#plus size fanfic

[corydora-writes]

Two Lonely Hearts

Summary: At first, your relationship with Batman was casual, marked by the excitement of secret encounters. But as days turned into months, you began to feel a deeper connection. Thoughts of him lingered in your mind long after your time together, and you found yourself increasingly captivated by him. You tried hard to push those thoughts aside, convincing yourself that this affair was purely physical; after all, you didn‘t even know who the man behind the cowl was. But then, Batman confessed his feelings for you.

Pairing: Batman x Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! Fluff, and non-graphic smut.

Word Count: 5,867

A/N: This might be a two-part fic. Enjoy! x

It had been a long month since you last saw Batman, your Knight. The absence was deafening, a constant buzzing in the back of your mind. Every headline, every news story about Gotham City made your heart pound faster, wondering if it was him they were talking about. Was he okay? Was he injured? Was he...alive?

You went about your days on autopilot, your heart and mind constantly drawn to the Batman.

You tried to distract yourself. You threw yourself into your work at the Wayne Legacy Foundation. Still, even that didn’t entirely keep your mind from wandering. 

At night, you tossed and turned, his image and the memories you’d shared repeating in your mind. And then you found yourself standing by the windows, gazing into the night, hoping to spot a shadowy figure against the cityscape. But there was nothing. Just silence. With every silent night, the worry in your heart grew. The silence was too loud, the absence of your Knight too palpable. Every minute without him felt like an eternity, your mind and heart constantly filled with memories and worries.  Did he lose interest in you? Was he no longer interested in your casual relationship? Had he… finally found someone?

That thought hit you like a punch in the gut. The possibility of him losing interest, finding someone else, the idea that you were truly just a casual fling left a stinging pain in your chest. You tried to push the thought away, but it kept coming back, relentless, eating at you from the inside.

It was ironic, really. You both had this intimate, passionate relationship, yet you knew nothing about each other. You shared your bodies, your desires, your time. But nothing more. No names, no dates, no personal details. Just shadows and moans in the night. 

Were you foolish to expect more? To wish for more than just physical contact in the darkness?

All this overthinking weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you with a dull throbbing headache. Seeking relief, you wandered into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As the water gradually warmed up, you took a moment to appreciate the soothing sound of it cascading against the tub. When the temperature felt just right, you stepped under the invigorating spray, letting the stream of warm water envelop you. The sensation was immediate, removing the tension from your muscles and sending a cascade of soothing warmth across your skin. The heat relaxed you, and the rhythmic patter of the water felt like a gentle massage, allowing your mind to finally start to quiet down.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes against the spray. You tried to focus on the water, the sound it made as it hit the tub floor, and the feel of its heat against your skin. Anything to keep her mind off the Batman.

No matter how hard you tried, your mind returned to him. The memory of his touch, the sound of his voice, the feel of his body against yours. It was maddening how he had woven himself into your thoughts… into your heart.

You chided yourself at how foolish it was. You knew it from the start, really. This was never about feelings, never about a relationship. It was about attraction, lust, and physical desire. And yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be more. That your connection could be more than just physical.

Finally, you turned off the shower, stepped out, and wore a bathrobe. 

Your skincare and hair care routine was soothing and almost therapeutic. You took comfort in the familiar scents of florals and bergamot that wafted through the bathroom as you applied your favorite lotions and creams. It helped ground you, returning your mind to the present, away from the shadowy vigilante consuming your thoughts.

You paused at the threshold of your bathroom, your heart pounding and a wave of confusion clouding your thoughts. As you squinted into the shadowy room, you felt an unsettling absence where the warm, familiar glow of the lights should have been. 

Now, standing there in the doorway, the realization sent a frigid shiver cascading down your spine, causing goosebumps to erupt along your arms. Someone had turned off the lights while you were in the shower, lurking silently in your sanctuary. The weight of that discovery settled heavily in your stomach, curling like a cold knot of dread within you. 

You stood utterly still, the silence pressing in around you like a thick fog, your senses heightened. Each soft creak of the floorboards felt magnified, and you strained to listen for any sound—a whisper, a rustle, or even the faintest footfall—that might indicate another person’s presence in your apartment. The usually comforting familiarity of your home now felt foreign and threatening, every shadow cast in the dim light a potential hiding place for the intruder.

The tension in your body coiled tighter as you crept towards her room. You felt like a prey moving through a predator’s den.

 Your room door was slightly open, the darkness within making the pit of your stomach tighten. With a deep, steadying breath, you pushed the door open. The room was almost pitch black, the only light coming from the window offering a dim glow.

“Princess,” came the familiar, modulated voice you had yearned to hear for what felt like an eternity. The deep, resonant tone sliced through the heavy silence of the room, sending a rush of fear and surprise coursing through your veins. Your heart raced as the warmth of recognition battled against the chill of apprehension, filling the air with an electric tension that left you momentarily breathless.

Your head turned towards the voice. Standing in the corner of the room was a dark silhouette. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, to make out the details of the figure standing there. But there was no mistaking that voice, that presence.

“Batman,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a blend of disbelief and relief as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from your shoulders.

The silhouette shifted as the shadow took a few steps forward. He seemed like a part of the darkness itself, his broad figure clad in black. His only visible features were his eyes, peering out from beneath the cowl, and his mouth curled into a slight smile.

"I was wondering when you'd notice," he said, his voice low and controlled.

You felt your heart race, your body experiencing a mix of emotions: fear, surprise, and a thread of excitement running through it all. He was here, in your room, in your apartment.

“You’ll be the death of me,” you joked, a hint of laughter in your voice as your heart rate gradually returned to normal. "I was worried about you. It has been over a month since I last heard from you. I thought…" you paused, leaving the air heavy with unspoken words.

Batman’s expression softened as his eyes met yours. “Worried?” he repeated, a hint of surprise in his voice. “About me?”

He stepped closer, closing the distance until there was hardly any space left between you. His presence felt almost electric, filling the air with a palpable tension. With a gloved hand, he raised it slowly, fingers brushing against your skin with a delicacy that sent shivers down your spine. The touch was soft and feathery, as if he were afraid to break the fragile moment that hung between you.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice a whisper. “You just…disappeared. Without a word…I didn’t know if you were okay…or if…if…” Your voice trailed off, the unsaid fear of him dying – of him not coming back – hanging in the air between you.

He studied you for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable behind the cowl. Then, he shifted again, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.The sudden proximity made your heart rate spike again. You could feel the solidness of his body against yours, the hard planes of his armor pressing against you, the warmth seeping through the suit. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “My duties kept me away. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

His hand on your face began slowly caressing your cheek, his movements gentle and surprisingly tender.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked, your voice steady yet soft.

Batman's hand dropped from your cheek at your question. He watched you intently, his expression serious. "What is it?"

“Please promise me that if you happen to find someone special—a lover in your intriguing, everyday life—you will let me know. I don’t want to be left in suspense, waiting and wondering about your feelings. I understand that what we share is meant to be casual and carefree, but it would mean a lot to me if you could be open and honest, rather than disappearing without a word.”

Batman's expression remained stoic for a moment, his eyes unreadable behind the cowl. He was quiet, mulling over your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble. “I promise,” he said, the words heavy with a sense of finality. “If I ever…find someone, I’ll tell you. I won’t just disappear.”

You exhaled slowly, a wave of relief washing over you, but it was tinged with an undercurrent of sadness. His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, offering comfort, yet they also brought a poignant reminder that what existed between you was nothing more than a fleeting connection—a casual arrangement devoid of any commitments or deeper ties. Yet you felt her heart clench at the thought of him with someone else. Another woman, a face that wasn’t yours.

You struggled to suppress the sharp pang of jealousy and the possessive feelings that ignited within you. Deep down, you knew you had no right to feel that way, to lay claim to any part of him. He was Batman. In contrast, you were merely a woman, a civilian lost in the chaos of the city, relishing moments of mutual pleasure and connection, even if it felt fleeting and inconsequential. You pushed the thoughts aside, locking them away in a corner of your mind.

The silence between you was thick, charged with unspoken emotions. Your heart continued to pound in your chest, your body pressed flush against his. You could feel the solidness of his chest, the strength of his arms holding you against him, and the heat of his breath through the mask.

You knew this was wrong, that this wasn’t what you had agreed upon. It was supposed to be casual, with no strings attached. And yet, you found yourself raising your hand and placing it on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating through his suit. You needed to connect with him, to reassure yourself of his presence, to feel his very essence beneath your fingertips.

You decided to steer the conversation in a different direction, driven by a question that had been gnawing at your mind ever since the unexpected gift arrived a month ago. With a blend of curiosity and disbelief, you finally asked, "You bought me a car. Why?" 

Batman seemed amused by your question. “The car?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like it?” There was a hint of playfulness in his voice, like he was enjoying the fact that you were questioning his gift.

“It’s just,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, “most people don’t just give away expensive cars, you know.”

His fingers began to trace patterns on your back absentmindedly, sending shivers down your spine.

“You think I’m like most people?” he countered, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. His touch continued, light and feathery, his hand now moving lower, skimming the curve of your hip.

You shivered again, your skin reacting to his touch, but you pushed on, determined to get a straight answer out of him. 

“I’m just trying to understand…why," you uttered.

His hand stilled, his fingers gripping your hip a little tighter, the smirk on his lips growing broader. “I couldn’t bear the thought of my princess relying on cabs. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with them, but your safety is my top priority. Ever since I met you, I’ve known you to put yourself in dangerous situations at night.”

You were taken aback by his words. The underlying concern for your safety made your heart flutter. It felt a little too personal, a little too intimate for your no-strings-attached agreement. Yet the words coming from his lips, from the Batman, filled your chest with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, his other hand found its way under your chin, lifting your head up slightly.

“And I also like indulging you,” he said, his voice taking on a huskier tone. “Your happiness, your needs…I like meeting them.”

“But why?” you questioned, your voice laced with confusion. “I thought… I truly believed this was just a casual fling. So why do you care about things like that?” 

The question hung in the air. Batman was quiet for a moment. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, trying to find an answer. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice lower than usual. “Would you believe me,” he said, his fingers tilting your head back a little further, making you look directly at him, “if I said it’s because…I care about you?”

The words sent a jolt through you. You hadn’t been prepared for that answer. Caring for you. It was more than just lust now. More than the heat and passion you shared during the night. He cared for you. Batman, the Dark Knight, cared for you.

“You…you care,” you repeated, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. “You care…about me?”

He ran a thumb along your cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive.  “Yes,” he replied simply, his voice a gravelly growl. “I care about you. I care about your happiness, your safety. I…I care too much, in fact.”

The confession took your breath away, and your heart skipped a beat. 

Batman cared about you. Not just as an object of his desires but as a person. He was protective, affectionate, devoted.

This was more than you had signed up for. More than you had agreed upon. Yet…you didn’t want it to stop.

“You've also sent me flowers plenty of times. Was it for the same reason? You asked.

“The flowers,” he said, as if contemplating his words carefully. “They’re a symbol. A way I express my feelings.” His other hand continued to caress your back, his touch soft and deliberate. “They’re a silent devotion. Your favorite flowers are to remind you ofme. To remind you that I’m thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The flowers, always appearing every night before his disappearance, your favorites, left on your pillow before you went to bed. You had always assumed they were just a part of the arrangement, a gesture of courtesy. Yet hearing it now, knowing they had a deeper meaning, sent your heart racing.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Even though his face was concealed by the cowl, you could see the intensity in his eyes and the way he looked at you. You felt your heart fill with a mixture of feelings – emotions you couldn’t name, couldn’t sort out. But one thing was certain. You cared back. You cared more than you ever had before.

“You’re simply incredible,” you whispered to him.

Batman let out a low rumble of a chuckle, his chest vibrating with the sound. "I could say the same about you," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety murmur. "Incredible, beautiful, intoxicating…"

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. You felt the cool surface of his suit against your skin, the hardness of his body beneath. 

He started to move, holding your hand and moving you to follow him. You didn’t know where he was taking you, and you found yourself not caring. You were safe with him. He reached the bed and laid you down gently, his body covering yours, the weight of him pinning you down. His lips found your neck, his mouth hot and relentless as he began to trail kisses down your skin, as he removed the towel that was wrapped around your body.

You let out a soft moan, unable to suppress the sounds of pleasure as his mouth explored your skin. He knew all your sensitive spots, his lips and teeth running all over you until you were breathless.

“I want to feel you without your suit and cowl, please.” Your voice trembled as you whispered, the words escaping like a fragile plea into the dimly lit room. The weight of your longing hung in the air, a palpable tension that wrapped around both of you. You yearned to explore the warmth of his skin beneath the layers of fabric and armor, each stitch an invisible barrier separating you from the man you so desperately wanted to know. 

You imagined running your fingers along the strong lines of his body, tracing the contours that had been hidden from you for too long. The thought of uncovering the secrets he kept—the scars, the softness, the pulse of life beneath his tough exterior—sent a thrill through you. It wasn't just about physical intimacy; it was about the connection, the depth of understanding that only came when the mask was stripped away. 

In that moment, you felt a surge of vulnerability, the desire to bridge the gap between you, to fully immerse yourself in the essence of who he was beyond the hero persona he portrayed. You craved that understanding, the chance to know the heart that beat beneath the armor, to embrace him wholly, and to share in both the comfort and complexity of that connection.

Batman pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he lifted his gaze from your neck to meet your eyes. Shadows danced across his chiseled features, revealing a flicker of hesitation that was rare for him. In that moment, the weight of his dual identity hung heavily between you—his commitment to secrecy battled with an undeniable desire that lingered in the air. You could sense the internal struggle within him, a silent war between his duty as a guardian of Gotham and the connection he felt with you.

He was quiet for a moment, his body still pressed against yours, his breath hot against your skin. As he began to pull back, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. You watched the conflict play out on his face, knowing that what he would say next would change everything. "I can oblige, but only if..." he started, leaving the rest unspoken, creating a tension charged with possibility.

"Only if...?" you prompted, your heart thudding in your chest. 

“My identity holds immense significance, and while I trust you, this is all about keeping you safe. I will agree to proceed, but only if you’re willing to wear a blindfold.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. A blindfold. To not be able to see his face, yet still feel his touch, taste his skin, hear his voice… the idea was both thrilling and somewhat nerve-wracking. 

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his shadowed face. You could see the question in his eyes, waiting for your answer. You bit your lip, contemplating his offer. The idea of being blindfolded, of submitting yourself to his touch was both erotic and a little frightening. 

But this was Batman, and you trusted him implicitly in more ways than one. 

"Yes," you finally said, your voice a whisper. "I'll wear the blindfold."

He reached out, his hand moving across the night stand, grasping something that you couldn’t see. A moment later, he was holding the promised blindfold in front of your face. He gently placed the blindfold over your eyes, adjusting it carefully. The world went dark, your vision obscured by the fabric. You felt a wave of helplessness wash over you, but it was quickly replaced by a rush of excitement. Your world was now a void of darkness, and your other senses heightened. You could feel him move about, the sound of his heavy armor falling to the floor. With each clink of the suit’s components hitting the ground, your anticipation grew. You could only imagine what he looked like undressed, what his bare skin must feel like.

