#x chubby reader

[2cupids]

fwb!bakugo is the only guy that’s made you cum from penetration alone. mdni (17+).

one minute some broken sentence is leaving your mouth about how he’s too deep, and the next you’re seeing colors as your pussy squeezes tightly around him.

katsuki slows down, hand still pressed against your lower tummy to feel the outline of his cock, as he watches you with a crooked grin. his already inflated ego growing bigger.

nearly a minute has passed and your walls are still pulsating with satisfaction around his thick dick. he almost grunts, but he quickly covers it by grumbling about how it’ll take more than that to make him cum this quick.

the after shocks of your orgasm are still flowing deeply through your body and katsuki never stops fucking you through it, not even once. crimson eyes stay glued to the blissful expression on your face, waiting for the moment he can resume his bruising rhythm again.

the second you give him the go ahead, his hips are bucking into yours—just like before—propelling your body forward on the bed.

“what were you bitchin’ about again?” he chuckles. his curved dick and brushes over your gspot again and draws another moan from you.

“doesn’t matter. if i hear you open that pretty mouth again and you’re not telling me how much you love this dick?” he growls. “i’ll fuck that attitude outta you. have you beggin’ me to stop ‘cause this pussy can’t handle it.”

your blood runs even hotter than before with increased arousal from his words. a warm hand glides up your body, grazing your breast in the process before he takes your chin between his fingers.

“that’s a promise.”

[furioussouls]

LADS boys when you die

[with chubby reader]

[chubby reader, don’t like it, don’t read it]

warnings: extreme angst, death, grief, self harm, depression, (passive) suicidal ideation, sadness, no comfort, pretty short, minors don’t interact

Please do not read if you feel like it might harm you or your mental health. Handle carefully. Please reach out to healthcare professionals if you’re in danger. I love you all. Please don’t engage with this if this could trigger you. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to the game “love and deepspace“ by InFold

Based on this request :3

ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ

Xavier:

Xavier lays in bed and stares at the ceiling. The ticking noise of his clock echoes in the background as he releases a shuddering breath. The heavy pressure on his chest crushes him with every inhale and he presses his eyes together in hopes of keeping his tears at bay. As always, he doesn’t succeed and warm tears roll down the sides of his temples. Xavier sees a flickering light out of the corner of his eyes and he can’t stop himself from following the only source of light that he had seen in multiple days. It was his phone. Xavier’s eyes widen up and he scrambles to his phone in hopes of seeing your name flash across the screen, but it was just Captain Jenna.

A deep feeling of despair and anguish settle deep inside his heart and he can feel the hopelessness soak down all the way to his bones. He quit his job. It doesn’t matter to him anymore, nothing does. He knows what he’s here for. He knows that he has a mission, but he’s tired. He’s tired of it all, and you were the only thing keeping him going.

He slowly gets out of bed and walks over to your side of the wardrobe. The heavy weight of his emotions returns as he opens the creaky door. A desperate sob escapes him as he sees your favourite sweatshirt; it’s oversized and comfy. He picks it up and holds it under his nose. Xavier inhales deeply and lets the tears flow down his haggard cheeks. “My baby.“ Xavier’s croaky voice rasps out. His eyes, which were so full of light and warmth whenever they gazed upon you, are soulless and devoid of any colour now. Sunken eyebags adorn his undereyes and his lips are cracked. What‘s the point of taking care of himself now anyway? Now that there’s nobody there to scold him for his carelessness. He slowly puts your sweatshirt on and buries his face in it.

He remembers how cozy you looked in it; how your full and warm body warmed his own one up. How you always wore it on tv nights and how happily you let him strip the sweatshirt off during intimate times. He remembers it all. Sometimes, he’s not sure if he’d like to remember more of you, or nothing at all.

Xavier’s eyes start to sting again and he walks back to your side of the bed. He lays down and turns a few times. His breath escapes sharply as all of the memories of you begin haunting him. He couldn’t save you. Your blood staining his hands. Your soft and lively face turning grey and dead, all because he couldn’t save you. Could he truly not have stopped it? Did his self assured fighting style cause him to slip up and fail to protect you? He was so sure that this was just a routine mission. Was his hubris the cause of your demise?

Xavier shakes his head. Numbness has spread deep in his chest and he closes his eyes. He should go to sleep. Yes, that would probably be for the best. Sleeping is the only escape he currently he has.

He‘s been sleeping almost every single hour of the day. He can’t bear being awake and being reminded of you. The ghost of you haunts him down in every single room. There’s no where to escape from you, and he’s not sure if he even wants to escape. So he sleeps. And sleeps. For hours upon hours. His body is not only getting weaker with every hour, but it has also given up just like Xaver himself has. After a few weeks, he doesn’t wake up anymore.

Zayne:

Zayne sits in his office and analyses the medical records of a new patient. It’s already long past the end of his shift, but he hasn’t been home before midnight in months. Why would he? It’s not like he has anything to come back home to. He can’t stand coming home to the cold and empty space which used to be so full of life; so full of you. The very essence of your being oozes out of every single thing he has at home. Your annotated books sprawled across his bookshelf, your clothes laying securely on top of his in the wardrobe, every item of furniture that you have carefully picked out. He especially can’t look at his bed, which he used to worship your full figure on. The memories of you pop up in his head; him massaging your thick body til you were all soft and pliable in his hands, his nose gently bumping against your inner thighs before he began feasting on you. He can’t stand it, and simultaneously he needs more of it.

His fellow coworkers know not to bring you up anymore. Zayne excuses himself from every conversation about you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about you, he loves reminiscing. By himself. He doesn’t need to talk to people who have this false version of you in their head. They don’t know you as well as he does. The walls he has built around himself are impenetrable and he will not accept anybody’s fake concern. He can’t stand their polite condolences. He can’t stand any of it.

Zayne stares down at the documents when suddenly a few drops of blood splatter down on the page. He sighs and pulls out a tissue and holds it against his nose. Fatigue mars his face and the dark circles under his eyes are now permanently etched into his face. He rubs his face and presses his glasses closer to his face as he ignores the incoming headache. He’s exhausted, but he cannot stop working. His patient reminds him of you. Whether it’s his patient’s physical appearance, their condition, or their mannerisms. They remind him of you and Zayne can‘t let this person die. They can’t die. He’s lost patients before that reminded him of you and with every single one of those people that die in his presence, the few pieces of his heart that are left crumble into pieces so small they can never be fixed.

Zayne‘s hands grab onto his scalp and he winces when ice began to spread on his hands. He clenches his teeth and closes his eyes as he tries to regulate his breath. His stomach rumbles uncomfortably and he sighs as he forces a protein bar down his throat. He needs to focus on this patient‘s damn health, and his own annoying body needs to stop getting ln the way of it.

He‘ll keep being a doctor for a few years until a better and healthier doctor comes around. Zayne‘ll try his best to shove down all the memories of you, and will ignore his deteriorating physical and mental health and try to save as many people as possible, so that the void in his heart can be filled (it won’t). He will resign and then bury himself in you. In the idea of you, in everything you liked to do while you were alive.

Rafayel:

Rafayel embodies the term of a tortured artist. He locks himself in his house and paints you. That’s all he he’ll draw and those paintings are for his eyes only. He stopped selling his artworks and whenever Thomas wants to scold him for it, he‘ll give him the day off and will continue painting you. Every single expression you had, your ample body adorned in all kinds of expensive clothes, certain scenes of your previous dates. He‘ll draw it all and even more.

Rafayel stares down at the painting of you with a gentle smile and traces along your facial features on the painting. You look exactly the way he remembers you and warmth spreads across his chest.

“Cutie, you love to make me wait, don’t you? Is that it? You like having me obsessed? It makes the reunion much sweeter, huh? Well, I can’t really hold it against you. I‘ll wait for you again. I’ve done it before and I have no problem doing it again.“

Rafayel’s smile drops a little and he bites his chapped lips, his gaze still laser focused on the painting. “I was serious, by the way. I won’t hold it against you that you made me wait. I won’t even tease you about it. So, come back soon. Please.“

For a while, Rafayel will continue to live this way and it will work for him. He‘ll continue to live in the past and bask in your presence. He‘ll do so happily, and manipulate himself into thinking that he’s okay. Rafayel will think of all the ways that he will worship you when you come back. He’ll lay you out in front of him and ravish you. He’ll smell you, hold you tight. He‘ll continue to live in this self imposed delusional bubble until he notices that he can’t remember the sound of your voice anymore.

Rafayel hums happily as he finishes the painting of your laughing face. He smiles giddily at your soft face and thinks back about the date that this laugh occurred in. His smile drops immediately when he noticed that he couldn’t conjure up the sound of you laugh. Rafayel shakes his head and jumps up from his chair. His heart beats rapidly and he continues shaking his head in denial. “No, no. No, please. Please!“

He thinks back about the sweet nothings you told him, and he remembers them word for word. However, in his head it’s not your voice that’s speaking, but his.

Rafayel’s face forms into an expression of devastation and anger as he quickly grabs his cup filled with paintbrushes and throws it across the room. He pushes the easel over and buckles over as hot tears streamed down his stunning face. Rafayel’s sobs echo throughout the room. He can’t forget you. He just can‘t. He loves you, he adores you. How could he forget the sound of your voice?

Rafayel brokenly looks around the scattered art utensils and stares at the paintings of you. There was an umpteenth number of paintings in the room, and he exhaled shakingly. His delusional bubble burst and he understands that you’re not coming back. You didn’t do this to sweeten the reunion, you didn’t run away so that he could use you as a muse til felt loved enough to come back. You’re dead. It was gruesome and bloody and you were in pain.

A whimper escapes out of his mouth and he sluggishly made his way over to an empty canvas. He starts painting you again; this time it was the last moment he saw you. Your face bloody and dirty, your eyes vacant and beady and your squishy cheeks grey and dead.

He finishes his painting after a while and solemnly walks over to the ocean. It‘s freezing and slowly lapping at his naked toes. Rafayel walks forward until water reaches his calves, and then he walks further, and further.

A week later, there‘ll be news about how the popular artist has disappeared from the face of earth, and he’s left behind nothing but a room full of paintings of his dead partner.

Sylus:

Just like every day, Sylus walks over to your expensive headstone. He’s dressed in his best clothes, he showered and smells as good as he always does. His face is slightly scruffy from not shaving, but overall, nobody would be able to tell that he’s going through extreme grief.

“Good morning, sweetie. You would not believe the morning that I’ve had.“ Sylus‘ hoarse voice ground out as he starts picking at the huge bouquet of flowers. Just yesterday he brought you a different ginormous one, but he won’t let you go any longer than a day without fresh flowers. He softly puts the flowers on top of your tidy grave and smiles at the other expensive decorations he’s put there. He bought you one of the most expensive headstones in the world. Naturally, you only deserve the best. He gently wipes over your face on your grave stone and smiles happily. He picks at the leaves and dirt that have accumulated on the items and wipes the headstone clean. Sylus puts a soft blanket over your grave and sits at the very end of it. Maybe it’s the draconian genes in him that cause him to make a comfortable nest for you. He smiled at the thought and continues his story from before.

