over time that they came crashing down all at once.

“I love everything about you,” Hayden continued, his voice low and steady, full of emotion. “I don’t look at you and think, ‘Oh, I wish she looked like my exes.’ I look at you, and I think, ‘This is everything I’ve ever wanted.’”

You looked at him, disbelieving, your heart racing. “But… how? I don’t understand. How could I be what you want when you’ve been with women who—”

��Stop,” he said gently, but firmly. He cupped your face in both hands, bringing you closer. “You’re the only woman I want, the only woman I need. I’m not with you because of how you look. I’m with you because of your heart, your soul, your strength. You make me laugh. You make me feel loved. You make every day better just by being you.”

His voice cracked slightly, and your heart melted. He kissed your forehead softly, holding you close.

“Do you really think I would spend my life with someone I didn’t love? Do you really think I could look at you, with everything you are, and feel anything but complete?” He shook his head slowly, his forehead resting against yours. “You are everything I’ve ever needed. You are my home.”

You felt the weight on your chest begin to ease. It wasn’t just the words he was saying—it was the sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes. He meant every single word.

“I just… I get so insecure sometimes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to feel like I’m not enough for you. I love you so much.”

“I know you do, baby,” he murmured, brushing your hair back. “And I love you more than you could ever know.”

His thumb traced over your lips as he smiled, so tenderly, so lovingly. “Your body is perfect just as it is. It’s not about size or shape. It’s about who you are inside. And you—you are everything to me. Don’t you ever forget that.”

You sniffled, your chest tightening as a fresh wave of emotion hit you. You leaned into him, letting the tears flow freely now as he held you close. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Shh,” Hayden murmured, kissing your temple. “Don’t apologize for feeling. I’ve got you.”

He held you for a long time, his arms around you, his love unwavering. And for the first time in a long while, the doubts that had been clouding your mind started to fade. With Hayden by your side, you realized you didn’t need to compare yourself to anyone else. Because you were everything he needed—and that was more than enough.

Later, as you both settled in for the night, Hayden tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead gently. He gazed down at you with so much affection in his eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “Not because of what you look like, but because of everything you are. Don’t ever forget that.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth inside you that no insecurity could ever take away. “I won’t. I promise.”

Hayden leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead once more, whispering, “Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”

You closed your eyes, feeling safe, loved, and completely cherished in his arms. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly at peace with yourself.

@skyguytoast @dessxoxsworld @endairachristensen26 @bxbyysstuff @inlovewithallmusic

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagines #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen x reader #Hayden Christensen x Midsize!reader #hc imagines

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livthelazywriter · 4 months ago

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Bradley with a chunky/midsized/curvy girl….

Drooling🤤

Thigh obsessed.

He loves your thighs. He touches them any chance he gets. When he sets you on the counter, he rubs them up and down as he kisses your face and neck. Bradley occasionally gives them soft squeezes. He loves that they don’t fit in his hand and that the extra skin and fat spill out between his fingers.

He loves laying his head on your lap, an arm wrapped around your leg. If you’re wearing shorts, he kisses your skin and traces your thighs with his fingers.

He LOVES when you wear a big baggy shirt with either short shorts that ride up or just underwear. The way the hem of the shirt brushes your thighs and hides nothing? He’s a goner. Done. Dead. Deceased.

When he’s sitting next to you, his hand is on your thigh or he has one of your legs draped over his. His fingers trace random shapes inside your thighs. Gentle but slow and lazy squeezes to the top meaty portions.

And don’t get started on how his loves your wide hips.

He loves to squish your love handles and grip your hips when his kisses you. He uses them to forcefully push you back against the counter.

Bradley loves to watch the natural sway when you wear a pair of tight jeans. He walks a few steps behind you to unshamfully watch you walk. Bradley loves to grab your belt loop to pull you back. Sticking his middle fingers in the middle loop in the back. His thumb slips under your shirt to rub you skin.

And in dresses? Tight ones? Loose and flowy? He loves how wide they look in them.

Coming up behind you, his rough hands grab your hips pulling you back against him. He will tuck his face I to your neck and sigh contentment as his hands explore your hips.

When you are changing for bed, he pulls you close and pushes your shirt up. His lips litter them with kisses. You just giggle and blush covering your face with your hands. Bradley’s hands find their spot right under your butt where it meets your thighs. His hands squeeze you with a hum.

Your chest?

Yep. Loves it.

You’ll wake up in the morning with an arm under your head and his hand in the neck hole of your bed shirt. Bradley’s calloused hand holds your boob as he sleeps. His other hand holds the bottom part of your belly, that little ledge he loves to grab. His thumb is mostly in your belly button as the other fingers grip that bit of fat.

When not grabbing your hips, he slides his hands up your front to casually hold your chest.

Laying on the couch, he pushes his face between them while pushing a hand up your shirt to hold one.

All you can do is roll your eyes and run your fingers through his hair.

#liv.writes #livs thoughts💭#this is self indulgent #I’m midsized so it’s all I think about honestly…#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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samonroegf · 1 year ago

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sam monroe x midsized!balletdancer!reader

a/n : i dont know jackshit ab dancing, i was a choir kid in high school 😔 so i hope this is good . also sorry there's not alot i didn't really know what i was doing. requested by anon. ᝰ masterlist

he's showing up to every single recital, practice, if you're dancing ; he's there.

he loves helping you adjust your skirts and tights ( he is trying to rip them so y'all can fuck )

he absolutely adores your chub, he loves that there's a little extra to grab onto you. he wished you'd suffocate him with your thighs

he is a-okay with being the boyfriend that carries his girl's shit around, he is helpful! and loves treating his girl like a princess

on the princess treatment note, he is driving you everywhere, got a recital in the next state? he's driving, with his hand on your thigh the whole time.

you best believe he is bringing flowers for you every single time, but he might have stolen them out of some lady's garden

the other girls on your squad ? are sooooo jealous, first of your boyfriend is hot with a captial h, and he's sweet and caring.

let's being up the elephant in the room, which is the opposite aestehtics the two of you have are sososo cute ( skaterboi 💕)

he always helps you wrap your ballet shoes, he would do everything for you if he could

he always shows up smelling like weed <\3 which isn't great until your dance coach is really itching for some and you get put on the good list thanks to sam

he makes you watch horror movies with him <3 and you make him watch romcoms with you <3

being flexible from beint a ballerina, is definitely helpful to sam when he wants to try out a new position

#sam monroe x midsized!ballerina!reader #sam monroe hc #sam monroe headcannons #sam monroe headcanon #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x fem!reader #sam monroe x female!reader #sam monroe x fem reader #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe fic #sam monroe blurb #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe one shot #sam monroe life as a house #life as a house sam #꒰꒰ sammy ₊˚๑ #ζ callista says things . ✦

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inkstainedmaldita · 26 days ago

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420 Reasons to Love You - SDV FANFIC

Summary: You and Sebastian became unlikely friends after you moved to Pelican Town a year ago after taking over your late grandfather’s farm. Unlikely, because he was such a grouch to you but eventually he warmed up. Especially when he’s all pink eyed and high in cloud nine. That’s when he started to get closer with you over time. One day, while tearing down the shrubs and unwanted boulders of your land you’ve been avoiding for the longest, you come across something very interesting. 🍃

⚠︎Content Warnings⚠︎ - Weed, Angst (Grief), Discussions of potential drug dealing, Cussing.

Headcanon Inspo: Sebastian being the subtle stoner of Stardew Valley lol + He’s a natural ginger.

Chapter Two - Secret Shenanigans

☆.🍃 𓆏 🍃.☆

[Y/N’s POV] - [Word Count: 2,683]

The two of us stepped into the dusty, creaky shed. The smell of must and slight mold from the decaying wood hits our noises, making a slight cough leave Sebastian’s lips. I take another step ahead as the soft wooden boards creak under my weight, distracted by the hidden silhouettes of the shed when Sebastian suddenly pulls me back into him by the waist. His hand splayed against my soft rounded abdomen, his touch warm against my skin as it peeks out from my hiked up tank top. I turned to him, only to find his face directly in front of mine. My face starts to feel warm and I pray the moonlight doesn’t show my blush. He’s not usually this touchy.

“W-What’s wrong?” I slightly stutter in confusion at his sudden action. His pink eyes faded slightly, almost back to normal but I can still see that haze. Especially when he gives me another one of his dorky smirks. He tilted his head and gestured down below to the area I almost stepped in.

“There’s a hole, farm girl. You could’ve fallen in if it weren't for my sharp eye, haha.” Sebastian chuckles slightly as his gaze comes back to mine. He had leaned a bit more closer and I could just smell his cologne mixed in with that faint weed smell. I chuckled slightly, looking away to hide my growing fluster.

“Thanks...” I respond softly and quickly turn to raise my flashlight to continue inside. I can feel Sebastian’s presence right next to me as we look around. With my flashlight, we spotted an old table with dusty boxes and a creaky shelf. There’s rotted beanbag chairs and a carpet underneath with even more boxes.

“Thank gods I carry gloves with me.” I grimaced at the icky area and reached into my jean shorts’ back pocket to hand him some spare gloves. He thanked me and quickly put the gloves on as I did the same. I stuck the flashlight in my underarm so that we could still see while we went through the boxes. I can see Sebastian’s faint grimace at the strong must and chuckle a bit as I kneel down to open a box with a shine that caught my eye.

“Woah...” I awed as I raised up an intricate glass bong in the colors of lime green with white swirls. It was murky and a bit dusty as I grabbed the flashlight from my underarm to show Sebastian. His eyes widen in surprise and starting excitement as he approaches me to gently take the bong from me. I leaned back down to the box and found another bong. This time a nice glassy purple and blue, creating a beautiful mix. My hands found its base as I picked it up to raise next it to the first bong Sebastian was holding.

“Wow. A little TLC for these babies and they’ll be good for use.” Sebastian awed as he wiped some of the dust off the bong I held. I nodded and looked up at his expression. He had that same look in his eyes as when he won a round in his video games or when he pointed out the easter eggs in one of his favorite movies, Mysterium, to me. I’m glad that he was able to open up to me and show me this side of him. When I first spoke to him, he was very closed off. Even made that snarky comment about me coming to live in Pelican Town rather than staying in Zuzu City. They sometimes referred to him as an emo loner or a shut-in, too. Call me cringe, I don’t care. Sebastian was just…misunderstood. Not to mention how he’s been acting lately when he’s high. The sound of Sebastian’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I look up at him.

“Woah, look at this old thing.” Sebastian had moved to the dusty table and found an old photo album. I don’t think I’ve seen that particular family album before and it doesn’t ring any bells as I move closer to Sebastian. His gloved hands dust off the cover and open up the book. The first page had signatures on them, old ones. However, two signatures caught my eye. It’s Grandpa and…Grandma’s. I gasp softly as my fingers trace over their signatures side by side. Doodles of hearts around them suggest the early romance of my grandparents.

“This is definitely theirs. I think it’s a friendship album considering the other signatures I don’t recognize.” I point out as Sebastian nods in agreement. He turns the page and we’re greeted by photos of my Grandpa when he was young with his friend group. Silly pictures of them goofing off, graduation photos, and sweet photos of him together with Grandma. We turned to another page and found pictures of the young friend group in the shed, back when it wasn’t run down. Grandma sat on Grandpa’s lap on one of the bean bag chairs, their friends snacking on junk food and there it was. Confirmation that everything we found related to weed belonged to grandpa.

Sebastian and I let out a chuckle as we looked at the pictures of my high grandpa with his buddies. He held the green and white swirly bong in one of the photos, but it obviously looked cleaner and more vibrant back then. Looking at these photos of my grandparents felt so… bittersweet. It reminded me on how distant our family grew after Grandma passed, how alone he must’ve felt, how Grandpa never got to show me these photos himself-

“Hey, hey. [Y/N]...are you okay..?” Sebastian asks softly which causes me to come back out of my thoughts again. I look down and see droplets on the album’s page and I finally realize I’m crying. The feeling of my cheeks being wet from the droplets becomes clearer. I look up at him and see his furrowed soft expression of concern. A sniffle escaped me as I reached up to wipe my tears with my arm and looked away to compose myself. Damn it. I didn’t mean for him to see that.

“[Y/N]...it’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me.” He consoled me as he approached and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I can hear him gently close the album and set it back down onto the table before pulling me into a comforting hug.

“I-I know…I just…” I sniffled, burying my face into his shoulder. My tears dropped and stained his hoodie as I closed my eyes. It’s like the feelings of regret and grief were coming back in full swing in what was supposed to be a fun and chill moment. I thought I handled it when grandpa first passed. It’s been a year, so why is it hitting me now? Sebastian’s hand rubs gentle circles on my back as he holds me. I try to focus on his warmth but I can’t, at least not yet.

“I don’t think you ever let yourself grieve, [Y/N]. From the moment I met you, you had thrown yourself into farm work to the point where you over exerted yourself.” He started, still rubbing circles onto my back as his chin rests on the top of my hair. “I know this might be shocking coming from me but, it’s okay to feel, [Y/N]. I think...it’s time for you to let yourself grieve. You’ve been there for everyone else so I’ll be right here. For you.”

At his words, my hold on him tightened as I let out a shuddered sigh. The tears rush up to fill my eyes again, but this time I let them fall. I feel bad that his hoodie is getting wet but when he tightens his hold on me back, I feel relieved and I can focus on his warmth again. We stay like this as I sob my heart out, letting the grief of my grandpa’s passing and the regret for not being able to reach out and visit escape my mind. Ultimately, Sebastian is right. I think I pushed myself into chores and farm work to forget these feelings. To hurry and make it up to grandpa and get his farm running again. I did the same thing in ZuZu City. Stuck myself in that godforsaken nine to fucking five, ignoring the pain of grandma’s passing. I’m so sorry.

