#plus sized awareness

[colourstreakgryffin]

Idk if requests are open but if they are may I request a Mammon x plus sized curvy reader with AuHDHD if that's alright?

Oh… darn. Well, Mammon probably won’t be lenient or nice about it. He is that type of guy so whilst he’s a bit offensive, I hope it’ll be okay. I’m not personally mocking being plus sized or having AuHDHD, I just doubt Mammon would be nice about it at first— but anyway

Mammon- Greatest Self

Straight up… Mammon is pretty goddamn crude and a big selfish bastard. He doesn’t apologise for anything he does and he doesn’t regret being judgemental or discriminative since he only cares for himself

So, when he sees you… a ‘unappealing plus sized brat with a fucked up head’ that’s apparently his new employee, has him apathetic and disinterested so he doesn’t even care to be nice nor ease up his toxicity as your boss

Mammon didn’t really fear insulting your physical body or your psychological issues. He finds both of them very annoying and he cannot bring himself to be patient with you, so for the first few months he had you hired. He treated you badly…

However, for the first time in his life, the Sin of Greed… genuinely felt something bad for somebody else upon making his nasty remarks when he saw the way you were upset over him

Mammon doesn’t know why but he ended up changing his attitude with you since he couldn’t take the sharp stabs in his heart anymore! He can’t insult you without hurting himself. Eventually, he completely silences his bad treatment and tries his best to compliment you

Mammon actually really don’t believe that disorders exist at all and when you, when gaining back trust to your Circus-decored sin boss, explain what AuHDHD is… he does his end to not laugh at the nonsense and listens up. He doesn’t get all this medicine and this treatments yet he keeps trying to understand you anyway

Mammon likes his people attractive and thin and curvy. Whilst he doesn’t think plus sized is attractive at first, he also thinks that there is a POSSIBLE chance that a plus sized curvy person can be hot and eventually, he does view you that way… your plush curves is soft and squishable

Honestly, he thirsts over you like crazy. Mammon loves to kiss and suck your soft plus-sized belly and waist. Feel your bigger thighs and your nice thick ass… he loves the same you feel, you’re amazing and he basically pants over your body

This is a lot less sexual but romantic passion, Mammon doesn’t find anybody sexually thriving but romantically thriving. It’s why he likes your body, he likes to dress you up and put you nice clothing and shoes… oh, it makes him flutter!

Don’t worry, Mammon will NEVER let anybody insult your body or your conditions! He did previously but he doesn’t anymore since you’re now his beloved partner so if anybody even dares to make fun of you, he’ll devour them whole with no hesitation whatsoever

NOBODY hurts his beloved little kitten!

Mammon is the type of pampering lover, he enjoys giving you all kinds of wonderful presents and items pretty much 24/7 since his love language is in the form of ‘receiving gifts’. It’s spoiling but it’s his best strength, getting the best things since whilst he hates spending money. He’ll spend it on him and you

Mammon is not usually a patient man at all but he is always doing his best for you since he has some weird obsession over you that he can’t explain at al! He does his best to be patient with your conditions and understand your different attitudes aren’t intentional… even if your tones may offend him

Mammon may like you a lot but he is still a awfully greedy money-eyed prick so he’ll market you in whatever your best skill is so he can profit from it but he will gladly give you… a proportion of that income gain. He only slightly exploits you where he exploits everybody 100%

Mammon enjoys having you match him in clothing or accessorises! So, he likes to get you to wear whatever he is at the time, I’m afraid you’ll have to get use to this little cute thing until he gets bored of it… which will probably take some time so he’ll make you his Mini Me and admire how cute you look!

Mammon treats you like a Prince/Princess/Royal amongst the workplace so you get special privileges, and his employees do as you want when you want by his command. If you’re hungry, they give you food first. If you need time alone to handle your AuDHD, they are to leave right away

Mammon personally doesn’t think you need to do anything for anybody else so when you tell him, after a long day, about people saying you need to lose your weight. He’ll basically say; ‘you don’t need to change for anybody’ but if you ever want to change your plus-sized form, he’ll be there to support you… in the most Mammon way

Now. To top up your relationship with the Aussie Greed King, Mammon is not the most perfect boyfriend and he’s always trying to improve his ugliest traits to not hurt your feelings so he needs time but he does love you and he’ll show it

“Eh? Do’n wan’a perform this year, babe? Ya’d make a’ adorable one, ya know. Crikey, crikey. Ay, I was just saying, doll… don’t need to hiss at me like that. Lucifer’s will. Would ma’ performin’ with ya help at all?”

[sensei-venus]

I always think about how funny it would be to just write the crack scenarios I have going on in my head. Fully conscious and self aware Reader “cracked!reader” is so fucking funny to me.

Red!Hawk: *winks at Chubby!Reader while walking by*

Chubby!Reader who has no filter, with the most deadpan face ever, turns towards the other: “Yall think I just got eye molested by the guy with the fuggly ass mohawk that just walked by. I think he wants me real bad and I don't want to be here no more.”

Literally everyone near her:😨

Hawk: “Wft did I do-”

——————————————————————-

*Karate fight happening and Reader is just there*

Chubby!Reader once again not feeling it “Yall lied to me. I hate this place. I hate all of you. Kys.”

*Random kid getting body slammed inches away from her.*

Chubby!Reader: “You know what fuck it, I'm killing MYSELF at this point sense none of you guys want to listen to me.”

*Somehow slips away from the fight to go get food, she never shows back up.*

—————————————————————————-

Sam: “We should all hang out at my house.”

*Chubby!Reader sipping a slushy and scrolling thought her phone, not looking up for even a second.* “Nah if I wanted to bath in the smell of higher middle class I would go across town and walk into one of the LA plastic surgery offices, they give you free cucumber water too. Same thing.” *slurps loudly while scrolling.*

Sam: “I never want you over at my house ever again-”

———————————————————————————

Johnny: “Get your head out of your ass! Loser.”

Chubby!Reader: “You constantly smell like beer and piss, and I saw you piss on your own car a few days ago in a open parking lot. Both of us are losers, but from the looks of it one of us is the bigger one, news flash, its not me. Also that's not a fat joke, its you, your the bigger loser.”

Johnny: “Wow tubby got jokes.”