The sounds ceased and you felt the bed dip under his weight. The heat of his body radiated through the darkness, his proximity increasing your heart rate. There was a pause, a moment of silence as he simply hovered over you. You could hear his breath, quick and uneven, mingling with your own.

Then, without warning, his hands were on you again. His touch was electric, his fingertips skirting lightly across your skin as if he were reacquainting himself with your body. You gasped at the sensation, his touch becoming rougher, more purposeful as he continued his exploration. His mouth was on yours then, capturing your gasp on his lips, his tongue plunging into your mouth as his body pressed against yours. 

You responded eagerly, your mind going blank as you focused solely on the feel of him, his skin against yours, his hands roaming your soft, plump body.

He broke away, his mouth moving down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat and your collarbone before pausing at the valley between your breasts. Your body arched against him involuntarily, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. You were completely at his mercy, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. He took his time, his kisses and touches deliberately slow, building up the tension until you were pleading, begging for more.

“Knight,” you said. “Please.”

He finally relented, his mouth moving lower, trailing kisses down your soft stomach and your hips, pausing just above where you wanted him most. You let out a frustrated moan, your body straining against the slow pace he set.

He laughed, the vibrations against your skin maddening. "Patience," he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You grabbed at the sheets, your body trembling with need. You couldn't see him, but you could feel him, smell him, hear the raggedness in his breath as he edged you closer and closer to the precipice.

Finally, his mouth found its destination, and your mind went blank. 

His tongue was relentless as he worked at you, bringing to life sensations more intense than any you’d experienced before. He moved with precision, his every touch designed to push you over the edge. And you were on the verge, your body taut, your breath coming out in ragged gasps, when suddenly he stopped. 

You let out a cry of frustration, your body protesting at the sudden absence of his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, “don’t stop.”

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice filled with promise. 

You felt the mattress shift, felt his weight changing, and then he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the bed. The heat of his body radiated through you, his skin hot and slick with sweat. The feel of him against you, skin to skin, made you shudder. This was the first time you’d felt all of him unhindered by the suit. It was more intimate, more primal. You reached up, your hands finding his arms and his shoulders, mapping out his skin with your touch. He captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head, while his other hand roamed down your side, his touch almost reverent. His mouth found yours again, and he kissed you hungrily, his tongue delving deep, claiming you possessively.

You responded eagerly, your body arching against his, molding to his own. Despite the blindfold, you could see him in your mind, and you could picture the sight of his naked body, all taut muscle and strength.

He moved, his hips pressing against yours, parting your legs with a swift, fluid motion. You felt him at your entrance. His desire was as intense as your own. 

He paused, his body trembling with restraint, his breath ragged against your ear. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a gruff question, tinged with desire and something else – vulnerability.

You whimpered in response, arching your hips up, wanting to feel him inside you, eager to satisfy the craving he had ignited within you. 

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice a pleading whisper. “Please, yes. I need you.”

Your words seemed to unleash something within him, and he slammed into you, filling you completely. You cried out at the sudden fullness, at the sensation of him inside you, and he bit down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan. As he moved, his pace set a rhythm. 

“Beautiful. Stunning. Perfect.” He murmured his voice, a low, guttural rumble.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel all of him, to give all of yourself to him. His lips found yours again, and he kissed you passionately, taking your breath away.

You felt yourself reaching the brink, your body tightening around him, preparing for release. His movements became more urgent and frenzied, and his words and possessive mutterings were a constant in your ear. “Come for me, princess,” he commanded, his voice rough and guttural. 

His words, his body, and his touch were the catalysts you needed. 

You let out a gasp, your body bucking against his as your climax crashed over you. You felt him follow, his body tensing as he found his own release, a low, guttural growl escaping him.

Only your ragged breathing filled the room momentarily, the rest of the world muted, irrelevant.

He stayed where he was, his body pinning you to the bed, his chest heaving with labored breaths. 

Finally, he rolled over, pulling you close so that you were half draped across him, your head resting on his chest.

His chest was hard and firm, the muscles taut under your gentle touch. You traced the outline of his pecs and trailed your finger down his stomach, feeling the hardness of his abdomen. 

He shivered under your touch, his fingers playing with strands of your hair, drawing lazy circles across your back.

As you ran your fingers over his skin, you could feel the presence of multiple scars, each with its own story etched in time. But one particular scar caught your attention more than the rest. It was unique, spreading  like a firework bursting into the night sky, with jagged edges resembling the vibrant trails of color and light.

You traced the path of the scar, your touch light and gentle. You could feel its heat, as if the memory of whatever had caused it still lingered.

“This one here,” you murmured, your voice filled with curiosity. “What caused it?”

“It’s a burn mark from my encounter with Firefly.”

You paused, your fingers still. Firefly. You knew that name from the news. The villain was responsible for a string of robberies and arson attacks.

You felt the tension in his body, the slight tightening of his muscles under your hand. 

"There was an explosion," he finally admitted, his voice a low murmur filled with a mix of regret and unease. "It was set off by Firefly’s bombs—his deadly incendiary devices designed to wreak havoc. I remember the heat of the blast and the shockwave that knocked me off my feet; I wasn't quick enough to evade it." He paused, lost in the memory for a moment. “This happened in my early days as Batman, when I was still honing my skills. My suit at the time was far from the high-tech it is today. Back then, every confrontation felt like a lesson in survival, and I was still grappling with the realities of my role."

You knew that being a hero was dangerous, that Batman risked his life every night. But to know that he had been seriously injured by a villain, and to see the physical reminder of that encounter etched onto his skin... it made your heart ache.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing the scar gently. You wanted to soothe the pain it represented, even though it was a part of his past. 

You felt him shudder at your touch. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, his face buried in your hair. 

"I'm scared for you," he admitted, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "I worry about what could happen to you because of me."

Your heart ached at his words, his admission of his vulnerability. He didn't say such things lightly, you knew. He was a man who kept himself guarded, both physically and emotionally. To have him open up to you in such a raw, genuine way was rare.

"I'm not afraid," you answered, your body pressing into his. "I know the risks. But being with you is worth it."

You felt his embrace tighten at your words, his fingers digging into your skin. He held you as if he were afraid you might disappear and slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold on tightly enough.

"You’re a stubborn woman," he muttered, his tone warm despite the words, "and I... I'm falling for you,” he admitted earnestly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your stomach fluttering with mixed emotions. He was finally admitting what you had felt between you for a while now. 

"I’ve fallen already," you whispered back, your voice a soft confession against his skin. "I’ve been falling since the moment I met you."

He pulled back slightly, his hand tilting your chin so that he could look at you. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you imagined the expression in his eyes, the soft smile that only you got to see.

"And what do you feel now?" he asked, his tone light but with an underlying current of importance.

You reached up, your hand tracing his jawline. You could feel the stubble under your fingertips, the contours of his face. 

“Safe,” you answered truthfully. “Wanted. Cherished.”

He stilled underneath your touch, his breathing shaky. You could feel his emotions through the small movements, the way he held you tighter, the way his heart pounded beneath your hand. 

He moved then, shifting until he was looming over you, his body caging you. Your heart stuttered, your body responding to his proximity.

“And what do you feel, my knight?” You asked him.

He smiled, his own hand coming up to touch your jaw, tracing the curve of your lips. "Protective. Complete," he answered without hesitation. "Like I’ve always been searching for something, some part of me that was missing. And I finally found it in you. I'm inexorably drawn to you.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. You hadn’t expected such a raw, honest response. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the depth of his feelings. For a man who kept his emotions so well-guarded, for him to lay himself bare like this… was a true testament to the depth of his feelings for you. Perhaps you were two lonely hearts yearning for connection, gradually merging into one unified being. Whole and complete. 

“You found me,” you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go.”

The moment was disrupted by the sound of the alert in his batsuit cutting through the heated atmosphere like a knife. You felt his body tense, his hands stilling on your skin. 

“I have to go,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with an unwilling resignation. The weight of his words hung in the air between you, a reminder of the responsibilities he could not escape. 

He glanced at you with a mix of hesitation and determination in his eyes. He took a deep breath, the weight of his words pressing heavily on his chest. "Before I go," he began, the urgency in his voice palpable, "I need to tell you something important. I think I'm ready to reveal my true identity to you, but I can’t do it here—this moment feels too casual, too ordinary for such a significant revelation. It deserves a more fitting setting."

Your heart leaped in your chest, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirling within you. A part of you was eager to find out who the man behind the mask truly was, while another part worried about the implications of that knowledge. 

“Are you sure?”

You knew that this decision represented more than just a choice about revealing his identity. It was a question of trust, of vulnerability, of baring himself completely to you. And you understood the magnitude of it and, the unspoken request for you to accept and love him wholly without reservation.

You ran your fingers over his skin, memorizing the feel of him, the solidity of his body, the slight hitch in his breath as you touched him. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here,” you whispered, your voice steady and sincere. “I trust you, completely.”

His hand closed around yours, his grip firm yet gentle. He was silent for a moment, his mind undoubtedly weighing the decision as he considered the implications. 

Then, a quiet sigh, almost a surrender. “I know,” he finally said, his voice soft but resolute. “I trust you, too.”

Your heart beat a little faster at his words, the trust he was extending to you more meaningful than any other. He was opening himself up to you, allowing you to see beyond the Batman, the symbol of Gotham City, to the man underneath.

“But not here,” he added, his voice returning to its usual, decisive tone. “Not tonight. As I said, I want it to be perfect... somewhere meaningful.”

You nodded, understanding his sentiment. “Then I’ll wait,” you said, your voice filled with anticipation. “For whenever you’re ready.”

“Are you up for an adventure tomorrow? A Christmas getaway?” he asked. “If you don't already have plans, that is.”

Your curiosity was piqued. An adventure, a getaway… with him. It sounded both exciting and mysterious. 

“I’m in,” you answered, your voice filled with eagerness. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he answered. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice as if he knew you'd agree. 

“I’ll see you soon, princess,” he reassured, his voice a quiet rumble. 

And before he left, he kissed you. His lips moved over yours with a fierce intensity, as if by doing so he could commit the taste and feel of your memory to ensure that he would find his way back to you.

[jarofstyles]

Sugar, Sugar 13

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WC- 3.1k

warnings- mentions of disordered eating and bad relationship with food, body issues, fad diet mention, bad relationship with a parent, body shaming, etc

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“So, spill. How was it?” Delilah asked as she eyed Y/N. 

“How was what?” Playing coy behind the counter, she did the initial cash wrap check as she avoided her best friend’s eyes. She knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“Getting railed half to death.” She deadpanned, making Y/N choke on her laughter. “Don’t play games with me, girl. I can see your literal glow.” She paused, her eyes moving south. “And your man has a nasty habit of biting you.” He did. Y/N knew exactly where the hickey was on her collarbone, but her wrap she had on over her lacy tank top usually hid it. She was just careless this morning and didn’t think about it being on display. 

“He is quite bad with that, isn’t he?” She snorted, turning to her friend with giddy light in her eyes. “Great. Better than I expected. Made me really comfortable and I spent the whole night and day.. Y’know.” Her face felt hot as she placed the cash into the register before starting up the POS and making sure everything would be right for when the day ended. “I was worried for nothing. The man is kinda unreal, if I’m being honest. I was taken care of in every way. I shouldn’t be surprised considering he’s been really good to me so far.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, the drawer was closed and she took note of her green tea, picking it up for a sip now that it wouldn’t burn her tongue. 

“It’s what you deserve.” Her friend smiled softly. “You deserve a great love like you read about in your books. Besides, I know you’re going to get it. It’s written in the stars.” She was joking, but also… not really. Delilah knew things without knowing how she knew them, and it was almost always true. “Where is he today? Are we expecting a drop in from him?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Y/N hummed. He hadn’t replied after his initial good morning message but she wasn’t too worried about it. “He said something about stopping by the bakery. He had today off to go run errands so he’ll be dropping things off but I know I’m seeing him tomorrow. We’re going to that new pizza place.” She was excited about that. There was a flatbread she was looking forward to trying, and Harry had suggested getting two different things and splitting it. It was nice to feel comfortable eating with someone. That was one of the anxiety triggers she had to unlearn as she got older. 

“I think we’re going to get a drop in.” Taking one of the baskets they used for restocks, she went towards the tumble table and began to deposit the little baggies of colorful stones and minerals into the correct cubbies. “Have you brought up that Claire woman yet?”

Y/N hadn’t, very well for a reason. She didn’t like the feeling it gave her stomach. Somehow, she was well aware she and Harry had been involved. Somehow, someway. It didn’t seem strong, as she obviously couldn’t be that close to him anymore if she’s unable to contact him but… It still wasn’t a good feeling. The woman wasn’t nice, her energy was rancid and muddy, and she obviously looked down on them for believing in their own thing. That was the exact person she tried to avoid. Y/N knew it was perhaps rude to judge solely off of one interaction, but something told her Harry wouldn’t be happy to hear about her coming in. 

“Not yet.” She said sheepishly, spooning a bit of yogurt into her mouth. “I know, you don’t have to give me the eyebrow. I’m just… You know how it is. When you know it’s going to cause an issue.” Y/N didn’t think it would be with her but the idea of upsetting Harry at all wasn’t something she enjoyed. Being so new in the relationship, she wanted that honeymoon stage. It had been so lovely this far, she selfishly wanted to avoid the past and the real world from inserting themselves in her rose colored daydream with her dreamy new boyfriend. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how life worked. 

“Putting it off isn’t doing either of you any favors, Cher.” She gave her another look, hanging up a necklace back on the display. “I trust you to handle it on your own time, but do it soon. I have a feeling she isn’t done sniffing around yet.”

—--

“Hey.” A wide smile greeted her as she heard the chime of the bells on the door, seeing the man that had been on her mind. High waisted black pants with a flare at the bottom and a yellow tee shirt, he walked in with his boots clicking on the hardwood floor. Lifting his sunglasses off his face into his fluffy hair, he extended his arms to motion for her to walk into them. She did so without a question. How could she not? 

Falling into his warm scent, she nuzzled her face into his neck and allowed herself to be engulfed in him. Something about them felt closer now. More intimate. Maybe she was making it up but a layer had been shed and he felt even more close to her soul. Lips pecked a few times into her hair, swaying her back and forth as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, a relieved sigh leaving the man. “Y’alright, Sugar?”

“Mhm.” She nodded against him. “Tired. Spilled my coffee a quarter through but it’s been a bit busy today so we haven’t had the chance to get away. You win some, you lose some.” She’d rather be a little tired and making money, giving readings, all of that. 

“Should have texted me.” His tongue clicked, finally getting a good look at her as she pulled out of his neck. Didn’t she realize he’d do almost anything for her? “Would have brought you some over, sweets. What good is having a boyfriend if you’re not gonna use me?” He was joking, but not really. He knew that he’d bend over backwards for the girl in his arms. 

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about it. I knew you were busy today running errands and we had a lot of walk in readings, I’ve been a little busy.” Her fingers ran through his hair again, liking how it felt between them. He always melted like a pup getting pets when she did it too, so it was a win win. “Did you get everything done that you needed?”

“I did.” He moved on swiftly. “Are you sayin’ you didn’t eat?” His brow raised, making her wince. Sometimes she forgot, but it wasn’t on purpose. It was genuine distraction. “Baby…” 

“I had a yogurt and granola bar. I was planning on making some food when I got home, but I was busy. Promise.” She tried her luck at a pout which luckily seemed to break down the glare. 