𓆏

Sebastian had moved me outside to get some fresh air since the muskiness was getting to us. I’m sitting on an old stump with my eyes now all red and puffy when I look up at Sebastian in front of me. He brought out the photo album again and set it beside me on the stump.

“I figured you’d like to look at the rest of the photos alone later tonight.” He explained as he looked down at me. The shoulder of his hoodie is wet from my tears and probably some snot which I cringe at the thought of.

“I’m so sorry about your hoodie. I can wash it if you’d like.” I offer as I subconsciously reach out for his sleeve.

“Nah, it’s cool. It just shows I helped comfort the pretty farm girl.” He smiled as he let out a soft chuckle at the sight of my puffy eyes. I rolled my eyes in slight amusement at his comment and looked away when he gently reached out to cup my face to look at him. His expression was soft again, his pink eyes faded back to normal at this point.

“How’re you feeling now, farm girl?” He asked, his thumbs gently caressing my round soft cheek. I try not to fluster again, but since my face is already red from crying, I could probably get away with it.

“I’m okay for now. Thanks, Sebs.” I smile up at him softly, grateful for his presence right now. He tilts his head at me, as if questioning if I’m telling the truth or not.

“Are you sure? You’re not just pushing it aside again, are you..?” He questions as he leans closer. His eyes flicker as he looks for any traces of facade in my eyes. I shook my head and reached up to hold his wrists gently.

“I promise I’m okay now. I’ve cried enough tonight, but you're right. I’ll let myself feel and try not to bottle things up again. I did the same thing before when Grandma passed. So, thanks for being here for me, Sebastian.” I thanked him softly, leaning into his touch.

“You’re welcome, [Y/N]. It really is a big step, hell maybe I should take my own damn advice.” He chuckled softly and sat down beside me on the mossy old stump. I follow his gaze as he looks at the run down shed before he smirks a bit.

"At least we got confirmation that this is definitely your grandpa’s farm, haha. A little generational thing you've got going on, farm girl.” He teases as he nudges me and I shake my head in amusement. I can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood, which I appreciate.

“So…what are you gonna do with it now? Are you going to keep it? Weed it out? No pun intended.” He says that, but the emo dork laughs a little anyway.

“Oh so you’ve got farm jokes now, huh?” I chuckle and he lets out another laugh in realization.

“Shit, I didn’t think of it as a farm joke, sweet girl.” He smiles in amusement and then I too, understand that it was also a weed joke. I snort and nudge him at his stupid joke before calming down and considering his question. I don’t really want to destroy this patch of marijuana growing. It’s my Grandpa’s like the rest of the farm is. I look back up at Sebastian with my decision made up in my head.

“I’m going to keep it and I was wondering if you’d like to help me keep these babies alive.” I tilted my head at him as I started, hoping he’d say yes. “I know you're not really a farming type of guy, obviously, but I figured I’d need your skill set with harvesting and well, prepping. You also know I'm not a stoner, so these would go to waste. What I’m trying to say is-”

“You’d let me have this as my own personal supply?” He responds in awe with widened eyes again. I nod and smile, loving the happy and excited expression on his face.

“Yeah, Sebs. You can be in charge of this garden, where I help you keep it alive with my farmskills and you harvest and do what you want with them.” I confirm and keep my eyes on him, watching his expression grow even more excited. I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this excited since I’ve known him.

“Seriously?! Aw, man..this is so- you're amazing, [Y/N]! Wait, are you- Does this mean you’re thinking of selling..?” Sebastian questioned and let his excitement calm down a bit to ask. The idea of becoming a drug supplier or dealer, whatever title that is, never crossed my mind despite my initial discovery of this. Technically, weed is legal and there’s nothing wrong with selling if I’ve got the right licenses and shit. Plus, with the items and other mystical things around here I’ve been selling, weed is probably the least crazy thing here. A girl’s gotta make money, and this is where it’s at. Call me greedy, but running a damn farm by myself isn't cheap.

“Hoenstly, maybe? It seems profitable, and I’m pretty sure I can get the right licenses and what not. For now, let's let this be your personal supply.” I decided as I looked at the garden and back up at him once again.

“Alright- but, Sam and Abigail might want to get in on these secret shenanigans of ours, though. If you don’t want them to know, I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut for ya, sweet girl.” He added with a smirk. With the mention of our other friends, I’m reminded that those two are also stoners. They’d want what Sebastian had, probably be so persistent to get him to spill the beans.

“I almost forgot about them. I think that’s fine, I trust them just as much as I trust you, haha.” I agreed and got up from the stump to stretch. It was really late at night at this point and I was starting to feel so drained. I reach to grab Grandpa’s photo album to bring with me.

“We can show and tell them about this tomorrow. I’m so beat. Let’s head back before I pass out.” I yawned as I watched Sebastian get up from the stump as well to stretch. I try not to glance when his hoodie stretches up, showing the sliver of his abdomen and a peek of both his boxers’ waistband and ginger happy trail. I try not to chuckle when I am reminded that he is, in fact, a ginger so I look away. He lets out a soft groan and scratches the nape of his neck, he looks just as tired as I am.

“Yeah, me too.” He agrees and we begin walking back up the trail to my farm house.

“Yknow… you can stay the night, Sebs. Your ass is too tired and you know I won’t mind. Just take the guest room and make yourself at home.” I suggested as we eventually reached my porch. He grumbles and nods his head.

“Alright, I’ll take your offer, sweet girl. Let’s hit the hay and deal with those punks tomorrow.” He chuckled tiredly at his own farm joke again and I shook my head in amusement as I was opening my front door so we could head inside for the night. Once we’ve gotten ready for bed, I can hear him lazily call out from the guest room.

“Night, sweet girl.”

“Night, Sebs.”

Author’s Note!

Heyy, I hope you enjoyed the second chapter! This chapter is a bit longer than the first one, lol. Again, special thanks to @auspicious-lilana for once again edited and proofreading! There was this one art I saw where Sebastian had a ginger happy trail but I cannot remember where I first saw it so credits got them for that little headcanon lol. Anyways, see ya on the third chapter! 🌺

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mv1simp · 9 months ago

Text

for the bully!Max, Leclerc!Reader and chubby!reader simps in my requests…I heard you and I’m here to deliver 😼😼 enjoy!!

You Belong To Me ♥️

Bully!Max Verstappen x Chubby!Leclerc!Reader

say it louder, say it louder, who’s gonna love you like me (who’s gonna fuck you like me?)

Growing up as the youngest daughter in the Leclerc family, you’d had a childhood crush on your brother’s rival and friend, Max. But when you grew older he turned into your worst nightmare, always bullying you. You’ve been able to avoid him for the last 5 years - but now with your new engineer job on the paddock, you can’t hide from Max any longer…and can’t stop the feelings you still have for him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub, dark! Max who bullies innocent virgin!reader, dub con, brainwashing, bimbofication, somno, yk all the good shit, WC 9k 😨

You shiver as you walk into your family’s childhood vacation home along the Cote de Azure, despite the summer heat. It’s been a long time since you’d visited this house. Even though your Mama and three older brothers came by often, looking for a weekend break from their busy lives or a romantic getaway with gorgeous girlfriends, you’d always turn down their offers to join once you were in college. They'd always be confused at your hesitance - but then again, they don't know just how many bittersweet memories this home holds for you. You’d grown up here in the summers, the youngest daughter of the famous Monegasque Leclerc family. Racing was in your bloodline, and your beloved Papa had instilled his passion into all of his children before he’d passed away.

Your older brothers, who were all handsome, tall and athletic, made natural drivers right from childhood and easily progressed through the karting competitions. Meanwhile, you were the youngest and the only daughter, and were raised in a far gentler manner as the apple of your family’s eye, their cute bunny as they’d nicknamed you, after your favourite childhood pet. In comparison to your brothers who ran around outdoors, you were more shy, preferring to be left with your books and colouring pencils in the safety of the patio.

Of course, with all your differences, there had been the healthy sibling rivalry of brothers vs sister growing up. They hated being forced to play house or pose for your scribbly drawings (not Arthur though - even at age 5 you were convinced he secretly loved when you made him join the Barbie tea party.) And in turn, you'd alway complain when you’d be dragged to cheer on Charles from the sidelines as he won his karting competitions. You would sulk, childishly annoyed at your parent’s attention shifting from you to their middle son’s rapidly growing racing career.

But it all changed when Charles raced against Max Verstappen for the first time at age 11. The blonde Dutchman aggravated your competitive older brother immediately with his aggressive driving tactics. You’d heard Cha, as you’d been calling him since you were little, furiously ranting about the illegal moves Max had been pulling and your 7 year old brain tuned it all out. But when you first saw the mysterious blonde in question, your heart fluttered with a feeling you’d never felt before and a bright blush overtook your chubby cheeks.

You immediately became infatuated with the older boy, who was far nicer to you than Charles had been back then. Your middle brother's idea of “sibling time” involving hiding beetles in your bed and laughing when you screamed. So it became a common sight to see you wandering after Max instead of being by your family’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve and showing him the racecar drawings you’d made. Max always entertained you, ruffing your hair and smiling back toothily, telling you that you were a much better artist than his little sis Victoria.

You’d beam from the praise, only leaving Max’s side when his scary father Jos would approach and eye you with disdain. You scampered back to your family, to your older brothers who accused you of the worst crime imaginable to the loyal Leclerc blood - exchanging racing strategies with the enemy Dutch. Your mother had hit all three sons on the back of the head and told them they could learn a thing or two about treating Bunny with respect like that cute boy Max did.

As you grew older, your pigtails were replaced with cute pins and headbands in an effort to look pretty whenever Max would come around to your summer home. By now, his rivalry with Charles had turned into a reluctant "frenemies who also spent summers together to discuss racing". You'd get to be with Max all day, swimming in the turquoise ocean and eating sweet stroopwafel that he always brought. An in the evenings, the two car-obsessed 14 year olds would be arguing about overtaking strategies at your family’s dining table. You’d pout, childishly wanting attention at age 11, interrupting whatever stupid point you're sure Charles was making to bat your eyelashes at your guest. Holding up your now detailed drawings of a black kart, you asked Maxie - as you’d taken to calling him - if he liked your recreation of his.

He’d grinned at you, still boyishly handsome and in the lanky phase of growing up as he told you he loved it, should he sign his autograph on it? with that Dutch accent you adored. Charles watched your shenanigans with a roll of his eyes, snidely muttering (in French, thank god) that the annoying little bunny wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her crush on the enemy Dutch. You flushed, frantically checking to make sure Max hadn’t been able to understand, and had run off with a red face to tearfully rat him out to your Mama. Unlike Charles, she found your crush on Max rather cute, and always encouraged you to give your favourite ribbons and bows to Max for a good luck charm the way you did with your brothers pre-race (Traitor, teen Arthur and Charles mouthed at you).

She eyed you knowingly when you do your best to avoid blushing as you grew older still, this time seeing Max when you were 14 and him 17 with an impressive winning streak in the Junior Redbull team. He’d started to develop into his tall 6 foot frame now, towering over your tiny 5”2 frame like your brothers did. What, no drawing of a racecar for me to sign Bunny? he gently teased, leaning down so you could shyly kiss both of his cheeks - a Monegasque tradition Max had become accustomed to from your family. You stuttered out your no, of course not, you were too old for that now! making him laugh at how cute you looked before walking off. Arthur watches the exchange with a smirk, elbowing Cha when he emerges from the changing rooms. Your middle brother’s frenemy status with Max was more of a friendship these days, and his earlier accusations of you being a traitor had turned into something much more annoying. Max and Bunny, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-

But by the time you turned 16, your Maxie changed from the sweet, laughing boy you’d always trusted into someone darker, someone who you felt scared of at times. You were at the age where you now wanted Max as your boyfriend, naively thinking that the 19 year old driver would return your affections when he’d attended your Sweet 16th. You’d spent hours getting ready, styling your long curly hair and wearing a cute dress all your friends had insisted you would be irresistible in (but had almost given your older brothers an aneurysm). It was tight and short, and although you'd always been a chubby kid, you feel a self conscious of the new plush curves around your hips and chest, in comparison to your older brothers who now looked very handsome and muscular.

You’d lit up when you saw Max across the fancy yacht club, flooded with all your schoolmates and family friends who’d come to celebrate the baby Leclerc’s birthday. He'd looked so handsome, his muscular frame now filled out and catching the eye of many girls. There was a devilishness in his smile that came with the confidence of being the youngest F1 driver in history. Lately, your innocent crush had started to drift towards naughtier, dirtier fantasies about what Max’s large hands and lips would feel like on you, if he snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night and told you he loved you as you willingly gave him your first kiss.

But all your naive hopes come crashing down when you see a slim, sexy blonde approach Max where he’s talking to Charles intently, drinking a beer. His hand squeezes her ass in a familiar motion as she wraps her arms around him, leaning up to give him a kiss. You quickly turn around in the crowd before you can be seen, heartbroken, and drown yourself in blurred conversations and slices of birthday cake. Max doesn’t even come to wish you happy birthday like he normally did, always with a special gift in hand. At some point in the night you’re talking to Charles and try to subtly ask who that blonde girl with Max had been. Your older brother gives you an amused look, asking if you still had your silly little childhood crush on Max? You adamantly deny it, and he smirks and tells you that was Giana, Max’s girlfriend and an Italian model. You’re upset, of course, but thankfully he changes the topic to tell you how Max had recommended his old F2 seat go to Charles, wasn’t that amazing Bunny? You nod mutedly, having become used to Cha being less and less aware of anything that went on outside his racing career these days.