[aroaceleovaldez]

they cast a 28 year old for Tyson 💀

[relevant rants: here and here]

yeah, i saw - i wasn't holding onto hope of them casting a disabled actor for Tyson (still disappointed, just not surprised) but casting a 28 year old for a middle schooler is really out of left field. It's just an odd choice? Particularly given how much they've been emphasizing age-accurate casting so far.

It makes me really wonder what major rewrites they have planned for Tyson's character. Because as things stand currently there's no way to make Tyson's existing character work with this casting. Tyson is supposed to be in Percy's grade, but Daniel Diemer sticks out like a sore thumb against the child actors. Tyson being in Percy's grade is pretty important for the entire arc of Sea of Monsters with the main character arc being Percy combating internalized ableism and establishing him as a character who stands up for other marginalized kids. If they remove that, what's Percy's arc going to be for that entire season? At what point are they going to establish that about his character? Or are they just going to exposition it at us like usual with nothing backing it up and no actual character progression? And in later seasons the age gap is only going to be more prominent - like how is Tyson going to work in BoTL or TLO? Are they planning on removing his character entirely for those scenes? Are they going to remove him as a recurring character in general? It'd be really weird if they killed him off or something.

I'm also afraid for if they do try to keep Tyson's disability coding in some form - cause there's kind of no good way it can go at this point. Either they completely erase Tyson's coding because they cast an abled actor for him and that messes up the entire arc of the book and his character particularly in relation to Percy, or they have an abled actor attempt to portray a character heavily coded as having down syndrome (and i believe they're already doing similar with iirc Chiron's actor is abled but they're doubling-down in the show on Chiron being disabled) and given how they've written the neurodivergence themes (or absence there of) in the show so far there's just no way that'd end well. Like, Tyson's characterization is a little questionable to begin with in the books, but given the show's writing so far it just feels like we're very rapidly ramping up for an extremely ableist characterization of Tyson. Like i'm sure Daniel Diemer is a great actor, but... i'm just getting real tired of the show erasing the entire premise of the series :T

anyways as per my initial post about pjo tv tyson casting theories i guess it's time for me to start tearing stuff apart with my teeth ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[diary-of-a-loser-boy]

important

I have something very very important to share. Please pay attention. It won’t take long.

The other day I was scrolling through YouTube shorts.

I found a video of a plus size woman, lip syncing to a trending song. I liked the video, and out of curiosity went to the comments.

Most of the comments were absolutely horrible.

“You’re disgusting”

“Just go on a diet already”

“Kill yourself”

“Stop posting already”

“What the hell is this”

I was so upset. This woman, just trying to live her life freely, trying to do something she was passionate about, being bullied and made fun of. 

I was the only one who said anything to stand up for her.

No one else cared.

To make matters worse, I continued scrolling for a while, and I found a woman who lip synced to the same audio. It was essentially the same video. 

The difference?

One was plus size.

One was skinny.

And when I went to the comments, there were amazing comments.

Glorious praise.

“Oh my god, you’re so pretty”!

“I wish I could look like you”

“Ur so talented! Keep going”

“I just subbed, ur incredible”

I scrolled. 

Not one hate comment.

See, here’s the thing.

People ( after the devastating George Floyd incident ) began to realize that  prioritizing the “Black Lives Matter” movement was vital, and that the crimes pushed upon black people were wrong.

BLM was essentially  a campaign encouraging people to treat others with kindness and respect, no matter how they looked.

This campaign changed lots of things worldwide, making the world a better place. Not perfect, do note, but better. Improved. 

It was incredible, really, considering black people used to be seen as a disgrace, and were seen as criminals.

So why shame people who are bigger? On how they look?

Black people can’t just change their skin.

I mean technically, they can, but they shouldn’t have to. They’re beautiful the way they are.

So why should bigger people be forced into feeling ugly? Forced into thinking that they have to change?

They’re beautiful.

As is any human being.

I believe that if some people realized this, maybe we could make a change.

I’m sick of hearing jokes about obesity in school hallways.

I’m horrified by how many people are scared to become larger because there’s some notion in their head that they’d be ugly.

I hate how many plus size people hate their bodies and wished they were skinny.

It’s horrible and wrong, and it needs to end. 

Please consider re-blogging this so we can get the word out.

Thank you.

[poopsiesworld]

TW: Ableism and Fatphobia

Putterpen/Puttersmile and toxic behavior in the Poppy Playtime community

This post was made to acknowledge @putterpen @puttersmile’s questionable behavior. Regardless of how you feel about the situation, ableism and fatphobia are never okay. Sending a hoard of followers to harass and troll a disabled person is never okay. Just because your followers and the rest of the fandom can’t see how you behave over direct messages doesn’t mean it never happened.

I don’t like AI Art, and I don’t support what this person is doing. However, responding with ableism and claiming that certain disabilities are “fake” is already harmful towards the negative stigma that plus sized and disabled people already face. Just because some disabilities aren’t obvious enough for you or don’t fit your expectations doesn’t mean that they aren’t real. You might not like this person, but claiming disabilities aren’t real and sending ableist hate isn’t just harmful to them but all disabled people as well.

[nofomogirl]

A person who said that if you can stitch in the ditch, you can sew anything must have been a skinny summer child who never had to figure out how to place over 6 darts in one top, but yes, it does make you temporarily feel like you're a top seamstress when you stitch in the ditch with anything over 50% accuracy.

[drivemysoul]

just started crying trying to find a swimsuit and the sales assistant looked me up and down and told me “well maybe try the kids section” and when i said i don’t want to wear kids clothes (and they don’t fit me either) she rolled her eyes and walked off mumbling about “well eat something”

[diary-of-a-loser-boy]

society: oh yeah!!! Black lives matter!! Your skin is beautiful!! Your body is perfect. Never change!!

someone plus size:

society: oh no not like that

[hubrishazard]

I really love the disability representation and trans representation that's in dr who lately. I hope someday it reaches the same level of positive well meaning representation for mental illness and fat people too

[starrypawz]

Everytime I see a new Killstar drop it's like

[mattsmedusa]

✎ 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✯ 𝐦.𝐬

ⓘ best friends ᚐ sexual tension ᚐ pet names ᚐ fingering your mouth ᚐ raw raw ah ah ah or whatever lady gaga said ᚐ sough rex ᚐ size kink ᚐ big dick!matt ᚐ praise kink ᚐ creampie ᚐ tiny plot twist ᚐ etc. + intended lowercase. 𝐰𝐜. 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

from gum to the back of your pencil, you had to have something in your mouth when you weren’t eating or talking. it wasn’t as bad when you were a kid but as you grew older it kept getting worse. you had developed a bad case of oral fixation and your best friend, matt, was the first one to notice it.

you never realised how bad it had become until matt pointed it out one day, joking about how you always had something in your mouth.