“There was a person in front of me in the line that looked exactly like you from the back. They were just as curvy as you, they had the same hair style as you and they even had your sense of style.“ Sylus grinned. He thought that you came back to him. He knew that you were alive. He knew that you couldn’t possibly be dead. When the person turned around and he saw it wasn’t you, he almost started crying right then and there. He shakes his head and pulls something out of the crinkly paper bag.

“I got your favourite drink. The barista gave me a free brownie today. She must’ve known that I was going to visit you. You always had the sweet tooth out of the both of us.“

Sylus put the fudgy brownie on next to him on top of blanket and sighs softly. He sits for a few minutes in silence. His lip wobbles and he closes his eyes tightly. He inhales and exhales sharply three times and opens his watery eyes afterwards.

“This must be my punishment, huh? For leaving you behind during our last life?“ Sylus asks with a sad smile. He looks down at the ground as tears roll down his cheeks. He wipes them away quickly.

“You wanted to give me a taste of my own medicine? Kitten, your stubbornness has always amused me, but I think you went too far this time.“

Sylus gazes at the smiling picture of you on your gravestone and his long fingers drift across the date of your death. He grits his teeth and pushes his forehead against the gravestone.

“Sweetie, I have learned my lesson. I swear I did. Come back now, alright? Come back to me. I don’t care if you don’t remember me. I don’t care if you hate me. I’ll take it all. Just come back.“

He clears his throat shakily and shakes his head. “No, this truly is my punishment. In the beginning you were disgusted by me. That should’ve been my sign to stop pursuing you. It wasn’t meant to be this time around. Our relationship should’ve happened organically. It shouldn’t have happened the way that it did and I should’ve left you alone, just like you wanted. My love, I promise I’ll do it better next time. I’ll protect you better. I’ll let you dictate our relationship. I mean, you dictated our relationship this time around as well, but next time I’ll let you come to me.“

Sylus laughs wetly and nods softly. “Yeah. That’s how we‘ll do it.“

Tears well up in his eyes as he remembered the moment of your death and his breath hitches. This time he let them fall freely and bawls into his hands.

Caleb:

This man is not doing okay. You died during the year in which he pretended to be dead. Naturally, he kept tabs on you, so when he heard rumours about you being dead, his world shattered. He flew over to Linkon, nothing else mattered anymore. He banged on your door.

“Pipsqueak, open the door. It’s me! I know, I know. It’s really me. It’s Caleb. Please, baby. Open the door for me, okay? I’ll explain everything inside. Please baby. Please, open the door for me. Please let me in.“ Caleb banged against the door desperately, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. Bile rose in his throat when you didn’t reply and he continued knocking against the door in a heavy rhythm.

“Baby… let me in. It’s me. I’m here. I’m here for you. I didn’t leave you. Open the door. Come on. Please.“

Caleb dropped to his knees and leaned against door with his forehead. At this point, he was still in denial, his hand was trembling heavily but he still banged against the door. Hoping for you to open the door. He hoped you’d let him come inside. He hoped you’d tear out his jugular. He hoped you’d beat the shit out of him. He hoped you’d let him get down on his knees and grovel for leaving you.

The door next to him opened and an old man stepped out and looked at him curiously. Caleb stared up at him with wet eyes.

“Young man, the owner of that apartment died recently. Have you not heard of it? Their funeral is tomorrow. I doubt anyone will show though, they’ve not had any visitors over during their stay here.“

Caleb stared at the old man, who looked at him in pity, and shook his head. “You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?“ Caleb asked, he couldn’t recognise the sound of his own voice. His voice was broken and grief- stricken. The old man sighed softly and closed his door.

Caleb stays there for a few hours without moving. He didn’t cry, he didn’t think. He just knelt there in front of the door with an aghast expression. After two hours, he stood up on wobbly knees and began walking. He pulled out his phone and texted your number.

'Pipsqueak, where are you? It’s me, Caleb.‘

'I will answer all of your questions.‘

'Should we meet at the café?‘

'Are you on a mission?‘

'Are you out with Tara?'

'Where are you?‘

'Tell me where you are, I’ll pick you up‘

'Can you respond to me, please?‘

'If you don’t want to talk, I totally understand. Just send me a thumbs up emoji.‘

'Baby, please.‘

'No, this is not real‘

Caleb numbly walked through the empty streets til morning. He visited the place of your funeral and numbly let it play out. There were a handful of people, not a lot. And none of them stayed for long. Except for Caleb. He watched all of the people pay their respects and then walk off happily. How could they be happy? Are these the only people that were around you during the past year? No wonder you recklessly went on that suicide mission. Caleb blinked sluggishly and watched as the funeral service came to its end.

Your funeral was a few weeks ago. Now, Caleb lays in his bed. His lips are bloody and cracked and he is starved down. His hair is greasy and bloody from not having showered and having ripped at his own hair. Nobody is there to see his deteriorating state, because nobody cares about him like you do. He blinks and stares at his phone as he eagerly waits for your message. You should really respond. He understands your frustration but you should still tell him yourself that you want to be left alone. He’s never liked when you gave him the silent treatment. He preferred it when you let him know how mad you are. He begins tipping yet again.

'Baby, should I cook you something? Your favourite meal, maybe? Will you then respond?‘

'Should I buy you something expensive? I’ll oblige, just send me the link.‘

'You went on that mission because I wasn’t there to stop you.‘

Caleb’s thumb freezes over the keyboard and hot tears pour out of his eyes and he throws his phone against the wall. He sobs loudly, hoping you’ll run into the room to comfort him. Maybe you’ll push his head into your warm and ample chest and let him listen to your heartbeat. He waits for a few seconds and sobs pathetically as dizziness caught up to him.

He had one job in life. To take care of you. And now you were dead. You thought he was dead as well when you died. The only comfort you probably had during those agony filled moments, was the fact that you’d reunite with him and even then he let you down. He let you down in every sense of the word. You would’ve never been as reckless with your life as you were, if he had been there. He would’ve made sure of it. It’s alright now. He‘ll remedy the betrayal you probably felt when he wasn’t there. He’ll let you chew him out now, happily. He’s made you wait for long enough.

[corpsypher]

Pierced through the heart, but never killed || Ghost x Fat!Reader ||

One shot (9.8k) Moodboard Ao3 link. Simon pays the price of his recklessness in the field, but his reward may be worth the pain. CW: reader described as fat/plus-sized/curvier/chubby, Patient/PT dynamics, Perv!Simon, reader is a nervous talker, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of wounds + violence, rehab shit, military shit, protective!Simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, hand kink, praise kink, slight knife play (blink and you’ll miss it), unprotected piv, degradation, lots of cum, oral (fem!receiving), breeding kink, scar worship(?), body worship, clearly 18+ MDNI.

He really fucking didn’t want to be there.

There was no one else to blame for his current situation other than himself. Seating in the sterile waiting room of the health services unit of undisclosed location military base, with his fucked up hand wrapped and immobilized in a splint. Simon was bored out of his mind. 

He was waiting for the medical staff to finish their briefing, they were starting him on physical therapy for the foreseeable future. It turns out that all the ligaments and tissue surrounding the carpometacarpal and metacarpophalangeal joints were more complex to heal than one might think. If only he'd known that before using his hand as a shield against a machete.

At least he could take comfort in remembering said weapon buried in the skull of the big Austrian fucker that thought it was a good idea to wear a dirty rag for a mask and come at him with a blade in close quarters, the imbecile.

“Lieutenant. They’re ready for you.” Finally, He stands up and silently follows the nurse who’d accompanied him since they removed the stitches a couple of hours before. She was an older woman, with a stern face and of few words, who hadn’t tried to chat him up while you worked on him, and at first, he thought it was because of his mask, but after a while he noticed she was short with everyone else.

The facility itself had no natural light, only a bright fluorescent-lighted ceiling with sad white and beige painted walls, it was dull and depressing. As they approached the rehab unit, he noticed you, all warm and soft in contrast with the environment. 

A fat birdie in baby blue scrubs that accentuate all your attractive curves, with a beautiful welcoming smile adorning your round, pretty face. Like a sucker punch, It made his stomach clench, and other parts of him stir in interest. 

Like the nurse, you didn't seem to be phased by his typically intimidating looks; it wasn't that he was actively trying to scare you either, it was just how he came across, plus the black balaclava made him look like a double-edged sword, he was aware of it.

“This is your assigned Physio for the time being, she’ll be in charge of your care from now on… I'll leave you to it.” And with that, the nurse was gone.

You seemed too fucking sweet to be in this place (he’d been in military hospitals that were as hospitable as a Man U pub in East London), and that thought is confirmed the second you open your mouth. 

You welcome him like he’d just landed in a beachside resort, he'd never been to one, nor was he opposed to visiting. But now that he thought about it, he could perfectly picture you in a skimpy bikini, lying under the sun, with those tempting lips sipping on a straw from a coconut, that's suddenly turning into a phallic shape-

“Lieutenant, could you please follow me this way?” Your voice -strangely familiar- cuts off his naughty thoughts. Something itches in the back of his mind, like he knows you, maybe from another base, but surely he would remember. He could never forget a face like yours.

“Just Ghost.” He remarks and follows you. Oh boy, does he follow you, like a Malinois taking orders. The moment he gets a good look at your behind, he's sold; that ass and those thighs moving in front of him are his personal version of being hypnotized. Luring him, drawing him in. 

Perhaps being here won’t be so bad after all.

He’d done PT before, for his leg and lower back. Yet he’d grown accustomed to the constant ache. The shot of electricity that sometimes ran down his legs, the fatigue that bullied his lumbar spine after an adventurous mission with the 141. He certainly didn’t expect that a few sessions hooked to the TENS machine would magically heal all the shit he’d put his body through during his years in active duty. 

Yeah, he’d done PT before…

But it was nothing compared to this, never like this. 

Starting with the pretty thing massaging, rubbing, and pampering him. Talking his ears off about everything that had to do with his injury, what the treatment would consist of, what the next couple of weeks were going to be like, what stage of cicatrization he was on, etc. 

It felt like heaven, having a pretty lass all over him. Until you flexed his wrist and sharp pain shot like fire from his fingers to his elbow. 

You apologize, even though it's not your fault, and try to make light conversation in an attempt to distract him. His answers are short and not as friendly as yours, not because he doesn’t want to be, but because he’s concentrating on blocking out the pain, like he’d been trained to do, like he was used to.

Your breast constantly squeezing against the table the two of you were seating on certainly helped. 

The softness of your hands on his scarred one was fuel for his filthy imagination. Your sweet words of encouragement soothed him every time he grew frustrated, and the delicious scent of your perfume made his mouth water, tickling something nostalgic in his subconscious.

And then he started to forget about the pain.

Two weeks go by faster than Simon expected. He was getting better, it was less painful to close his fist, but his strength and fine motor skills were still fucked. He was no longer bored, though, he was using his free time as an excuse to become ambidextrous. 

The image of your soft, delicate hands holding him. The contrast of his scarred, calloused skin against yours, how you studied every uncovered inch with such attentiveness, it fed the thing inside him that wanted to sink its teeth on your neck and lock the fuck in.