“Too bad.” He sighed. “M’gonna run and get you both food. I don’t like this, Sugar.” Large hands cupped her face, making her feel more delicate than she ever had been. Sometimes it felt hard to lean into that femininity of delicacy when she’d been treated as the opposite most of her life, but Harry had her falling into it so easily. “I know you’re a big girl and you can handle yourself, but it’s okay to ask me for help. I want to help you, I want to be a good boyfriend and grab your things when you’re busy. I know you’d do the same for me.” She already had. The girl had given him a whole welcome basket when he opened his own business, for fucks sake. 

“I know. It’s…” Feeling slightly guilty now, she rested her hands on his wrists. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been independent for years now and I don’t like to rely on people.” It was always thrown back in her face. “I’ll try harder, H. Promise.” Turning her head, she caught his palm with her lips and pressed kisses to it. That move melted him completely, leaning down to kiss her lips a few times before peeling himself away. 

“Good girl. I’ll be back in a bit. Be good for me.”

Y/N hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave. Still buzzing from the affection, she jumped as Delilah came out of the back room fanning herself. 

“That man is completely gone for you. Lord…” She shook her head. “What a guy. I’m glad he wants to take care of you, Cher. You deserve it.” Her hand squeezed her shoulder as she slipped past her. 

“It has nothing to do with the fact he’s getting you lunch too?” She snickered, watching her friend shrug. 

“That definitely helps.”

—--

Y/N’s good mood was squashed just 10 minutes later when a familiar face walked through the shop doors, nose wrinkling at the scent of the incense. 

God, why now? 

“Y/N, I’ve told you that these smoky scents are going to drive away customers.”

Yeah, that was the point. Drive away customers with impure intentions. 

“Hi, Mother.” Y/N sighed, feeling her shoulders tighten as she watched the woman come closer into the shop. Her tumultuous relationship with her mother had a lot to do with the fact that Y/N reminded her of her own. They’d been extremely close, sharing their love of the spiritual world, of magic, all the things while her mom had rejected it. Y/N had been easier to bond with for her grandmother and she knew she held resentment over it for years. 

She wasn’t an awful person, was the thing. She liked to support her at school, took her shopping for makeup, taught her how to do her hair and tie her shoes. She held her when she was sick, stuck up for her when she got bullied- but she didn’t realize she herself was her daughter’s first and biggest bully. 

“Hello. It’s been weeks since you’ve visited me or your father.” She sent her a look. “Are you well? Do you need money? I know the shop is a bit of a hard venture to keep up…” 

There it was. Her mother had always hated this shop. Hated what it stood for, what it represented. Y/N never faulted or judged someone for not believing or being connected in the things she was. It was a calling, she truly believed, whether natural or brought on by a life event. But her mother thought it to be a bit of a waste of time. Always expecting her downfall, though she didn’t think she was cruel enough to hope for it. 

“No, we’re actually doing incredibly well.” It was the truth. They were making bigger profits than the years before and she was more than glad about that. They’d paid off the loan they took out and now they were working towards a possible expansion. But her mom didn’t want to hear about that. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’ve been a bit busy.” 

Her mom gave her a scrutinizing eye, unsure if she believed her. Y/N wasn’t usually a busy person, despite the shop. She liked a slower lifestyle and she knew that, which is why she understood the look on her face. “Have you gone back to the gym like I asked? I haven’t seen you there. I can go with you, you know. I think you’d love my trainer. He’s very dedicated.”

There it was again. Y/N felt her stomach drop, though she should have expected it. Her mother was obsessed with her weight. She’d been the one to try and get her on diets at an early age, effectively ruining her relationship with food. While she knew her mother was someone who cared about her, sometimes she cared about the wrong things a bit too much. Once Y/N had made peace with the fact that she’d always be a bigger girl, her mother had pushed back at it causing more of a rift. She wasn’t going along with her plans and fad diets anymore, and it felt like a personal insult. 

“No, no. I’ve been busy with something else, actually.” With Harry. The pretty, driven, thoughtful man that had her tummy in knots and her head in the clouds. 

“Well, what? I’ve sent you dozens of recipes. I doubt you’ve tried them though. It looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight in the last few weeks. I thought you were making progress.” Her frown made Y/N’s stomach hurt. She’d resigned herself into knowing she would probably never get her mother’s approval on her body, but the reminders didn’t do much to make her feel good. Accepting it didn’t mean liking it. 

“I may have. I’ve been fine, though.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll come by for dinner next week, I promise. I just-”

The door chimed again, interrupting them both. Her stomach dropped as she saw Harry’s smiling face, something that usually would make her erupt into butterflies- but this wasn’t the introduction she wanted to make. Not quite yet. 

“I’m back, sorry. There was a line.” He murmured, going behind the desk and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her body flushed as she looked towards her mother, her eyes wide as Harry adjusted her hair for her before setting the food bag and coffee tray on the counter. “Sorry, I’ll step out of the way if you’re helping someone.”

“Who’s this?” Her mother’s interest was immediately evident. 

“I’m Harry, Y/N’s boyfriend. Nice t’meet you. What’s your name?” He asked, placing a hand on his girlfriend’s back. 

“H, this is my mother.” Y/N swallowed, looking between the two of them. She could see his eyes widen, reaching a hand out for her to shake. He was always so polite, so charming, but she couldn’t help but see the look on her mom’s face. 

“You’re her boyfriend?” She asked, brows raised. Her voice sounded in disbelief, looking between the two of them as if something didn’t add up. “I didn’t know she even had a boyfriend.” 

Thankfully she’d let him know she hadn’t exactly told her yet so he didn’t seem shocked about that, but the meeting was a little unorthodox. 

His brows did furrow at her tone and she could tell he didn’t like it. But for her sake he kept a smile on his face, shaking the woman’s hand lightly. “Yes, I am. M’quite gone for her. You raised an incredible woman, Ma’am.” He spoke earnestly. 

“Excuse my shock, I just didn’t realize….” She trailed off, still seeming confused. “Y/N does like her secrets, it seems. You’re very handsome. What do you do?” It was likeher mother to be nosy, sniffing out why exactly the man was around her daughter. Y/N could see that she was suspicious and it hurt her because she knew exactly why she was. 

She was making sure he wasn’t using her for another reason. For money or something else, because it was hard for her to believe a man as attractive as him would be with her for pure attraction and chemistry. 

“I actually own the bakery across the street.” He said easily. “Thank you for the compliment. She’s an incredible woman, so welcoming and kind. Beautiful to boot.” He meant every word, tapping the tip of her nose. “I don’t want to interrupt, though… I brought the girls lunch.” 

“Oh, it’s not trouble. I was coming because my daughter forgets she has a phone.” She shot her a look. “Why don’t you come to dinner next week with her? You’re more than welcome. Her father would be more than happy to meet you.” 

“If it’s alright with Y/N, I will.” He nodded, showing his loyalty immediately. Harry wouldn’t do anything that made his girl uncomfortable and he was dedicated to the cause. He was already unsure about the woman, but the next words solidified it for him. 

“Alright, whatever you decide. Just make sure she doesn’t have too many sweets from your bakery, hm? It’s starting to show again.” She was joking as if it was funny, patting her daughter’s hand before stepping back. “I hope to see you next week, Harry. Call me, Y/N, we have much to discuss.” 

Her mother was swift, walking out the door as quickly as she had come in. As soon as she was gone, the energy calmed and her shoulders fell, groaning low in her throat as she moved to hide her face in Harry’s chest again. He knew better than to talk, instead stroking over her hair as he let her recover from that interaction. 

Internally though, his view on her mother was soured. How dare she make a comment to not only her daughter about that, but to him? A man she was dating and obviously really liked her? Did she not realize how awful it was to comment on something like that? Y/N had told him that her relationship with her mother had been a weird one but he hadn’t expected her to say something cruel like that. It didn’t even seem to register that she was being mean, she genuinely seemed to think it was funny. 

“I’m sorry about that.” She sighed, pulling back from his chest. “She’s… she’s a lot. I promise she isn’t all bad, but she’s got quirks.” Her face pulled in a slight grimace, making him smile sadly at her as he caressed her warm cheek. 

“That wasn’t nice to say, but I have a feeling it isn’t something you want t’unpack in the middle of a work day.” It wasn’t something he felt could be properly discussed out here anyways. “We can talk about it tomorrow, if you want…but I just have to say this one thing.” His head dipped to get closer to hers. “I don’t mind if you gain or lose weight. I don’t care about that at all so long as you’re healthy and comfortable. I’ll never restrict you from eating, never make you feel as though you’re too much. I know you struggle with it, but I’m never going to contribute to that. I’m here to support you.” 

His words were genuine, eyes shining as he told her his truth. She could feel it radiating off of him and it made her want to tear up, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply to that before he smacked a kiss to her nose and pulled back to open the paper bag that had been stapled shut. “But now I want you to tell me if I did a good job choosing your meal, please. I did the caramel coffee with oat milk, iced. I remembered that bit.” 

Y/N wasn’t sure where the hell Harry had come from, but she was thankful for whoever had sent him. It seemed like she needed him now more than ever.

[minervadashwood]

Don't Let the Light Go Out

A hurt/comfort story about the struggles of PCOS.

Includes: kissing, period talk, depression Word count: 5.2 K

Summary: After the farm falls, life is a struggle for everyone. However, you have enough birth control to get you through the worst of it. Not to mention a blossoming romance(?) with the taciturn Daryl Dixon. However, when you settle in at the prison, your pills have run out, and Daryl's actions become inscrutable.

Once upon a cold winter’s night.

Daryl watched you in the moonlight as you shivered silently. It was a wonder you didn't crack your teeth you were rattling so much. You glanced around the gutted convenience store, and eventually your eyes landed on him. Giving him a small--albeit quivering--smile, you tried in vain to get warmer under your single blanket.

When you started staring up at the ceiling, Daryl quickly got to his feet and made his way over. Without speaking, he held his sleeping bag out toward you.

"Are y-you s-s-sure?" you asked through your chattering teeth.

He nodded. He ran warm, besides, he hated seeing you suffer. You’d never complain, of course, but Daryl noticed how you made do with less, wanting the kids and families to be taken care of first.

"Th-thank y-you,” you told him.

He shook his head and was about to go back to his spot.

Then you said, "Um...Daryl?"

He looked at you over his shoulder.

"W-we could sh-share? Like the others?"

Daryl surveyed the rest of the group. No one was asleep--except Carl--but the rest of them were huddled together in pairs or triples.

You teeth chattered as he thought.

Then he huffed and sat on the floor next to you, resting his back on the counter you were leaning up against.

You made easy work of covering the both of your laps with the two sleeping bags, and then you scooted closer to him. Your thigh and arm were touching his own. And even though you were shivering, Daryl felt warmer when your body met his. After a moment, you stilled, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder.

Worried that you'd never warm up, Daryl put his arm around you. Your head moved to lay on his chest as you snuggled closer, and Daryl marveled at just how soft you felt. How nice it was to have you resting against him. He’d never sat like this with anyone before. Despite that, Daryl relaxed. Your chattering and shivering began to ease. At the same time, something in Daryl eased, too.

Soon, you fell asleep. But Daryl stayed awake the whole night, watching over you and sheltering you beneath his arm. The next morning, it was as if nothing had ever happened. The group continued its trek in search of a more permanent shelter.

That night--when the group took shelter in a barn--you surprised Daryl when you started bedding down for the night. He watched you intently, so that when you turned around you met his eyes. A small, tremulous smile appeared on your face. You raised your eyebrows in question, and Daryl tossed you his sleeping bag. Gathering some straw for padding, you laid out your own blanket with his.

As you worked, Daryl slowly made his way over to you.

Squatting next to the makeshift bed, you asked, “You'll get some sleep, won't you? If my being next to you keeps you awake, we can sleep in shifts."

Daryl shook his head. "Rick's on watch tonight."

You smiled at him, looking relieved. "Good."

Beneath the covers, Daryl didn’t touch you any more than he had the previous night. But the warmth of both your bodies mingled beneath the covers, and that same relaxed feeling came over him. He waited until you went to sleep first, then he closed his eyes and followed you in slumber.

*

This went on for a week, or a month; Daryl wasn’t sure. Then suddenly spring arrived. After a day of successful hunting, he returned to the group's makeshift shelter with fresh meat and wild berries.

Everyone was happy and full after dinner. Then the singing started. First Beth, then Maggie joined in, their melodious voices weaving from unison to harmony and back again. Somehow, your head found its way to Daryl's shoulder. You sighed and rubbed your full belly.

Daryl found himself looking at you and almost smiling.

Then, you took his hand in yours. Daryl--out of instinct--flinched away. You pulled your had back, but he caught it just in time. Linking his fingers through yours, Daryl held tightly to your warm hand.

From that moment on--as far as Daryl was concerned--you were his.

*

What you remember most about the first days in the prison was how tired you became. Finally able to sleep and eat regularly, your body basically crashed. Then, things got better.

There was food and safety. There were smiles and sighs of relief all around. Safely separated from the prisoners and well-stocked with food, your group settled into the new normal.

Everyone had their own space, and after months of zero privacy, having your own cell was a godsend. You slept upstairs, near Daryl on his perch. He was close to you, sure, but having your own bed again was glorious. The first night you slept alone you kicked your feet under the covers like a little girl. Despite not needing to huddle for warmth anymore, you and Daryl spent plenty of time together: going on runs, keeping watch, clearing out the fence line when too many walkers gathered in one place.

One day, as you were finishing up your morning chores, Daryl found you. He held out his hand and said, “I got somethin’ to show ya.”.

Holding hands with Daryl still set your heart aflutter. He so rarely showed physical affection, that you delighted in each touch from him. You weren’t sure if you’d ever do more than hold hands. But you wanted to. You dreamt about kissing him, about so much more. However, you decided at the start to let Daryl set the pace. And if holding hands was all he wanted to do, you would accept that.

With your hand in his, Daryl led you out into the yard, to the quietest part, away from walkers. There was already a blanket on the ground, held in place by some stones in the corners.

You looked at the blanket and the bag at his side.

“Is this a picnic?”

“Mmm,” he grunted, and led you to sit on the blanket.

He let go of your hand and then joined you, making easy work of emptying the satchel and setting out some some sandwiches and a thermos of soup.

Often in the past you’d shared meals with him--and the others--sitting outside on the hard ground, long enough to eat a meager meal before moving on. But this was special. Daryl had taken the time to do this for you.

That realization sent a rush through you, and your cheeks and chest grew warm.

“This is real nice,” you told him, as he handed you a sandwich.

“Nothin’ much,” he replied, meeting your eyes then looking away. He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the sky.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” you asked.

“In a bit,” he sighed. “Ya go’n ahead.”

You put down your sandwich and laid down beside him, putting your hands behind your head. “I’ll wait for you, then.”

You watched the clouds. There was a gentle breeze on the warm spring day, and the wispy clouds above moved leisurely across the sky.

After a while, Daryl laid back, too, and his elbow touched yours.

Eventually, he said, “I’d take ya somewhere nice if I could. One of them restaurants with the menus all in cursive.”