"you hungry? you’re chewing on your hoodie string." he’d say with a teasing grin, earning an eye roll from you.

"bruh, if you keep nibbling on your pen, you’ll have to buy a new one ‘cause ain’t no way that thing’s ever gonna work again." he’d say as he hands you a piece of gum.

"kid, you’ve had that popsicle stick in your mouth since this afternoon." he’d comment and chuckle.

matt didn’t think too much about it at first—it was more amusing than anything, but it wasn’t long before his thoughts started to become inappropriate. he’d imagine other scenarios where you’d have something in your mouth—something big enough to make you gag and choke.

he always tried to will his mind to stop thinking about shit like that, but it never worked.

today wasn’t any different. matt was already having difficulty keeping his thoughts family-friendly but the way you were sucking that lollipop drove him absolutely insane. you probably weren’t even aware how sexy you looked right now in your loose pajama pants and white tank top combo, sucking on your candy like it was something else.

you had suggested a sleepover and matt couldn’t refuse, plus it’s not like he’d ever say no to you. but now that he was sitting cross-legged beside you in his own pj’s as you picked a movie to watch, it was starting to become more and more difficult to keep himself from acting like a horny teenager.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

it had been a few minutes since the movie began playing on your laptop and matt’s eyes kept drifting to your lips; he wasn’t even paying attention to the movie anymore. all he could think about was how good your mouth would feel around his-

"you want some chocolate?" your offer snapped him out of his thoughts and he cleared his throat before mumbling a hoarse "yeah, thanks" and popped a small piece of chocolate in his mouth, chewing slowly as his eyes stayed trained on the laptop screen to not blatantly stare at your lips again.

you shrugged off his odd behaviour, chalking it up to something your mind made up at the moment and focused back on the movie. matt, on the other hand, kept sneaking sideways glances at you, watching as you sucked on your lollipop.

fuck, he was already growing hard.

matt shifted subtly, anxiously pulling the blanket up more but the bulge ftom his raging hard-on was still there. he scanned the room for something to cover his lap and seeing a pillow discarded on the floor beside the bed, he almost whooped out in triumph.

he quickly took it and put it on his lap in a pathetic way to hide his boner from his oblivious best friend. sneaking a glance at you, a shaky sigh left his lips, thankful that you were still focused on the movie ahead.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

it was starting to become boring after one too many movies and you two decided to just sit and talk about random things. you laid on your stomach as you opened a game on your phone, the lollipop stick still in your mouth as you absentmindedly nibbled on it.

matt couldn’t help but stare, watching as your plump lips wrapped around the thin stick, wishing it was his dick instead. he shook his head subtly as if that’d make his explicit thoughts disappear.

"so uh… what’re you playing?" he suddenly seemed so interested in what you were doing on your phone, making you look up at him with a confused expression. "wh-what?" he said before you could even utter a word.

you gave him a look and chuckled, mumbling a quiet "nothing" as you went back to playing your game. "it’s just some puzzle game, been really into it these days." you answered his question after a few seconds, your eyes still trained on your phone screen.

he nodded even though you couldn’t see it. "i see…" he said as he laid beside you. "you know... you should, uh, maybe discard that thing already?" he referred to the lollipop stick in between your teeth, his eyes darting down to your lips before quickly snapping back up to your eyes.

"nah, i’m good." you replied, not looking up from your phone. your feet lifted up, ankles crossing as you swung them subtly back and forth, still laying on your stomach. "what, is it bothering you matty boo?" you joked, giggling at your own lame joke.

"i’m hard." he blurted out, a little too breathless. "and your fucking oral fixation is not helping, sweetheart." his chest heaved slowly, breath getting shallower as he tried to control them. the way you were looking at him nearly made him groan in frustration—those doe fucking eyes, looking at him so surprised like a deer in headlights.

"and? you’re saying it’s my fault your body decided to act like a horny teenager-" "yeah, it’s your fault." he cut you off, his eyebrows rising slightly as if he was daring you to say anything more.

you stared at him for a moment before sitting upright, a slow grin creeping onto your lips, causing matt’s breath to hitch in his throat. you slowly removed the thin lollipop stick from your mouth, tossing it in the trashcan beside your bedside table before leaning forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "you want my help then?"

oops, not the smartest thing to say.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

two long digits were shoved inside your mouth, your lips sealed around them, muffling your moans. matt’s hips were unrelenting, slapping against yours with lewd wet smacks, each one harder than the last. his fingers tightened on your hip, your legs thrown over his shoulders, allowing him to go deeper.

"is this what you meant when you said you wanted to help me?" matt drawled, his voice all gruff and hoarse from exertion and desire. "such a good girl, huh? helping her best friend get off." he laughed breathlessly, amusement oozing out of every word.

matt watched with hooded eyes as you nodded frantically, eyes threatening to roll back as his thick cock hit every right spot. a slow, lazy grin spread across his lips. "c’mon, pretty, suck on my fingers—what happened to your oral fixation? my dick’s so good you can’t even do what you can do best?"

his words caused you to momentarily snap out of your cock-drunk daze, making you suck on his fingers, nibbling softly, moans vibrating on them. he groaned low in his throat, finding the way you were sucking on his fingers to be too fucking sexy—enough to make his stomach tighten with his impending release.

but he wanted you to come first.

and so, he fastened his pace, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot that drove you crazy. the sound of sex, raw and wet, filled the room, along with your muffled moans and his groans and grunts. the bed creaked rhythmically underneath you, no doubt making enough noise for his neighbors to understand what he was doing.

matt’s eyes fluttered closed when he felt your velvet walls flutter around his pistoning cock, his brows knitting together due to how good your pussy squeezed around him. he couldn’t help but let out a low, deep moan, hips blurring as he fucked you into oblivion.