Wanking off twice a day to thoughts of his PT was turning out to be quite the exercise. His brain had also decided it was a good time to let his breeding kink resurface -It hadn’t gone anywhere to begin with- because his muse had the perfect body for it. When he allowed his thoughts to wander down that path, he would come so fast it left him dizzy.

And you were so witty, and smart, and so goddamn sweet it satiated his sweet tooth, so attentive it filled his chest with a feeling he couldn’t name. Yet, you were a feisty little thing, a kitty with its claws sheathed. You would banter with him about football, throw bad jokes in reply to his, and scowl at him when he tried to cheat during his exercises. 

Yeah, he was feeling better than ever.

But then came Soap, giving him shit left and right about wanting to visit Simon at one of his sessions. 

Johnny had shown up -uninvited and unauthorized- just in time to see the plump birdie remove the hardened layers of paraffin wax from his hand and start stretching his strained tendons. The tender touch of your cool hands on his hot one and the sudden presence of the Sergeant in his peripheral view made him flinch slightly. It was a small movement, but enough for Johnny to take notice, the bastard smirked, amused, before locking eyes on you, then he lit up like a dog with a bone. 

The thing was, Johnny was also into bigger women. Johnny was into anything with a hole. They’d shared porn links of BBW getting pounded once or twice before (BBW getting pounded and bred to be more specific), so Simon knew exactly the kind of nasty shit lurking on the Scots mind. Chances were Simon had already thought of it.

The second Soap arrived, Simon knew he had to lay down limits. No looking, no touching. Easily communicated with a grunt and a subtle shake of his head. Turns out Johnny boy read that as an invitation, and not as the warning that it was.

Soap had then proceeded to grab a chair, and sat backward on it while facing them in the small table that had become yours since day one. And then the mutt-with-a-death-wish introduced himself and started to flirt with you. Right in front of Simon.

You were oblivious, laughed at Soap's usual shenanigans and threw cheeky comebacks here and there, keeping the conversation light and as professional as you possibly could while dealing with Johnny. 

“Poor Bonnie, ye probably exhausted after dealing with mean ol’ Lieutenant.”

“You’re wrong there, Sergeant. Ghost is one of the best patients I’ve ever had… You’d be surprised at how rude patients can be sometimes.” That last part was said quietly, and by the expression on your face, you immediately regretted saying it. Simon wanted to delve more into that, but Soap kept talking and changed the subject.

“Bet ya wish it was me in yer care, we’d have a fun time every time…”

When it was over, after the nurse kicked Soap out of the rehab unit for his boisterous behavior, Simon grabbed him by the scruff (with his good hand, he wasn’t going to fuck up your progress) and shoved him into a wall, he made it clear to Soap that he was not to do that again. “A’ight, no messin’ with yer doc, got it, now let off Lt.” He giggled in between forced breaths. Only then did Simon lift his forearm from his throat.

The next day, he decided to go in earlier to apologize for his squad mate's behavior. What he stumbled upon, was an example of your accidental confession. 

“I’ve said it a hundred times already, I can’t fucking do it! What’s the fucking point? I’m just wasting my time.” He heard the pitchy shouts before he saw them. A rookie soldier in crutches, towering over you, face red and nostrils flaring. While you were holding onto the handrail of the parallel bars like a lifeline. 

“Let's just give it a try, this is the last exercise for the day, alright?” Even dealing with the man's tantrum, you kept your polite demeanor. 

“I don’t fucking want to, I’m done.” The soldier started to maneuver his way around the bars, and you followed him, still unaware of Simon's presence. The nurse was arranging some papers on the other side of the room, watching everything unfold silently.

“Sir, we’re not done. I’m here to help you recover, there’s no need to be uncivil.” This time your words were stern, your face frowning in determination. Simon thought it was cute.

“There is no need to be a pain in the ass either, fat bitch!”

And that was enough of that, with a few long steps Simon was in the young man's space, looking down at him and sizing him up, ”Quiet.” One word was enough, the thin veil of anger that disguised the soldiers' fears vanished from his face. “Stop your whingin’. Apologise and sod off.”

“Apologies, ma’am.” the soldier said over his shoulder grudgingly. You acknowledged it with a single nod. 

“Not good enough, look at her and say it like you mean it, boy.” Simon ground his molars and clenched his fist to stop himself from doing the violent things he wanted to.

The soldier turned clumsily on his crutches and muttered another apology, slightly more sincere than the first. Simon took a step aside to let him go, he didn’t give a fuck about pulling rank over the lad, he just wanted him gone and away from you. He would deal with it more thoroughly later. He was sure Johnny would enjoy giving him a hand.

Once the shell shock case walked out, Simon approached you. Even though you didn't seem upset from the confrontation, he noticed that your chest was heaving as you took deep breaths to calm down. You were staring at the floor, eyes a little hazy, with a hand resting on your soft belly, working on controlling your breathing. 

“Y’alright?”  

“No, yeah-” You paused and tilted your head up at him. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Your cheeks seemed flushed. Simon assumed it was anger, yet he found you deliriously hot. 

Raising the hand he was jealous of from your navel, you comically looked at your naked wrist, “Well, look at the time, right on the dot,” He was not, it was still early. “I’ll just… grab a cup of tea, and then we’ll begin our session. I’ll be back in a moment.” You dashed away, leaving him with the nurse, who now looked at him with her arms folded, one brown raised and lips pursed, clearly not amused by the situation.

After that day, things were… different. Since you were usually the one to start most of the conversations, your frequent chats became strained. In fact, you hardly spoke to him anymore (well, not really, he just got used to your constant yapping), only to give him instructions. 

He found that he missed it, your sweet attention talks, what he normally detested in others, he found charming in you. Not having that made him feel uneasy. Not only that, but he desperately wanted to return the gesture. He knew that his usual nonchalant and sarcastic tone wasn’t gonna cut it this time.

You made every effort to avoid meeting his gaze, as it would only become more intense as it sought to meet yours constantly. Because if he couldn’t have your voice, he’d settle for your pretty eyes. He was aware that he was behaving a little insane -like a hunter stalking its prey- but he was unable and unwilling to control himself.

One day, you caught him by surprise and set a gun on the table. A Clock 17, unloaded and  with an empty mag, a cleaning kit laying beside it. You told him to get into it and put those fingers to work, then you pulled a .19 from the pocket of your thigh, sat beside him instead of your usual spot on the other side of the table, and started to disassemble it with an efficiency that rivaled Kyle’s. He wanted to fuck you right then and there.

He grunted while appreciating you with a warm smile hidden by his mask, but still evident in his eyes. You turned at the sound, finally meeting his gaze, you gifted him a bright smile that blinded him and made him feel a little hazy.

He blinked slowly, pulled himself together and started to go through the motions of a deep cleaning for a Clock. He could do it in his sleep, blindfolded, and hog tied. Only to find he was a sloppy mess that somehow could not even pull the slide from the frame without struggling with the catch levers.

“You got it, Lt. Slowly but surely.” You encourage him. He carried on, watching your soft hands handle the weapon felt like you somehow were touching an extension of him. Another thought to not share with his therapist.

As he got lost in his thoughts, Simon still had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. You felt so familiar, there was just something nostalgic about the way he felt about you. Like he was longing for something he couldn’t quite remember, a word on the tip of his tongue. Or maybe he was getting too attached, too fast.

A few weeks after the incident with the rookie, he graduated from the rehab unit and was back at the gym (still with some limitations) and other duties, but still you insisted on going down to the shooting range with him. You wanted to monitor his improvement during work activities, which in his case meant shooting big guns, reloading them, and throwing sharp knives. He’d not been given the all-clear on hand-to-hand combat yet.

It was a mistake. Simon knew it the second you left the comfort of the indoors behind. You were out of your usual scrubs and instead were dressed up in a pair of cargo pants, tan army boots and a black compression shirt that stretched to sinful limits around your shape. It was torture. All the men watching you parade through the base made his hands itch to pull eyes out of sockets.

And then you were pampering him again, carefully massaging and moving his hand before he started shooting at a target. Standing close to him to better assess his hold on the guns, you called him out when he misplaced a shaky finger to avoid discomfort, reminding him that it was important to practice without any compensatory movements, so he didn’t develop bad habits.

You were all over him again, all your attention was on him, on the way he stood, on how he unloaded and reloaded, on how he shot round after round. Not even Price and Gaz introducing themselves diverted your focus. It was elating, he felt intoxicated.

By the time you were done for the day, Simon escorted you back to the barracks sporting a semi. Then he practically jogged to his room and proceeded to jerk off like a madman with the smell of gunpowder and your scent still on his nose. Fantasizing about coming inside you, filling you so full of him, claiming your little holes and-

He was hanging on to his self-control by the skin of his teeth, one little nudge away from losing it.

It should've been no surprise to him that in the end, it was knives that did it.

Oh, the irony.

You were alone, standing in the small warehouse next to the shooting range. It was poorly lit, equipped with big wooden circles with targets painted on them, a marksman table bolted to the floor and a utility wall full of all sorts of sharp paraphernalia. 

You were closer than the day before, again in your new uniform, looking hot and smelling as tempting as ever. Meanwhile, he was fucking up all his throws. 

You’d been at it for half an hour now, and he was getting more frustrated by the second.

“You are holding them too tightly, you have your full strength back now. The goal is to practice micro-dosing it when it requires gentle movements. Let me show you.” You said while studying his form.

You stand on your tiptoes to reach his injured hand that's been holding the KaBar knife over his shoulder in a throwing stance. Your soft front brushes against his side. Your fingertips lightly touch his tense fingers gripping the handle, and then your voice is right by his shoulder, whispering dirty-sounding words of encouragement.

“Relax a little bit, yes. Just like that.” Your breath caresses his skin, and he suppresses a shudder, “Yes, yes, perfect! Now, do it!” He throws the knife. 

Neither one of you sees it land with a thud in the center of the target. 

He’s on you before he can stop himself. 

With his hands wrapped around your throat, he pulls you impossibly closer to him, you gasp and instinctively grabs his wrists. His thumbs on your soft jaw tilt your head to make you look into his eyes. You moan, an involuntary noise that escapes your throat. The sound travels like high voltage through his blood to his groin. 

“Lieutenant…” you whisper, voice cracking with fear and a hesitated question.

Simon growls, slightly tilting his hips against your belly, wanting you to feel his hard cock, his need.

"Always on top of me, touching me, tempting me."  He turns slowly, keeping you in his grasp, and you move with him. "You have no idea how long I’ve been stopping myself from putting my hands on you," two steps forward, and he traps you against the old marksman table. Left speechless, your hands fall to his hard chest. Not punching him away, he notes.

His hands travel from your throat down to your hip, gentle but heavy petting your curves, He leans close and nudges your cheek with his clothed one. Your breathing becomes more labored by the second. "So sweet, yet so oblivious to the effect you have on me." He whispers next to your ear as he tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging on your softness, "But I can show you."