You smiled at him, but he kept staring up at the sky.

You said, “Daryl, this is perfect.”

“Nah, it isn’t.” He sat up abruptly and faced you. “But it’s gonna be better. Now that we got this place.”

“We’ll make something of it here,” you agreed.

“Makes me think…” his voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Sitting up, you said, “Go ahead. It’s okay, Daryl. You can say what you mean. It’s just us.”

He met your gaze before quickly looking away. “Makes me think I can take care of ya better. And that we---”

His ears turned beet red as he paused. Your breath caught in your throat as he stumbled his way around the words. You wanted to leap up and drag the thoughts out of him, but you didn’t dare move. You had to give him time and space. Daryl needed that sometimes.

“I guess what I’m sayin’ is--Oh fuck,” he mumbled. Taking a deep breath, he said, “What Glenn and Maggie got--I-I want that for us, too.” Suddenly, he was chewing furiously on his thumbnail. “I mean, if ya want somethin’ like that, too. With me.”

You gently tugged his hand away from his mouth, worried that he was going to hurt himself with his nervous tic. Cradling his large, calloused hand in both of yours, you smoothed your fingers over his knuckles and fingertips. “I want that, too.”

He nodded, his eyes finding yours briefly before flickering away again.

He huffed, and then with a look of determination, Daryl abruptly grabbed your hand and yanked you against him. Letting out an oof you, both tumbled back onto the blanket with Daryl laying flat on his back while you held yourself up over him.

The spring day suddenly became a lot warmer as you gazed down, into Daryl’s eyes. Daryl grabbed onto you with both hands--and before you could make sense of anything--he kissed you.

It was over as soon as it started. Daryl practically scrambled away, sitting up and moving to a corner of the blanket away from you. He grabbed a sandwich and bit into it hurriedly.

Was kissing you that bad? Did he not like the feel of you on top of him? You wrapped your arms around your generous midsection. You could not remember a time when you weren’t chubby or fat, but until now that never seemed to bother Daryl. If he couldn’t handle your largesse, then there was a lot more about you he wouldn’t take well either.

He finished his sandwich in record time. Then he sat there staring at his own lap as you remained on your end of the blanket, stewing with worry.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

Sorry for what? Was he going to end things? What even was between you two if he didn’t like you that way?

“Sorry?” you whispered.

“Jus’ not good at this.”

You started trembling. But you’d rather know the truth. “A-a-are you breaking up with me?”

Hearing the tears in you voice, Daryl said, “Why’re ya cryin’? Next time just shove me away or somethin’.

You shook your head. “You don’t like kissing me.”

“I ain’t ready fer the kissin’ an’ stuff yet. But I wanted to try.”

You wiped at your tears and sniffed. “Daryl, you don’t have to ever be ready. It’s okay the way it is.”

You inched closer to him, and Daryl reached for your hand. “Jus’ give me time.”

You turned to face him, his hooded eyes hidden from you. Touching his cheek, you said, “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ever ready, I’ll still be here. Okay?’

He nodded, but let go of your hand. Snatching up the thermos of soup, he unscrewed the top.

“Best eat up before it gets cold.”

*

Sometime later, on a hot summer day, you were in a tank top and shorts weeding the garden. A sudden rainstorm blew in, and it felt like a cool compress on your hot skin. Alone, you laughed to yourself holding out your arms a la Andy Dusfrene and looked up at the sky. The rain sluiced away the sweat and drenched your clothes. After basking in the relief, you got back to work. The ground softened, making your job much easier. Sometime later, the garden was weed-free and the rain still falling.

Standing up, you did your best to clean mud off your hands, then you headed back inside. A chill ran through you on the way, and by the time you were within the concrete walls you were downright chilly. But you had no complaints; it’d been hotter than Hades for weeks, so this cooler weather was just the respite you needed.

You waved to the others as you went upstairs to get a change of clothes. Daryl was up there, sitting on his mattress and sharpening a knife as you approached.

The moment he saw you, he hopped up and dropped everything in his hands.

Daryl looked you up and down. Tight shirt clinging to your curves, cotton shorts sticking to your thighs. Goosepimples broke out on your arms, but what Daryl noticed most were your pebbled nipples. He swallowed thickly and grabbed a hold of you, pulling you into your cell.

“Yer freezin’,” he told you, his body inches from yours. His eyes glued to your chest.

You blinked up at him, surprised, but not protesting. “Yeah, I was just going to shower and change…”

His eyes widened, and Daryl became a man possessed. He grunted, grabbed your face, and kissed you. This time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he cornered you against the wall, pecking your mouth again and again. Growing eager, you took Daryl by the nape of his neck to hold him still, and then you kissed him long and hard. He groaned against your mouth, losing himself in you as he pressed his body against yours, practically squeezing you against the wall in an attempt to get as close to you as possible. Then in the next instant he relented, stepping back a few inches. Opening your eyes, you saw him flushed and panting, his eyes now frantic. “Let’s take a moment,” you whispered.

Daryl nodded, backing away even more.

“Are you okay?” you asked him.

Again, he nodded, finally coming back to himself. Edging farther away from you, he dropped your hands and wiped at his lips. Then, he stared at his wet hand before gazing back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You should…get back to what you were doin’. Before ya catch cold,” he blurted as he rushed away from you and out of the cell block.

A few days later, on a run with Glenn and Maggie, Daryl kissed you again. In a yarn store, in fact. The small shop had shelves chock full of skeins, and once the others left, Daryl grabbed you. At first, you thought it was to hide from a walker, but then you noticed how Daryl was trembling. Despite that, he was full of confidence as he ducked his head and lined his lips with yours. He moved languidly, almost savoring you--and you him--as if he had all the time in the world to kiss you senseless. When you broke apart, Daryl let out a soft chuckle and smiled at you. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned his back to you and walked outside.

*

Beth was on her period. Maggie, too. Carol’d had hers a week ago. You’d run out of birth control pills during the winter, and spironolactone last night. You’d been going on runs when you could, always searching for more, but secretively. After all, you weren’t likely to get pregnant anytime soon. And it would be downright selfish (not to say weird) to tell them you were worried about dark hair growing on your face.

Daryl was still random in his affections, but you thought he did care for you in his own way. However, no one would want to be with the Bearded Lady. And it wasn’t like you could’ve used a razor. No one bothered anymore. Score one for gender equality when it came to leg hair and armpit hair. But the realization that you’d grow wispy black hairs along your chin and sideburns was hard for you to accept. And you didn’t imagine anyone else could, either..

Thankfully, there were no signs of your period. No cramping, no unpredictable mood swings, no hot flashes, no migraines. Maybe you’d be spared. Maybe somehow you’d gone through perimenopause, and menopause in a few months. Never mind that the process usually took about ten years.

If only you’d been so lucky.

A few weeks later, you woke up with a pounding behind your eyes, nausea in your belly, and a grinding pain in your lower stomach. It had been ten years since you’d had a period without birth control, and you’d almost forgotten how bad it could get.

To your relief, Daryl was on the last watch shift, so he’d gotten up for the day hours ago. You were sure that if he took one look at you, he’d demand to know what was wrong. And you weren’t ready to tell him, not yet.

Behind the privacy of the curtain around your cell, you checked the state of your bed and underwear. You hadn’t started bleeding yet. But you would soon. Controlling your flow was going to be a challenge, especially since you were going on a run today. No tidy rest areas for bathroom breaks. In the Before Times, you could fill up a super tampon in an hour. Often you had to double up: tampon and a pad, and change both frequently.

You knew the prison bathroom had menstrual cups and washable pads. All you had to do was get to the bathroom. You could do that. Easy-peasy.

You opened your curtain, and the brightness of the cell block sent the pounding in your head into overdrive. You winced and stumbled out to the railing.

Just get to the bathroom.

Squinting and keeping your eyes on the gray floor, you shuffled down the steps. Your stomach roiled, but you pressed on. Rarely did you actually throw up; just felt like you had to for a few days.

There were murmured greetings as you passed the others. You only recognized them by their shoes. Daryl wasn’t among them, thank god.

Finally, you reached the bathroom. Making a beeline for a sink you turned on the water and splashed your face. You took a few sips, too, trying to ease your urge to vomit. It helped some.

The trek from your cell had wiped you out, however, and you stood at the sink, leaning on it and trying to will away this rush of fatigue.

“Y’alright, hon?”

You jumped and spun around to find Carol in the doorway.

“I…I’m not sure,” you admitted. But you had to be. The run. For formula and diapers. For Judith.

Carol approached you and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Is it morning sickness?” she whispered.

“What?! No!” you blurted. “I don’t even know if I can get pregnant…and besides…I haven’t…”

“You mean you and Daryl don't?”

You shook your head. “I’m on my period.”

“Is it always this rough for you?”

“Not usually.” You sighed. “I have polycystic ovarian syndrome. And when I’m on the pill it’s fine. When I’m not. I get like this. Oh, Jesus.” A series of cramps started grinding--at least that’s what it felt like --sending pain through your lower belly and back. You leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.

“I think you need to get back to bed. Let’s get you set up with supplies, a bit to eat. Ask Daryl and Glenn to see if they can find you some pills.”

“I can’t,” you protested. “I’m supposed to go on that run today. And…Daryl doesn’t know about this. I don’t want--” You didn’t want to freak him out and scare him off. “I don’t want him to worry.”

Carol folded her arms. To her, you looked on the verge of collapse. Your pallor was gone and the way you were holding your belly spoke to just how much pain you were in. But like your partner, you were as stubborn as they come when asking for help. Which is to say, you didn’t

She also knew that if Daryl could see you now, he’d drop everything to take care of you, including going to the ends of the earth to get you the medicine you needed. Carol reached down and urged you to your feet. Guiding you to the nearest stall, she sat you down. After fetching one of the menstrual cups, she handed it to you.

“You ever use one of these before? I hadn’t.”

You shook your head. “I know it’s supposed to be easy, but I just want the pads for now. I can get them, Carol. Don’t fuss over me.” Everything hurt so much, you didn’t want to even try getting the cup in right now.

“You can barely stand. What good are you going to be on the outside?”

No good, you thought. That’s exactly what you were: no good. You were just such a waste of space and effort. Why did any of them put up with you, honestly? You should do better. After this, you would earn your keep.

Carol wordlessly handed you one of the pads, then turned away, giving you a moment to put it in place. By the time you were done, you were trying not to cry.

Eventually, you ended up back in your bed, curtain drawn so the world wouldn’t have to see you. You wished you were strong enough to fight through this. But you weren’t. So you lay there, wondering how you’d explain everything to Daryl. And worrying if it would all be Too Much for him.

*

Daryl had been waiting by his bike for fifteen minutes before he decided to go back in and see what was taking you so long. He was stopped at the bottom of the stairs by Carol, who shook her head at him.

"She's not going today."

Daryl furrowed his brow. It wasn't like you to leave anyone in the lurch, much less him. Were you mad about something? You had been crankier than normal, but he figured it was just your Time of the Month like the others. Still, that didn't stop Maggie or anyone else from going on runs and keeping up with chores.

He shuffled around Carol, but she stopped him from getting past her.

"She's not feeling good. Needs to rest."

"'M gonna check on 'er then," Daryl huffed.

Carol didn't let up. "She's sleeping. Don't worry. You can see her when you get back."

Daryl chewed his lip, glancing from Carol to your curtained-off cell.

"Daryl," Carol said, "How serious is this thing between you two?"

Bewildered, Daryl paused, trying to wrap his head around the question.

How serious? Wasn't it obvious how much he loved you? He'd done his best to say it in his own way. By spending time with you and making sure you were safe. And there'd been the kissing, too—not that Carol knew anything about that. He was doing good, he thought, of showing you how he felt.

He shrugged, and Carol patted his shoulder.

"You're in deep aren't ya?" she said.

Daryl nodded, still chewing on his lip.

"I think you need to tell her that."

He nodded and got as far as the second step before Carol pulled him back down.

“After you get back." She handed him a piece of paper with a list of unpronounceable words scrawled on it. "Herschel said we could use any medicine with these names. It probably won't be in bottles. Look for circular or rectangle packages. If you find any, get as much as you can."

"Anythin' else?" he mumbled.

"Nope, that's it." She turned him around gently so he was facing the exit again. "I'll look after her 'til you get back."

*

You slept on and off. The dark cell eased your migraine as the day went on. And you managed to drink a little bit of water. Otherwise, you were dazed and staring into the darkness.

When the scent of Carol and Beth cooking dinner wafted upstairs, you were both ravenous and queasy. You just rolled over and faced the wall. In addition to your physical ills, you simply didn’t want to leave your room. The thought of going downstairs and having everyone look at you pityingly overwhelmed you.

Logically, you knew this depression was because of your hormones, but you felt as dark inside as your cell was. You should just lay up here and hide. No one should have to put up with you.

Tears started staining your cheeks, and you curled up in the fetal position.

Then you heard your curtain open and the soft sound of boots on the concrete floor of your room.

You opened your eyes, not bothering to move as orange candlelight reflected on the wall you were staring at.

You’d just pretend to be asleep. That way you wouldn’t have to face Carol again.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tensed beneath the covers, doing your best to not move at all. You heard Carol moving around, and the smell of dinner was strong in your nose.

Then, the bed dipped as someone sat next to you. A large, gentle hand was on your head, touching you softly.

That wasn’t Carol’s touch.

“How ya feelin’?” Daryl whispered.

His touch and voice broke through the darkness you’d been struggling with. Without thinking you rolled over, leaning into his touch.

Daryl took one look at you, then he sank to his knees by the bed and cupped your face.

“Wha’s wrong, honey?”

You’d never seen such a look on his face, somehow soft but wincing. His brow was furrowed but his eyes were sad.

Suddenly, you felt like the world’s biggest fool. Why had you tried avoiding him all day? How could you ease his worry and get that sad look out of his eyes?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hiccuping through your tears.

Daryl shook his head, and pulled you closer to him. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. Ya can’t help bein’ sick.”

“I-I’m not sick.” you admitted, steeling yourself for what was to come. “I have a condition that makes my periods severe and unpredictable.”

Daryl took out a rag and wiped your cheeks. “Real rough on ya,” he observed.

“That’s not all,” you explained. “Since I’m out of medicine, I’m going to--” you choked back a sob. And Daryl watched you, the concern on his face deepening. “I’m gonna grow chin hair, and be a whiny mess, and I’ll never be thin, and I probably can’t have kids, and every time this happens I’m going to be a little crazy.” You kept crying, so ashamed and afraid.

Daryl didn’t say a word. He just crawled into bed with you, nudging you back toward the wall. The bed was narrow, and you were sure that Daryl barely fit on it. But he put his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.

You jolted suddenly. What if you’d leaked through your pad on the bed? And now Daryl was lying right on top of it?

“There might be blood,” you hiccuped, trying to pull away, but you were so close to the wall, there was no where to go.

Daryl tighten his arm around you and pressed his hand to your lower back. The pressure instantly eased the cramping.

He nudged your chin with his nose. “Ya think a little bit of blood is gonna scare me away?” he smirked.

Despite your distress, you choked out a laugh. “I guess not,” you admitted.

He started moving his hand at your lower back. You gasped and buried your head against his chest.

“What about the chin hair?” you murmured, cringing at the thought.