"c’mon, baby, i know you’re right there... don’t fucking hold back—oh, fuuckk... just like that, squeeze me like you wanna suffocate my dick." he groaned shamelessly, the dirty talk flowing out naturally. he began to move his fingers in your mouth, mimicking the way his length was destroying your sopping cunt.

it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm crash over you.

"theere you go, you’re such a good girl." matt breathed out, feeling your insides pulse rhythmically around his shaft, his eyes closing briefly and hips stuttering at the feeling. "such a good girl—cumming on my cock so prettily."

matt picked up the pace again, his fingers slipping out of your mouth to hold your hips with both hands so he could really fuck you like he meant it. his hips smacked against yours loudly, and your moans and mewls filled the room—nothing in the way to muffle it.

"thaaat’s right, pretty, moan for me—show me how much you love my big fucking cock." he groaned, chasing his own orgasm.

a few more slams and his breath hitched, before a drawn-out moan slipped past his parted lips, his length twitching inside you as it painted your walls white with cum. "best fucking pussy—soo fucking good." he groaned softly, gently taking your legs off his shoulders and setting them down.

matt collapsed onto you, catching himself on his elbows as to not crush you under his weight. his forehead rested against yours, eyes still closed and breath hot and heavy. "so good." he whispered, breathless but sated.

"next time... you should let me suck you off, i’ve an oral fixation after all." his eyes fluttered open at your words, his expression turning slightly puzzled when he saw the small smirk on your lips.

then he remembered all those small smirks, the deliberate way you sucked on your lollipops and ice pops, and a look of realization slowly replaced his confused one, an amused smile creeping up his face. "you little fucking tease." he chuckled softly, giving your hip a small squeeze.

your oral fixation was over exaggerated on purpose huh?

୨୧

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

[sleepynegress]

TW: BLUNT talk about sexual violence.... .

.

.

The irony is her being prejudged as a "momma" and that being a racist, colorist, and sizest stereotype, is the fact of how women become mommas... ....And it's *not* via asexual reproduction. It's rooted in (as everything in this damn country is...) Racism. Throwing off accountability for the systemic abuses in chattel enslavement and that unconfronted ancestral memory lingering. ...As the most frequent targets of sexual violence. So, a lie of undesirability, mammification, and promiscuity along with, "unrapeability", was proliferated in order to throw off accountability for systemic rape. That mess is still deeply embedded in culture and it affects everything from pushed western beauty ideals, to how darker-skinned/plus-sized women are rendered, within featurist and colorist standard pop culture.

...Often desexualized, "strong", often sassy and or rude, or wise and strong, and/or somehow matriarchal and *STILL* desexed within that context... for the sake of the actual centered female lead, who fits narrow western standards. Aunjanue Ellis and Wunmi Mosaku are the two Black women I've seen within that gaze, in recent pop culture media memory just having normal loving love scenes without a comedy lean. And I'm happy to see it becoming less rarefied. I'll add, that women like Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, Ethel Waters, and Pearl Bailey were very much known and marketed for their desirability and beauty, in that era...

So, it's also a case of looking through that 2025 lens.

Smoke and Annie were and look the same age. I know you lot aren't USED to seeing dark skinned Black women as love interests (especially plus sized ones) on screen but seriously, get a fucking grip. There was NOTHING to suggest she was any grown man's mama or sister. That is called bias.

[dearlenore]

DAUGHTER IN LAW • S.REID

SUMMARY: after Spencer gets out of jail, he is determined to find the perfect caregiver for his mother. However, to his surprise, she seems to have already found the ideal nurse herself.

PAIRING: fem!nurse!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a cutie pie, reader wears makeup, reader is flirty bombshell, mentions of schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, canon cm violence

a/n: so much medical!reader x Spencer, if you are waiting on a request please be patient! I’m trying to knock out all my drafts before writing new things🥹 love u all!!

w/c: 1.5k

“MOM, I’M HOME!” Spencer called out from the front door, tossing his keys into a bowl and his satchel onto the couch. “Mom?” His voice rose with concern when no reply came.

He moved to her room, frowning as he realized the door wasn’t fully closed. Knocking lightly, he pushed it open.

“Oh! You must be Doctor Reid?” you said with a warm smile as you stepped out.

Spencer’s hand shot instinctively toward his holster.

“Woah! Please don’t…” you stammered, raising your hands in surrender. “I’m definitely unarmed.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Spencer!” His mother’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Where are your manners?” She shook her head in annoyance as she appeared behind you. “She’s my new nurse — since you insisted I needed one.”

“You can’t just invite random people into my apartment!” Spencer protested.

You quickly stepped forward, balancing on your tiptoes to peek over his mother’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” you said sincerely. “She sort of…chased her last nurse out of the building, and I saw her outside. I figured I’d help her out. Plus, I brought groceries?” You smiled sheepishly, pointing to the bags on the counter.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, clearly trying to size you up. After a moment, he exhaled heavily and dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“Sorry… I’m sorry, I just… had a long day,” he mumbled.

“I get it,” you said, sitting beside him — not too close, but close enough that your knee brushed his. “Caretaking’s no picnic either. Your mom’s been telling me all about your job.”

“She did?” Spencer’s head lifted slightly, surprise flickering in his tired eyes.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “She’s amazing — kind, patient, funny. And for someone who was in a care home just a month ago… she’s awfully aware.”

Spencer rubbed his eye and gave you a confused look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That maybe…” You paused, your smile turning a little playful. “Maybe love’s the best medicine.”

He snorted softly, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “That sounds like something from one of those feel-good hospital dramas.”

“Oh, totally,” you agreed with a grin. “But hey… if it works, it works.”

For the first time that day, Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted.

“I usually am,” you teased. “But hey, if you’re skeptical, I could always prescribe you some fresh air — maybe a coffee run? Strictly professional recommendation, of course.”

Spencer looked up at you, and for a moment, he wondered if you were in the wrong profession. Caretaking? Really? With your warm smile, soft voice, and effortless charm — not to mention that gorgeous figure (which he tried very hard not to stare at for too long) — you seemed more like someone who belonged on a stage or in a room full of admirers.

And yet here you were, fussing over his mother with gentle patience, helping her get comfortable in her armchair. You draped a cozy blanket over her lap, making sure she had her tea close by. His mother never let anyone take care of her without a fight — but with you, she seemed calm, even content.

“She’s the kind of girl you should marry,” his mother murmured suddenly, her voice low but unmistakably firm.