After a sneaky shot of tequila your friend gave you, you have the courage to go approach Max. His girlfriend is still at his side and raises an eyebrow, pointedly glancing down at your figure to make it clear what she thought of your curvier body. What shocks you, though, is seeing an annoyed look on Max’s face as well, as he demands to know why you’re interrupting, couldn’t you see he was busy? You’ve never heard him speak like that and are confused, asking him why he’s being so mean, did I do something wrong, Max-

He cuts you off, smirking as he asks why you weren’t calling him Maxie anymore. The girl laughs at that, saying no way, she’s such a kid, she calls you that? A few of your older schoolmates have wandered over, curious to see what was going on and you flush from the embarrassment of having Max treat you like this in front of your friends.

From then on, Max just became crueler and crueler to you. It’s like he enjoyed seeing how you'd react, your cute chubby cheeks darkening with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. Once he'd officially moved to Monaco, you ran into him everywhere as him and Charles formed a close friendship and would often hang out. Max would always time his harsh remarks just when your brother wasn't in earshot. He'd mock you about everything, from your childish appearance, to your innocently conservative outfits, your nerdy perfect grades, your animated Italian gestures and accent which he'd always seemed to adore growing up. Your popularity in school plummeted as your friends watched the talented F1 driver roll his eyes and mutter how pathethic you were when he heard you were reading romantic novels on Friday night instead of partying, saying the only reason you had any friends was because of your talented brother’s fame. Your family had no idea what was going on - as Max’s bullying started the same time your Papa becomes unwell and landed in hospital. Your brothers thought the change in your sweet demeanour was because of your sadness for your father.

If only they knew the real culprit was right under their noses.

It seemed there was nothing teen Max enjoyed more than seeing your big brown doe eyes welling up with tears. He’d use everything you told him growing up against you, making gossip and rumours fly around your school constantly. Any guy who tried to talk to you was assumed to be doing it as a dare. The first few years of high school had been like hell - the only thing making it bearable being your perfect grades and promising future. Unlike your older brothers who were natural sportsmen, you were the opposite and excelled at academics, and you’d used it to get a full ride scholarship at a prestigious engineering course in the UK.

That’s what you reminded yourself to get you through a graduation party at the end of high school. You'd been reluctantly dragged by the small group of friends you’d thankfully kept despite all the bullying and rumours. In true Monaco trust fund kid fashion, the party was hosted on one of your schoolmates' yacht, with many juniors and older siblings tagging along as well. Towards the end of high school, Max’s bullying was less common as he became busier with his racing - something Charles had become fully invested in with his new F1 Alfa Romeo seat. And you’d grown up, too, maturing into your curves and pretty dark Italian features, catching the eye of a few boys in your year.

It seemed you’d been briefly relieved of your duties of being a social pariah when you're yanked into a circle of already wasted partygoers playing 7 minutes in heaven. But when your friend pulled out your name with a drunken flush, you could only widen your eyes in horror when the next name she announces was one you'd never expected - Max.

And then you see him, on the other side of the deck, leaning against the railing and ignoring the girls trying to speak to him as his ice blue eyes intently watch you. You squeaked out your protests, begging your friend to try again, but it's hopeless when the circle begins chanting your name and Max’s. Giving up, you turned around and ran through the crowd, trying to reach the ramp and get off the boat -

-when a large, warm hand wrapped around your waist and easily pulled you into a broad chest. Before you knew it, you're in a tiny, dark storage room, with Max Verstappen blocking the door and smirking down at you. Your naive heart still ached with conflicting feelings for Max, who was your childhood knight in shining armour, who always stood up for you when your older brothers ganged up on you, always knew how to make you laugh when you were crying from their teasing. But this was also the same Max who made your high school life hell, had teased you mercilessly behind your brother’s back, and used all the secrets you'd trusted him with against you. He'd make you look like a childish little girl in front of your effortlessly cool, rich peers. This reminder brought you back to your senses and you quietly but firmly ask him to let me out.

He hadn’t let you leave, of course, instead leaning down until he was whispering in your ear with his deep voice that still send shivers down your spine, mockingly asking if you’d had your first kiss yet or if you're still the same stuck up Leclerc who thinks she's too good to be fucked by anyone here?

Heart racing furiously from nervousness, you mumble out that you hadn’t had your first kiss, avoiding his ice cold eyes as he chuckled. You know his game well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t let you go until he gets his answer. You hated the boy you once hoped to give your first kiss to. He’d ruined your reputation beyond repair, had made it so no guy at school would touch you even if they found you pretty.

Well, apparently except for one boy.

Turns out Max himself had no issues laying his hands on you, hidden in the darkness of the storeroom. His hands had pushed you up against the wall, your face cutely scrunched up in confusion, and then your jaw almost dropped in shock when he pressed his lips to your ear. He huskily whispered how pretty you looked, how he’d hated the way boys had been checking you out all night. They didn’t know you’d already promised to marry Max when you were little, yeah Bunny?

And then he’d captured the surprised gasp you let out, shocked that he’d remembered your childhood wish to be his vrouw, his wife, when he leans down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against your soft lips. When he pulled back, his face remaining close to yours, your brown doe eyes looked into his with whirling confusion and hurt - but also desire flickering in them. And then you’d both gotten lost in another kiss, then another, and then Max being Max had starting running his hands all over your body. Squeezing his hand into your juicy ass to make you shyly moan, and then greedily slipping his tongue inside.

That’s how everyone had found you when they yanked the door open, with Max having you moaning his name, one hand sliding up your skirt and the other running over your tits. The darkness in his gaze returns as he pulled back and left you leaning against the wall with wobbly legs. He laughed as he strode off the party, saying it’d been so easy to get you to beg for him like a little slut, who would’ve guessed with your innocent appearance?

You couldn’t wait to graduate high school and go to university after that. And it had been amazing, moving far away from Monte Carlo. No one knew who you were or how deep your history with world famous athletes like Charles or Max went. You reinvented yourself, becoming confident after months of therapy and your intelligence becoming something you were admired for instead of teased. You’d though that was the end of it, that you’d never have to be humiliated or have your heart broken by Max Verstappen again. Until 5 years later when you got a call from Lorenzo asking you to come home.

With the intimate engagement party of your oldest brother being held at your family’s scenic vacation home, you’d been unable to refuse. You knew Max was going to be there, but you’d taken a deep breath and reminded yourself that things were different now. You were 22, a qualified engineer and had used your own hard work to get a job within the Alpine garage - even using your mother’s maiden name as your last name because you wanted to prove it was because of your skill, not connections. Charles had been bewildered, begging you to please come work at Ferrari, bebe but you’d been adamant about needing to prove your own worth. You loved your family, and were so happy for Cha’s success as your relationship with your brothers blossomed into a close, loyal one as adults. It had always been your father’s dream to see him in the red suit. It was unbelievable to have millions of Tifosi literally worship your older brother - and their adoration extended to you, his sweet younger sister Bunny. You make rare appearances on the paddock but were hailed as a good luck charm when you did, Tifosi cheering when you affectionally kiss your brother on both cheeks and tie a hair ribbon to his suit. You always made sure to stay well away from the Redbull garage.

And you’d become radiant in your beauty, too, in pretty, flattering dresses and fitted miniskirts that showed off your soft stomach and thighs, your generous cleavage and juicy ass. Full, lush lips and long dark curls framed your sweetheart face and you’d been finally been able to put makeup on without fear of being mocked. A few guys had tried to ask you out in college, but you hadn’t been quite there yet in your confidence to say yes. Max had seemed to put you off all men, for now at least….and your protective Italian brothers seemed to make it their personal mission to protect your honour and integrity. Very dramatic, you’d said to them with a fond roll of your eyes, secretly enjoying how they cared for you despite their luxurious celebrity lifestyles. So you’d ended up still being a virgin at your college graduation, wanting to save it for the man you fell in love with.

You reminded yourself of all that you had to offer, of how you weren’t the same nerdy little girl who was going to be bullied, when you heard Max would be joining your family prior to the engagement party. The night before he was meant to arrive, you’d been overthinking and anxiously wringing your fingers so hard that your whole family had started demanding to know what was troubling you. After giving them some weak excuse about being worried about your new job, you'd gone to read one of your romance novels by the pool after dinner to destress. You had ended up falling asleep under the stars, your tired mind eager to rest.

You didn’t know the man you were desperately hoping to avoid had landed a night earlier with his private jet. When he’d greeted your middle brother late in the night, saying he would crash for now and greet everyone properly in the morning when they were awake, Charles had gone to bed and the last remaining light of the house switched off. Only the silver moonlight illuminated your pretty face and unsuspecting figure when Max Verstappen stepped outside his bedroom's French doors, hoping to cool off - but instead felt his blood pumping heatedly at the sight of you.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to see you for years as you'd understandably fled to the other side of the continent the second you had the change to escape. You’d turned from a nervous, cute schoolgirl into a gorgeous woman, and his intense gaze hungrily roams over your peaceful sleeping body. He was going to ruin you, he thinks wickedly, gently stroking your still chubby cheeks that subconsciously leaned into his touch.

He decided to give you one last night of quiet as he left you in deep sleep, walking back inside with dark desire brewing. The childish bully he’d been as an angry teen, desperate to prove himself, was gone. He was now a thrice proven world champion, a millionaire, a man who’d been with dozens of women but found only one he still wanted through it all. And it was none other than his racing rival's sweet younger sister, the one who'd stayed loyal to him since she was little. He was ready to make you his, whether you still wanted him or not.

When you finally saw him at breakfast the next morning you had been suspicious at his pleasant behaviour, greeting you like he would any family friend and asking how college had treated you. Your whole body had gone stiff, eyes distrustfully following his every move. You’d been forced to respond back politely as your family watched you, your mum still grinning as she rooted for her daughter to become romantically involved with her childhood crush. If only your family knew how much Max tormented you, they’d never let him get within 10km of you again. But to your surprise, Max kept up his kind manner even when your family would be out of the room, laughing and smiling easily at you and somehow bringing confusing butterflies back to swirl in your stomach. After the week he'd spent at your vacation home, you'd naively started to think maybe he had changed. Maybe the five years away had made him mature into the charming, funny driver you'd seen in numerous interviews and ads, being unable to avoid his far reaching fame.

But it turned out his respectful behaviour, all through the engagement celebrations and the after party, only served as a ploy to get you to foolishly lower your guard. Max had greedily collected up all the information he’d missed over the years, about what your likes and dislikes were now, about how you’d gotten a job with your own means at the F1 paddock. And then he casually informed you over dinner that he’d spoken to Horner who was coincidentally looking for a mechanical engineer - and had wanted to interview you after seeing your resume. Your family had been ecstatic at a job for you in a prestigious garage, despite their blood thirsty Ferrari loyalty. Even Cha had caught you after dinner, telling you that it was thoughtful of Max to look out for you, that as your big brother he’d feel so much better if you were working in a winning team’s garage and being protected by Max, instead of alone in a poorly performing team.

You were so confused, couldn’t understand why Max was trying to get involved - and you told him so that night, hushed angry whispers in the hallway after everyone had gone to bed. He’d smirked, leaning down to press you into the wall, saying Wasn’t it obvious Bunny? I want you.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you stammered out your confusions, asking him why he would say such a thing, only to feel his lips brushing your ear. His deep voice murmured his explanation of how his father didn't think Max had been focused enough when he was younger, had wanted him to throw all distractions to the side...including you. I'm a three time world champion now, Max said with a cocky grin. It doesn't matter what he says anymore, I do what I want.

Although his initial words about how the change in his behaviour being due to his controlling father sent a pang of empathy through you, you hadn't come this far to just give in. You pushed him off you with all your might, only being able to get a couple of inches as you glared and said you're delusional, Max, if you think I'd ever forgive you. Much less want you back after the hell you put me through. Storming off, you naively thought that was the end of it, that Max would back off once he saw you weren't the same lovesick girl he could toy with anymore. Not gonna call me Maxie anymore? he teases at your retreating back.

You should have known Max always got what he wanted, because he finds his way into your bedroom later that night. It was stupid to not lock your room because you think he wouldn't lay a hand on you when under the same roof as your brothers. Softly closing the door behind him, Max's dark gaze took in your curvy, sleeping figure in your childhood room. It was still decorated with your younger self's belongings as your Mama had always wanted you to feel welcome - but you had never come back after graduating. So you slept against a large plushie Bunny, cutely dressed in a pink matching shorts and camisole set. The twisted desire to corrupt the sleeping beauty in front of him rushes to Max's head - and his hardening cock- and he doesn't hesitate to slowly run his large palms over your body. He teasingly slides one hand up your sheer camisole to graze your large tits and the other down your shorts, to lightly toy with your pussy through cotton panties. The sweet dream you'd been having started to turn into a dirty one from the stimulation, and you instinctively grind back against the warm, hard body pressed into your back as you moan sleepily.Your dream is getting more and more heated as Max plays with your sensitive body, and only when you’re starting to drench your panties with slick do your eyes hazily blink open. Your adorably confused expression turns him on even more as he captures your gasp in his mouth, using his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. Soon he has your panties pulled to one side and his thick finger sliding into your dripping folds. Your muffled protests have started slipping into confused moans, and he doesn't need to keep you silent any longer as start kissing him back when your body's frustrated needs take over your mind's denials. Max looks down on your face, memorising how pretty your wide brown eyes looked as you teared up, and he whispers filthy things in your ear to send you off the edge and spiralling into your first orgasm. You're so sensitive, bunny, you’re still a virgin aren’t you? Saved yourself just for me like a good girl, hmm?