Daryl huffed, kissing the top of your head. “Can’t be no worse that that time Merle tried to grow a beard down to his waist.”

“He did?”

“Mmhm. He’s out there thinkin’ he was the Grateful Dead, but it looked like he took a broken lawnmower to his face.”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief as you looked up at him, a tiny smile on your lips.

“Ya eaten today?” he asked.

You shook your head.

Daryl sat up, bringing you with him, and he eased you to a sitting position at the edge of the bed.

“Le’s try a few bites,” he said.

“It smells really good.”

Daryl fed you a small bite, and he watched you relax as you chewed the food.

“Sometimes goin’ hungry gets yer belly so outta wack you don’t feel like eatin’ again.” He fed you some more and kept encouraging you until the plate was empty.

You patted your belly and leaned on his shoulder. “Thank you, Daryl.”

He angled himself toward you and cupped your cheek. You were still ragged-looking but doing better than you were a bit ago. He ducked his head and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

You leaned into him more, and Daryl continued kissing you gently. He was getting better at kissing, he thought, and the way you relaxed into him only made his confidence grow. However, you were tired and weak, still. He had to keep that in mind.

“Well, that woke me up,” you said as he pulled away, and a trail of spit hung between your lips. You wiped at it with a little chuckle, and the vice around his heart eased some more. “Or maybe it was the food,” you teased.

Daryl laughed and hugged you, his hands going firm on your lower back.

“That’s so nice,” you sighed. “When you press on my back, it eases up the cramps.

“I’ll keep doin’ it then.”

You shook your head. “I should…well, I have to make a trip to the bathroom.”

“I’ll go with ya.”

“No. I’ll get Carol if I need help.”

Daryl nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. After you left, he surveyed the room, spotting a dark stain on the center of your bed. It didn’t bother him, much, but it might bother you. He quickly enlisted the help of Maggie and Beth, getting your sheets changed. Then he did a little work of his own rearranging things in your cell.

When you got back to your cell, it was a sight different than when you left it. The single candle was still the only light in the room, and it cast a warm glow over the new bed. Your mattress was in the floor, but so was Daryl’s. He sat on the corner and patted the spot beside him.

“This alright?” he asked.

“I thought you didn’t want to sleep in a cage,” you said softly.

He beckoned you closer, so you carefully sat down on the corner of the other mattress.

In the candlelight, Daryl gave you a tiny smile. “I cain’t rub your back if I’m out there.”

You bit your lip and grinned at him. “Guess not.”

He blew out the light, shrouding your cell in total darkness. However, the darkness of your mind slipped further away as you got under the covers with him. He laid facing you and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you again and rubbing circles on your lower back. Everything in you seemed to relax.

“You know I’d do anything for ya,” he whispered.

You were sure that would apply to anyone in your group, not just you.

“This is enough,” you told him. “More than enough.”

“Why didn’ ya tell me what was goin’ on?”

You took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to scare you off. Didn’t want you to see me like this and realize I’m going to be burdensome at times.”

“I don’t scare easy,” he said, shifting closer and kissing your forehead.

“Walkers are way different from dealing with a crazy woman.”

“Ya ain’t crazy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Jus’ need a little more lovin’ sometimes.”

“What if I need too much?”

“‘S’alright. I got lots to spare.”

[fandomohana]

My lizard brain has spoken, Emperor Geta wins, and there will be a story developed for him. Now when I write anything from the past, I'm obsessive with keeping things as true to the custom of the time as possible, I spent an obscene amount of time hunting down 80s clothes for the first chapter of my Eddie fic. This one might take some time, I plan to do some research, I want the story to feel true to the era.

This story will be in the style of a Hades and Persephone story, tweaked a bit, obviously the names will be different, Roman gods and goddesses were essentially the same as the Greeks with different names. It will be a Geta x reader fic, plus size, including my favorite trope of, vicious to everyone but their wife, cause I'm a slut for that trope. 😅

I'm excited to start some researching, ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt were some of my special interests as a kid, so the kid in me is psyched. 🩵

As always canon is a cute idea, but we don't need no stinking canon. 😉

[austinstyles]

Love

Harry Styles x plus size autistic reader

Note: Harry Styles and the reader are friends and fall for each other. And this might be a short fanfic for some. But I felt like I was inspired to write a short one.

Warning: spelling mistakes. And tell me if I missed something.

Harry pov

I always enjoy spending time with my family and friends. And one of my many great friends I enjoy spending time with is y/n. Me and y/n meet when we were both 9 years old. She has been by my side ever since. I love to just hang out and enjoy all the great chats we have and we have so much fun together. We have had this friendship for 15 years. And I am so happy we have kept this friendship even with my busy schedule.

Y/n is an amazing friend. We actually don’t fight, we have never had one in our friendship. But I have over the years started to develop a crush on her. I want to be with her, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship if we ever broke up. But I do hope one day we can start a relationship together. I love her and I wish I could kiss her and love her as my girlfriend.

Maybe one day. All of this can happen.

Y/n pov

I love my friendship with Harry. I love all the time we spend together. He is so supportive and kind. Also he is genuine, amazing. He is all this good things. I also love that he is just so sweet and thoughtful. Harry has been so supportive of my autistic journey in this world. I can’t imagine my life without Harry in it.

I have been keeping something form Harry for 3 years now, and that is I have fallen in love with him. I imagine kissing him. And watching movies with him while he has his hand on my shoulder.

But as much as I want to be with him I a romantic way, I also don’t want to lose my amazing friendship with Harry.

I have had a crush on my best friend since I was 21. And I haven’t ever told him about it. And a big part of me hopes one day in the future maybe we are actually together romantically.

No one pov

Finally today after a 15 year friendship. The two 24 year olds Harry and y/n are dating. And it turns out both felt exactly the same romantically for each other.

Harry and y/n got the relationship they wanted with each other true the ups and downs. Harry is so supportive of his girlfriend and y/n is so supportive of er boyfriend.

Harry also loves y/n for whom she is. And they share a love that will never die.

And this is only the beginning of this journey.

Thanks for reading this. I am sorry that I ended this short and that I didn’t put in the way they confessed their feelings for each other. And I don’t think I will be writing a part 2 for this. And as always my request are open. And I am sorry if this fanfic isn’t very good. But please don’t show hate. I hope everyone has a great day. Take care.

🩷😃👍🏻🌸🖤

Grace

[grimfabulist]

I just posted three new chapters!! 

Chapters: 16/? Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Shane Walsh/Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Female Character Characters: Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Theodore "T-Dog" Douglas, Dale Horvath, Glenn Rhee, Andrea (Walking Dead), Shane Walsh, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Plus-Size Original Character, Domestic Violence, Attempted Sexual Assault, POV First Person, Dirty Talk, Canon-Typical Violence, Light Dom/sub, Suicidal Thoughts, Insecurity, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, Slow Build Series: Part 1 of The Life Of Murphy Summary:

"Once you got over your little “Daryl sucks for even existing” phase."

Murphy McCourt is a former med student who escaped a decade-long abusive relationship, only took the apocalypse for her to get the courage to. She along with her best friend Abagail and company navigate their way through the new world, meeting up with Rick's group. She's used to handling everything on her own, relying on no one. The group changes that.

Insert Daryl Dixon. A man who resembles her ex-abuser who also fits into the term 'redneck.' Murphy starts out despising Daryl, judging a book by its cover. She'll learn that while Daryl comes off as brash and angry, he is nothing like her abuser. Though reluctant at first, she'll slowly learn that Daryl may just be the key to healing herself and she may just help him do some healing as well.

[A rewrite of an old fiction, coupled with an old RPG I did years ago. I wanted to give this story a fresh start. My OC is from a Twitter RPG, the story was written as a fiction and then roleplayed out. I also suck at summaries]

[paranoiddreams]

Satoru who does not give a single FUCK that you haven’t shaved. You both were getting freaky, all over each other with heavy breaths, until you feel his hand go down to your pants.

“No,” you pant out breathlessly, “let me just do you.”

Satoru isn’t displeased to hear those words—he never is and never will be—but he still grunts in confusion. “What?” He asked blankly, as if you’d told him you killed his cat.

“I haven’t shaved,” you groan in explanation, getting restless now, “so let me just suck—“

You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s flipping you over like a toy beneath him, his eyes full of hunger. His hands go to the hem of your pants again, wasting no time to pull them off, along with your underwear.

Your throbbing heat lies beneath him as you try to cover your face, way too embarrassed and flushed with heat to look at him. But Satoru doesn’t care. He leans down and dives in with no hesitation.

“Do you think I care?” I mumbles against your sex, raising his hand to land a firm smack on your wiggling hips. “You think I fucking care if this beautiful cunt has a little hair?”

You can only mewl and squirm under his tight grip, his tongue darting out to tease you every other word. “S-Satoru!” You can’t help but squeal, the words you want to use stuck in your throat as jolts of pleasure rack your body.

“What love?” He grins, the vibration of his laugh against your skin. “M’ just trynna enjoy my meal…”

Idk how I feel abt this one, but I hope you guys enjoy. I woke up just a few minutes ago to post this, may or may not have had a dream abt this🥲

[blond3ang3l]

I don’t agree with cheating at all..

But like imagine neighbor! Price, he knows your husband and isn’t that big of a fan of him at all. Leaving you alone for days on end for “business trips”. Price knew that’s not what he was doing. Your husband was a damn junkie. Running up all you guys money on coke and bottles at clubs.

He had seen him while off duty at a club with Gaz and Nikolai. Blowing your money, the money he had spent without your knowledge, on strippers and the several bottles he had bought in the club.

Price being be good neighbor he was had told you. He felt bad when he saw how your heart practically shattered. You were tearing up and ended up crying into his chest. He brought you back into your house where he stayed with you the entire time. Your tears for your husband was soon replaced with tears for John as he had you splayed out on his lap.

“I know baby, I know. Feels good yeah?”

You could barely get your words out as he rubbed your clit for what seemed like forever while he had you propped up on his lap. Tears pouring down your cheeks as you felt your fourth orgasm hit you.

“So good for me doll, let’s make sure you feel real nice now, yeah?..”💭🎀

[alana-reid-2005]

we all joke about and objectify this man, but do we stop to think how sad his story is? he grew up friendless and ruthlessly bullied for being a literal genius. constantly picked on by his coworkers, and he’s never in on the joke. he’s always being laughed at, never laughed with because no one understands his existentialist humor. he never has plans or places to go on the weekend after work. he goes to work then goes to his lonely home with all his books to keep him company. on occasion, he haunts the chess table at the park or meets with an old professor. no one takes the time to appreciate his weird little quirks. no one took the time to ask him if he was okay after the several traumatic incidents he endured. no one takes care of him because everyone’s too busy leaving. he could be a male model, yet he’s never thought of himself as attractive. when he does find love, he’s brutally stripped of it before he can blink. spencer reid, the lonely genius who learned of love too late and loss too soon.

[corydora-writes]

Two Lonely Hearts Part Two

Summary: Batman reveals his identity to you and then introduces you to his family on Christmas Day.

Pairing: Batman (Bruce Wayne) x Plus Size Female Reader

Word count: 9,202

Warnings: Just fluff and sappy Christmas things.

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Two hours before Batman confessed his feelings to you

Bruce and Clark stood together in the dimly lit confines of the Watchtower, their silhouettes cast against the deep blue of the expansive night sky beyond the glass walls. They had just wrapped up a grueling two-week mission. Despite their success, Clark couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was off with Bruce. 

Clark approached Bruce, his eyes filled with both concern and curiosity. "Bruce," Clark began, his voice gentle yet firm. "Is everything alright? You seem...distracted."

"Everything is fine," Bruce responded.

Clark detected the subtle inflections and micro expressions in Bruce’s voice. He could tell that there was more to it than a simple "fine”. 

"Are you sure?" Clark pressed gently. "You know, you can talk to me if something's bothering you."

“I think I made a mistake,” Bruce finally said, as doubt crept into his mind.

Clark's eyes widened in surprise. It was rare to hear Bruce admit to a mistake. He leaned against the console, giving Bruce his full attention.

"A mistake?" he replied, encouraging Bruce to continue.

“I became too involved with a… woman,” he confessed, a trace of reluctance in his voice as he spoke. The words hung in the air, cloaked in ambiguity.

Clark raised an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation. It wasn't uncommon for Bruce to have women flocking around him, but the mention of him being "too involved" piqued Clark's curiosity even further.

"Too involved," Clark repeated, leaning closer. "Do you mean emotionally involved?"

"Unfortunately," Bruce replied with a sigh, his brow furrowing in disappointment as he glanced away, lost in thought.

Clark's expression softened, his concern turning into a blend of understanding and empathy. 

"I see," he said slowly, choosing his words lightly. "What happened? 

Bruce took a deep breath as he began to explain to Clark the intricacies of his complicated relationship with you. You were not just any woman; you were the skilled director of the Wayne Legacy program, a vital initiative tied to the Wayne family name and its philanthropic efforts. Despite your professional ties, Bruce had kept you at an arm's length, choosing to maintain a certain distance from you in his role as Bruce Wayne. 

But that never worked out as planned. There were circumstances that drew you together in a way he never anticipated. One time, you found yourself in a perilous situation, needing help, and Batman intervened. What was meant to be a single act of heroism turned into a shared evening that unfolded several times, each encounter drawing you closer and deepening your connection. Somehow you seemed to attract danger. 

This unexpected bond eventually transformed into a casual arrangement—one that was purely physical. In fleeting moments, you and Batman shared passionate escapades. 

Meanwhile, Bruce grappled with his feelings for you, having fallen deeply in love, torn from the secrets he kept hidden from you.

As Bruce unfolded the complex tale of his involvement with you, Clark listened intently, his expression a mix of intrigue and understanding. The more Bruce described your relationship, the more the situation twisted itself like a labyrinth into even more complicated depths.

When Bruce finished speaking, Clark let out a breath, processing the information. "Well," he began, choosing his words carefully, "that...certainly is a tangled web you've woven, Bruce."

Clark crossed his arms, leaning against the console, his expression thoughtful.

"I know you're used to keeping your secrets, Batman," Clark added, using Bruce's superhero name to emphasize the point. "But this... this is different, isn't it? You're in love with this woman."

Clark's keen eyes studied Bruce's face, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He knew how difficult it was for Bruce to open up, but he also knew how desperately Bruce was grappling with this situation, torn between love and secrecy.

"You know, Bruce," Clark added, taking a step closer, "there's a saying: love and truth go hand-in-hand. How can you truly love someone, fully and completely, if there's this wall of secrecy between you?"

Bruce's gaze narrowed, his expression caught between vulnerability and determination.

"It's not that simple," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed away from the console, turning to face Clark.

"This is not just a part of my life. It's at the core of who I am," he continued, his voice laced with a mixture of resolve and anguish. "If I reveal that truth to her, it would upend her entire world. How do I trust that she can handle that kind of truth?” 

Clark listened intently. 

Bruce's eyes darkened, the weight of his burden visible in his gaze. "She only knows Batman. Could she love me too, or only Batman?"