Spencer blinked. “Mom…” He shot her a look, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying,” she added with a shrug, before turning back to her book.

Spencer lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you hum softly as you wiped down the kitchen counter. The sight of you — moving so comfortably in his home, sleeves pushed up as you puttered around like you belonged there — made something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

“Hey,” you called out, breaking him from his thoughts. “Are you hungry? I was thinking I could make dinner… if you don’t mind some experimental cooking.”

“You cook too?” Spencer asked, stepping into the kitchen.

“Well…” you shot him a teasing smile. “I can read a recipe. That’s basically the same thing, right?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you moved around the kitchen, bumping elbows and brushing past each other in the small space. Every time your arm grazed his, Spencer felt his pulse jump. At one point, you reached over him to grab a pan, your hair brushing his shoulder, and he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“You know,” Spencer said, clearing his throat, “I’m… surprised my mom’s actually letting you take care of her. She’s usually pretty stubborn.”

“She’s sweet,” you replied as you stirred a pot on the stove. “A little feisty, but I like that. Besides…” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “I have experience with stubborn people.”

“Oh?” He leaned against the counter, smirking. “And how do you deal with them?”

You grinned. “Patience. And charm.”

“Seems to be working.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Your smile widened, and Spencer felt a wave of heat crawl up his neck.

After dinner, once his mother had gone to bed, you lingered at the door with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“So…” you said with a smile. “About that coffee?”

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, a little too quickly. He swallowed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I’d love to… sometime.”

Your smile softened, and you reached up, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. “Good. It’s a date,” you said, giving him a playful wink before heading out to put dinner on the coffee table for him, yourself and his mom.

Spencer stood there for a long moment after you’d gone, still feeling the ghost of your fingertips on his skin.

Come eat, Doctor Reid!” your voice called out, breaking Spencer from his trance once more.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, arranging plates like it was the most natural thing in the world. The soft glow from the nearby lamp lit your face, and Spencer wondered how you managed to look so effortlessly put together after such a long day.

He shook off the thought and quickly walked over.

“Where are my manners?” you said, standing up and dusting your hands off on your scrubs. “What would you like to drink, Mrs. Reid?”

“Oh, just water is fine,” she replied with a gentle smile.

“You got it,” you said, brushing past Spencer on your way to the kitchen. Your arm briefly grazed his, and he swore his brain short-circuited for a second.

He sat down beside his mother, still a little distracted. “So… you like her?”

His mother gave him a pointed look. “I like her more than that last nurse you sent.”

“Well, yeah,” Spencer chuckled. “That guy quit before his second shift.”

“Because I chased him out,” Mrs. Reid said with a sly smile.

“You’re impossible,” Spencer muttered, but his mother’s chuckle made him smile.

When you returned, you handed Mrs. Reid her water and passed Spencer a glass of iced tea.

“Figured you could use a little sugar,” you said with a wink.

“Are you trying to convince me to employ you?” Spencer asked, raising a brow. “But don’t worry about that

“Maybe,” you teased. “But only because you seem like you’re worth the effort.”

Spencer felt heat crawl up his neck again, but before he could respond, Mrs. Reid spoke up.

“You know,” she began, spearing a piece of roasted potato with her fork, “this is lovely. It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper home-cooked meal.”

“Glad you like it,” you said, smiling proudly. “I wasn’t sure if I remembered the recipe right.”

“It’s perfect,” Mrs. Reid assured you. “Spencer, you’d better keep her around.”

“Mom…” Spencer muttered, shooting her a look.

“I’m just saying!” she continued. “Smart, sweet, patient — and she cooks?” She gestured toward you with her fork. “That’s wife material right there. Your—“ she cut herself off before she could mention his father which you didn’t notice.

You laughed softly, looking down at your plate as your face warmed. “Wow, no pressure,” you joked.

Spencer groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Please ignore her. She’s —”

“Right,” Mrs. Reid cut in. “I’m right.”

“Be nice! She wants to be able to see you get married someday,” you teased, flashing Spencer a grin.

He could only shake his head, but the smile tugging at his lips was impossible to hide.

By the time dinner wrapped up, the conversation had flowed easily — you sharing funny patient stories, Spencer rambling about obscure facts (which you seemed to genuinely enjoy), and Mrs. Reid chiming in with her own dry humor. It felt… comfortable. Like this was something that had been happening for years.

“Thank you,” Spencer said as you started gathering the dishes. “For dinner… for helping my mom… for everything.”

“Of course,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “I’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Spencer said before he could stop himself.

You paused in the doorway, shooting him one last smile. “Goodnight, Doctor Reid.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, watching you leave.

His mother cleared her throat dramatically from the couch.

“Wife material,” she said again with a smug smile.

[deusfoundry]

in retrospect, there's really no other way this night could've possibly ended.

zayne likes to think that he tried. that he had exercised as much restraint as he could. that the only reason he's got his lips on your skin, planting wet kisses that trails along the path of your collarbone, is because truly, he's been pushed to the brink of his self control.

but is he really to blame when you looked absolutely divine in that dress?

"z-zayne, we have to go ..."

your words fail to register in his mind, anything and everything but the tiny sounds you make enters one ear and slides right out the other. he almost feels bad now, the memory of how ecstatic you were when he'd invited you as his plus one to a banquet hosted by akso hospital three weeks ago flashes before him. how that excitement grew tenfold when you told him about the dress you'd bought to surprise him with.

and he certainly was surprised, pleasantly so, when the sight of your bare back greeted him as he entered his bedroom.

zayne stops in his tracks, feet feeling like they've been permanently rooted to the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

you're seated in front of the vanity table he'd put together for you. the size of it is nothing like the one you have at your apartment, but it shares a similar design, the same wooden accents. it's enough that you can get ready for anything without having to make a stop at your place. he'd bought it when you first began to spend the night at his apartment.

lately though, you've been spending the better part of each week in his place. zayne's been reminding himself to build up the courage to ask you to move in with him.

he's supposed to be used to this. to your back facing him. to your eyes lighting up when you catch sight of his figure through the reflection of your vanity mirror. to you pausing in the middle of your routine to turn around, greet him with that smile of yours that sends an ache in his heart.

but this damned dress.

he forces his feet off the floor to move towards you, his heavy footsteps catching your attention. you flash him a sheepish smile, your eyes flitting towards the jacket of his dress suit draped on his arm.