You’d silently cried into your plush toy as you buried your flushed face into it, feeling lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that was wrong but felt so right. Drool stained your poor bunny plush as you bit down on it to muffle your scream of Maxie as waves of satisfaction rolled over you. You'd fallen back into a deep sleep after the overwhelming stimulation, distantly feeling Max's lips press a goodnight kiss to your tear stained cheeks. And when you awoke in the morning, you almost thought you'd imagined up the whole thing, a particularly naughty wet dream, but when you found that your panties were missing underneath your cute pajama shorts you knew there was only one person who would have taken them with him.

You didn’t even get a chance to confront him because you find out the very same day that Max had gotten his lawyer to cancel your Alpine contract and have Redbull send you a new one, complete with a generous signing bonus that anyone would be a fool to refuse. With your family watching you expectantly, you knew it would be too hard to explain your way out of this. So you reluctantly signed the 1 year contract, telling yourself it was only a temporary problem, that you would surely be hiding out the back of the garage and in the workshops, well away from your childhood bully.

That’s all Max needed to get you alone, to start his corruption of you, his favourite Leclerc sibling. Right from your first day, he’d welcomed you with a firm hug, his swollen biceps pressing you against his broad chest, squeezing your plump ass and making you squeal - but striding off before you could say anything. Or coming up behind you when you were bent over, tinkering on something, and making sure you could feel his impressive semi against your covered slit. You'd always desperately try to move away, anxious someone would see - but you stood no chance against the adult Max's strength when he tightened his grip around your thick hips and grinded himself on your jiggling ass.

He still teased you, sure, but now it came off as harmless flirting, steeped into your childhood friendship. And conflicting feelings swirled in your chest when you saw the lucky ribbon you’d gifting him as a kid somehow still tied to his seat, an ever present good luck charm. Everyone else would smile at you two encouragingly, saying you looked so sweet together, where you secretly a couple? No one seemed to share your nervousness around Redbull's champion driver, or pick up on the undertone of darkness in his intense gaze when he looked at you.

Soon he has you travelling exclusively with him, staying in all the same hotels, under the guise of being his personal mechanic for any last minute corrections. Charles loved it, saying this way Max could always keep a close eye on you when you were away from home. If only your overprotective brother knew he was sending his little sister right into the den of the lion. And the so called Dutch Lion was no longer holding himself back from taking your sweet innocence all for himself.

You'd always belonged to him, after all.

It first started when he’d gotten absolutely furious seeing you at a race afterparty in Miami, giggling cutely in a pretty minidress with an engineer you’d started to flirt with at work. Max had all but dragged you to his private booth, tossing you over his strong shoulder when you tried to stand your ground and stand firmly in your strappy high heels. He kicked all the models and B list celebrities trying to leech out of the dimly lit room, pushing your head down till you were staring up at him, your pretty face bathed in the red neon lights as you anxiously bite your glossed lip.

If you wanted to get fucked so bad, he growled deeply, unbuckling his belt and making your eyes go wide with fear as the biggest cock you’d ever seen emerges, you can just beg for it nicely like the good little slut you are, hmm? You’re sniffling, tears emerging in your wide doe eyes as you beg him please Maxie, please don't do this, I promise I’ll stop-

But he doesn’t listen to one pleading word, his twisted mind obsessed with one thing and one thing only - making the pure Leclerc sweetheart gag and choke on his mean cock. You knew better than to get in the way of what Max wanted, because he always ended up getting it. Instead you let your mind go blank, letting the guilty pleasure cloud your senses to ignore the reality of how mean Max was being, your pliant mouth dropping open as you let him ruin your throat. There isn’t a glimmer of his childhood sweetness in his dark, icy blue eyes as he memorizes the hypnotising sight of your chubby cheeks slurping at raging erection, the tears falling down your face at performing your first blowjob on your knees at a nightclub just making him impossibly harder. He groans as your sweet mouth slurps on his warm length, continuing to whisper his filthy promises to punish you and slipping into dutch as he climaxed. Fuck, fuck, erg lekker, so fucking good- He made sure your crying cheeks was pressed right into his tense abs when he finally emptied his load inside you, panting heavily from how good your heavenly tongue felt. He didn’t move until you followed his instructions and tried to swallow every drop. Your inexperienced mouth struggled, half of his sticky cum leaking out the corners of your mouth. He tutted mockingly, smearing his release all over your swollen lips with his thumb and saying he’d have to give your throat so much more training so it knew how to suck a cock, hmm?

Your cheeks burned with humiliation at failing to please him properly, even though he was practically forcing you to deepthroat him. The next day, when you woke up with no voice, you’d had to pretend you had a cold when seeing Cha for brunch the next morning.

And when he’d have a bad qualifying, he’d easily swipe his way into your hotel room two doors down from his. He often finds you in a cute silky babydoll, getting ready to sleep after a long day in the garage but making sure to dress prettily because you never know when Max is in a bad mood and wants to take it out on you. You had one more job to do, and that’s to make up for whatever mistake you must have made with the car and fucked up his hot lap, Max would argue. An angry Max always scared you so you would sweetly beg for his forgiveness, even for a mistake you would never have made on the car, letting him abuse your petite frame to vent his frustrations.

Tonight, he wanted to play with your breasts, sliding the silky straps off your nightie off your shoulders to hungrily eye your curves, tanned nipples quickly tightening from the chill. Can’t get enough of these pretty fucking tits, he said as he sloppily fucked them while you obediently kneeled in between his spread legs. You’re squeezing your plush chest together to cushion his raging erection, his angry red tip making you squeal when he growls and splatters cum all over your deliciously tanned skin. Knowing he’d get mad if you don’t let him mark his territory, you rub the sticky cream all over your hardened nipples and large breasts before you clean up his drooling cockhead with your mouth. He cooes his praises at you, telling you see, you’re perfect at this, maybe he’ll have you promoted from engineer to his personal cocksleeve to relieve his stress, hmm?

You feel so dirty at the wetness gushing between your legs at his filthy words, biting your lip at the thought of Max fucking you in his driver’s room while your brothers stood just a garage over in Ferrari. But despite his constant teasing, he knew to never cross the line fully and actually fuck you. That would scare you away, make you too anxious, and although he played rough and mean when he'd been younger, he now had the patience to wait and leave you wanting more, so that you'd be the one to come to him. So he edged you constantly, working you up only to pull away just as you almost climaxed, his name on your tongue like a prayer. Or pulling you into sleep against his bare muscled chest, so that you'd feel his morning wood against your soaked panties but be unable to do anything except dry hump him.

And his plan worked because after only a few months, your once pure and innocent mind has become utterly ruined for Max’s attention. The Dutch Lion has convinced you that you’re meant to be his plaything, and you can’t find it within you to try and deny him any longer. Would it truly be so wrong to give in to the naughty desires you’d been having about your childhood sweetheart, your school bully, your brother’s rival on track but friend that had been trusted to keep his little sister safe? When you’d grown too desperate to satisfy yourself by grinding on your pillow or your tiny fingers, you’d decided to entice Max even more in the hopes that he’d properly take your innocence.

You’d certainly caught the Dutchman’s eye, as well as many other hungry gazes, when you started arriving on the paddock in cute heels and floral minidresses. And of course, your generous cleavage was out on full display in sweetheart necklines, instead of conservatively hidden in an oversized Redbull shirt. You’d made sure to have your lanyard tucked right in between your bouncing tits too, the label of Max Verstappen’s Enineering Team dangling and drawing attention with each bounce of your tits when you walked. Because you knew your Maxie just as well as he knew you, after all - and he was a intensely competitive and jealous man. You hadn’t even had to wait till the debrief as he’d hightailed it right out of the meeting room, taking you to his motor home through a back passage.

You still play the clueless little virgin, adamant on trying to resist him even though you're secretly finding it just as dirty and hot as Max does when he shoves you against the door, locking it firmly. Fuck, your body drives me wild, it’s all your fault that I’m getting distracted like this. How can you be such a naive virgin but walk around with the body of a slut just begging to get fucked, huh?

You frantically shake your head, trying to plead your innocence but he doesn’t hear your words, instead grabbing a hold of your miniskirt and asking if you understood girls with thick asses like you shouldn’t be showing them off unless you wanted attention, yeah? You started crying easily, already finding your thoughts going fuzzy as you slipped into submission, craving the way he’d degrade you for his own pleasure.

He’d have to punish you for distracting him, he said, even though he’d won P1 it had been torture seeing your fat ass bending over when you dropped your phone in front of him. You were lucky no one else had seen your cotton panties or he’d have to fucking kill them.

His possessive words make you shiver, doe brown eyes staring up at him expectantly and waiting for his orders. He swears at your obedient expression and guides your hand to his sizeable bulge, making you squeal, hoping it sounds like fright and not eagerness. He rubs your tiny palm across his pants, demanding to know just how the hell he was meant to focus with a hard on the whole race?

When you can’t answer him properly he smirks and tells you that you’ll just have to take your punishment like a good girl, then. Within seconds he has you lying across his lap, your miniskirt up around your hips and white cotton panties pulled down to snugly trap your thick thighs together. And then he’s spanking you with his large hands, telling you to count and meanly restarting each time you lost track when he hits extra hard to watch your ass bounce. By the time he’s finally content your cheeks are red and burning, and you’ve left drool all over his sofa from your desperate efforts to muffle your wails.

You like that, don’t you bunny? He asks meanly. You start sniffling again at his mean words, cheeks burning with humiliation because it had felt soooo good but you felt so naughty for enjoying it. You'd die if he found out. So instead you tell him he was being so mean, Maxie, couldn’t he just be nice to you like when he’d been younger?

Your eyes widen as you blurt the words out instinctively, making Max’s expression grow stormy at your bratty reply. Ripping your panties off entirely, he stuffs them into his pocket and tells you to explain why you’re fucking dripping all over me then, hmm? - running his thick fingers along your dripping cunny and smirking at the long strands of sticky wetness that connect to his fingers when he pulls away. When you don’t respond, too embarrassed by how your body has given you away, he slides the fingers into your closed mouth despite your attempts to turn your head. He makes you lick him clean, tasting yourself on him, murmuring if you were a good slut and spread your legs for him he might consider eating you out.

The ache between your thighs is almost as painful as your tender ass now, and your virgin cunny tingles from the idea of Max kissing you down there. Even though he’s being so mean, you can’t help but sit down willingly against the sofa arm and slowly part your thick thighs, blushing all the while as he examines you intently. You whine when his hungry gaze continues to linger, but he doesn’t stop, even taking out his phone to snap photos of your pussy after holding your thighs open to stop you frantically closing them when you see what he’s doing. It’s so cute and wet he murmurs distractedly, looking entranced as he slowly sinks a single thick finger in and finds it completely sucked in by your tight, drooling pussy. Really, you’ve never let any boy except for me touch you here, not even with his fingers? At the shake of your head and shy murmur of no, just my own, I promise, Maxie he breaks into an evil, satisfied grin. So this little hole is really all mine to claim, huh?

It turns out going down on you was really more of a punishment than a pleasure because he makes you cum multiple times with his skilled tongue. You’re begging him to stop, feeling overstimulated and completely wrecked, mascara stained tears running over your chubby cheeks. When he finally eases his sadistic torture after teasing flicks of his broad tongue have you squirting a third time, you’re too fucked out to protest him separating your puffy cunny lips and spitting onto it, as if it belonged to him. Bunny, if your brothers knew the kind of things I was doing to their precious baby sister, Max says, chuckling darkly. They’d want to slam me straight into the nearest barricade and have my head on a spike.

But your brothers remain as oblivious to your corruption as ever, with an endless supply of work excuses easily being used by Max and now you, as you started to fully give in and enjoy the intense pleasure being his personal fucktoy brought you. He’d taken your sweet virginity on a hot night in Singapore after beating Charles to P1, telling you that the best reward wasn’t the trophy but knowing he got to cum raw inside your untouched cunny. After plying you with champagne at the yacht afterparty, he'd taken you back and fucked you on the French chaise, not even making it to the bed. He’d been gentle the first time, huskily whispering praises in your ears as you desperately tried to adjust to the size, his cock so much larger than his fingers. He licked away the tears at the corner of your eyes as you bite his shoulder, lost in the waves of pleasure as you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally carries you over to the bed, climbing over your satisfied figure, you’re fooled into thinking he’s going to cuddle you. He’s turning you onto your front and you’re expecting to feel him behind you, bringing you into him as his little spoon like he does ever night. But your sleepy eyes go wide open when your thick hips are suddenly pulled up into the air, and your flushed face pressed down firmly into the sheets. And then he huskily whispers it’s time to fuck you properly, be a good bunny for me and take it, okay?

You wailed into the cushions, your open mouth leaving drool all over the pillowcases, as his cock bullies your tight cunny over and over. He reaches around to toy with your sensitive clit, smirking when your crying turned into confused moans of pleasure as the pressure in your pussy starts to feel so good. Soon he’s slamming his hard length into your twitching figure, slapping your red plump ass repeatedly and telling you how funny it’d be if Charlie found out his rival had claimed your virginity, hmm? Should he tell him next time the Ferrari driver tried to one up him on the track? You sob, begging him not to tell your protective brother, shaking your ass onto him and telling him he could even cum inside if he wanted instead of telling your brother. Max groans at your gullibility. Silly girl, he croons as he bends down to whisper in your ear, his muscled abs pressing down on you. I was always going to do that anyways, hmm? This ass belongs to me.