Simon picks you up, you shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he sits you on the table. He swipes one hand behind you, clearing the table of the clutter that falls loudly to the floor, purposely missing a small knife, he grabs it and brings it up to point at you with the sharp tip, “You’re gonna owe me a mask after this.” 

He lifts the bottom of his balaclava and cuts a piece off to reveal his mouth. Pink and plump lips split by a long scar all the way from his nose, down his cupid's bow, to just above his dimpled chin. 

He doesn’t give you time to appreciate the new exposed piece of him, because Simon leans down to claim your mouth in a passionate, claiming kiss. His eyes flutter close as you share the warmth of his body, and the truth of his confession. Your hands slid to his arms, gripping his biceps as you pulled him closer, your tongue tentatively meeting his in an unspoken invitation for more.

The kiss grows more urgent, his tongue diving into your mouth as he tasted the sweetness of your submission. His hands roaming your body, familiarizing themselves with every curve, fingers tracing circles underneath your breast and on the softness of your waist. Your own hands started to explore him, your nails digging into the skin of his exposed arms as you traced his muscles like you’re memorizing him.

Pulling away from your mouth, he nuzzled his masked nose against the apple of your chubby cheek, "If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so, before I lose myself." He was giving you a way out of his possessive grasp before it was too late, before he sunk his sharp teeth into your juicy peach and decided he was not going to let go.

“I want you!” Your voice was a desperate whimper at the mere notion of stopping. You want it, all he would give you, you’ll take it. Your hands grabbed his shirt and tugged, trying to take it off, you managed to untuck it from his pants before he grunted and grabbed both your wrists in each of his hands to stop you.

He kissed you once more and bit your lower lip, making you gasp, He took the opportunity and licked inside your mouth. “Tongue.” he barked, you obeyed and shyly stuck your tongue out. Simon licked, sucked, and bit again. It was utterly erotic. 

He pulled away from you and made quick work of undressing, took off his shirt, and then undid the button and zipper of his cargo pants. He was so big, all over. Packed with muscles and a layer of fat that made it seem like he was naturally bulletproof, even when you knew that wasn’t the case. The scars he wore were a crude and raw testament of the truth.

He moved close again, reached for your knees, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh behind them, causing your legs to fall apart slightly. You watched, transfixed, as his hands moved closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. The teasing was agonizing, but you didn't want it any other way. Instead, you took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with each stroke of his hand.

With a predatory grace, Simon leaned over you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand traveled up your leg over the thick fabric that separated you from his touch. You felt the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach, a knot of excitement and fear that made your breath hitch. He paused just before he reached your center, his fingers tracing your sensitive inner thigh. You could feel the heat of his body, his scent mingling with sweat and arousal.

"You know," he said, his voice a low growl, "I’ve been dying to know what you taste like." His thumb hovered just above the fabric over your pussy, the pressure of it making you tremble. "Do you want to help me with that, baby?"

Your eyes widened, and you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body. You had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable while still being clothed. But there was something about the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, that made it feel so sexy. "Yes, Ghost," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I want that."

The Lieutenant's smile grew, his teeth a dangerous sight in contrast with the dark fabric of his mask. "Good," he said, his thumb finally sliding over the seam at your center.

With swift motions, he kneeled down to unbutton and yank your camo pants and panties off, making your hips rise and fall involuntarily, revealing your fuzzy, glistening wet pussy. The coolness of the air made you gasp, and you felt a thrill as his gaze locked on your most sensitive parts. Simon leaned in closer, his nose just inches from your sex. He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled your scent, his eyes closing in pleasure.

The sound of his deep inhale made your stomach flip. You felt a strange sense of power, knowing you could elicit such a reaction from him. His eyes snapped open, and you saw the hunger in them, the raw need that was no longer hidden behind the veil of indifference he usually donned. "Mm," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You smell so good, baby."

Without another word, Simon leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your fat mons, his stubbled cheek brushing against the naked skin of your inner thigh. Your hips jerked upward at the contact, a gasp escaping your lips, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to handle. He kissed you again, this time a bit closer to your clit, the stubble grazing your skin again, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

"Your pussy is so perfect," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So soft and plump. Just like a ripe little peach." He placed a hand on your hip, holding you in place as he continued to shower you with wet kisses, each one closer to the center of your desire. It was so bewildering, the way he was rough and gentle with you at the same time.

Your breathing grew ragged, your body trembling with each tender touch. Then, without warning, you felt wetness on your clit as Simon leaned in and let a bead of saliva fall from his mouth onto your sensitive flesh. You gasped at the sensation, the coolness of his spit mixing with the warmth of your slick. His tongue followed the droplet, tracing a wet line up the center of your pussy, and you felt a bolt of electricity shoot through your core.

"Ghost," you whimpered, your hands clutching the edges of the table.

"Shh," Simon soothed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just relax, sweetheart. I got you." He slid his middle finger along your slit, the tip of it teasing your swollen clit before delving into your wetness. Your back arched as he pushed the digit into you, his knuckles grazing your sensitive skin. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with fascination. "So perfect."

He began to pump his finger in and out, the motion sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You felt so full, so overwhelmed, still you craved more. You could feel your body responding in ways you didn't know were possible, so out of control, it was like an outer body experience. He had barely touched you.

“This was all I could think about every time you were holding my hand,” Simon said as he watched, transfixed, at the way his finger moved. “Making me all better just so I could repay you like this.” Your pussy clenched around his finger, begging for more, and you couldn't help but rock your hips in time with his movements.

"Tell me how it feels," he murmured, his voice a firm command that made your body quiver. "Does this pussy like when I play with her?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't lie. "It feels… amazing," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I've never felt like this before." You leaned back on your elbows and let your head drop back.

Simon's eyes lit up with excitement. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I want you to feel good, baby. I want you to know just how much I appreciate you." His thumb began to circle your clit as he continued to fuck you with his finger, the dual sensation making you moan even louder. "But we're just getting started. There's so much I want to do to you, so much more I want to do with you."

He stood up and with his free hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck to pull you upright, “Show me your tits sweetheart, take that fucking shirt off.” You hesitated for two heart beats and he amped the pace of his thrusts, “Take. It. All. Off.” 

You swallowed the nervous knot that formed in your throat and started to strip off your shirt. Once you were covered in only your sports bra, you took a deep inhale and straightened your back, reassuring yourself that there was nothing to be self-conscious about.

“You gonna make me repeat myself?” His tone dropped lower, his words a playful threat. You shook your head and off went your bra. As soon as you were bare before him, Simon ceased to move, his fingers still inside you, you even thought he stopped breathing for a moment. A nasty, insecure thought scurried across your mind, but it got squashed by the way Simon was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

Then he snapped.

He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your neck. You felt his hand move from your neck down to your chest, his calloused thumb grazing your nipple before he took it into his mouth. It was overwhelming, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he began to suckle. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the new relentless rhythm of his finger inside your pussy, left you on the brink of a form of pleasure you had never experienced before.

With each second that passed, your breathing grew more erratic, your body moving in time with his. The sound of his mouth on your skin blended with your moans and the distant sound of the shooting range. The warm flush on your face was a stark contrast to the coolness of his saliva as it dripped down your chest. His free hand moved to your other breast, kneading and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was a symphony of sensations, each one building upon the last until you felt like a supernova.

"Do you like that, baby?" he murmured against your skin, his teeth scraping your nipple before capturing it between his teeth. "Do you like how I make you feel?"

Your breath hitched, and you nodded frantically. "Y-yes, Simon." you managed to gasp out, your voice tight with need.

Simon's smile grew wider when he finally heard you say his name, and he leaned closer, his face inches from your chest. He took your other nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tight peak as he began to thrust his finger faster, your pussy clenching around his digits with each vicious stroke. He swapped back and forth, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, never letting the sensation ease.

As he sucked, he let out a low groan, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hand moved to your other breast, giving it a playful slap that made you jump. You felt so aroused, so desired, the thought of someone walking in any moment made you forget about any insecurity, and you couldn't deny the thrill of it. It felt like he owned you, and you were his to do with as he pleased.

With a sudden, almost feral growl, Simon pulled away from your breasts, his eyes locking onto yours. He leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of your finger fucked pussy, his hand still working your clit. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned between your legs, his cheek brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as you watched him, his massive frame casting a shadow over your most intimate parts.

"Fuck." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. And then he lowered his mouth to your pussy again, his tongue sliding through your folds with the ease of a hot knife through butter. The sensation was overwhelming, the combined feeling of his rough stubble and the warmth of his mouth sending you spiraling into a whirlwind of pleasure. You felt the muscles in your stomach tighten, your legs trembling as you tried to hold herself still, and your throat tightened, trying to not let out a sound.

Surprising you with his strength, He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his broad shoulder, his hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place. The new angle made you feel even more exposed, your pussy open and vulnerable to his every whim. He took full advantage of the position, his tongue delving deeper, reaching places you didn't even know existed.

Your moans escaped you and grew louder, filling the closed space of the warehouse as the cool air caressed your heated skin. The fabric of his mask kissed your bare thighs as he moved between your legs, it tickled your sensitive flesh as he licked and sucked. You could feel his hot breath against your clit, the sensation making your hips buck involuntarily, nobody had eaten you out like this before, with such desperation.

The Lieutenant's tongue was playing your body like a fine instrument, he knew just how to touch you, just how to make you whimper and beg for more. Each flick of his tongue was a sweet torture, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, without pushing you over just yet. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you tried to hold back the scream building in your chest. You could feel the tension coil tighter and tighter, your body hanging on the precipice of something you had only ever read about in your stash of romance novels.

"Simon," you gasped, voice a needy whisper. "I'm… I'm going to… "

Your words dissolved into a whimper as you felt the heat inside you build. Simon's tongue had become relentless, swirling and flicking against your clit with a skill that seemed to defy his brusque exterior. 

His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, the slight edge of pain mixed with pleasure, sent you spiraling higher and higher. You could feel your pussy tightening around his finger, the muscles in your soft stomach seizing up, your body shaking with the strain.

Your obscene sounds grew louder, filling the air with the sweet symphony of your impending orgasm. Simon's eyes remained locked on you, the intensity in them unwavering as he felt your body tense beneath his touch. He knew you were close, and the thought of making you come sent a jolt of excitement through his own body. 

"That's it," he murmured in between licks, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me."

He moved one of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart even farther, using his thumb and forefinger, he kept the speed of his tongue while doing it. You could feel the orgasm growing, a rush of bliss that stole the breath from your lungs. His mouth was a brand of fire on your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You let out a keening cry, your body arching off the table as you came, your pussy convulsing around his fingers. The waves of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Simon didn't stop. He continued to lick and suck, your juices coating his lips and chin as he drank in your sweetness, dampening the fabric of his balaclava. The feeling of his tongue on your clit was exquisite torture, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure through you. You could feel the muscles in your pelvis spasm, your legs quivering as you rode out your climax.

When the last tremor of your release faded, Simon pulled back, a smug smile on his face. His cheeks and lips were wet with your cum, a glistening trail of saliva connecting his mouth to your pussy. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Mmm," he murmured, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "You taste so delicious, baby."|

You felt a flush of embarrassment as you looked away, your pussy still spasming slightly with aftershocks of pleasure. Reality started to creep in on your lust-addled mind. But the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, it distracted, you felt beautiful, desirable. He was overwhelming. "Si…" you whispered, unsure of what to say.