"have i been taking too long?" you ask, hurriedly dragging the tip of your eyeliner to your lids.

"no," zayne stalks close enough to place his hands on the back of your chair. he drinks you in, eyes casting downwards to the fabric pooling at your lower back. your hair is pulled up to a loose bun, fastened with a clip shaped into a snowflake, leaving your bare shoulders to view. he takes the thin strap of your dress betwixt thumb and forefinger, fighting the immense urge to pull the flimsy fabric off.

it's a losing battle, and zayne succumbs to his desires in a matter of seconds. he leans down, planting one tender kiss on the base of your neck.

he holds your gaze through the mirror as he releases his hold on the strap, letting it fall just above your elbow. he uses the same fingers to map out the scars littered on your back.

"no, you're alright."

"i'm-" your words get caught in a choke. "i'm almost done. why don't you wait for me here?"

"of course." zayne kisses your cheek before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. his eyes bore into you with an intensity that you can feel, enough to induce a tremble in your hands as you add the finishing touches to your make up.

"done!" you begin tidying up your table, placing the brushes back to their compartments. "just need to put my heels on."

"allow me." zayne very nearly bolts from the bed. he takes your heels by the straps from their place beside your vanity.

slowly, zayne kneels before you.

it's then that zayne notices another ... feature of your dress, discovering a slit that goes right up to your thigh. he freezes, hands ghosting your ankle, a field of smooth skin staring at him. possibly taunting him. definitely not helping his pants that seem to be growing tighter by the minute.

"love? are you okay?"

and you had the nerve to ask. surely, you must be aware of your effect on him by now?

"yes." he breathes out an apology, sucking the air through his nose as he slides your feet into the shoe. his fingers find the straps, wrapping them around and working up your leg the way he's watched you do so countless times before. he moves closer, reaching behind your leg to tie the straps together into what he hopes is a neat bow over your calf.

zayne repeats the process with your other shoe, but this time, he lets himself linger. lets his fingers run past your leg, over your knee, until they land on your thigh. lets them prod lightly at the flesh, encasing the muscle with his palm. lets himself lean down, low enough that from your point of view, it looks he's bowing to you.

he places a kiss, first over the strap of your heels that he's just worked on, the material an odd intrusion to his moisturized lips. then another, on your knee. and finally, his lips replace the palm on your thigh.

you shiver at the sudden loss of warmth, but you find soon enough that zayne never intended on keeping his hands away from you for long.

his hand glides further up, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress where it finds itself a home there.

zayne is too caught up in you, plush skin, enchanting perfume, this godforsaken dress, to hear your voice. he's only knocked out of his trance when he feels your hand cup his cheek.

"zayne?" he looks up, chin resting on your thigh. there's a flush to your cheeks, an obvious difficulty in the way you breathe. "we're going to be late."

he nods, pushing himself off the floor. he holds his hand out for you take and gladly, you slip your hand into his with a smile, using him as leverage to stand up.

zayne makes it about halfway through the living room before something in him snaps. he strides across his apartment, footsteps quick and erratic, almost tripping over his own feet.

you hear him from where you stood before his front door, turning around with the knob between your hand to ask him if he's okay. you get barely a word out of your mouth when zayne crashes his lips onto yours.

and that's how you find yourself now, pinned against the door of his apartment, clinging to his shoulders as your legs begin to go limp.

zayne kisses you everywhere, frenzied lips travelling from your neck, the exposed skin of your cleavage. he gives you not even a second to breathe before he's back on your lips. his hands behave similarly, squeezing at every inch of skin his fingers come across.

"i'm sorry." he sends a stream of warm air to your neck, nipping lightly at the skin. "it's just- you look so- god, it's this dress."

"the event-!" zayne cuts you off by sucking at your neck hard enough that it's bound to leave a mark.

"to hell with it."

you yelp when he cradles the back of your thighs to lift you up with ease. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his lower back, bringing him close enough that you can feel the bulge poking through his pants.

"the things you do to me..." zayne whispers over your lips. he eases your entire body into just one of hands, the other moving up to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "god, you have no idea."

except, you think you know exactly what you do to him, when he starts making his way back to the bedroom, lips eternally attached to yours.

[unintentionalseductress]

LADS Men With a Plus Size Reader

Warnings: None! This is actually very fluffy! Maybe PG13 at most! (OMG NCS, no smut?!😲😲😲) A/N: Finally, got around to writing one of the promised headcanons! Now, allow me to be clear here. The amount of customization the game allows is incredible but MC is a little bit on the smaller side, and I would have loved to see an option for a more robust body build. The same way there are naturally thin and petite women, there are also bigger and more rounded women as well and I think there was an opportunity lost there. Anyone that tries to hate on this will be blocked immediately.

Zayne:

Zayne’s large hand envelopes yours as you walk to the cafe he’d recommended. You knew it was popular amongst the hospital staff and weren’t surprised to see familiar faces; one of the tables was completely occupied by some of Zayne’s surgical nurses. 

“Why don’t you get a table?” Zayne brushes a kiss on top of your hair. “And I’ll get the food. Do you still want a hazelnut latte with your cake?”

“Yes please!” Zayne’s eyes fill with warmth as he squeezes your hand before walking towards the cashier. You wander over and pick a table near the nurses. You take out your phone and start to browse Instagram when a snide voice is heard from the table behind you. 

“Gross.”

You freeze but don’t dare turn around. Maybe it wasn’t directed at you. 

“That’s Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend?”

Shit it was.

“Why is he with that porker?”

“You’d think a man like that would have better taste.”

“I heard that they were childhood friends. He’s probably dating her out of pity.”

Even as your blood rages, you feel tears pricking the backs of your eyes. Were they aware you could hear them? And they had just said your worst fears out loud; that Zayne was dating you as a favor, not because he was actually into you. It was an old insecurity you hadn’t really grown out of. You startle slightly as Zayne suddenly sits down opposite you, food and beverages in hand. He sets down your coffee and cake while taking his own plate and tea off the tray.

“Why are you so upset?” He immediately observes the distress on your face and the way your eyes are glistening. You shake your head and dab at your eyes with a napkin, Zayne watching you intently. The cute slice of cake he’s gotten for you sits temptingly in line with your vision but right now it might as well be a lump of clay, all appetite for it gone. 