And then he’s moaning into your drooling mouth as his hips still above yours, draining his heavy balls into your pussy that had already been stuffed full of his thick, creamy load from the first round. Rivulets of your mixed juices run down the inside of your thighs, overflowing from the sheer amount of cum he’s pumped you full of. You know better than to ask him to wear a condom, instead praying that it was the wrong time of the month to get knocked up. Especially when he doesn’t let you get up and try to pee it out, instead murmuring he’s just going to stuff a couple of fingers inside and make sure you don’t waste anymore, okay? You try to resist, crawling away and wanting to save your poor, overstimulated clit but once again Max easily holds you still. Hmm, guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson and use my cock to plug you up, he threatens meanly, making tears fall down your face again and his dick twitches with interest. Every man had his pleasures, and world champion Max Verstappen’s was to see the Leclerc baby sister crying and begging for him. Sick bastard, you think distantly through a pleasurable haze as he sinks back inside your gummy walls and makes you keep his cock warm.

Your secret affair with the Dutch Lion continues easily throughout the year. And at the end of your contract, at the yearly FIA prizegiving, you attend with Charles instead of with the Redbull team, dutifully doing your part as the Leclerc sister now that your term at a rival garage was done. At one point you get up from dinner, saying you had to find the bathroom, but end up gone for 20 minutes, missing Cha being awarded overtake of the year for when his Ferrari had divebombed the leading Redbull. Later, when everyone is mingling, Charles walks over to Max’s table, shaking his hand and taking a seat to reminisce about the season. They’d come so far together from their childhood karting days, wasn’t it heartwarming now that they stood together on the F1 stage?

The two men laugh, catching up on missed updates during the busy end of season. Soon they’re talking about their love lives, Max congratulating Cha on his relationship he’s recently made public. The Ferrari driver warmly returns the compliment, saying whoever the Redbull driver was seeing recently must be treating him well because he’s never seen Max so relaxed before. He’s seen the gossip magazines speculate who the silhouette of a mystery girl seen making out on Max’s lap in a paparrazi shot through his car window. Max slyly commented that it was good the camera hadn’t been able to go lower, because then they’d have seen that she’d actually been bouncing on my dick underneath her skirt. Charles laughs at Max’s deviousness, patting him on the back for being such a shameless fucker.

Charles had forgotten to go find the youngest Leclerc, which was just as well because he would never have been able to guess where you had been hiding. You’re diligently on your knees, drooling on Max’s cock underneath the tablecloth, safely tucked in close between his spread legs. Your brother is completely unaware that the girl he and Max are joking about is his innocent baby sister, who’s currently worshipping his rival’s thick length eagerly. Paying the price for her brother’s overtake on the track with her glossy pink lips, just as Max had ordered you too when he found out what award his rival was getting tonight.

As the night continues, all formality lost as the party goers make use of the open bar, it was all to easy for the blonde Dutchman to make you follow him to the private bathroom. It’s so degrading, so mean of Max to do this, to have you on the dirty bathroom floor with your pretty curls unpinned from the classy updo you’d spend ages styling. Your expensive red silk dress hangs off your hips and exposes your bare, bouncing tits to his hungry gaze. So slutty, no bra and all, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Answer me! He slaps his hard length repeatedly against your chubby cheeks, spraying precum everywhere and making your perfect makeup run.

Soon mascara stained tears are dripping down your face as Max makes you finish sloppily sucking him off, his phone camera on you and recording every single filthy sound that fills the air. It’s obscene, the way his huge cock stretches your small plush lips open all the way and your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his tip grazes the back of your throat. Hmm, so eager to drink my cum, aren’t you? He coos, and you nod dazedly, your doe eyes glassy. Fuck, you’re such a good little slut, letting me do whatever I want you to your body. My own personal fucktoy. Bet you’d even let me piss down your throat if I wanted, huh?

You gag at this, trying to shake your head but finding it impossible with the strong grip he has on your hair. Max chuckles at your panicked expression, reassuring you not to worry, he wasn’t that mean. You don’t believe him, because later he bends you over the bathroom counter and makes you look in the mirror to see where his leaking cock repeatedly sinks in to the hilt, stretching your cunny out yet again, filling it with his thick seed. You text Cha some excuse about feeling unwell and leaving early as Max buckles you into his passenger seat, knowing there was no way you could explain your absolutely wrecked appearance to your brother afterwards.

You’ve realized that the legal end of your Redbull contract really had no say on anything. Because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was what Max wanted - and he wanted you to stay by his side, forever. So you let him take your hand in his a few months later at Lorenzo’s wedding, revealing the secret relationship to your family. Your mother is overjoyed, telling you both that you always had her blessing, ever since you’d been kids. Your brothers take a lot more convincing, of course, as well as Max swearing privately to Cha that you certainly hadn’t been the girl from the paparazzi car incident, he’d never treat the Leclerc princess like that of course! He was a playboy before, sure, but for you he was willing to stop all that and commit.

Charles gives you two his begrudging yes, seeing how attentive Max was with you, always intently watching you whenever you entered the same room as him and always knowing where you were if you walked away. And the way you’d look up adoringly at the blonde, desire and love clear in your doe eyes. Soon you’ve accepted Max’s offer to move into his penthouse, unpacking all the lingerie and diamond necklace sets he’s been buying you for months. And when he comes home at the end of a tiring day, sighing and settling on the living room couch, you now know to anticipate Max’s needs before he has to tell you. You crawl over to him, wearing skimpy lingerie in his favourite colour, nuzzling your face into his clothed thigh and asking please Maxie, could you please suck him off, your mouth felt empty without him?

He places a loving kiss to your forehead and unbuckles his belt for you, cooing praises at what a good little pet you were being for him. This time, when he cums, you have no issue greedily swallowing every single drop of his hot, sticky cum, licking your well trained lips. So yummy, Maxie…Would you like my pussy or my ass next?

He smirks down at your slutty words, a dazed expression on your face, dumbly ready to please him however he liked, whenever he was in the mood, wherever he wants it. Nothing quite beats having his own personal toy, even if it’s taken some time to break you in. Doesn’t matter now, though, because it has been worth it. Because you’ll never leave his side again, completely devoted to him, the concept of being with any other man ruined for you.

Time for him to make good on his childhood promise, Max thinks. Make you his vrouw, his wife, once and for all.

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mannequinreligi0n · 5 months ago

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@ the person who just sent me my most recent ask - if i told you vergil was a chubby chaser, would you believe me .

you know how in the ye olden days, having extra weight was a sign of fertility and health, and was extremely desirable…..yeah.

thinking big thoughts.

#also i don’t think size would really matter to either of the twins imo #like they fight DEMONS . do you think they really care if someone’s a size 12 #im finna write the FUCK out of that request tmw #as someone with fucking birthing hips and back problems from my bazongas: i am an active advocate for midsize warriors #fat people <3 #writing #devil may cry #fanfic #dmc #ramblings #vergil sparda #dmc vergil #vergil sparda x reader

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ms-nesbit · 2 years ago

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blue chicago (final chap. of sweet home chicago)

Chapters 1 and 2 here

Rating: 18+ (minors will be banned into the shadow realm)

Warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, jason is gentle ig

Summary: continuation of y/n and Jason’s first date. Jason wants to figure out where their relationship, if any, continues after his return to Gotham

Y/n ordered an uber for the couple, holding their phone in their hand and preemptively checking the plates and model of the vehicle to ensure their safety. “There’s a killer in Chicago right now, y’know. I might not be their demographic, but you probably are.”

Jason cocked his head in confusion. “I think I can manage.” he commented with a naive grin, reminiscing on the last time he caused a mob boss in Bludhaven to fall to his knees.

As they packed into the Fiat (for Jason, like a sardine, as he had to tuck his legs in order to fit even remotely comfortably), y/n began to point out different landmarks and their history.

“So you’ve been here a while I take it?”

Y/n took their eyes from the passing buildings, old and new, to look directly at Jason. Under the fleeing lights that escaped their view, y/n could make out his curiosity for them, his hazel eyes more gray than blue. “Long enough to know that there’s a killer that the CPD refuses to acknowledge, and that you always lock your doors after eight-thirty.” Y/n sighed, Jason’s gaze growing in intensity, so much that y/n had to look away. “I’ve never been to Gotham. Heard that their crime puts mine to shame.”

Jason let out a tired laugh. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing we really excel at.” he cleared his throat and glanced at the driver, whose eyes were narrowed at the traffic ahead, before he continued. “I mean, I can show you around sometime, if you ever want to take a vacation and see… I dunno, something.”

“So you don’t like it much?” Y/n moved their knees to face Jason, relaxing their shoulders on the back rest of the seat.

Jason shook his head. “To be honest, it’s home. Kinda like that weirdly toxic ex you keep coming back to, y’know?” Y/n rolled their eyes and nodded. “I’ve been to a few cities, including this one, and Gotham just feels comfortable to me. There isn’t much except the vigilantes in muscle suits, but I guess it gives the town some flavor.”

“I’ve been curious about the bat. I’m sure that’s gotta be some scary shit. Have you ever seen him?”

“Uhm,” Jason searched for an appropriate response without blowing his identity or his adoptive father’s. “Everyone who reads the newspaper or watches the news really knows what he looks like, but I can’t say for certain that I agree with his methodology.”

Y/n crept closer, scooting in their seat. “Methodology?” they repeated, running their fingers through their curls.

“Yeah, he…” Jason kissed his teeth in frustration, his visible disapproval enough to shift the mood in the compact vehicle, “he captures these guys, and some of them are really fucked up, and he just…lets them go to the police.”

Y/n rolled their eyes again, their demur matching Jason’s. “Then they get released, right? Because I’m almost certain that Gotham PD isn’t much better than Chicago’s.”

Nodding slowly, Jason’s hair mildly swayed with his head shaking. The way the strands fell out of place seemed right for him, y/n noted to themself. “There are a few places that I could take you to, if you were to, y’know, want to see a man dressed up as a flying mammal.” He interlocked his fingers, and y/n noticed a miniscule scar on the middle finger of his right hand that crawled up to the cuff of his shirt. When Jason followed y/n’s eyes, he withdrew his hands and crossed his arms. “There’s a bakery right in downtown, and a nice school there if you want to check out their law library.”

He smiled at y/n, who was still stuck on the scars - where did they come from? Why is he hesitant about them? Y/n wondered, their questions on the horizon, but not quite washed up to the shore of their tongue. “You really want me to check out this lawless town of yours, huh?”

“Well, I mean,” heat rose to Jason’s cheeks, “if you’re interested, I surely wouldn’t want you walking around alone, y’know? Some of those crooks take advantage of out-of-towners, and I think that you might-”

“Stick out like a sore thumb?” y/n finished, catching Jason in his words. “For a first date, you’re certainly charming with your words.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, opening his mouth to begin speaking before the uber driver abruptly announced their arrival. He wondered if the driver was used to the banter, and after y/n exited the tiny backseat, the driver muttered a quick, “You two have fun now,” to Jason, while giving him a knowing grin.

Fixing their outfit, y/n waited for Jason as they entered their key code (using their free hand to cup the dials to maintain some sort of confidentiality) and opened the door once they gained entry. “You ready?” Y/n stated as more of a precautionary word as opposed to a question. It drew Jason’s eyes from y/n’s wide hips to the building itself.

The building was…a building, and Jason was almost upset that someone like y/n could live in a building with a malfunctioning fire escape, several boarded up windows, and gaps in the brickwork that tested the integrity of the structure. He blinked back a frown. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Once they entered, Jason felt the hairs on his neck raise in caution. From his upbringing, he knew to take heed of whomever he passed in places like these, and he kept his lips screwed together while his eyes darted to the source of his uneasiness: first, he noticed the flickering, buzzing fluorescent light in the lobby, its cold lighting shining (but dimmed); then, the water damage along the tiled ceiling, with accompanying stains on the corners where the wall met the ceiling, and darker, deeper stains - presumably blood - that sprayed along the lower walls and onto the ground; the lobby desk was empty, devoid of life of any kind, and before y/n called his name from the shabby elevator, Jason could almost make out a tiny inscription carved on the bottommost shelf on the abandoned desk, one that nearly reminded him of…

His thoughts rummaged as he multitasked the date with detective work. He reminded himself of Dick’s warning, ‘Enjoy yourself here, man. Don’t think about work for a bit.’, but one thing Bruce taught Jason was to trust his intuition. After they stepped off from the elevator, which creaked with every shift of weight, Jason followed y/n closely behind, keeping his hand over his right hip, where he stored his trusty blade. His eyes flickered behind him suspiciously, watching over his shoulder for whatever threat may expose themselves to him, and after they entered y/n’s home, Jason still refused to shake off the anxiety he felt.

“I know it’s not the Four Seasons,” y/n began, their tone derisive and self-depreciating, “but it’s my place for right now. And it’s actually nice that I get to learn how to repair things on my own since my landlord is pretty much MIA.”

Jason motioned to his shoes, to which y/n pointed their head to the thinly-wired shoe rack. He placed them there gingerly before returning his attention to y/n. “If you feel safe, and it’s not causing you any respiratory infections with the obvious mold growing in the walls of the hall alone, then I can’t really disagree with you much there.”

The overcoat Jason wore flounced with every motion, and it drove y/n mad, wanting to see what was underneath the layers. They were torn between the slow inspection, or the rapid peeling of clothes. Instead, they sat on the loveseat, their sweater dress hiking up their thighs enough to allow Jason to see where their legs met, the cavernous… “Wanna sit next to me?” Y/n offered, satisfied with Jason’s flustered reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” he scrambled awkwardly, seating himself next to y/n, and concentrating on anything other than how he wanted to feel how y/n’s skin was underneath the leggings. He placed the plastic tins of cupcakes beside them, and as he settled himself onto the fabric of the couch, he felt his heart race. “So uhm, y/n, I just wanted to say I’ve had a really good time-”

Before Jason could finish his statement, y/n reached over and pulled him into a kiss, their hands instantly wrapping around the back of his neck. Jason’s hands grabbed y/n’s cheeks, holding their face in his hands as he inhaled sharply through his nose. He felt y/n’s fingers snaking into his hair, massaging them lightly as their tongue found its way to Jason’s mouth, deepening the kiss.