Clark absorbed Bruce's words, and a wave of empathy washed over him. He reached out and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"I understand your concern," Clark began, his voice gentle yet firm. "But you’re not just Batman. You're also Bruce Wayne—a strong, generous, and compassionate man. Why assume she couldn't see and accept that part of you as well?" Clark drew in a breath, his next words careful and deliberate. "Love requires courage, Bruce. It requires trust. But it also requires that you give the other person the choice to love you, fully and completely, without any secrets in the way. Are you ready to take that risk?"

Bruce held Clark's gaze for a few moments, his expression unreadable. The silence between them spoke louder than words. Clark could see the battle within Bruce, the struggle between his natural tendency to secrets and his desire for a true, honest connection with you.

Finally, Bruce spoke, his voice a whisper of vulnerability. "Maybe you're right, Clark." 

Bruce's admission carried a hint of resigned acceptance as if a small part of him longed to let go, to trust and open up. "But even if she could love me," he added, a tinge of doubt still lingering in his voice, "how can I be sure that she won't be hurt by the truth? How can I protect her from everything that comes with being closely associated with Batman?"

Clark sighed, empathizing with Bruce's concern. "Bruce, you can't control how others react to the truth.  But what you can control is how you share it with her. And more importantly, you can love her unconditionally.  Even if she might need to recover and take time to process the truth, you can support her. And as for protecting her, you won't be alone," Clark added, determination lacing his voice. “I'm here, and the rest of the Justice League will be here too. We protect the ones we love. We'll adapt, we always do."

A hint of gratitude flickered in Bruce's eyes as he looked at Clark, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and hope. "I appreciate your support, Clark. But making the decision to reveal my secrets... it's something I need to grapple with. It's not that I don't trust her; it's that I fear losing her."

"I know," Clark replied, his voice filled with understanding. "It's a huge risk. But you have to give her the chance to love all of you—Bruce Wayne and Batman. If you keep the secret..." Clark paused, his gaze steady on Bruce's. "You run the risk of losing her anyway."

Bruce let out a long sigh, the internal conflict still etched on his face, but there was a glimpse of acceptance in his eyes.  "I suppose you're right. I just..." he trailed off, words failing him for once. Then, with a hint of resignation, he added, "I just need time to figure out how and when to tell her."

Clark let out a soft chuckle, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know, I spent quite a while talking with Lois about the perfect Christmas gift for you,” he began, a warm smile crossing his face. “It’s a tough dilemma. I mean, what do you give a billionaire who seems to have everything? It took some time, but an idea just hit me.” Clark paused momentarily. “I want to gift you something that you can’t buy or accumulate more of—time. This Christmas, take the day off. Be honest with her; reveal your true feelings. Love her wholeheartedly. I mean it. I’ll take care of everything in Gotham while you focus on what's most important. It’s time you put your heart first.”

Bruce's expression slowly relaxed, a small, grateful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That... that’s actually not a bad idea," he admitted. "But you know me, Clark," he added, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. "Taking a day off isn't exactly my strong suit, even on Christmas. Gotham…" He trailed off, the weight of his responsibilities hanging in the air.

Clark chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I know. I know. That city is your life in a lot of ways. But, and I never thought I’d say this, it's gonna have to manage without you for a day.” 

He folded his arms, his expression turning stern, yet his eyes held a hint of humor. “I mean it, Bruce. I’m gonna make sure you take the day off, one way or another. You need this, even if it’s against every fiber of your being.”

Bruce's sigh was heavy, but he had to concede that Clark was right. "Fine," he grumbled, a trace of resignation in his voice. "I'll take the day off. But I'm holding you accountable, Clark. Gotham better be standing by the time I get back."

Clark let out a hearty laugh, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You have my word. Gotham will be standing, and then some." His expression softened as he continued, "Now, let's make this Christmas count. You just focus on enjoying your time with her.”

Bruce nodded slowly, the weight of his responsibilities easing slightly. He couldn’t deny the appeal of spending a day truly focusing on you. 

“Alright, I’ll do it,” he said, a hint of determination in his voice. “Christmas it is. And thank you, Clark. For everything.”

Clark smiled warmly, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him. “Don’t thank me yet. Just make sure you come back with a smile. And a relationship, hopefully. If not, I’m not sure the League can handle your brooding.” Clark laughed. “Anyway, I’m out of here I have exciting news to share with Lois,” Clark said and headed out of the Watchtower.

Christmas Day. Batman unmasked.

"If you could please put on this blindfold, as instructed by Batman, madam," The British man said, his tone respectful yet tinged with an element of secrecy. 

With a flutter of anticipation in your chest, you took the sleek fabric from his hand and carefully wrapped it around your eyes, plunging yourself into darkness. You could feel the thrill of the unknown thrumming through your veins, heightening your senses even as your vision disappeared.

Bruce nodded subtly to Alfred. Without a single word or sound, he extended his hand to help you navigate the car’s low seat. As you emerged, he gently placed an arm around your waist, providing a comforting presence. With his other hand, he clasped your delicate fingers, interlocking them firmly yet tenderly, and began to guide you through the entrance of the intimate, dimly lit Manor. 

Mellow strains of a saxophone filled the home with a soothing rhythm. You shivered at the familiar touch of Batman, and your heart raced with recognition. "It's you, Knight, isn't it?" You asked softly, your voice barely rising above the soothing music.

But Bruce remained silent, his eyes fixed ahead, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he led you deeper into the manor until you reached his study. 

Bruce's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the weight of the revelation he was about to unveil. The thought of sharing his true identity with you sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through him, igniting a mix of excitement and anxiety. For so long, he had navigated this connection under the shadow of Batman, but today was different. Today, you would finally meet the man behind the mask.

Bruce guided you to stand in front of the grand ornate mirror, its surface gleaming with an almost magical allure, while your world remained shrouded in blissful darkness beneath the blindfold. The air was thick with anticipation as you felt his body heat so close behind you, his presence both commanding and intimate. As you anxiously clutched the fabric of your skirt, your fingers twisted the soft material, a tell-tale sign of your nerves. It was a habit that you fell back on during moments of uncertainty, and Bruce couldn’t help but be drawn to your vulnerability. The air around crackled with anticipation, and he knew that this moment would change everything.

With slow, languid movements, Bruce began to caress your face, tracing the lines of your jaw and the curve of your lips, his touch gentle and reverent. He moved lower, his fingers ghosting over your neck with a feeling that was both tender and intense causing you to shiver in anticipation of his next touch. His other free fingers traced reverently over the swell of your hips and then lower, to the generous fullness of your luscious belly. 

Leaning down, he brought his lips near your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he whispered, “Are you ready, my love?”

That voice. Even without the voice modulator, you knew who that voice belonged to. It was a voice that you would know anywhere, a voice that had been imprinted in your memory and your heart. Your breath hitched in response to the whispered words, your heart racing with anticipation. With a nod, you responded, your voice barely a whisper, "Yes, I'm ready."

The feeling of his lips on your cheek was soft and tender, the warmth of his kiss leaving your skin tingling. As he leaned back, you could feel the silk blindfold being carefully unfastened, its soft weight gradually falling away from your face. The room slowly came into focus, the warm candlelight and the soft strains of jazz filling your senses. Your eyes widened in surprise, your gaze meeting Bruce's in the mirror as you took in the sight before you: the contrast between your own shorter stature and Bruce's towering presence, the way your bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. You turned around to face him, your eyes searching his with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Bruce...?" You whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you breathed his name, rich with unspoken feelings.

He couldn't help but smile, his gaze lingering on the softness of your expression, the way the light caught the gentle curve of your cheeks and the hint of vulnerability in your eyes. 

"It's me," he said softly, each word dripping with emotion and vulnerability. "I'm the man behind the mask, the man who has foolishly, desperately, and passionately fallen in love with you." A look of tenderness swept through Bruce's expression as he looked down at you, his eyes scanning your face intently. He could see the flicker of conflicting emotions in your gaze, the disbelief and awe mixing together with something else that tugged at his heart.

You reached up, your hand reaching out to touch his face, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw in wonder. "Bruce," you whispered again, your voice even softer this time.

The touch of your fingertips against his skin sent a jolt through Bruce's body, causing his breath to hitch in his chest. He had dreamed of this moment countless times, the moment when he could finally reveal himself to you. But now that it was happening, the reality of it was almost too much to bear. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, savoring the feel of your fingers against his face.

"I’m here," Bruce murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I’m no longer hiding from you."

Your hand remained on his face, your fingers running gently over his features. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” 

Bruce let out a deep exhale, his hand coming up to cover yours, holding it against his cheek. He looked into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of regret and vulnerability.

"I wanted to tell you for so long," he said, his voice strained. “But I was afraid of how you would react, afraid of putting you in danger, afraid of losing you.”

"Bruce," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, “Thank you for trusting me. For giving us a chance…”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Bruce's lips, he grabbed your hand and held it against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palm, the rhythm of its pace a testament to the intensity of his emotions.

"You have no idea how much I've ached for this moment," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of relief and desire. "To be able to stand before you as myself and not a mask. To have a chance at a future with you."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a sudden wave of emotion washing over you. You leaned into him, your body close enough to feel his warmth, your hand still resting against his chest, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat. Your eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty but you didn’t find any. “So you’re thinking about a future with me?"

Bruce let out a soft chuckle, his free hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. He met your gaze, the look in his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

"Of course I am," he said, his voice low and filled with quiet confidence. "I want a future with you. I want to be there for you as both Bruce Wayne and Batman."

You stepped even closer, your body now flush against his, your arms wrapped around his neck. You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with a mixture of emotions.

Bruce's hands encircled your waist, pulling you even closer, his body molding against yours as if they were made for each other. He marveled at the feeling of you in his arms, the way your curves fit against him, the softness of your skin under his touch. 

"I've imagined this moment countless times," he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "Holding you in my arms, being able to call you mine, without the darkness, without the cowl.”

You leaned your head against his sturdy chest, letting yourself succumb to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, a steady thrum that resonated in the silence between you. The sound was both exhilarating and reassuring, wrapping around you like an embrace. 

Bruce's voice broke the spell of the moment as he quipped, “You’ve taken this surprisingly well. My identity didn’t seem to surprise you.” His tone was teasing, yet there was an undercurrent of curiosity that hinted at his need to understand your reaction. 

“Oh, believe me, I have many questions,” you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. “one being the ethical implications surrounding our relationship, but we have plenty of time to discuss that.” You took a moment, your gaze piercing, as if searching for answers in his eyes. “And truthfully, my heart has already spoken; I’ve fallen for you, my Dark Knight. And that includes every part of you, Bruce. You’re a man of many layers, a complex tapestry of experiences and emotions, and I adore every thread that makes you who you are. I’ve seen you as my leader, authoritative and steady, yet we’ve shared moments of intimacy and passion. So when I look into your eyes, I don’t just see a man — I see a familiar soul. A man my heart recognizes as its own.”

Bruce's heart soared as you spoke, your words a salve to his soul. He felt seen, known, and understood in a way he had never experienced before. Your confession that you had fallen for him, all of him, both the man and the knight, was like a gift he hadn't dared to hope for.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice low and gravelly, echoing the profound emotions that surged within him. 

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his voice dropping to a ragged whisper. "I feel as if you’ve known me for lifetimes as if we have shared countless pasts together. You somehow manage to bring light in parts of me that I thought had burned out long ago." He looked away momentarily as if he was embarrassed at his vulnerability. 

"Listen to me, love," you whispered, your voice filled with a blend of awe and tenderness, "I see your darkness, your pain, all the shadows that you carry. And I promise to embrace them, as I embrace you, piece by piece."

As Bruce leaned forward, he felt a rush of warmth and anticipation. Your eyes locked for a brief moment, and he could see the spark of connection evident in your gaze. Then, with a soft and gentle motion, he pressed his lips against yours, savoring the sweetness of the moment as time seemed to stand still around you. Your eyes fluttered close, giving in to the dance of lips and tongues, a heated, passionate, and needy connection that consumed you both. His hand cradled the back of your head, holding you close as if he couldn't bear to let you go as if this kiss was the very air he needed to breathe.  

Bruce gently pulled away from the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours with a playful yet meaningful gaze. “Let’s save the best for last, shall we?” he said with a subtle grin, teasingly hinting at the wonderful evening that lay ahead. “Alfred has gone all out this time and prepared a special dinner for us.” His voice carried a mix of anticipation and affection, making it clear that he was eager to savor every moment of your time together.

“Alfred?” You inquired, your brow furrowing as you struggled to recall anyone by that name. 

Bruce smiled at your question, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Alfred,” he repeated, his expression soft yet filled with a sense of nostalgia. “He's more than just the man who helped raise me, he's the man who has been my anchor for as long as I can remember. He's been there through everything, from my childhood as an orphan to the present day as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. And tonight, he wants to introduce himself to you.”

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips curving upward. “Well, I’d be honored to finally meet this mysterious Alfred,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

Bruce smiled, pleased with your response. He moved his hand to your waist, gently guiding you toward the dining room. "Be warned though, he can be quite the character, but it’s all with good intention."

As you stepped into the expansive dining room, you couldn’t help but notice the elegant setting, the table adorned with fine Christmas decor, candlelight flickering subtly in the corners. Soft music filled the air, adding to the atmosphere of refinement. Then your gaze shifted to an older man, standing near a side table, who turned to face you. You recognized the man as the driver from earlier. 

"Ah, Master Bruce,” the man said, his voice holding a note of familiarity. "And this must be the lovely miss Y/N I've heard so much about."

You felt a sudden wave of nerves wash over you as the man spoke. 

“Y/N, this is Alfred Pennyworth,” Bruce said. 

Alfred approached you, a warm smile on his face as he extended his hand in greeting. ”I can see why Master Bruce is so taken with you. You’re quite lovely, if I may so myself,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine kindness. 

You accepted his handshake, a soft smile crossing your face in response to his friendly demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth,” you replied, your voice laced with both politeness and a hint of curiosity. “Please, call me Y/N. None of these formalities are needed.”

Bruce's eyes moved from you to Alfred, a sense of pride in his gaze at how comfortably you two were already interacting. “Alfred, as always, has outdone himself with the spread,” he said, gesturing towards the beautifully laid-out dining table. 

“Indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred responded, his eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of satisfaction. “I’ve prepared tonight’s meal with the utmost care and attention. I believe it's one of my finer creations.”

Alfred paused. “Before we commence with dinner," Alfred stated, his voice filled with a touch of seriousness, "I have a small request for the both of you."

Bruce turned his gaze towards Alfred, a slight furrow on his brow. He seemed puzzled by the sudden change in tone but also intrigued enough to give his full attention to the matter. “What kind of request?” Bruce inquired, the curiosity evident in his voice.

"If it's not too much trouble," Alfred started, his voice holding a hint of a playful smile, "I'd like a moment alone with Miss Y/N. I have some things I'd like to discuss with her."

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly in mild surprise, the request catching him off guard. He glanced at you, and you were equally taken aback, then back at Alfred. There was some hidden intention behind Alfred's words, and Bruce couldn't deny that it piqued his curiosity.

"Of course, that's not a problem," you replied, your voice steady.

Alfred nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes flickering to Bruce for a brief moment as if silently communicating something. Then he shifted his focus onto you, his expression one of pleasant curiosity. "Follow me, Miss Y/N," he said, gesturing towards a set of double doors nearby.