Simon chuckled, a satisfied sound that resonated in your very bones. "Look at me, baby," he said, his voice a gentle command that you couldn't ignore. You lowered your eyes, meeting his gaze. "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles around your clit. "Your whole body just lights up."

He bent over you, the weight of his massive frame pressing you into the table. You could feel the heat of his chest, the dampness of his skin against your own. His breath tingled your skin as he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his eyes searching for approval in yours, his hand still playing with your pussy.

You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the wave of emotions that surged through you. You could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving with each ragged breath you took. He pinched your clit, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body, overstimulating you.

"Good," Simon murmured, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. "Now, give me that sweet mouth."

He shifted his weight, his powerful muscles flexing as he moved to lie on top of you. His body was like a blanket of warmth and security, his weight pressing you into the table. You felt your heart race even faster, your eyes never leaving his as he lowered his face to yours. The edges of his mask and his scruff brushed against your cheek, the scent of him -musky and manly- surrounding you.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was consuming and possessive. You felt his tongue slip into your mouth, tasting, exploring, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, your legs spreading to accommodate his thick thigh between them. The strokes of his tongue slowly became more forceful, and you could feel his hard cock pressing against your soft stomach.

The kiss grew sloppier, wetter, as you both succumbed to the overwhelming passion that had been building for a long time. His spit mingled with yours, the salty taste of flesh mixed with faint remnants of nicotine and the lingering sweetness of your juices. It was messy, raw, and utterly consuming. The stubble on his chin scraped against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

With one hand on your jaw and the other still buried between your legs, a sudden primal need took over Simon, he pulled back and spit into your mouth without warning. It was an act of dominance, a claim that left no doubt of his intentions. The saliva slipped over your tongue, warm and slightly bitter. Your eyes went wide with shock, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you swallowed, the gesture feeling almost like a declaration of acceptance.

"Mm, such a good girl," he murmured, his hand sliding up your body, over your curves, to rest on your hip. His thumb stroked your skin, his eyes never leaving yours, feeding all the eye contact you had starved him off. "You're so soft, so precious. Yet I could crush you with my bare hands if I wanted to."

You felt said massive hand grab your waist, his fingers spread wide and sinking into your love-handles as flesh spilled out from between them. He was so much larger than you, his body a testament of his strength and power. You felt like a mere slip of a thing in comparison, it sent a thrill of euphoria through you. 

"Nearly became a lefty, and not because of your little exercises, love. I had to jerk off every time I left you." Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks flush. The feeling of being so fervently desired by him was electrifying.

"Do you want to see my cock?" he tilted his head slightly, it was almost comical, but his deep and gravelly voice rumbled over you.

You had seen a few before, nothing bad but nothing memorable either. The thought of seeing Simon Riley's cock was dizzying. "Y-yes," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a predatory grace that defied his size, Simon stood up, his towering form casting a shadow over you. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his cargos and boxers, and pulled them both down with a swift move, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and the massive cock that jutted out from between them. 

It was huge, the size of which you had only ever read about in books and seen in the most exaggerated of porn, but still so pretty. The sight of it made you gulp, your eyes widening with anticipation and excitement. You could study it and write prose about it if given the time.

"Look at it," he said, his voice filled with pride as he took his cock in his scarred hand and stroked it slowly. The skin was velvety and pink, the veins standing out in stark contrast against his pale flesh. "This is me, baby. This is your man."

You couldn't help but stare, your eyes drawn to the thick, pulsing length of him. His pubic hair was a wild blonde thicket, a stark contrast to the rest of his body, which was mostly hairless. His balls were massive, heavy, and full, hanging low with desire. He cupped them in his other hand, rolling them gently, the motion causing his cock to bob and sway. "See how big they are?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "These are just for you."

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for a second as you nodded, only to drop back down to his movement, feeling too overwhelmed to find words. He was so imposing, so commanding, and you were at his mercy. "They're huge," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

With a wicked smile, Simon leaned back over you, his cock still in hand. "You make me feel things I thought I never would," he said, his voice a low growl. "Can you believe that?" He began to stroke himself more vigorously, the sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft a wet, slick sound that echoed through the air. "Lust, for one. Possessive, for another. Just for you."

Your eyes remained glued to his cock as he spoke, the size of it making you feel intimidated and incredibly turned on. You had never seen anything so brutally masculine. You swallowed hard, your mouth feeling dry as you imagined what it would feel like inside it.

"Tell me, baby," Simon rumbled, his hand moving faster along his shaft. "Do you want to know how it feels to have me inside you?" he asked like he could read your thoughts.

You nodded frantically, the words trapped in your throat. Your pupils were blown wide with desire as you watched him stroke the pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock. You were craving the feeling of being filled by him.

"Good girl," Simon praised, one hand moving to squeeze the base of his shaft and the other grabbing your thigh once more, his cock hovering just above your pussy. "Now, let's put those pretty feet of yours over my shoulder," he said, his tone a gentle command.

You complied, your legs shaking with a mix of excitement and nerves as he lifted your hips off the table and moved you closer to the edge. He positioned you so that your ankles rested on his broad shoulders, your pussy at his mercy, your soft belly and breast offered like a banquet to indulge his appetite. The buzz of anticipation of what was to come making you squirm beneath him, it was almost unbearable.

With a wicked grin, Simon began to drag the tip of his massive cock over your slit, teasing your clit with every pass. It was exquisite, the slickness of his pre-cum combining with your own wetness created a deliciously slippery path. You watched as he worked himself over you, his muscles tensing and releasing with each stroke, his hand moving with the determination of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

Your breath caught in your throat as he guided the full length of his shaft over your core, the sheer size of him making you feel small and unbearably empty. It was so different from when he used his hands and mouth, so much more intimate, it had your entire body quivering. You could feel the head of his cock nudge against your opening, the bluntness of it hinting at the pleasure to come.

"Look at that," Simon murmured, his voice low and filled with fascination. "Look how eager you are for my cock." He leaned down, his mask brushing against your cheek as he whispered in your ear. "You're going to be so tight… So tight around me."

Your breath hitched, your eyes still glued to the sight before you. The tip of his cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance, the head nudging gently against it. You could feel the warmth of him, the pulsing need that seemed to radiate from his very pores. "Simon," you breathed, your voice trembling.

He was going slow, almost agonizingly so. Simon watched the head of his cock finally breaching your slick folds, and he groaned. Your eyes went wide, your body stiffening as you felt the first inch enter you. It was glorious. He was so big, so thick, it felt as though you were being split in two, like there was a “you” before and after this.

"Look at that," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So tight, so wet for me." He began to move, inch by inch, filling you up with his massive girth. With every push, you felt yourself stretching, accommodating more of him, and you couldn't help the moans that slipped from your lips. "That's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixated on your pussy. "Take it all, baby. Take every last inch of your man's cock."

There was a faint pain despite being prepared to take him, it was laced with something pleasant. Each time he pushed forward, you felt yourself opening up to him, your body reshaping itself just for him, for his cock, every cell of your being responding to his steady thrusts. His breath tickled your neck, hot against your skin, as he whispered sweet taunts that sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a good little slut," he said, his voice a low growl. "Letting me fill you up like this."

Your cheeks flamed with both embarrassment and arousal. The words should have offended you, but instead, they made your pussy clench around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal making it easier for him to slide deeper into you. His movements grew more deliberate, the slow, torturous pace driving you crazy with need.

"Look how much of me you can take," he said, his voice a sensual purr. "You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

The words were like a brand, searing themselves into your soul and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You liked it, the way his words made you feel both dirty and desired. With a final, agonizingly slow push, he bottomed out, fully buried inside you, his balls resting against your ass. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him.

"Atta girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with hunger and lust. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips with the same demanding force as his cock had your pussy. The taste of him filled your mouth, mingling with your own sweetness.

As the kiss deepened, Simon began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your head. He pushed in to the hilt, filling you completely, before pulling back almost all the way out. The sensation was maddening, the friction of his cock against your inner walls making your toes curl, and your nails dig into his skin.

With each thrust, he grew more aggressive, his grunts growing louder, filling the quiet warehouse with the sounds of your sexual consummation. Your moans grew in tandem, your breath hitching with every stroke. You felt like you were being claimed, owned, and the feeling was intoxicating. The pleasure built inside you, a heat that grew with each stroke of his cock.

Simon held your hip with a tight, possessive grip, his strong hands pinning you in place as he fucked you with a brutal efficiency that defied his gentle touch from before. The look in his eyes was like a storm, swirling with emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. Was it just desire? Lust? Or something else, something far more profound? You didn't know, and you didn't care. All you knew was that you needed more of him, you needed him deeper, harder.

Your eyes fluttered shut, unable to bare the weight of his stare, but he was relentless. Forcing you to meet his gaze, "Look at me," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "Look at me when I fuck you." your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself lost in his gaze once again, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you.

He went rougher, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust, the sound echoing off the walls of the warehouse. It was a primal, carnally satisfying sound that seemed to resonate through your very core, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Each thrust sent a jolt of divine pleasure through you, mixing with the pain of his intrusion to create a cocktail of sensation that was more addictive than any drug.

He lowered his head to your neck and murmured, "I can feel your heartbeat around me. It's driving me fucking crazy, baby." His teeth nipping at your skin. "You make me feel strong when I'm inside you. Like I can conquer the word." More heat bloomed in your core, "You're going to swell up with my cum, love."

Your eyes widened, shock and arousal coursing through your veins, the thought sent a thrill through you. "You like that, don't you?" Simon asked, his voice a low rumble. "The thought of being filled with my cum, growing round and lush with my seed?" He leaned down to nip at your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "You're going to be the best little breeding slut, aren't you?"

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn't deny the way your pussy clenched around him, the way your hips began to lift to meet his thrusts. He noticed the change in you immediately, the way you moaned louder, the way you arched your back and pushed your breasts up towards him, like a heavenly offer. "Oh, you do," he said with a smug smile, his strokes becoming more forceful. "You want my cum, don't you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, the word torn from you as he hit a spot deep inside you that sent waves of pleasure through your body. "I want it."

"That's what I thought," Simon said, his grin wicked as he leaned back and began to fuck you with a viciousness that left you gasping. Each thrust was a declaration, a claim, a promise of what was to come. "You're going to be so full of me, baby. So full of my cum." His words were sweet, almost tender, laced with a brutal certainty that had your pussy spasming around his cock.

He placed his scarred palm over your opened mouth like he was trying to suffocate you, his fingers were spread apart and roughly grabbed your face. ”Kiss it,” He demanded, “Lick it, baby.” He gripped you by the waist with the other hand, your soft flesh giving in to his ruthless hold. 

You did as he commanded, making out with the flesh you knew so well, licked and kissed the scar you healed. You got lost in the feeling of worshiping the creased skin of his hand. Worshiping him.