Y/n moved to sit on Jason’s lap, stradling it as their legs held his hips tightly. They broke the kiss after a few moments, staring straight at Jason, whose stormy gray and green were swallowed by his pupils. “Do you want this?”

Jason only managed a nod, finding his voice. “Y-yes. Yes I do.” he swallowed, and y/n bit their lip at the way Jason’s Adam's apple bobbed. Pulling their dress over their head, Jason only caught a glimpse of y/n’s skin, soft and peaks supple, before y/n pulled him into a deeper, hungrier kiss.

Y/n felt how hard Jason was becoming under them, and they began to grind their hips down, causing both of them to moan into the kiss. Y/n broke the kiss again, this time to relish in Jason’s quiet noises as he unraveled into a desperate, starved mess. Meanwhile, Jason’s eyes couldn’t pick a place to stay, and they wandered from y/n’s wide waist, up to the maroon racerback bra that they wore, the tops of their breasts calling out to Jason to be touched.

His hands were delayed in reacting, so it took a minute before he allowed himself to cup y/n’s breasts underneath the bra. He wrapped his arms around their waist to unclip the bra, removing it and sitting up to close their mouth on one of y/n’s hardened buds.

“Jesus, I should’ve known you were good with your tongue by the way you eat.” they breathed, arching their back in desperation. Their hips continued to circle against Jason’s clothed erection, but they snuck their hand under their leggings to rub their clit, a frantic attempt to relieve their tension.

The sight drove Jason’s hips to buck up, taking his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan. “Fuck, I’ll do anything.” he was disgusted by how he pled to y/n, his guard quickly relenting to the depths of desire he previously compartmentalized. Y/n moaned in response, their head falling back as they continued to rub their clit underneath their leggings.

Jason debated watching y/n come loose, but his carnal instincts spoke louder to him, and he wanted to be the one to lead y/n to their climax. Without another word, Jason picked y/n up by the hips and placed them on the loveseat, falling to his knees on the wood floor before y/n as he hooked his fingers into the sides of their leggings and pulled them from y/n’s legs in a swift motion.

“Jason, I-” y/n interrupted their own words with a moan as they felt Jason’s breath hot against their core, and they looked down at him.

“Before I continue,” he began, eyes dark with lust, “do you want this?” It was y/n’s turn to be speechless, nodding impatiently as a nervous chuckle left their throat. “Good.” Jason mumbled before dipping his head again, their tongue brushing against y/n’s heat. He watched every movement y/n made, and how their hips rose in tune with their filthy noises. In his heart, he knew this was fast, maybe too fast for him to comprehend, but his heart was quieter than a mouse, and all he searched for in his strokes was for y/n’s release.

He threw a leg over one of his broad shoulders, pressing his tongue deeper against y/n’s core as he continued, his fingers sprawled on y/n’s thighs. He groaned every time y/n cursed, the sin as sweet as a prayer. “Fuck,” y/n gasped, their peak rapidly approaching. “Keep going, Jason, please.” the pleas were dripping with masochistic torment, as he was steadily keeping y/n close to their orgasm, but not quite letting them taste bliss yet.

“With pleasure.” Jason muttered under his breath before he obeyed y/n’s wishes, eyeing them as he watched their jaw drop and profanities spill from their lips. He allowed y/n to ride his face, and while they came down from their high, Jason unbuttoned his slacks and began twisting his wrist, stroking his own cock at the sight of his date in a state of ecstasy.

After catching their breath, y/n noticed Jason’s fierce stare before their eyes moved to his cock. “What are you waiting for?” Their eyebrow cocked in jest.

Jason looked down, embarrassed to admit. “I didn’t think…I don’t have a condom, I’m sorry.”

“You clean?” Jason nodded. “Me too.”

Jason stopped stroking himself, palms resting on his thighs. “Aren’t you afraid of getting pregnant?”

Y/n shook their head. “IUD. Makes periods painful, but at least I don’t have to take a pill or anything like that.” They observed Jason’s expression soften, his anxiety lingering. “If you’re not comfortable, we don’t need to do anything tonight.”

The comment was what Jason needed to allow the remaining weariness to fall from his skin. He stood and shimmied the slacks off from himself, tossing them aside before he pulled y/n to their feet and into a kiss. Y/n immediately brought their hands back to Jason’s hair, tugging delicately to evoke a response from the tall man.

It worked. “Shit.” Jason hissed into the kiss, “Gotta have you.”

Before y/n could process the admission of desire, they felt Jason’s hands on their bare ass, lifting them up from the ground. Y/n wrapped their legs around Jason’s waist with a tight grip, and felt the cold air of the wall against their back. Jason had them pinned, and was impressed with how seamlessly he was able to carry their weight. “Fuck me, please.” Y/n knew it was the word to use if they wanted anything from Jason - at this rate, Jason would give y/n the world with the simple word.

Jason obliged, using a free hand to guide his cock into y/n, groaning at the warm, inviting velvet pulling him in. He rested his forehead against y/n’s, staring at them as he rocked his hips slowly, deeply. With y/n pinned against the wall, their legs around Jason, he was able to move a hand to their breast, thumbing their nipple as he thrusted.

He listened with keen ears to the overt sounds of pleasure that emitted from y/n. He was already so close, despite being in y/n for such little time, and it reflected in how poorly he was able to keep a steady pace, faltering each time y/n clenched around him.

“I’m gonna- y/n, I’m close.” Jason choked out, eyes still fixated on y/n’s.

Y/n interlocked their ankles behind Jason’s back, pulling him in deeper. They again tugged at Jason’s hair, harder this time, and whined, “Not yet. Please, not yet. You feel so good.”

Jason’s hands moved to y/n’s hips, gripping them tightly as he wound his hips up and thrusted harder into y/n, his positioning precisely hitting y/n at a spot that made them curse loudly.

Jason buried his head in y/n’s shoulder, unable to filter out the obscene noises that left his mouth with every move. He was in agony, such deep pleasure that it hurt, but he would be damned if he didn’t want to strip another climax from y/n.

He snaked a hand between him and y/n, lazily circling their sensitive clit, and returned his eyes to y/n’s face as their body twitched, quickly reaching their orgasm. Jason watched with intent, but continued his speed, the room filling with salacious sounds from either of them.

“Holy shit,” Jason choked out, voice lower than before, “Fuck, y/n.” his eyes finally shut, mouth falling open as he found release, letting out a strangled moan as his hips stilled.

Gently lowering y/n back onto their feet, Jason ushered to the box of tissues, pulling out a couple to clean y/n off, then himself.

Y/n hummed as he cleaned them gingerly on the loveseat, their eyes slowly blinking before finally falling to rest. After Jason disposed of the used tissues, he laid his eyes on the slumbering y/n, careful in his movements as not to wake them, and he used his coat as a blanket.

—-

Sunday evening

“Tim.” Dick admonished, repercussions sharp on his tongue. “Stop teasing your brother.”

Tim shrugged before locking his hands behind his head, resting on the armchair of the living room. “Who cares? Guy seems a bit chipper now.”

Jason was. After his date with y/n, he waited for them to wake up - which took nearly all night - and took y/n out for breakfast. They agreed to keep in touch (something Tim and Dick overheard while he was on the phone with y/n), and had his face buried in his phone since.

They were about to check out from the hotel (not quite at the time they planned, but with revisions and planning from the concierge), and Jason was slightly less threatening than usual.

Their trip back to Gotham was dreadful - their flight was delayed, and they had to land in Pennsylvania due to a rapidly approaching storm.

Yet Jason remained hopeful, even when greeted by the passive aggressive Bruce Wayne back at Wayne Manor. He caught wind of their antics and was displeased, but was hushed by a sympathetic Dick when he informed his adoptive father that Jason found someone.

“So…” Bruce lingered in the doorway of Jason’s room for long enough to stir discomfort in the young man. “Do you have any interest in bringing this person over, maybe for the holidays?”

Jason sighed on his bed, rolling his eyes. “Y/n’s coming out in a week. Don’t…tell anyone, though.”

#mine #my post #jason todd #robin #batfamily #red hood #dc #dcu #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x midsize reader #jason todd x afab reader

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scarletrosesstuff · 2 years ago

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Masterlist

Family man ~ (John price x Wife!Reader)

A collection of one-shots of John Price and his wife's life.

(A/N: I will be writing this from the perspective of a midsize girl. If anyone is offended I'm sorry. Also, I won't be realising them in order but I will put them in order here so you can read along).

The pretty nursery teacher

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catgoesboom · 1 year ago

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I need more fanfics/novels with a fat/plus size protagonist to actually tackle how fatphobia affects our lives daily and it's also institutionalized, not just in a "oh I have self-confidence issues and can't see how beautiful I actually am" way, Cause I'm having to deal with an at-the-very-best-debatable-novel where the protagonist's fatness IS an integral part of the story and while there's some good moments that actually show some struggles a fat person has, the romantic counterpart is literally constantly just shy to calling her a slur (if we don't consider his "teasing nickname" a slur in itself), doing the whole "oh hes mean cause he likes you" bit (that I thought we all agreed was bad and a justification for abuse) and the protagonist is a freaking door with the clearly freezing levels of anxiety cause of how lacking of self-confidence she is and it makes me so mad that if I ever met someone so pityful irl I'd punch them. I'm dreading having to read throught this story at all and that I know in the end they'll be together, just for the small kernels of finally being able to see myself and my struggles in a protagonist and Idk, sometimes I do want a story with a fat protagonist that is aware of self-confidence issues but that is not really her problem and that it doesnt end in her either losing weight or getting with someone who has been deeply bigoted to her.

#fatphobia #literature #and the worse part is that im poor and this story is only in galatea #that means i have to wait at least 6 hours to read each chapter #so i cant even get done with this already #this is also a reminder that one #midsize is not plus size #big part of the things im reading i can easily recognize as struggles by midsize people who see themselves as fat cause they are not averag #but also not fat so they dont see some deeper struggles #and two #GET A SENSITIVITY READER #IF YOURE GOING TO WRITE A STORY ABOUT FAT WOMEN #ASK OTHER FAT WOMEN WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT IT

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elisiassideb1tch · 1 year ago

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RINA ILYSM !!! THANK YOU FOR THESE, YOU'RE AMAZING 😭💜✨!!! They're beyond perfect and I absolutely adore them ! You wrote these so so perfectly - I could go on abt them for hours omg :'D !! Also, pls don't apologize ! I understand !! I'm rly glad & grateful you wrote these for me, it means a lot and I'll definitely be rereading these when I'm feeling down, ily ♡♡♡ !

(Me @ you rn)

CARL GRIMES HEADCANONS

(for midsize!adhd!fem!reader.)

tags:fluff! some suggestiveness

masterlist here!

hiii this is for one of my fav moots @elisiassideb1tch ILYY

✦ Carl would watch you stare at yourself in the mirror after getting dressed, rotating back and forth to see how your clothes fit you. He knows how much you can over think and how self conscious you could get and as much as he loves you, he hates it. So, he’ll come up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him. His hug is tight and loving but he’ll places kisses all over the back and side of your neck as he tells you how beautiful you are.

✦ He would always remind you to take your meds and to ensure you don’t forget, he’ll drag you to the kitchen everyday at a specific time. He’d get you a snack beforehand and when it’s time to take your pills he sits you up on top of the counter. He’ll get you a large glass of water and your meds and stand between your knees as he watches you swallow them, his hands running back and forth over your thighs. He’ll tell you how proud of you he is and kiss all over your face.

✦ Whenever you get really overwhelmed or panicked, he’ll sit you down wherever you are and remind you to breathe. He’ll gently rub your arms or your thighs, just watching you. Once you catch your breath he’ll reassure you sweetly. “You’re okay, everything’s okay. It’s just you and me. Nothing else.” Once you’re completely calm he’ll ask once again if you’re alright. When you nod he’ll hold your face in his hands and place a gentle kiss to your forehead.

✦ If you get irritated at him or any situation, you’ll isolate yourself. He’ll wait somewhere nearby so you know he still cares about you and cares about fixing the situation. He’ll either sit on the opposite side of the bed, maybe the opposite side of the room or the door. He’ll wait for you to come to him first and when you do he’ll ask if you’re ready to talk about it. If not he’ll just sit in your presence a bit longer until you are.

✦ In bed if you guys are relaxing or if you’re coming down from certain activities, he’ll tend to run his hand over your belly. He absolutely loves it. He loves the squishy skin, he loves kissing it and feeling you. He also knows how much you hate it which makes him love it even more. He especially loves doing it when you get cramps.

✦ When I tell you, this man ADORES your thighs. He absolutely loves them. He could be doing anything at all and he could be touching your thighs, holding them, literally anything. Whenever you’re anxious he’ll squeeze them gently, sometimes a bit hard to try and soothe you. He lovesssss kissing them when you guys get really intimate, occasionally he’ll leave hickeys on them too. Whenever you’re relaxing he’ll rest his head on them because they’re like plush pillows to him.

✦ Carl knows you hate being alone, a lot of the time when you’re alone you tend to overthink and he hates it. He’ll drag you with him everywhere. He has to go on perimeter watch? He’ll take you to keep him company. He wants to go to the woods? He’ll take you with him. Even the other way around, if you wanna go somewhere he’ll follow you. He loves to be with you always, you’re his favorite person.