You glanced at Bruce, offering him a reassuring smile to ease any lingering uncertainty, before standing and following Alfred towards the doors. 

Alfred led you through the doors and into a small, elegant sitting room. It was cozy, yet opulent. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries, and the furniture was arranged to maximize both style and comfort. A small fire crackled faintly in the stone fireplace against the far wall, casting shadows and warm light across the room. 

Alfred led you to a pair of comfortable chairs facing each other near the fireplace. He gestured for you to take a seat, a gentle, yet purposeful look on his face.

Alfred took his seat across from you, the warm glow of the fire casting shadows across his face. He observed you for a silent moment, sizing you up, before addressing you directly.

"Miss Y/N," he started, his voice soft yet carrying an intense undertone, "I’ll be straightforward with you. In my years of knowing Master Bruce, I've observed him go through many relationships. None, however, have seemed to hold his attention and devotion like you."

You tilted your head slightly, absorbing his words. You hadn't expected such a declaration, let alone from someone like Alfred. Your brow furrowed lightly, a mixture of curiosity in your eyes. 

"And why do you think that is?" You asked. 

"That is a valid question," Alfred responded, his eyes studying you carefully. “You've managed to catch his heart, make him open up in a way he's never done before. The change in him is striking." He paused for effect, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "But there's something else that sets you apart from the others."

"And what might that be?" You asked. 

Alfred's gaze intensified as he observed you, weighing his words.

"I do hope it’s not premature of me to say this but, it’s your ability to see beyond the surface. You see him, truly see him, for who he is - as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You connect with him on a deeper level. There's no pretense, no trying to change him. You simply accept him, flaws and all."

A small smile formed on your lips as you looked back at Alfred. "I see your perception rivals your wisdom, Mr. Pennyworth," you acknowledged a tone of respect in your voice.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Alfred’s mouth at your comment. 

"You've also managed to break his usually cold demeanor. I've never witnessed him smile or laugh as much as I have since he met you. You've brought a lightness to him that has been missing for a while." He paused, studying you, the look on his face becoming more serious. "But I must ask, are you aware of the life you’re stepping into? The dangers that come with his world?"

Your smile faded slightly, a hint of gravity entering your expression. "I am," you replied, knowing full well the implications of Bruce’s double life. "I’m aware of the risks and dangers associated with being with someone like him." You paused for a moment, considering your words carefully before continuing, "But I believe love isn’t about avoiding risks. It’s about finding someone worth taking those risks for."

Alfred nodded a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Wise words, Miss Y/N. Love isn’t for the faint-hearted, and loving someone like Master Bruce requires a level of patience that not many possess." He paused, studying you once again. "But love alone isn’t enough. You must also understand that there are aspects of Master Bruce’s life that will always be outside your reach. His crusade as Batman will always come first, no matter what.. unfortunately. Are you prepared for that?"

You took a deep breath, the weight of Alfred’s words settling in. You had come to terms with this part of Bruce and had accepted it as part of who he was the moment he revealed his identity to you. 

You met Alfred's gaze, your eyes holding confidence and determination. "Yes," you replied, your voice unwavering, "I’m prepared for that. I understand it’s a part of who he is, and it’s a part of what makes him the man I fell in love with."

A satisfied look crossed Alfred’s expression as he observed your response. "You’ve given your answer much thought, it seems," he noted, his tone holding a note of approval. He leaned forward slightly, a new determination in his eyes. "I need to ask you one final thing, Miss Y/N.”

You shifted slightly in your seat, your gaze fixed on Alfred, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation in your eyes. 

"What is it?" 

“Can I trust you with his heart?” Alfred asked.

You felt the question strike a chord within. It wasn’t a simple question, but rather one that held tremendous importance. But you didn’t hesitate. “Yes," you replied, your voice firm and resolute, "You can trust me with his heart."

"I believe you," he said simply, his tone softened. "Your dedication to him, your love and acceptance of him, they’re genuine." He took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, his voice steady and filled with conviction. "I want you to know that I will make it my priority to ensure he treats you with nothing less than the utmost respect and admiration. You deserve to be cherished, loved, and valued, and I won't stand by and let anyone, not even Master Bruce, treat you otherwise."

You listened to Alfred's words, touched by the depth of loyalty and concern. The thought of someone like Alfred, who knew Bruce so well, standing up for you, made you feel both humbled and protected. 

You offered him a small smile, your eyes filled with gratitude, "I appreciate your pledge, Mr. Pennyworth. I’ve never felt more cared for."

He returned your smile with one of his own, the lines of his face creased with both solemnity and happiness. "Please, call me Alfred," he insisted, his tone a mixture of insistence and warmth. "You're part of this home now, and in my eyes, that means you're part of the family." He paused, the fire cracking in the fireplace the only sound in the room for a moment. "And family looks after their own."

The words "part of the family" hit you with a sudden wave of emotion. Growing up, you had never known what it was like to truly feel like you belonged, not even with your own family. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, a small, choked laugh escaping your lips to fight the urge to cry. 

"Thank you, Alfred," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion, "That means more to me than you can ever know."

Alfred's facial expression softened further as he leaned in, reaching out to gently pat your hand. "Family means everything," he murmured. "It’s a bond that binds you together through good times and bad. And you, my dear, have made Bruce a better man. You’ve made this place brighter, warmer already." He leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I can’t wait to see what the future holds for the two of you."

Your emotional turmoil heightened with Alfred’s reassurance, your heart swelling with a mixture of joy and melancholy. But this time, you didn’t fight it. You let the tears fall, the emotional release providing a moment of catharsis.

"Thank you, Alfred," you repeated, your voice catching in your throat. Your tears continued to fall as you wiped them away. "For everything."

Alfred reached into a nearby drawer, got a handkerchief, and handed it over to you. He gave you another soft smile, his eyes filled with understanding. 

He waited patiently for you to gather your composure, the room quiet except for the crackling fire. 

After a few moments, your tears began to subside, your emotions slowly returning to equilibrium.

You looked up at Alfred, your eyes red and puffy, a small sheepish smile on your lips. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, "I didn't mean to get so emotional."

Alfred dismissed your apology with a wave of his hand. "No need to apologize, my dear," he said gently. "Raw emotions are nothing to be ashamed of." He leaned forward, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "What do you say we return to the dining hall," he suggested, "before Master Bruce begins to worry."

You nodded, wiping away the last of your tears. Getting up from your chair, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace and determination settle over you. 

Alfred led you back to the dining hall, opening the doors to reveal Bruce waiting patiently at the head of the table. His expression changed from slight concern to relief as soon as he saw you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He stood as you approached. 

"Everything alright?" he asked, his gaze shifting between your tear-stained face and Alfred’s calm demeanor.

"Everything’s fine," you responded, your composure now returning. You could see the flicker of concern in Bruce’s eyes, and you wanted to assure him that there was nothing to worry about.

You took a seat beside him, forcing a small smile. "It was just a heartfelt conversation, that’s all," you added, casting a quick glance at Alfred.

Bruce eyed you for a moment, the concern in his gaze lingering, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, he reached for your hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent gesture of reassurance.

Alfred took his seat as well, his expression holding a hint of satisfaction, a silent statement that the discussion you had was more than just a heartfelt exchange.

“Y/N," Bruce began, his voice steady yet warm, as he gestured towards you. "I want to introduce you to my sons. They are Damian, Dick, and Jason, and they will be joining us shortly. It’s important to me that you get to meet them." He paused a hint of pride in his expression, knowing how much they all meant to him.

You nodded slowly, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the thought of meeting Bruce's sons. It was more than just a social occasion; it represented a significant step in your relationship, a tangible sign that Bruce was ready to share a deeper part of his life with you—a facet that you knew must be important to him.

"I look forward to meeting them," you replied, your voice laced with sincerity and anticipation. You bit your lip, glancing down for a moment as you considered the potential implications of this meeting. “But are you sure about this? What if it feels like too much for them at this point? I mean, is it too soon?  I don’t want to overstep any boundaries."

Before Bruce could respond to your concerns, the door swung open, and Jason Todd strode in, his demeanor confident and lively. “No, trust me. This is way overdue!” he exclaimed, a playful grin spreading across his face. “We’ve heard so much about you, Y/N. It’s about time we finally put a face to the name. We’ve been curious.” His enthusiasm seemed to dissipate some of your worries, making the prospect of meeting the boys feel a little less daunting.

Damian and Dick followed close behind. Damian, the youngest, eyed you with a mixture of caution and curiosity, his stern expression giving way to a subtle interest in his eyes. Dick, on the other hand, greeted you with a charming smile, a warm glimmer of amusement in his gaze. 

"I must say," Dick began, a hint of good humor in his voice, "The mystery surrounding you has been quite the topic of conversation, especially amongst the family gossip circle."

You managed a smile, your nerves still evident but eased by Dick’s lighthearted introduction. You glanced at Bruce, who was watching the scene unfold with a stoic expression, but you could sense a trace of worry in his eyes. With all three of his sons standing there, each with their own distinct personalities, you couldn’t help but find it slightly intimidating.

"I hope the conversations were all good ones," you responded, your gaze flickering towards Damian, who was studying you intently.

Jason laughed, clearly amused, as Dick joined in, both of them finding your comment entertaining.

"If only you knew,” Jason quipped, “Half of it was just speculation, rumors, and wild guesses."

Damian, still serious and unwavering, spoke up, his voice cutting through the banter. "Father hasn't been this... interested in a woman in a long time." 

His words hung in the air, the room momentarily silent as the others chuckled softly at Damian’s bluntness.

You felt yourself blushing slightly at Damian’s straightforward comment, your nervousness returning as all eyes fell on you. You glanced at Bruce again, his expression unreadable, but you could sense a subtle change in the room’s atmosphere. 

"Well, I hope I can at least live up to the mysterious hype," you tried to keep the mood light despite your increasing anxiety.

Dick leaned against the table, a grin still lingering on his face. "Oh, I’m sure you’ll exceed all expectations," he replied, his tone light and friendly. 

Jason added, "Or at least make things a lot more interesting."

You smiled, appreciating their attempts at breaking the tension, but then Damian spoke again. 

"So, Miss Y/N," he began, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving your face, "What exactly are your intentions with my father?"

His question took you by surprise, but before you could reply, Bruce spoke up, his voice calm yet firm. "Damian, that’s enough."

Damian shot a quick, defiant glance at Bruce before shifting his gaze back to you, clearly not satisfied with the answer. 

Jason chuckled at the exchange, his amusement evident. "Classic Damian," he muttered.

"I think what Damian’s trying to say," Dick interjected, his tone softer, "is that you seem to mean a lot to Bruce, and we just want to make sure he's in good hands."

You felt the weight of the question, sensing the protective nature of the boys' concerns. You glanced at Bruce, his expression stoic yet filled with understanding. 

Taking a breath, you met Damian's gaze and, with as much composure as you could muster, responded. "I care deeply for your father," you began, your voice steady, "I'm committed to him, to our relationship." 

You paused, looking around the room, meeting each person's gaze, including Bruce's. Your next words came from a place of genuine care and sincerity. "I want to be a part of making him happy."

Damian's expression remained stern, his eyes locked with yours, though a hint of something almost resembling approval shimmered in his gaze.

"Sounds like we've got our answer," Dick noted, a small smirk on his lips. 

Jason quipped, "As long as you make him laugh more. The brooding has its limits."

You smiled softly at Jason’s remark, the hint of humor in his words making you feel a little more at ease. 

Bruce spoke up, his voice steady and firm. "Let’s just enjoy dinner," he suggested, his tone suggesting that the conversation about you was now closed.

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension easing as everyone took their seats. Bruce sat at the head of the table, with you to his left side. Dick sat beside you, and Jason and Damian took the seats opposite to you. 

The dinner proceeded, the conversation flowing with a mix of casual banter and the occasional playful jab, yet you couldn’t help but feel the lingering presence of the questions Damian had posed.

”Y/N,” Dick snapped you out of your thoughts. “The Manor is lively for the first time in years. It's never decorated for any holiday season. So this is a rare sight.“ Dick observed the decorations as they enjoyed their meal. "Bruce usually isn’t one for festive tidings."

Jason, never one to hold back, quipped, "Yeah, the Bat is allergic to anything resembling joy.” 

Damian rolled his eyes, a scowl on his face. "Don’t trivialize his dedication," he grumbled. 

Alfred interjected thoughtfully, his voice tinged with a soft nostalgia that seemed to echo through the grand halls of Wayne Manor. "It is indeed true, Miss Y/N. The last time this home was adorned in a proper fashion for the season was long ago when the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were still with us, filling these rooms with their warmth and affection. The whirlwind of responsibilities and escapades has left us little room to indulge in the kind of celebrations that this home truly deserves.”

Curiosity flickered in your eyes as you turned to Bruce, his expression a mix of contemplation and nostalgia. Even Alfred, the ever-observant butler, seemed lost in thought, a faint shadow crossing his face. 

“So, what changed?” You inquired, your voice soft yet probing, as you sought to unravel the mystery behind the contrast of the manor’s festive charm and the weight of the past that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well, your welcoming presence in Master Bruce’s life did, Miss Y/N,” Alfred remarked with heartfelt sincerity.

“But also, Bruce mentioned that your apartment resembles a scene straight out of a holiday disaster film, as if Santa and his elves had a chaotic celebration and left the aftermath everywhere,” Dick added, a teasing smirk on his face.

You chuckled softly at Dick's depiction and smiled at Alfred's response.

Meanwhile, Jason chimed in. "True. Bruce said you literally live inside a snow globe."

Damian, who had been quiet for a moment, suddenly spoke up, a hint of disapproval in his tone. "I fail to understand the appeal. Holidays are overly sentimental and commercialized," he scoffed, "A waste of time and resources."

Jason rolled his eyes at Damian's cynicism. "You just hate anything remotely cheerful and joyful, don’t you, D?"

"I merely appreciate practicality and efficiency," Damian replied with a cool indifference. "Holidays are unnecessary distractions, especially for someone with responsibilities like my father."

"Right, because having a holiday tree and some lights totally takes away from his ability to fight crime," Jason retorted sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

Bruce intervened, his voice calm yet authoritative. "Alright, that's enough," he said firmly, casting an amused yet warning glance at his sons. He then turned to you, holding your gaze with a mixture of affection and resolve.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable tonight,” Bruce said.

Your heart warmed at his words. You reached for his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I already feel at home, Bruce," you replied sincerely, your voice slightly quivering with the weight of your emotions.

The boys, despite their banter earlier, couldn’t help but notice the subtle tenderness between you and Bruce. 

"Seems like Bruce has got it bad," Jason murmured to Dick, a sly smirk on his lips. 

Dick laughed, his eyes flickering between Bruce and you, watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and something that hinted at both protectiveness and genuine happiness.

Damian, ever observant, studied you carefully before shifting his gaze to Bruce. His expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that could be interpreted as a hint of acceptance. 

Bruce squeezed your hand lightly in response, his touch conveying the depth of his feelings for you.

The warmth of the moment was interrupted by Alfred, who had quietly refilled a few wine glasses, except for Damian. 

"It seems that Christmas has indeed brought us all together," he said sagely, a rare hint of contentment in his usually composed demeanor.