With a roar, Simon plunged two of his fingers into your mouth, thrusted in you one last time and you felt his entire body tensing as he reached his climax. You felt the hot, thick spurts of his cum fill you as you sucked on his fingers that still tasted like you. It was exhilarating. His hips jerked against you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you. 

The feeling of his seed spilling into you was unlike anything Simon had ever experienced before, a primal rush that resonated through his very soul.

Your own orgasm followed quickly, your body shaking with the force of it. Your scream muffled by his digits, your nails digging into the skin of his thighs, you held on as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Simon never took his eyes off of you, watching you fall apart beneath him with a ferocious and possessive stare. 

The sound of your combined release filled the air, a symphony of moans and grunts that echoed off the walls surrounding you. His cock swelled even larger, his spurts of cum painting your inner walls and claiming you as his, you could feel his cock jerk with each one, filling you to the brim, stretching you impossibly wider.

"Ten," he panted, his body finally stilling above you. "Ten spurts of my love, baby." He leaned down, kissing you softly, his tongue slipping into your mouth, sharing the taste of the moment with you.

You felt boneless, the scale of your climax leaving you trembling and overwhelmed. You could feel his cum inside you, a warm, thick presence that filled you completely. The reality of what they'd just done settled over you, a mix of shock and euphoria.

Simon's cock twitched one last time before sliding out of you with a wet pop, leaving your pussy gaping open and exposed. He watched you with smug satisfaction, his chest heaving with exertion. The head of his cock was still coated in your combined juices, a white foamy ring around the base showed how good the sex had been.

You lay there, your chest heaving, your legs trembling as you tried to come to terms with what had just happened. You felt… changed, somehow. Different. The intimate nature of the encounter only served to amplify your afterglow, leaving you feeling both sated and yet insatiably hungry for more.

Simon’s cum was slowly trickling out of you, the sticky warmth of it reminded you of the unhinged way you’d acted. You couldn't believe you had begged for it, begged to be filled with his seed. But you had, and now you felt both ashamed and strangely proud of yourself. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you, awakening something you didn’t know was there.

Simon stood up, his massive cock still semi-hard and wet with your slick. He looked down at your pussy, a proud smile playing on his lips as he gently removed your legs from his shoulders. "You did so well, sweetheart," he said, his voice still gruff with desire. "Can’t wait to get you on my bed."

You felt a swell of hope at his words, he wanted more too. Despite the anxiety and confusion that fought within you, you had never felt so alive, so desired. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Still standing over you, he offered you a hand up. As you took it, you felt the tremble in his fingers, the residue of his own climax. He helped you to your feet, his gaze lingering on your naked form, committing every detail to memory.

"I could just bend you over right now and fuck that sweet, tempting ass," he said, his voice a gruff purr. "But I've got to get you cleaned up. Somebody is bound to show up, so we’ll leave that for later." He playfully slapped one ass cheek, making you jump and shriek. It stung, leaving a warm imprint off his palm, a clear gesture of ownership. "You stay here while I look for something to clean us up," he ordered, his tone gentle.

You watched as he strutted away, his muscular frame flexing with every step, the wetness on his cock glistening under the dim light. You couldn't help but admire him, the way his cock bobbed slightly with each movement. It was an erotic sight, one you could get used to.

As he looked around, and the afterglow cleared from your foggy brain, you pondered how to tell him the story; about a young soldier you met in the ICU years ago, when you were just an intern. A handsome young man who had a tube down his throat and a wound on his lower back from ricochet shrapnel. How you had been the one assigned to move all his joints and stretch all his muscles, two times a day, every day, while he was unconscious. How you would talk to him about anything and everything, even if he didn’t answer. How you were the one who took care of the man until your rotation ended, and you were sent elsewhere, never knowing what became of him. Never seeing the soldier again. 

Until Simon “Ghost” Riley decided to use his hand as a shield against a machete.

Taglist: @partygetsmewettexxx @staley83 @madokawrites, Happy Birthday! @blacksilks

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Shedding tears, rocking in a corner, so deeply in love with this man. You wrote him so beautifully, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH 🥹💖💖💖

Bokuto x plus size reader

ignore me not having any consistency and just writing whatever I want from multiple fandoms BD

okay okay it's literally canon that he likes bigger girls and I just refuse to take any other opinion

right so since he is literally the most accepting man ever,, he's your own personal hype man smh,, and because he's SO strong,,, he'd always be giving you piggy back rides and not be afraid to literally just carry you around places, just to make you feel better (and to show off his strength whoops)

PLEASE he'd just be like "nah bb please you weightless tf" because its my nIGHTMARE TO BE TOO HEAVY AND TO HURT SOMEONE WHO TRIES TO PICK ME UP so I'll just assume its the same for other people :) but pLEASE JUST LET IT HAPPEN HE'S BIG BEEFY BOY HE'S FINE

right also so it's a big thing that bo has stretch marks (not sure if it's canon but oh well) and just iMAGINE you both giving confidence about them to the other -if you have them- being like "well if it looks good on you then maybe it might look okay on me???"

PLEASE JUST BE EACH OTHERS HYPE MEN

I imagine you'd both literally just share emotions,, whenever he gets sad,, so do you and vice versa

IF YOU PLAY ANY KIND OF GAMES LIKE MARIO KART,, ANIMAL CROSSING OR JUST DANCE PLEASE PLEASE TEACH HIM

him always being so salty and low-key raging when he always comes twelfth in Mario kart

and your animal crossing islands I mean his would be kind of messy but he's tried so hard and it ends up actually kind of cute because it matches his loud energy if that makes any sense,, I feel like he's the type of person to just buy everything from the nook shop and just place it randomly around the island,, so you offer to help fix it up a bit

and please,, playing just dance together,, literally always at 3am when you wait for your cookies to finish baking in the oven or something like that pLEASE

and the midnight drives to McDonalds,, like him just buying so much food to just be like "gotta keep that beautiful body fed!!" pleASE TELL ME WHERE TF CAN I BUY A BOKUTO LIKE HOW MUCH

ugh and trying to work out with him!!!! I-!!!!!! he'd be so supportive!!! always being right by your side and being your hype man,, saying how well you're doing!!!!!

okay okay so whenever you can't see each other in the mornings and evenings because he's at games or whatever,, he'd always send you little reminder good morning and good night texts!!! just little 'I love you's and little reminders to eat and drink and- nirbiyebci

PLEASE JUST SING HIM TO SLEEP,, FOR ME DO IT FOR ME PLEASE EVEN IF YOU CANNOT SING JUST DO IT

if not at least read a book to him in the softest voice you can muster until he falls asleep with his face buried in your chest :(((

him struggling so much to sleep when you're not there to sing to him when he's pressed up against your soft,, warm body <////3

please mans will so sheepishly call you at like 1am to just be like "... I couldn't sleep.."

him making you those little friendship bracelets!!! he'd do it just so that no matter how far apart from each other you are, you'll always be connected because he's a cheesy simp like that

I can't even tell you how much it means to him,, how much effort he put into it because lets be real here,, I don't really see bo as a master diy man,, and because he's not the most patient person,, he had to literally like go against his programming to make you it bcubicdw

so please just never take it off, because it will literally break him

always watching Disney films and him belting the songs around the house for the next few days to come-- he's trying he really is

having baths together!!!! not in a sPiCy way or anything but just so he can hold you close to him :((

just your back against his broad ass chest in a scented bubble bath with candles lit everywhere and soft ass classical instrumental pieces playing in the background and him just drawing little shapes on your stomach and- HXBDUBEW

I see him to be the type of person to impulsively get tattoos,, he will really try to persuade you on like a night out to get matching ones with him, and if you're comfortable enough to agree, I see him getting something really feminine on like his ankle or wrist

the next morning being like "..do you regret it??" "...no." EIBXIW

please adopt a dog with him :((((( he's such a dog person I can't

he's definitely the type of person to get really dressed up like gown and suit kind of thing just to then go around town and to like a supermarket or something EUNXEU

ALSO ALSO please do the euphoria makeup trend on him :(( I feel like he'd do it back too and actually be like surprisingly alright at it,, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration hbciyrncd

you guys getting all dressed up and sexyyy to go out to clubs and stuff just to flaunt one another off to others

learning dances with him and whenever one of you mess it up,, just breaking up into fits of laughter

the hugs would be superior!!!!

all in all, Bokuto is best man and I shall simp till the day I die <333

[annoyingsmartass]

Stupid Dress Doesn't Fit (18+)

Synopsis: While getting ready for an event, Caleb walks into your room to see if you’re ready, only to find you standing in front of the mirror, mascara smudged, tears streaming down your face, as you stare back at yourself, completely hating the way you look in the tight dress. Caleb ensures you know just how good you actually look, with or without the dress on.

Pairing: Caleb x femChubby!Reader

Wc: 1.8K words

Tags: Caleb x femChubby!Reader, insecure!Reader, smut, unprotected sex, mdni, fingering (fem receiving), use of Pipsqueak Pips and Pretty Girl, established relationship, piv, dirty talk, mentions of body dysmorphia and insecurity, Caleb reassures Reader, crying because of body, squirting (kind of?), creampie, mirror sex, lmk if I missed anything!

Notes: This is my very first fic! I’ve wanted to get into writing for a while now, so I decided, what the heck! Suggestions and tips are welcome, just please be kind! Thank you! <3

You loved getting dressed up. But you also hated it at the same time.

Seeing all those beautiful dresses online, shopping for them, and thinking, “Oh my gosh! That dress is so cute on her!” and then ordering it, trying it on, and it not fitting the right way at all. It’s not fair how those models wear it so perfectly, and then the second you put it on, it looks as if you’re wearing a really bad Halloween costume from when you were 13. 

That’s exactly the predicament you find yourself in on this Friday evening. After barely getting this new dress over your chest, shimmying it down over your tummy, and getting the skirt past your butt and thighs, you look into the mirror and feel like a lumpy sack of potatoes.

“What the hell? This is not how it looked online,” you huffed out, fuming because you did not have enough time to find another dress. You felt that familiar burning sensation building up behind your eyes, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. Great, your fresh face of makeup was probably ruined now.

You looked over the way your tummy was visible through the front of the dress, the way your love handles made your sides look lumpy, and let’s not forget about how your thighs were practically spilling out of the skirt. You didn’t even want to go anymore, let alone let Caleb see you like this.

Sure, you two had been dating for a couple of months, and it’s not like you hadn’t had sex, but every time you did, you insisted on having the lights off, and who was Caleb to make you feel uncomfortable by denying your request? Some part of you knew that Caleb wouldn’t care in the slightest about your tummy or love handles; in fact, he would probably appreciate them (more to love, right?). But you didn’t want to risk it, because all of your past relationships always made you feel so insecure, like your worth was less than because of your size.

You’re suddenly yanked out of your self-deprecating thoughts by the sound of a soft knock and the opening of your door. Your tear-stained face whips around to find Caleb standing in your doorway, a white dress shirt stretched across his broad chest, straining against his biceps, complete with a blue tie and dress pants, a confused look written across his face.