✦ He’s always able to tell when you’ve hit a depressive episode. He thinks of all your favorite things but he knows how much being outside can help you. He’ll help you get showered up and ready to go out. He’ll take you out on walks, especially at night so you guys can be alone. You’ll watch the stars together and he’d tell you how much he loves you over and over.

✦ He’ll always listen to you and never discourage you. He understands how your brain works and he sort of adapted himself to systems that you use to make your life easier just so he can help you better handle your adhd. He almost never tells you no to anything, if he has to put up a boundary he’ll do it very gently and reassure you that you didn’t do anything wrong in any way. He makes sure you don’t feel bad etc.

a/n: MADSSS THANK U FOR REQUESTING you’re request is so sweet and so well put together ilysm >_< i’m sosososo sorry these took forever to get out but they were really fun for me to write!!! i actually am realizing now i like writing headcanons HAHAH okay that’s all bye<3

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

#carl grimes #carl grimes x midsized!reader #carl grimes x adhd!reader #carl grimes twd #carl grimes x reader #twd #the walking dead #twd carl #carl grimes headcanons

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sreidisms · 1 year ago

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Let Me Ease Your Worries

Spencer Reid × Midsize!Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer finds it hard to understand when you need reassurance. When you tackle the topic, he wants to show you just how much he loves your body (smut with plot).

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: negative self talk, body dysmorphia (may be sensitive for people with ED experiences), swearing, kissing, nudity, oral sex (f!receiving), intimate touching (Spencer and reader touch each other's genitalia briefly), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie.

A/N: This is the first smut fic I've posted in literal years, so be patient as I edited this super quickly 🙏 there's no real sub/dom dynamic although there are moments where Spencer is on the subbier side. Although this is listed as midsize!reader, plusize!readers are also welcome, I just thought certain descriptions wouldn't fit the exact experience of a plus-size person.

Spencer was the smartest person you had ever met. IQ of 187 with 3 PHDs and 2 BAs under his arm deemed him an academic weapon. He was an expert when it came to statistics and basically everything else that piqued the genius’ interest. Literature and texts were no match for him as he whizzed through them at lightning speed, each glyph sticking to his brain in a lifelong bond.

With all his knowledge, it wouldn’t be unrealistic to assume there was nothing Doctor Spencer Reid could not achieve - except being able to comprehend the fact you needed constant reassurance, that is.

You had been dating the boy wonder for two years and it was safe to say you had never felt happier or luckier. He was sweet and caring, yet timid; but that didn’t stop him from worshipping the ground you walked on. Spencer thought he was subtle about it, but he clung to you like a lost puppy - he was hopelessly in love.

Thus, it was near impossible for the young man to think that there was ever a doubt in your mind that you weren’t the most beautiful girl to him.

Self-confidence was never your forte. Your childhood and teenage years were spent focusing on school rather than boyfriends and first kisses. Not that you wouldn’t have liked to. The opportunity just never revealed itself before Spencer - and you blamed that on your body. A soft, friendly face had no effect when paired with your round stomach and filled-in hips and thighs.

Spencer hadn’t actually realised you were insecure about yourself, because why would you be? All he saw was a natural beauty and happiness gleaming off of you.

So when the time came where your insecurities got the best of you, your boyfriend wasn’t the exact blueprint of awareness. Ever the oblivious boy, he couldn’t figure out why there were days when you went quiet or didn’t reciprocate his affection as much. Being a profiler at the BAU should have made him better at this, you thought.

That was until you had a particularly harsh day after work. With long shifts at the bookshop and days spent apart from Spencer because of his job, you were mentally exhausted. At 5.30pm, you shoved the key into your front door and sighed, happy at last to be home. A tired Spencer clad in red checkered pyjama pants and a Caltech t-shirt was sprawled on the sofa. He had messaged you a few hours before that the case had closed and he was returning home for the rest of the weekend.

He flashed you his signature toothy grin and got up from his comfortable place amongst the cushions and blanket, padding across the wooden floor in his cute purple and red socks.

“Hi,” he spoke softly as he leaned down to give you peck on your cheek. “I missed you.”

You smiled and nodded, reaching for his hand and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “Missed you too.”

Despite knowing each other for five years, you were both still shy in the other’s presence. You had had the occasional make out session and even managed to share a few nights tangled amidst the sheets after mustering up the courage. Nonetheless, you acted as if you had only been dating for a month.

After kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag on the floor, you plopped on the sofa in your usual corner, resting your head on the back.

Spencer remained by the front door, standing awkwardly and playing with the fingertips of his right hand. He looked utterly adorable with his pyjama bottoms loose at his hips and his t-shirt sliding off a shoulder - but his eyes hid something flickering behind them.

The sound of him clearing his throat resonated around the room and you looked upwards. Spencer opened his mouth to say something and then quickly shut it.

“What’s wrong? You’re gaping like a fish.”

You giggled and he smiled in return, letting out a light-hearted sigh.

“Is something up? You … you didn’t kiss me like you usually do when I’ve been away on a case.”

And he was right. It was like a routine to jump into his arms and cover him with kisses every time you were apart. But today you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling looming over you: that you were less than he deserved, both in actions and looks.

You didn’t want to display your worries so openly, so you beckoned him to come over with a stretch of your arm and a weak smile, holding his face between your palms once he neared. You craned your neck and placed a soft kiss on his cracked lips.

“I’m sorry, Spence - nothing’s up, just tired.”

Spencer quirked his head to the side as he looked down at you, the profiling cogs in his brain turning to read the expression on your sullen face.

“On average, women tell three lies to their partners and co-workers daily - and I can tell you’re lying.”

You rolled your eyes, avoiding his gaze to escape the intimidating and unblinking look he sported when trying to guess what was going on in your head.

“You’re annoying when you’re smart, do you know that?”

He knew you were teasing him and he chuckled, shaking his head before sitting down next to you. He hovered his hand over your thigh before setting it back down in his lap; outright displays of affection were still a guessing game for Spencer, never knowing if you wanted his touch or not, or if it was the right course of action.

“It comes in handy when I know you’re worried about something. You gave a vague answer, you avoided eye contact, and you scratched your neck before answering. All of those factors, especially self-grooming and self-soothing behaviours, are signs that one is lying.”

Although often a blessing, Spencer’s intellect was a curse when you tried to hide your anxieties.

“Just a bad self-image day, darling.”

Only confusion spread across your boyfriend’s face.

“What do you mean? You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“Because I didn’t need to before. I just …” You paused. “Not feeling very good about myself. About how I look.”

It should’ve been easy for him to understand what you were getting at, but he looked completely lost.

“I don’t follow.”

You shifted to better look at him and crossed your legs underneath you, Spencer mirroring your position. Somehow, you had to explain what insecurity felt and looked like to this supposed all-knower of things.

“Sometimes Spence, I don’t feel very confident in how I look. In how I am perceived.”

Spencer looked at his hands for a few moments before looking up and saying, “61% of adults express negative thoughts regarding their physique, but I wouldn’t think you’d showcase that. Did something trigger this?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your torso in an attempt to shield your body from his strong stare.

“I feel like maybe … I don’t deserve you, like I should look better for you, be prettier.”

Spencer’s mouth fell slightly agape, the first time he had been rendered speechless all evening. His eyes seemed empty, searching for the next thing to say to an answer he never expected leaving your mouth.

“What do you mean prettier? You’re my girlfriend, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said this with a slight tremble in his voice which indicated disbelief.

“You just say that because you have to.”

If he was puzzled before, now he was completely dumbfounded.

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this. No one forced me to say that.” He went silent for a second. “Covering one’s body with their arms is an attempt at shielding oneself, thus indicating fear and insecurity.”

Spencer wasn’t sure if he gave you a reason to feel insecure about yourself. Sure, he wasn’t the best person at expressing his love through words and physical affections, but to him it was undeniable that he adored you.

“Why do you feel insecure about yourself? Did I say something or imply that I don’t want you?”

The opportunity to speak up about the deep-rooted hatred you had for your physique had never surfaced until now. It was a situation you weren’t too keen on taking, even though you wished he’d asked about it earlier.

“No, no at all, you didn’t say anything! You’re nothing but kind to me.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

“I feel like my body shape isn’t ideal and one day you’re going to realise that and leave me.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out all at once: a breath, a tumble of words, two years’ worth of worries and unsaid thoughts out in a matter of four seconds.

A tense silence blanketed the room, the small distance between you feeling larger than ever. It was difficult to decipher the expression on the boy’s face: his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he often did when he couldn’t grasp something and his mouth shaped itself into a sad pout. Spencer stuttered before speaking.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean I’d leave you? I- I- “

“Spencer, I’m fat.”

That was it, that’s what you had been implying all this time, what you ached to confess. His eyebrows went back into place, straight as a line.

“Actually, when it comes to measuring one’s weight in accordance to their height, you’re at a healthy weight. Although the BMI scale was used as a way to calculate this in the past, it has been deemed inaccurate because-”

“Spencer, stop! I don’t care about facts, I feel ugly and I’m scared you’re going to realise that!”

You huffed, the strand of hair which had fallen across your face flying out of the way. You rubbed your hands across the expanse of your thighs, squeezing your knees. Spencer’s erratic hand movements and scientific explanation were halted.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout,” you said more calmly.

It was clear he didn’t know what to say. You had never interrupted him mid-rant, you always reassured him you were more than happy to listen. He made a scratching sound at the back of his throat, shifting his eyes down before meeting yours again, his cheeks now flushed in embarrassment.

“I think you’re beautiful. I always have.”

The comment hit a sore point in yourself. Beautiful. A word only your boyfriend had ever told you; and well, your parents, but that was a different scenario. It felt foreign, like you were taking something that didn’t belong to you.

“Spence, please, you don’t have to say that-”

“I mean it. I truly mean it.” You could tell he was being honest because of his gentle voice and wide eyes. “I don’t lie about these things. I look at you and I see someone I love, and that someone happens to be beautiful in my eyes. Nothing about you could push me away, I’d be crazy to do so. You’re stuck with me forever.” He smiled softly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

His words were sweet, but not sweet enough to dissolve your doubts.

“But you work with women who are so much prettier than I am.” You paused and said the next part quieter. “Thinner than I am.”

“Yeah, I know that. And?” That wasn’t the response that would exactly help.

“And! And, Spence! Thinner is prettier.”

“Actually, aesthetics are subjective-” You glared at him before he could continue his next statistical lesson.

He nodded, playing with his fingertips again - a habit he had developed in order to collect his thoughts.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were prettier than anyone else I had ever met. I liked how your clothes hugged you, the way your shirts and sweaters settled around your torso. I liked that pants and skirts looked a certain way on you, because your hips and thighs made them stretch out. I still hold those views.”

He lifted his head to utter the last part.

“If what you’re implying is that because you don’t have a flat stomach - the current beauty norm - I’m going to find you unattractive, then I’m going to have to ask you to re-evaluate your method of deduction, because I prefer your body over anyone else’s.”

That’s all you wanted to hear. “Thank you, sometimes I forget.”

Spencer took a few seconds to ponder before asking, “I’ve never told you that, have I? Like, out loud.”

You shook your head meekly, smiling at him to show that you weren’t angry. “No, not really.”

Now he understood. He had never expected that you needed to be told what he thought about you to know that he was crazy about your body, about you in general. Or that it needed to be repeated, or else you’d forget.

“Can you tell me when you’re feeling this way? I didn’t know you had these thoughts, you never told me. I assumed you just … knew that I found you attractive, always.”

Communication. This was new, but a step into the right direction.

“I’m sorry for never being open about it - I will from now on.”

The brunet placed his hand over yours, which had been resting on your knee for a while now.

“I really love you, I’m sorry I don’t say it a lot. I find the weight you’re at to be really appealing, although you don’t need my approval - weight has no correlation to the strength or amount of love one is capable of receiving.”

It was impossible not to kiss him: this perfect man sat in front of you in his home attire, messy strands and waves of hair surrounding his face, uttering the kindest words which were specifically directed towards you.

You grabbed his face between your hands once more and pressed a kinder, more loving kiss to his lips. Spencer further smooshed his face against yours, playing with the frayed ends of his pyjama bottoms to ground himself - that fluttery sensation in his chest when you kissed never went away after all this time together.

Once pulling back, you rested your forehead against his, blindly searching for his hands to take them into yours. You stayed like so for a while until your boyfriend whispered, “Can I try to show you how pretty I find you?”

You straightened your back in surprise. “Show me how?”

A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he traced the bumps of your knuckles with his forefinger. “I’m never the one to initiate this, but … I’d really like to be intimate with you. I-In bed.” His stuttering was nothing short of cute. Spencer wouldn’t be Spencer without being formal when it came to your sexual life.

“You want to have sex with me, is what you’re trying to say?” You couldn’t help but blush as well, at the fact the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on wanted to be intimate with you; touch your body and make you feel good.

“Y-Yes, that’s what I mean. Precisely.”

“That’s the first time you ever proposed that yourself, y’know?” you teased, knocking your fist into his shoulder lightly. He chuckled and shrugged. “I try my best.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, shifting yourself onto your knees. “You can show me. Right here.”

And that was the go-ahead he needed.

He surged towards your lips, covering them in a clumsy but loving kiss, while he held your face in his large hands. A whimper escaped your mouth at the sudden movement, letting Spencer lay his weight on top of you after pushing your legs forward by pressing his fingers on the bend of your knees. Your thighs encapsulated him, a feeling which he never admitted to enjoying so much - until now.

“I really like …” He kissed you. “The way …” Another kiss. “Your thighs feel around me.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Your thighs tensed around his waist, tightening the grip around his body in response. Your hands moved from behind his neck to his back, rubbing them up and down in a soothing manner.