Zayne’s eyes flick to the cake and back to you. “Did I get the wrong one?”

You’re about to shake your head no when the conversation at the table behind you picks up again. Clearly, they hadn’t noticed Zayne sitting down. 

“He deserves so much more than that blob. There are so many attractive women at the hospital.”

“I agree. He could get anyone he wanted. Someone who actually takes care of their health and watches their figure.”

Shame fills you and you’re unable to look at Zayne in the eyes, knowing he had heard them, even though you know it was far from the truth. You ate all your vegetables and exercised frequently. But your body just refused to slim down no matter what you did. No matter how much you tried to lose weight, the weight just didn��t want to lose you. You’re about to get up and leave when Zayne speaks up, loud and clear, in a scathing tone. 

“Right, because weight is the only indicator of a person’s health, isn’t it?” Zayne’s words drip with sarcasm. 

The entire nurses’ table jumps at his voice, turning around to look at him.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne! We weren’t-”

“I don’t care what you weren’t doing. Do not talk about anyone that way, patient or not. Were you not taught compassion as part of your medical training? Or is it reserved for people who look a certain way?” His eyes are narrowed and the table looks tense. One by one the nurses start to get up, quietly murmuring apologies to him as they exit the cafe. 

Zayne watches them go, anger still visible in his eyes before turning his attention back to you. His hand covers yours on top of the table. “Are you all right?”

You sniff. “I try. You know I try. I cook all my meals. I exercise. We work out together. But I can’t get the weight to go away.” 

“No sweetheart. I know how much you take care of yourself.” Zayne reaches across the table to wipe your tears. “You do not have to lose any weight. You’re perfectly healthy, and as long as that’s clear, nothing else matters.”

“You’re not dating me out of pity?” You look at him uncertainly. 

“Pity?” Zayne chuckles in disbelief. “Darling when you first started coming to my office I was sure you were out of my league.” His thumb strokes your hand reassuringly.

“You’re so amazing. Talented, compassionate, considerate. And all those things will always matter more to me than anything else.”

He looks at your neglected slice of cake. “Now don’t take out your sadness on the dessert. If you don’t finish it in 5 minutes, it’s mine.”

Rafayel:

You grip your wrap firmly around your shoulders, stepping with grace into the dazzling venue. You never missed Rafayel’s shows if you could help it but this time around, you had a skin in the game. Literally.

One night after a round of passionate lovemaking, you had woken to find Rafayel painting, and when you saw what he was working on, you’d blushed and smacked him on the shoulder.

There, in the brush strokes, he had painted you sleeping on his bed, your hair in disarray as it cascaded down your back, your face buried into the pillow and not quite visible. The sheets covered you modestly but the wide curve of your hips, the pudges of fat at your side, and the bra rolls under your arms were all painted with clarity and you found you couldn’t look at it. A feeling of unease had settled in your stomach. Was this the way your boyfriend viewed you?

You had brought it up to Rafayel in a small voice. “Do you think I’m fat?”

Your heart sank as Rafayel’s face, which had been so soft, a curve in his lips as he had painted, changed into a mask of dismay. “Fat?” he had asked, looking quite upset. “Where in this painting have I made you look fat?”

“Here. And here.” You point out the areas and Rafayel pulls you against him, holding you fiercely. 

“Cutie, I swear to God I’m just painting you as you are. I don’t think you look fat at all. I’m just painting my beautiful girlfriend in all her glory.” Crushed against his chest, you try to talk. 

“But, most women in paintings don’t look like that, they have smaller hips and thighs and mine look so…ugly.”

You thought Rafayel’s heart might have broken as he heard your word of choice. “There’s nothing about you that’s ugly. None of this is ugly. It’s a body. Your body. And baby I love every inch of it exactly as it is. I didn’t mean to make you sad while I painted all the pretty little pieces of you that make you whole.” His hands trace your sides, squeezing you reassuringly. 

“There’s so much beauty in you baby. That’s all I see in this painting. You’ll always be the biggest masterpiece in my life.”

Knowing he held you in such high esteem had done wonders for your confidence, which was what you were trying to emulate as you walked into the gallery. Rafayel had hesitantly asked for your permission to showcase that painting for this show, promising he’d never use it without your consent. Nervous as you were, part of you was actually thrilled that it was going to be used. It was difficult to make out who the subject in the portrait was since your face wasn’t entirely visible. 

Still, it felt like an out-of-body experience as you approached the hung canvas, observing the crowd that flocked to it. Some people nodded at it quietly before moving on, others commented under their breath that Rafayel should have chosen a more appropriate model. 

“Can you imagine this woman being naked in his bed?” One of them asked and her friends snickered sycophantically. “He must have been drunk or something.”

“And why is that?” You turn in time to see Rafayel, dressed sharply in a couture outfit approach you and pull you to his side, his hand resting possessively on the jut of your hip. The woman backpedals.

“Mr. Rafayel! I mean, obviously, your work is unique but I can’t help but wonder what you might have been trying to convey when you painted someone with such a…heavy structure.”

Rafayel pretends to consider her words. “I suppose…people have different views on what beauty is. All I was trying to convey was how much I loved the person in the painting. Anyone that doesn’t see the beauty in this particular painting, well I’m afraid they have poor taste.”

Grinning at the affronted look on her face, Rafayel whisks you away, but not before you throw her a smug smirk over your shoulder. 

Sylus:

Who knew underground mafia bosses loved their parties as much as their money? As strange as it was, the cliques had started becoming familiar with you hanging around. Anytime Sylus was invited to a gathering, it was expected that you were his plus one. While most of the men entertained polite conversation with you, it was no secret how coveted Sylus was by the women in the N109 zone. 

They wrinkled their noses as you walked by, your head held high, knowing you shouldn’t let their words get to you but it was hard. You tell the bartender your order and put a $100 bill into the tip jar. After all, you couldn’t embarrass Sylus by handing out a miserly tip when he was supposed to be the richest man here.

You knew you looked good enough to kill; Sylus had chosen the gown you were wearing himself, even hiring a personal tailor to fit the dress to flaunt your best assets and a thick choker of diamonds glittered on your neck. The plunging V-line of the dress showed off a tempting display of creamy cleavage, the bodice of the dress pushing up your impressive bosom. The material crept over your belly and hips, your fupa visible a little more than you would have liked but Sylus had refused to hear otherwise. You remember the way his hands had caressed the bulge of fat after helping you zip up the gown, his low, contented, purr ringing in your ears.