He rushes forward when he sees more tears fall from your eyes, a look of concern filling his. “Pips, hey, what’s wrong? Why is my beautiful girl crying?” he asks with a soft voice, taking your hands into his. That statement only makes you cry harder, your face turning away from him, trying to escape his grasp.

He takes both of your wrists in one hand, using the other to gently grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, answer me, pretty girl,” he says, a small, reassuring smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to get out between sobs. “It’s okay, take your time, just tell me what’s wrong, Pips,” Caleb says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“It’s just, I’m sorry, I’m not ready, and I hate this dress and how it looks on me, and I’m sorry you have to go out with me looking like this-” you’re cut off by a kiss, his lips meeting yours gently, but with a purpose. 

As he pulls away, his eyes don’t leave yours. “What are you even talking about? This dress? It looks fucking amazing on you, Pipsqueak. And I’m the luckiest guy on the planet to be able to go out with you. I hate how much you talk down on yourself. You’re so breathtaking, and I want to show you just how much I love you. I’m going to make sure you know just how fucking amazing you are.”

Your eyes go big at his last statement, a blush creeping across your cheeks. You swallow harshly as he moves his eyes painfully slow up and down your body. He kisses your lips quickly, one last time, before turning you around to face the mirror, your back pressing against his firm chest. He rubs his hands up and down your arms slowly, goosebumps left in their wake. 

“Look how pretty my Pips is in this blue dress, the way it hugs every beautiful curve,” his hands move down your sides slowly, accentuating your curves, “how delicious her thighs and pretty tits look in it,” he grabs your hips, slightly rubbing your ass against his crotch. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “and how beautiful she’ll look with it off and on the floor.”

He kisses your neck, biting slightly without breaking eye contact in the mirror. Your chest rises and falls quickly with your increased heart rate. “B-but Caleb, can’t we just go over to the bed if we’re going to do this? In front of the mirror is going to be embarrassing,” you mutter out, eyes darting down to the floor. 

“Nah, I’m going to show you just how much I appreciate this beautiful body, and you’re going to watch until you believe it yourself,” he says with a smirk. You bite your bottom lip, knowing that if you actually wanted to stop, he would in a heartbeat. But, there’s a part of you that wants to give in, wants to let him worship your body. So you let him continue.

He begins to unzip the back of your dress, sliding it down your body painfully slow. He savors every second of it, the way it lets your lacy panties and bra set show, and the way it bears you on display for him. You can feel the bulge in his pants against your backside now, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. His hands leave your body for a second, undoing his tie and dress shirt, letting them fall to the floor. 

“So pretty for me, Pips,” he mutters out, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slide to the floor as well. He holds back for a split second before his hands are on your boobs, kneading them as they fill his entire hands. You arch into his touch, a small moan slipping past your lips.

“Eyes up, watch how good I make you feel,” he bites out, one of his hands coming up to grab your chin, making you watch yourself in the mirror. With one hand still on your chin, his other hand snakes down your body, moving your panties to the side, and slipping one finger between your slick folds.

“So wet for me already, do you secretly like the way I’m making you watch yourself?” he smirks, finally putting two fingers inside your tight hole. “That’s my girl, so pretty grinding against my fingers.” Your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers, his erection pushing painfully against the zipper of his dress pants as he continues to grind against your ass. 

“Fuck, Caleb, please!” you whine, not even knowing what you’re begging for at this point, just knowing that you need more. “You want me inside of you, Pipsqueak?” Caleb huffs out, his fingers working quickly inside of you. “Yes!” you moan out as he curls his fingers inside of you. Your thighs clench around his hand as he brings you close to the edge. 

“I want to watch you come undone on my fingers first, pretty girl. Cum for me, yeah? Gush all over my fucking fingers, let me see you.” Your back arches against his chest, your legs beginning to tremble. That familiar coil at the bottom of your tummy begins to tighten as he brings you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Fuck, Caleb!” you whine, clenching around him as he curls his fingers again, “I’m gonna… m’ gonna cum!” you moan loudly, watching yourself come undone on his fingers in the mirror, slick gushing around his hand. 

“So pretty for me,” he says as you come down from your high, chest heaving. He gives you about thirty seconds to catch your breath before he’s yanking your panties off completely, fumbling with his button and zipper and pulling his own pants and boxers off. 

He walks you forward, pushing you flush against the mirror, your tits pressing firmly agaisnt it. “Look at how beautiful your tits look like this,” he murmus as the cold glass adds a whole new sensation to your nipples. “Now, I want you to feel how much you drive me crazy, I want you to forget all your insecurities, that sound good?” All you can manage is a nod before he grabs your hips, slamming into you, pushing you even harder against the mirror. You back is flush against his chest as he sets a slow but thorough pace. You can feel every inch of him as he begins to move. He’s mezmerized by the way your ass jiggles as he thrusts into you.

His head falls back as you clench around him, already dangerously close to another orgasm. “Can you hold on for me pretty girl? I want to make this last,” he pleads, a groan erupting from him as you clench again. 

He picks up his pace, a lewd wet slapping sound filling the room mixed with heavy breathing. He drives into you, making your whole body move with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, not sure you’ll be able to hold on much longer.

“Please, Caleb, I need to cum, please!” you beg, unable to think straight anymore. The only things left on your mind are him and how good you feel. You can feel his thrusts starting to get sloppier, his cock beginning to pulse inside of you. “I’m close Pips, I want you to cum around my cock inside you, pretty girl. Come undone for me,” he moans, his cock beginning to twitch, “Cum for me.”

You practically scream as your slick gushes around him, your orgasm making you see stars like your were just hit by a freight train. You feel his hips stop briefly, stuttering against you as he groans, his cum shooting in hot spurts inside of you. Your legs practically give out as his body is the only thing holding you up against the mirror.

“Do you believe me now when I say how beautiful you are?” he says with a soft chuckle, shaking his head before putting his forehead on your shoulder, still catching his breath. You nod slightly, a smile decorating your lips.

“Should we go clean up? I’m guessing we probably won’t make it in time now,” he laughs again, looking at the time. The event started 30 minutes ago, and they weren’t great with late admission. You nod, turning around to kiss him again, this time softly and filled with passion. “Thank you,” you murmur, burying your head in his chest. He hugs you tighter against his chest, “Of course, Pipsqueak.”

FIRST FIC COMPLETED!

[blackmarketfruitrollups]

"Just kill me, please."

"You know I can't do that, darling."

"Can't, or won't?" She questioned stubbornly, turning on her other side so she couldn't see him. "I don't think you love me anymore."

He blew an amused huff out of his nose before rounding their shared bed to look at her.

"If I didn't love you then I wouldn't put up with how pouty you get when you're sick." He cooed at her. "If I didn't love you then I wouldn't keep Markl from interrupting your naps, or make sure Calcifer saves breakfast for you when you can't walk down the stairs to get it yourself."

He lovingly stroked her hair, brushing it away from her sweaty forehead before planting a kiss on it, making her face pucker.

"Don't do that, you're gonna get sick." She fussed, trying to gently push him away from the bed and yet failing miserably.

"Never stopped me before." He hummed, this time leaving one on her cheek.

"Howl, stop. I mean it."

Disregarding her concern entirely he continued to kiss her cheeks, slowly drawing giggles from her.

"There she is," he smiled, "there's my sweet little wife."

She scrunched her face back up, pretending to be upset again. "You're unbelievable. You don't get to complain about it when you get sick too, you know I tried to warn you."

He grinned at her lovingly, this time kissing her on her lips.

"How could I ever complain about being sick when my pretty wife is the best nurse ever?"

[extremelyexh4usted]

didn’t feel like doing work so i came up with smth instead of doing an assignment

lovestruck!incubus who really has nothing better to do so he stalks the night, looking for someone to feed on when he encounters you in a bar, a beautiful girl who’s looking far too sad.

normally he goes after people who are uncomplicated and are good with a one night stand but lovestruck!incubus is so instantly drawn to you that he ignores his own rule.

you look absolutely stunning despite the despondent look on your face, tears running down your chubby cheeks like raindrops. you had come to go on a date with an acquaintance whom you were crushing on just to be stood up maliciously. now despite the gorgeous formfitting dress you put on, you feel so utterly… unattractive.

you’re stuck in a spiral of sadness when lovestruck!incubus hands you a tissue and softly asks if he can buy you a drink. the two of you get to talking and he eventually cheers you up, getting a giggle out of you during your conversation. his heart flutters at the sight of your smile, at first shy and small grow so beautifully.

lovestruck!incubus (probably) can handle a few more days without feeding; right now, he just really wants to make you smile like that again.

pt 2??

[monstersholygrail]

Dragon bf takes care of his treasures like any proper dragon should. You, being his most precious treasure, always come first.

Before you, his favorite task of the day was polishing his treasures. Licking and rubbing them vigorously until they shined and sparkle like nothing you’ve ever seen. And now that he has you, his darling mate, you could say it’s still his favorite task of the day.

Except one minor twist being that you’re the treasure he’s polishing so intently.

Every day he places your pretty curvy body on his table and spreads your thick thighs so he can fully enjoy his task. Exposing your wet folds to the cool air and making your breath catch with anticipation.

A rumble of pleasure moves through your bf’s chest, watching as your slick makes your pussy shine brighter than any jewel or gem he’s ever seen. Though he knows you can get wetter and he won’t stop until you’re absolutely dripping.

Dragon bf moans lewdly as he starts lapping up along your wet slit. His eyes rolling back as he gorges himself on your delectable essence. Eating you out like he hasn’t had a meal in a century and now that he’s got it in his grasp he refuses to let it go.

Your cries echo against the walls of his cave and he growls in response, picking up pace, needing more of your sweet noises and the honeyed nectar that spews from between your thighs with each swirl of his tongue.

You swear you’ve never been more wet in your life. His tongue igniting every nerve in your body, making your cunt throb and gush with your arousal. Giving him exactly what he wants as your slick pools out of you, making a mess of your thighs and the table beneath you. Even his face is shiny and soaked with your essence, glittering against the lit torches on the wall.

Every orgasm simply falls into the next. His tongue building you up and making you drip with need until he latches onto your clit and sucks another orgasm out of your spent body. Over and over again, your body growing unaware of everything besides how soaked he’s made you.

When your Dragon bf lifts his head from your quivering and wrecked cunt, you sigh in relief, believing him to be done. He looks down at you with a satisfied smirk as your pussy glitters in the firelight and your face glows with the flush of your release.

But then he’s rolling his tongue over his thumb and something in your belly clenches. Your traitorous cunt fluttering around nothing at the implication of his actions.

“Did you think we were done, my mate? Tsk. No, a treasure such as you deserves only the best and I am nowhere near finished with you.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

my favorite fucking trope is chubby!reader living your life completely oblivious to the fact that the literal man of your dreams is in love with you and you're none the wiser.

like - you just traipse through life like "well he wouldn't like me back so it's wtv" all nonchalant and shit while the poor man is literally falling over himself trying to get it through your head that HEYYY that's not right??? i'm literally in love with you??? i worship the ground you walk on???? i'll do whatever you want????

and bless your heart, you see every single time he tries to hit on you as an act of kindness:

"awww, he got me (insert fav food here) cus i said i was hungry, what a nice guy!"