You could already feel Spencer softly rutting into you, his body flush against yours as he ground his half-hard cock into your inner thigh. You had never seen him so eager, always hesitant and embarrassed to make the first move, or take the lead.

But this was different. Although nervous, he wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how beautiful he thought you were, how your body drove him insane.

Spencer started kissing down your neck, finding the way to the sensitive spot between your neck and jaw. “I r-really like kissing you, because your skin is so warm,” he whispered near your ear. You whined, gripping his t-shirt in your fists as your hips cant forward.

You wanted to say so much, needed to. However, you were caught in the feeling of the brunet’s lips moving downwards, carefully pushing the buttons of your shirt through the slots as his open-mouthed kisses trailed across the top of your bra.

He finished unbuttoning your blouse and knelt down between your legs, cautiously placing his large palms over your clad breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. You could tell he was mindlessly ogling them, focusing on the way the flesh moulded into his touch, and this made your face heat up.

“I don’t t-think I need to explain how much I like your um …” He cleared his throat. “Y-Your chest.” He flicked his eyes upwards to meet yours, smiling bashfully - you bit your lip and nodded. Spencer took it as a sign to take off your bra, reaching his hands behind your back to unclasp it. The garment billowed and he quickly pulled it away before discarding it onto the floor.

His pupils dilated when he glanced at your breasts, all bare in front of him, only for him to see. You felt exposed and went to cover yourself with your arms before he grasped your wrists. “You’re beautiful, you don’t need to cover yourself.” His expression radiated warmth and comfort. I have to trust him, you told yourself. With hesitation, you set your arms aside and Spencer’s hands were instantly on your chest again, his fingertips digging into the supple flesh and leaving red dotted marks behind.

You squirmed underneath his touch as you felt so seen, so exposed. It was still hard to focus on the moment and let the boy you love so dearly show his attraction to you. It was always such a challenge to do so, but now more than ever because the little confidence you had had a minute ago slipped away from your grasp when he started to undress you.

You clenched your fists by your sides, looking anywhere but at Spencer as the anxiety bubbled at your sternum. Suddenly, your face was moved and you were looking at your boyfriend again, his palms warm against your already-blazing cheeks.

“Do you need to stop?” You shook your head, unable to speak.

Spencer bit his bottom lip in thought. “I know I don’t express it well, b-but I really am attracted to you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re beautiful. We’ve done this before, h-haven’t we?”

You nod.

“Then trust me when I say I want to see all of you. I just want to …” He swallowed deeply. “Want to be close to you.”

In reality, you were both nervous and you knew that Spencer was probably just as self-conscious about his own body as you are about yours. With a deep sigh through your nose, you nod once more to tell him to continue.

His lips were back on yours and his hands moved down to grip your hips, squeezing the fatty tissue; you felt so undeniably soft, between his fingers and against his stomach.

You pawed at his t-shirt, signalling him to take it off. He clumsily pulled back and attempted to remove it in typical Spencer Reid fashion: his head got stuck and his right arm bent in the most uncomfortable manner. You snorted underneath your breath and helped him out by pulling the bottom of the shirt over his head.

“Are you that eager?” you teased, slowly easing into the atmosphere and finding comfort.

“I’ve literally been trying to tell you that,” he exclaimed with a huff and pulled your body down from your thighs, scooting himself down until his face is hovering over your stomach.

“Spencer, what are you-”

“Please, I just want to taste you”, he said with doe eyes, his fingers already on the button of your jeans.

You shifted your hips a little, now extremely aware of yourself and how your tummy looked from Spencer’s angle where he was situated between your thighs.

“I’m not sure, my stomach looks odd-”

“I’ve dreamt about having your stomach pressed against my forehead as I eat you out for the entire week I’ve been away, please just trust me.”

Your face heated up.

“Fucking vulgar, I thought you were a sweet boy.”

His face flushed in embarrassment at realising what just left his mouth. “Can we stop focusing on what I said and just let me get on with it?” You giggled and agreed with his statement.

In a few seconds, your jeans were slipped off your legs and Spencer’s nose was buried in your panties, nuzzling the faint wet spot in the middle of the fabric. Your breath hitched at the sensation as you tried to mentally convince yourself to enjoy the moment.

His index and middle fingers hooked around the edge of your underwear and moved it to the side, finally revealing your glistening pussy. He sighed and his eyes fluttered shut once his tongue met your slit for the first time in ages, dragging the muscle along your sex.

Your thighs shuddered around his head and you tried your best not to let out a sound. This was soon deemed useless once Spencer flattened his tongue against your clit, gently spreading your lips with his index fingers.

“Oh shit.”

Your brain already felt like mush - your hyper-sensitivity was something you were ashamed of, but it deeply pleased your boyfriend.

He hummed in approval of your comment, pushing his nose against your clit to slip his tongue into your entrance, basically tongue-fucking you at a slow pace. It contrasted the usual way he hastily lapped at your pussy and made a mess of the entire thing, getting drunk on your taste. This time, however, he was really trying to show you how much he worshiped your body, despite his shy demeanour.

It eventually got impossible to stifle your sounds, even if a hand was clamped over your mouth. Soft breaths and gentle moans floated around the room, while you subconsciously moved yourself against his face.

In order to get a better hold of you, Spencer hiked your legs over his shoulders after removing your panties and placed his hands on the smooth expanse of your tummy, tenderly kneading it. What you could only describe as butterflies, although cliché, erupted inside of you. You wanted to move his hands away, tell yourself that part of you was disgusting and unworthy of admiration, but the pleasure Spencer was giving you and the love radiating off of him stopped your worries.

He continued to suck on the raw skin and flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, every so often pushing his entire face into you and exhaling out of pure hunger. You loved how he always made sure you were enjoying yourself when he went down on you, how he showed no discomfort in having his mouth, nose, and chin buried between your legs and getting drenched in your arousal. And you knew how much messes rubbed him the wrong way, but he surely seemed to be relishing in making a mess of you.

You hadn’t noticed yet, but Spencer had been rutting his hips into the cushion of the couch for a while. He was aching to be inside you, to have your warm walls tighten around him; but your pleasure came first and foremost, especially since you were so concerned about him not being attracted to you - that was definitely not happening.

He whimpered into your cunt as he grew harder, his poor weeping cock restraining against the fabric of his boxers, his pants, and the surface beneath him.

“Fuck, I’m c-close”, you gasped, sooner than usual.

The comment sent Spencer into overdrive: he alternated between sucking harshly on your clit and spreading his tongue all over your lips and inside of you, just dying to have you cum on his face. One of his hands was still on your stomach, but the other was holding onto your waist tightly. All he wanted was to feel your soft flesh between his fingers, against any part of his body. Even the pudge of your stomach that you tried so desperately to hide drove him mad.

With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hit you abruptly. Your hands fumbled until they found Spencer’s hair and tugged and pulled, pushing him deeper against your pussy as you soaked his face in arousal. You felt him groan as it vibrated against you, mirroring the way you were gasping for air and moaning out in pleasure. His arms were wrapped tightly around your thighs, using them to ground himself as he suffocated between them.

After a few more laden breaths, you relaxed your legs and loosened your grip on his hair. You peered down to see a blissed out Spencer resting his cheek against your inner thigh, his thumb drawing circles into your hip.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said with a laugh.

He hummed as he pushed himself upwards, subtly moving his crotch to settle against your pelvic bone for more friction.

“I should be saying thank you really.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, a thank you for what a wonderful job he had done. The taste of yourself lingered in your mouth.

Although you attempted to lengthen the kiss, he pulled back and heaved, “now please can I be inside you, I really need it so badly, it hurts.”

There was the usual needy and whiney boy you knew.

“Yes yes, I’m not going to leave you hanging, pretty boy.”

You swiftly pushed his pyjama bottoms down with his boxers and Spencer kicked them off to help. His length was hard against his pelvis, the tip all red and swollen after having nothing but humping the couch to help him get off. Gently, you wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed. That got a whine out of him, his jaw slack and still covered in your slick. You slowly dragged your hand up his shaft, tightening your grip as you neared the head and circled your thumb over his slit that was already spurting pre-cum.

“Please f-fuck, please just let me inside you, I’m already close to coming.”

“Already?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“S-Shut up,” his voice wavered as he struggled to hold himself up, his hands planted on either side of your shoulders.

You let out a chuckle before letting go and resting your palm on his waist to encourage him. Nervously, he lined himself up to your entrance and tried his best not to push in all in one go. In his excitement and neediness, he missed and his cock slid up between your folds, his tip rubbing against your clit. You both exhaled.

“F-Fuck sorry, I just-” Spencer could hardly speak. His knuckles were turning white from the way he was holding the arm of the couch; he was dying to have you engulf him so he could place his hands all over your sweaty skin.

“It’s okay,” you breathed out. “Let me help.”

You reached down and grabbed his cock once again and pushed the head against your pussy. Spencer could already feel the heat emanating from you and it only spurred him on more.

With a little wiggle of his hips, he started to inch himself inside you. The warmth of your cunt gradually surrounded his dick. So warm, so wet is all he could think about.

You took him further by placing your hands on his ass and pushing. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, your boy genius could no longer think straight. All he wanted was to cum and tell you how much he loves the way you make him feel.

Hurting you or causing any pain was the last thing Spencer wanted, so he carefully pulled back until he was almost entirely out and then pushed in again with a quiet squelch.

“G-God, you feel so g-good,” he whined.

Honestly and truly, you hardly heard what he was saying because you were completely focused on how he was stretching you out so deliciously, mouth agape and eyes closed.

It didn’t take long before Spencer started to shallowly thrust into you, your gummy walls fluttering and spasming around his throbbing cock.

In an effort to be closer, Spencer laid on top you, chest to chest, and hid his face in your neck. His hands found a home in your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

Nothing could have felt any better than this: your lovely boyfriend making love to you, his nimble fingers caressing your body into a state of peace and bliss. And for him? Well, his girlfriend’s plush body pressed against his skinny figure was better than anything he could imagine.

You lazily ground into each other, whimpers and hot breaths leaving the both of you. Your hands were splayed across Spencer’s back, desperately keeping him as close as possible.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he whispered.

This man was a dream come to life and he was so sweet while being so.

You swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth before replying. “I love you too, a lot.”

He peppered kisses across your neck and traced your skin with his lips, leaving a layer of dew behind. In return, you left a few kisses on his shoulder when your head wasn’t tilted back in pleasure.

You were so tight around him and you felt so unbelievably full. Now, you weren’t going to say that Spencer had the biggest dick you could think of, but that wasn’t the point - you fit perfectly with each other and your pussy had basically moulded itself to fit snuggly around his length like a glove. You couldn’t imagine yourself having sex with anyone else, not that you wanted to anyways.

You moved your head to the side and kissed his cheek, moving a hand to rest amidst the mess of hair you loved so dearly. He had just shaved that morning so his stubble wasn’t there to scrape against your lips.

“I r-really love- oh fuck.” Speaking during intercourse wasn’t a skill Spencer had mastered as of yet. The feeling of his approaching orgasm had him reeling and he was mustering all the strength he had left to express how much he enjoyed your body and how it made him feel.

“I love … I love how you feel a-against me. You’re so soft and warm.” He gasped as he teetered on the edge.

“Your s-stomach and thighs and h-hips … God.” He hiccupped. It was hard to talk, his hands holding onto your waist.

“They’re all s-so … so soft. It drives me … insane, it- fuck drives me insane.”

Never had you felt so loved as you did at this very moment: enveloped in the arms of the boy you loved, skin-to-skin, whispering the most heartfelt words into your ear.

You wanted to reply, tell him that his words meant so much to you, but the way his tip was stamping into your sweet spot had stolen the breath out of your entire body. All you could do was gasp and let out moan after moan.

Spencer’s bony hips were smacking into the plush of your ass as he fucked into you deeper, his rhythm faltering as it all just became erratic.

“Gonna come,” Spencer whispered, as if he was asking for permission.

“Y-Yeah, go ahead,” you managed to mumble. And that’s all he needed.

With a high-pitched moan, he spilled into you as his hands moved around, just trying to grab any inch of you that he could, loving the feeling of the fat around your thighs and waist. I love you’s were muttered into your skin while his orgasm kept hitting him in waves. His hips stuttered as rope after rope of cum was milked from his tired cock, your cunt pulsating at the fact you were so close as well.

The brunet finally stopped thrusting after a while, going soft inside of you as his breathing slowed down.

“I love you too by the way,” you said quietly, scared to break the silence.

You could feel his smile on the side of your neck.

“You didn’t come yet,” he murmured before his hand found its way between your bodies, a thumb pressing onto your clit. Your body jolted in surprise.

“You really don’t h-have to, darling.”

“But I want to, want to make you feel good.”

You giggled. “You already have, silly.”

“Yeah, but you deserve more.” What an angel.

At least, you weren’t so far off from climaxing and thus a few tight circles helped you come for the second time that evening.

You laid on top of each other, not wanting to move from such a sweet embrace. Spencer had shuffled a little lower once he pulled out of you, not caring that his cum had started to ooze out of you and smear against his upper thigh, and rested his head on your chest. He couldn’t resist putting his hand on one of your boobs either.

“All that I said … it’s true,” he confessed. “I love you a lot and I think you’re pretty. And I love the parts you hate about yourself.”

You hugged him tighter, not sure how to express the appreciation you had for him. “Thank you, you don’t know how much you mean to me, Spence.”

He left a kiss on your collarbone before saying, “We need to get you cleaned up before you get a UTI. Do you know that up to six out of every ten women in the United States experience one?"

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