“Kitten, you’re going to be every man’s envy tonight. How delightful that I get to flaunt you as mine.”  

A group of women, all model-thin and gorgeous, approach the bar, their cold eyes fixed on you, wearing smiles that could cut glass. Your fingers drum nervously on the counter as you try to ignore them. One of the women spies the tip you had put in and jerks her chin at you, her lips twisting into what looks like a sneer. 

“So Sylus has the money to let you throw around $100 bills into tip jars. I wonder…” She pauses and the group draws collectively closer like a cackle of hyenas. “Wouldn’t his finances be more wisely spent on other avenues?”

“Such as?” You ask carefully.

“A good plastic surgeon perhaps? Lord knows you could use some liposuction in more places than one.” Her entourage leers at you while covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Your back stiffens and your eyes widen in shock. You resist the urge to cover your middle. You knew you should have pushed harder to have the gown loosened. Your fupa, the soft squidge that bulged under the material of the dress…it was a mistake thinking you could attend a party with it showing up so obviously. 

A million retorts form in your head but they all die weakly on your tongue. You had no defense, and you felt pathetic that you were sitting here and taking their abuse but your mind felt frozen, like you couldn’t plan your next move. 

“How did you ever think that someone like you could pull off a dress like that?” The woman presses, her eyes boring into yours. Your pulse quickens as you try to find a way to escape.

“You’re right, she can’t pull off a dress like that.” A rich, deep voice answers the woman who pales as she sees Sylus drape his arm possessively around your shoulders. “It’ll wrinkle. That’s why I’ll be pulling it off for her as soon as we get home.”

His eyes flash scarlet as he signals to the bartender, who immediately starts pouring him a drink and expediting your cocktail, setting both glasses on coasters in front of you. You flush but try not to look too pleased as you take a sip, feeling the alcohol loosen you. 

“Mr. Sylus.” The woman’s voice changes immediately and she steps back. “We were just talking about fashion.” she fibs hastily, trying to cover up her reason for using the word ‘dress’.

“Fashion?” Sylus looks at her patronizingly. “Do tell.”

Caught, she wets her lips before saying, “Oh we were talking about jeans and how they never fit or have pockets-”

“Hmm. I can understand these problems. After all, jeans without pockets are like women without curves…there’s nowhere to put your hands.” His broad hand shifts to your hip, his fingers subtly signaling it is time for you to go. You pick up your glass and Sylus holds onto you firmly as you walk back to the crowd. 

Xavier:

You’re sweaty as you and Xavier walk back from the office gym to the locker rooms. Xavier drinks from his water bottle, swallowing zealously. “I think we’ve exercised enough for a whole week,” he says as you walk. You laugh and shake your head.

“We only did a half hour of cardio!”

“Yeah, but we lifted all those weights too! In fact, my muscles already feel stronger.” Xavier flexes his arm and a visible bicep forms, making you grin. 

“Oh so strong,” you say as you reach out to squeeze. Xavier winces slightly and you quickly withdraw. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m a little sore.” You reach the locker rooms.“I’ll wait for you outside.”

You nod and he disappears into the men's locker room. You wander into the women’s, undo the lock, and retrieve your bag, finding a stall to change your clothes. You peel off your damp leggings which stick to your plushy thighs and you drag them down, sighing in relief as the skin jiggles freely in the cool air after being stuffed in the heat of polyester for so long. 

The skin on your butt and stomach are dimpled, something you’d come to terms with. You recall how nervous you’d been to let Xavier see you in a bathing suit at the pool but now you barely glance at them. 

“It’s like your skin is smiling at me when I kiss it.” 

That’s what Xavier had said as he kissed the soft flesh lovingly. Who could possibly feel self-conscious after that analogy? As you fold away the sweaty clothes into a garment bag, you hear several of the other changing room doors open and a group of voices fills the locker room as you change. You normally wouldn’t have paid attention but you freeze when you hear Xavier’s name.

“Why do you think Xavier works out with her of all people?”

“I know! They workout together like almost everyday and she hasn’t lost any weight!”

“She probably lacks the discipline to go on a real diet. It doesn’t matter how much she exercises, that fat isn’t going to go away if she doesn’t eat healthier.”

“Xavier really needs to find a better workout buddy. She only slows him down.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you hear the cruel commentary. How dare these women talk about your body like it was a source of entertainment for them? Both rage and sorrow fills you as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Suddenly all you can see are the flaws.

How cute, to call cellulite ‘dimpled skin’ like it was something to be adored. You stare at the lumpy skin, at the way your stomach and arms have stretch marks everywhere, the way your skin bulges over the band of your bra. You wait in silence as the women finish their chat and you hear them exit the locker room.

After what seemed like ages, you finally finish dressing and leave the changing room feeling humiliated. The post-workout glow had all but vanished from your system and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being perceived like a huge, hulking, ogre; built big and lumberingly, not at all cute like the princess Xavier claimed you were. You leave the dressing room, then stare in disbelief as the same group of women crowd around Xavier as he waits for you. You lurk, not wanting to be seen, then one of the women speaks up.

“Xavier, if you’re looking for another workout buddy I’d be happy to tag along.” One of them chirps perkily.

Xavier chuckles politely and shakes his head. “Thank you, but no. I have a workout buddy.”

“Oh cmon Xavier, don’t you think you need someone who can challenge you a little more?”

“I do actually. That’s why I work out with her.”

“Does she really challenge you?”

“I think she challenges me more than you. Didn't you finish last in the company relay race?” The woman’s face falls and your heart skips a beat. 

“And you,” Xavier says as he turns to face another woman. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but you struggle to push anything more than 75 pounds. My workout buddy does 150 easily. She’s very strong. Perhaps you might benefit from training with her.” The second woman looks offended even as she’s being chastised. 

Feeling your confidence soar, you skip over to Xavier feeling as light as a feather. Xavier’s eyes light up as you approach. “Ladies,” you say smugly to their scandalized faces before pulling Xavier away from them, holding his arm as you walk away. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[mercyofempty]

i only keep tiktok installed because its the only place i can find videos of people unboxing figures with no commentary it scratches a specific itch