"he complimented my outfit! he must've liked the color of my shirt!"

"wow, he seems to be zoning out a lot, i hope he's okay!" (he's been staring at your lips for the past five minutes)

and he just... doesn't know what to do to make you see what he sees.

like you're so gorgeous and funny and why wouldn't he like you??

he's convinced that if he were to stand in front of you and tell you he loves you, you'd be like, "I love you too! you're such a good friend!"

(which has happened before and a little part of him died inside)

it literally takes him everything in his power to make you realize his feelings, and you just stand there for a moment, seemingly connecting the dots over the past few months, and all you can come up with is a small, dumb, "oh."

lord give him the strength.

[brnd3y]

NEW POST FROM @munybagd

i am going to fuck him … i have a thing for men that moan especially the ones with deep voices .. mm makes my toes sweat 😛 ( NSFW )

whimpers came out as he tried his best to talk “ mmm fuck baby p-please,” his nail dug into your hips as he helped you bounce on his cock faster. he didn’t want you to stop — oh no, he doesn’t know what he would do with himself if you stopped .. maybe he would cry or beg on his knees. honestly, he would do anything for you to keep going. “ oh yeah … don’t stop — i w-want you to make a mess of m-me ” oh he looked so pretty under you … tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at you -sucking on your fingers .. he so nasty but you like it. LINK 1

he fucks you sooo good that he’s moaning too. “ o-oh my good girl .. my good fucking girl ” his plan is to slut you out doesn’t matter if it’s in the bed, living room, kitchen, or even the car. he wants you a moaning mess which slowly turns him into a moaning mess as well. “ yeahhh th-there you go .. mm you’re daddy’s good girl, taking my c-cock so fucking well ” It’s like a race ‘ who can tap out first ’ by the way he’s moans you would think it’s him with his heavy breathing but little do you know that this is just the beginning.. LINK 2

sensitive, dom, and a moaning mess … he is a three-in-one! gosh, you love it — the way he sharply breathes in when he strokes his cock into you, the way he moans in between words, and the way he talks dirty to you excites you. “ mm s-say it .. u-use your words, baby ” makes you wanna cum right then and there. he loves hearing you talk, even if it’s just babbling, it makes him smile, but not like you would know cause his face is pressed against your neck due to him leaving deep bite marks. LINK 3

( BOUNS )

no shame in his game . he enjoys making audios for you, especially in random places it’s his favorite thing to do and he ALWAYS sends them to you when you’re out and about. “ guess where i-i’m at baby — mm i’m in our parking g-garage ” things like this turns him on and he knows that you get to turn on hearing him slur and stutter on his words. “ i-i-i have our f-favorite toy .. fuck i wish y-you were here to use it on m-me” gosh why does he do this to you and when you come home he acts like nothing is wrong :/ LINK 4

[dododrawsnsfw]

Incubus who loves how soft and small you are, compared to him. You're his little mate and he would do anything to protect you.

Thinking of making him an OC (like Asher). Is there any scenario you'd like to see with him?

Kofi (SFW) | Patreon (NSFW)

[corpsypher]

Bff!Kyle who takes full advantage of your love of cuddles, wrapping his arms around you, large hands splayed over your plush belly as you rest your back against his chest.

You cuddle all of your friends, but he likes to think you save the most intimate positions for him. Sitting on his lap, laying on top of him, you always end up rubbing against him in a way that has him having to discreetly readjust his cock.

Little do you know…

With his palm pressed to your underbelly, dangerously low on your pelvis without you noticing, his thumb, and pinky extended at an angle directly over your pussy. He’s measuring you. Assessing how much of his cock you could take before you felt him in your guts.

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 5

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

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

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

“This register open?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re observant,” you finally responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very observant,” you muttered to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pot, meet kettle.”

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

“I don’t know, ‘Manda. I just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember what we said?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… Ma’am?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shortcake! You made it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, don’t be mad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daniel?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Daniel, please—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put me on speakerphone.”

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

“… I’m going to hear him out.”

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

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

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

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

“I promise, it wasn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is ‘here’?”

“The Gilded Dish.”

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

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

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

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

“I thought we agreed on nothing fancy?”

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

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

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

“Daniel Sideris.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you being serious?”

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

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

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

“What’s so funny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never?”

His response was a simple head shake.

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

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

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

“You cook?”

“No, but I’ll learn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course! Ask away.”

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

“What do you do for a living?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows furrowed. “The home goods store?”

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Do you have a job for me?”

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

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

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

“I’m kidding… kind of.”

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” he replied with a smirk.

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

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

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

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

“Greece?” Your eyebrows raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably, but you laughed.”

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

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

“You say that a lot, don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

“Marvalous. May I interest you in dessert?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daniel…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

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

“Will I hear from you again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me know when you make it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

freaknloser.tumblr.com © 2025

[nanamis-princess]

I know I said I’d never write for Toji but I can’t get this out of my head

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Pulling you on top of him as he gets comfortable again, he’s half asleep. “Why’d you move?” He mumbles groggily. Settling against him as you place your head on his chest, after a moment you hear his heartbeat. Tilting his head a little to place a kiss on the top of yours. “Went to the bathroom” you say softly getting comfortable again. “Mhm” he hums pulling the cover over you both, his left arm lazily draping over your lower back while the other on your upper back.

Hours later after completing a mission toji turns in for the night in a nearby motel, by morning he’s taking the train back home to you. Glancing at the time, reading three am, he texts you one last time for the night “night love you”. Gently tossing his phone on the shitty nightstand before getting into bed, pulling the covers over himself. Toji finds himself laying there for twenty minutes before turning over to check the time again. Huffing a little, he turns back over while adjusting the flat pillow as he closes his eyes. Multiple sleeping positions and forty minutes later he sits up taking his shirt off thinking that’ll do the trick. Grabbing the other de-fluffed pillow he places it on his chest as he lays flat on his back. Slowly but surely he drifted to sleep getting four hours of sleep that night.

Standing in the doorway as you watch him walk up your front steps toji comes into view looking exhausted. “you look like shit” you comment teasingly but with slight concern. “Feel like it too” he huffs wrapping his arms around you, his face against the crook of your neck. Slowly rocking you both back into the house while still embracing each other, walking forward as you walk backwards into your home. The door closing behind him as he picks you up by the back of your legs, finding their way to wrap around his waist. “Shower then nap” toji mumbles into your neck before placing a soft kiss.

A/N: for those who summited requests don’t worry i see them! Requests will be closed for a bit.

[2cupids]

gojo can't get enough of the cute cow hybrid!reader farm hand at suguru’s ranch.

contains. f!reader, chubby!reader, lactation kink, hybrid!reader, fingering, reader’s kinda dumb. mdni (17+).

satoru told himself he was only visiting suguru’s farm to see what the hell a half-human half-cow girl looked like. it was supposed to be one visit, maybe two max, but he finds himself there every week now.

the first time he stepped into the barn and his eyes landed on you, you were far from what he imagined you to look like. you had cute floppy ears and an even cuter face to match, a perfect balance of the two species. his eyes subtly flicked down to your body and he forgot how to breathe for a moment. an itty bitty bikini top barely covered your heavy tits and high waisted denim shorts covered your cute little stomach pudge. your thick thighs were nicely out on display as you worked in the sweltering heat, swinging your tail slightly to keep a pesky fly away.

yeah. he was a goner from that moment.

it started as genuine curiosity the first couple of times. he asked questions you had heard more times than you could count, but they were asked in a respectful manner that you weren’t used to. he teased you, but he always kept it lighthearted and never crossed any lines.

and you didn’t mind his company either. yes, he was charismatic, a little too talkative for your liking, and a bit cocky, but he was kind. maybe even too kind. you pushed that thought out of your head though because aside from your boss, satoru was one of the few people that treated you like you weren’t an oddity and you couldn’t be more thankful. especially during times when problems arise that are out of your control.

your breasts often leaked milk on accident—something about your hormones were off balance and the doctors couldn’t fix it. usually it only happens a couple times a week, yet for some unknown reason, the problem has started becoming more prevalent around gojo. it’s to the point where they leak almost every day.

it happens unexpectedly in the middle of your conversations, you can feel your body temperature rise as you apologize profusely. satoru’s always extremely understanding every time it occurs, grabbing a towel or some tissue and giving you some time alone. he never seems to mind it, always reassuring you that it’s okay and to take all the time you need. and that’s the truth, because in all honesty he loves it. the way you get flustered and stumble over your words, how you rush to cover your nipples as the liquid wets your top. maybe it’s wrong, seeing how much distress it causes you, but he gets hard during each occurrence.

one night while laying in bed, he can’t stop thinking how it’s such a shame that so much milk goes to waste. that’s when the thought first comes to him—he wonders how your milk tastes.

it was outlandish to think about, even more so to ask you, but he still did it anyways. the question was masked with innocent curiosity to hide his true intentions for asking. “hey, you know i’ve been wondering something.” he starts, his tone more casual than usual and he avoids eye contact. “since you’re a hybrid and all, would your, uh… milk taste different from regular cow’s milk?”

satoru wouldn’t have been surprised if you became weirded out or reluctant, but to his surprise you simply tilt your head and a thoughtful expression crosses your features. “hm. i’m not sure. but… would you like to taste some?” you smile sweetly.

he kept his excitement contained the best he could as he replied, only agreeing to it if you were sure you’re okay with it. but internally? his mind is racing and his dick is already stirring to life as he follows you towards a large bale of hay in the corner of the barn.

the man wasted no time sinking to his knees as you lifted your shirt and let one of your tits free, his lips immediately latching on to your soft nipple and sucking.

it was supposed to be a one time thing, but you’re so naive for really believing that his reasoning for wanting your tit in his mouth was innocent and now, you’re letting him suck the sweet milk from your swollen nips every time he visits.

over time he gets more comfortable and eventually starts groping your breasts as he feeds. something about all this feels off, like you should ask him to take his hands off you—to stop.

but you don’t.

you like the way it turns you on, how your thong grows slick each time without fail.

one hand gently squeezes your breast, causing more milk to come out while his free hand moves to massage the other tit. you like the sight of a man on his knees in front of you, his long, pretty lashes fluttering shut as he sucks. you love the way he softly caresses your tummy too, like it’s the most precious thing on earth.

meanwhile gojo thinks it’s adorable how you always try to keep quiet but you never can, letting a mixture of half-human half-cow sounds slip from your mouth.

now, he’s got your back pressed against his chest, lazily dragging two slim fingers against the walls of your messy pussy. somehow he’s talked you into letting him finger you. silly girl.

warm breath hits your skin each time he opens his mouth to whisper something dirty in your ear, or to tell you how disappointed suguru would be. you want to tell him to knock it off, that his words strike a sensitive nerve, but instead all you do is clench around his fingers every time.

you’re such an easy little thing. at this rate, he’ll have his dick inside you in no time.

cleo’s note. i’d really like to hear your thoughts on this, like did i do hybrids justice with this or no? also ntm on me if my description is kinda off, i don’t go here.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

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─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

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Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

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More of Jason and others -> 💫

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