Jason, always first to lighten the mood, picked up his glass and raised it in a toast. "To Christmas, and all the sentimental nonsense that comes with it," he declared, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Dick, following suit, joined in the toast. He smiled warmly, his glass raised high. “And to new beginnings," he added, his gaze flickering towards you and Bruce.

Even Damian, reluctantly, lifted his glass, his expression still slightly guarded. “To the holiday season, may it pass swiftly,” he grumbled before taking a small sip.

Bruce followed suit and raised his glass. His eyes met yours, the depth of his feelings for you evident in his gaze. "To us," he said quietly, "and to new traditions."

The boys' eyes widened slightly at Bruce's words, clearly not expecting such a sentimental toast from the usually reserved man. 

Dick smirked, his eyes darting between the two of you, while Jason elbowed Damian, who rolled his eyes but said nothing further. Alfred smiled softly, clearly pleased and perhaps a little relieved to see Bruce opening himself up in such a way.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a mixture of surprise and joy at Bruce's words. You held his gaze, your own affection for him mirrored in your eyes.

"To us," you repeated, echoing his toast, your voice filled with both tenderness and promise. 

The boys, perhaps silently acknowledging this new chapter, clinked their glasses together, a gesture of support and acceptance. The atmosphere in the room was filled with a subtle sense of hope and change. 

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving yours. The bond between you grew deeper with each shared moment, the holiday cheer seemingly bringing a new level of intimacy and understanding.

Jason started speaking with a warmth in his voice, his excitement palpable. "Since this is our very first time celebrating Christmas together, I thought it would be fun if we all wore matching pajamas, just like what normal families do during the holidays." 

The word "family" lingered in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. Your thoughts raced as you reflected on the significance of that word. Did they truly see you as part of their close-knit group this soon? The idea sent a flutter through your chest, mixing hope with a touch of uncertainty. You glanced around at the others, wondering if they felt the same way, and what it would mean to be included in this new family tradition.

The boys' eyes widened in unison, a mix of surprise and perhaps a slight bit of horror plastered on their faces at Jason's unexpected suggestion. 

Dick, the first to recover, responded. “That’s... different."

Damian was the first to protest, a scowl on his young face. "Absolutely not. I will not be seen in such an absurd and infantile get-up."

“I'm in,” you said excitedly.

Jason, his eyes bright with delight, smiled widely at your enthusiasm. "Looks like we've got one taker," he announced, his gaze flickering to the others. 

Dick smiled, his initial surprise giving way to amusement at your eagerness. "Well, if Y/N is in, count me in too," he proclaimed, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Damian's scowl deepened, his arms crossed defiantly across his chest. "I refuse to participate in this buffoonery," he declared firmly.

Bruce, who had been silently listening to the conversation, cleared his throat and spoke up. "I think it would be nice if everyone joined in," he said, his tone brooking no argument. 

Jason, Dick, and you smiled, knowing that Bruce's word was final. Damian, still reluctant, rolled his eyes but nodded grudgingly. 

Alfred, who had been quietly observing, piped up, ”This shall be fun."

As Jason vanished from the room, no doubt to bring the pajamas, everyone exchanged glances, a mix of resignation and reluctant excitement on their faces. The thought of wearing matching Christmas pajamas was definitely unusual, but the prospect of having a new tradition with you was undeniably appealing. 

Jason came back with a stack of flannel pajamas. 

Everyone eyed the pajamas, each lost in thought. 

Dick spoke with a hint of resignation in his voice. "I guess we're really doing this." 

Damian held up his pajamas, his expression a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "These are hideous."

Your eyes gleamed with excitement. You grabbed your set of pajamas, holding them up against you. "I love flannel," you grinned, already imagining how cute they'd look. 

Bruce accepted his pair, studying them for a moment before speaking. "It’s just for tonight," he reassured, his tone serious yet with a hint of surrender.

They all dispersed to change into their pajamas, each returning to the main room at different times. 

Jason was the first to come back, his pajamas sitting perfectly on his frame. "Not bad," he smirked. "I could get used to this." 

Dick was next, his face a mixture of amusement and resignation. His pajamas fit him nicely, the flannel soft against his skin. "Okay," he said, holding up his hands in defeat, "It’s not as bad as I thought."

Damian was the last to emerge, looking decidedly unhappy in his pajamas. The soft flannel contrasted with his usual no-nonsense attitude, but he managed to maintain his aloof expression. 

As Bruce entered, your gaze traveled over his firm and toned body, your cheeks flushing slightly as your eyes roamed over his torso. You quickly tried to compose yourself before anyone noticed your lingering gaze.

Bruce caught your lingering gaze as it traveled up and down his body. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, silently amused by your reaction to his casual, albeit still fit, appearance.

Bruce walked towards you and went in for a hug. “You always look stunning,” he whispered in your ear.

You smiled at Bruce's compliment, your heart fluttering. 

"And you look quite handsome yourself," you replied, your voice soft as your arms wrapped around his waist in a gentle embrace.

Jason interrupted the moment. “Anyway, I will choose the flicks for tonight.”

Everyone settled in the large living room, each finding a comfortable spot on the couch. As the movie started playing, you and Bruce sat close together. 

Dick, ever observant, noticed Bruce's arm casually around you, silently marveling at Bruce's open display of affection. 

Damian, seated next to you, remained silent. The sight of Bruce’s open display of affection, so unlike his usual stoic demeanor, seemed to have taken even the usually unruffled Damian by surprise.

As the movie flickered across the screen, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room, an air of drowsiness began to settle over the group. Dick sprawled comfortably on the plush carpet, his head resting against the cool surface, while Jason sank deep into the cushions of the recliner, his eyelids growing heavy with each passing minute. Across from him, Alfred sat in his own recliner, a classic movie poster gently illuminated behind him, dozing off with a serene expression etched on his face. Meanwhile, Bruce, you, and Damian nestled together on the loveseat sofa, your bodies cozy against one another, the gentle warmth of their comfort lulling you all into a state of relaxation as you watched the film. The combination of the riveting narrative and the peaceful atmosphere made it increasingly difficult for anyone to stay awake.

Bruce's eyelids grew heavier as the movie progressed. His arm, wrapped around you, instinctively drew you closer, pulling you into a comfortable position against his chest in the cozy loveseat. 

Jason was the first to surrender to the drowsiness. He let out a long yawn and closed his eyes, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

You shifted slightly on the sofa as you felt a warm weight settle against your arm. Glancing to your side, you discovered that Damian had dozed off, leaning comfortably against you. His brow was relaxed, and a hint of a smile played on his lips as if he was lost in a pleasant dream. 

With a soft sigh, you reached for the cozy blanket draped over the back of the sofa that Alfred had placed and gently unfolded it. You carefully draped it over him, wanting to ensure he stayed warm through the night. Your fingers brushed against his cheek as you tucked the fabric around him, feeling the softness of his skin against your hand.

Leaning in closer, you whispered tenderly, “Goodnight, Damian,” your voice barely above a whisper, filled with affection. The room was quiet, save for the soothing sound of everyone’s breaths, and in that moment, all felt right in the world.

Bruce's heart swelled as he watched you tend to Damian, tucking him in with gentle affection. Your tenderness towards Damian, despite his thorny demeanor, warmed his heart fiercely. 

Bruce, too, was slowly succumbing to the drowsiness that filled the room. He fought against it for a moment, not wanting to miss a single second of this unexpected moment of tranquility.

Bruce kissed the top of your head and stroked your hair, cherishing every touch, every sigh, every moment he could spend with you in his arms, until finally, you drifted off to sleep. The warmth and comfort of the room, coupled with his fatigue, were starting to overpower him.

As he gave in to the pull of sleep, he smiled faintly, his voice barely audible. "Good night, princess, and Merry Christmas."

[nerdieforpedro]

So basically best time ever? Best time ever 🙌

Preciously Plump

Santiago "Pope" Garcia X f!plus size!Reader

First time writing about Santi but can't stop thinking about the fact that I think he might be into plus size ladies. I'm plus size personally but usually my characters need to be more on the petite side either for their jobs or situations they are in so this will be fun!

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, reader is plus size, unprotected sex, praise kink, reader has some self esteem issues, anal, p in v (totally not projecting why would you think that?)

When you first met Santi you were surprised that he even talked to you. Guys like him usually weren't interested in girls like you, especially when they could have someone that fit the "standard" of beauty that you were convinced you fell short of. He looked you up and down, like you were the most delicious thing he'd laid eyes on licking his bottom lip before biting it.

He tried to play it off like he wasn't mentally taking off your clothes piece by piece when he looked at you sat at your barstool. You were charmed by his smooth talk and the way he leaned against the counter, eyes never wavering from you.

After grabbing your number he would start texting you about how cute he thinks you are and he would ask you on a date. Part of you would still be convinced that this was too good to be true, but the other part of you would be screaming internally with excitement and so you'd say yes, of course.

Like a true gentleman, he would pick you up for the date and open the car door for you. You'd never know but he also just really wanted an excuse to touch your sides as he helped you into the car. When he opened the door at the restaurant he let you walk in ahead of him so he could stare at your thick ass in front of him. He'd be glad when you were both able to get a seat at the table so he wouldn't have to keep holding his jacket in front of himself in attempt to hide his growing erection.

Despite his clear physical attraction to you, he would also genuinely enjoy hearing about your hobbies and interests. Likewise, you would love an opportunity to pick his brain as well.

During dinner he would do his best to keep his eyes on yours but you just had to wear that damn low cut top to tease him. He would subconsciously bite his lip without realizing while he shifted himself frequently just trying to quiet the screaming in his pants.

It was after a few more dates, but when he finally got his hands on you, all bets were off. The first time he saw you naked, you were gingerly trying to cover yourself, but he wouldn't have it. He would wipe his hand over his mouth while he looked at you and then walk over. "Don't cover yourself sweetheart. Let me look at you." He would say in a breathy tone.

Self consciously you would lower your hands and feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He would shake his head and say, "wow, aren't you beautiful." To which you would chuckle nervously. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing you right then and there. When he wrapped his arms around you he would lower his hands down to grip that ass he'd been admiring through denim for a while.

He'd want to kiss down your chest and would relish in the fact that he got to squeeze your plump tummy. He'd savor the softness of your skin against his lips and be unable to stop himself from squeezing your thick hips while he did so.

This man would demand you get on the bed and even get down on those shitty knees just to spread your legs and kiss the inside of your thighs. He'd love it if you would give him a grip of death with your legs while he was suffocating in your wet folds. He would comment that he'd "never tasted anything so good in his life cariño." To which you would squirm. His words of approval would send a rush to your core.

He would revel in the way his fingers gripped on your hips while he assaulted your hole with his mouth. He would enjoy your squirming while while he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. When you finally come, you can bet he is devouring every bit of the juices that flow from your pussy without hesitation and enjoying holding you down by your plump tummy while you tremble from the overstimulation.

He then can't decide which side of you he wants to look at while he's fucking you. Does he want to slam himself into your precious and already wet cunt and watch your tits bouncing and squeeze your adorable stomach? Or does he want to push himself between your intoxicating cheeks for some anal play?

Unable to choose, he would start with that sweet and soaking pussy. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my thick cock." He would say in a breathy moan before pushing himself into you. His one hand would be holding up your right leg so he could get as deep as possible. His other hand would squeeze your breast, teasing at the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Once he was sure you had come at least one more time, he would turn you over. Your ass, that gorgeous voluptuous round thing that he wanted to bury himself into over and over again would be presented to him in that moment. He would spread your cheeks and use the juices from your sopping cunt to lubricate your anus. He would coax you, telling you to "relax, let me take care of you." He would go in, one finger first to test you. When three fingers fit somewhat comfortably, he decided you were ready.

When he was sure he couldn't handle himself anymore he would push past your cheeks into your tight ass. He'd moan, telling you "you're so tight, fuck." You would have your hands gripping the sheets tightly while he reached around your hip with one hand to stimulate your clit with his fingers, and the other would be holding on to your ass, squeezing.

Neither of you would last much longer, feeling him exploding inside of you and stretching your lesser penetrated hole as his cock throbbed, filling you with his heat. You would feel your already oversensitive pussy contracting in waves as you reached your climax as well.

Finally, yes, he's calling you for more dates because he cannot get enough after having you once.

[jarofstyles]

Sugar, Sugar 12

Here they are, finally. With the smut <3 I know you've been asking about it so here she is!

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writings

Series masterlist

WC-5.4k

Warnings- body issues, past trauma, degradation, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, y'all know the drillll.

----

Y/N felt like she was going to pass out. 

The room was dimly lit by one small lamp on the bedside table. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue, and the curtains were drawn closed, shutting out the world beyond. Y/N laid on the bed, fidgeting with the sheets, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't believe she was finally here, that this was finally happening after all the teasing and workup to this sort of thing. 

She had agonized over what to wear to bed, finally settling on an oversized tee shirt much more suited for her. It was a Queen tour tee shirt, a soft cream color and buttery smooth. One of her favorites to wear to sleep. Being bold, she had decided on no shorts and simply a pair of black lace panties. How long would they even stay on? She had no clue. Not if Harry had anything to do with it. All she knew was that she had been the most prepared she could be. Sneaking into his bathroom, she had spread coconut body lotion on her skin to get her as smooth as possible, taking her hair down from the half assed updo she had done, spritzing herself with body spray and brushing her teeth twice. Overkill, perhaps, but she wanted to be good. To be what he had been anticipating. 

Staring up at the ceiling. She fidgeted nervously, feeling a bit out of place in his room. Harry had ordered her to his room while he finished cleaning the kitchen, dangerously leaving her alone with her thoughts. As sexy as it was that the man could clean up after herself (And bare minimum), she knew that should could only last so long before she went crazy.

As she waited, she couldn't help but start to notice all the little details about his room. The closet door was closed, a tv hanging over one of his dressers that mirrored the end of the bed. A full size mirror stood in the corner- which she had covered with a blanket. She’d have to talk to him about mirrors and portaling later. He had a few pieces of art, some little sculptures, paintings on the walls of varying sizes to make a little gallery. What had surprised her was his basket of sunglasses on the previously mentioned dresser. Soft cream, it held an almost overflowing amount of sunglasses which had confused her. She had really only seen him wear 1 or 2 pairs of them. Maybe she could snoop later. There was still so much to know about him, so much to learn. All she craved was getting closer to him. Emotionally, mentally, physically. 

God, she was crawling out of her skin. She wanted his touch so badly that she knew that the moment he touched her tonight that she would be wet. They’d behaved for the most part, Y/N pretending to ignore Harry’s eye fucking because she was still hyping herself up. There was no turning back now. She let out a sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. She and Harry had been dating for a while now, but she still felt like she was getting to know him. She wondered if he felt the same way. If he still felt like every time they hung out he was learning more and more about her. 

But even through the nerves, she wasn’t uncomfortable. She trusted Harry with her body, with her vulnerability. She looked forward to handing herself over to him for a bit, to enjoy his hands and lips and get to know how he was as a lover. Was he a biter? He had been vocal in the past but she had to hope that he would get dirty with her tonight. She needed it.

Just then, Harry walked back into the room, carrying two bottles of water. He grinned when he saw her sitting pretty in his bed, hair down now and changed. She was a fucking vision in his bed, surrounded by all things him. His pillows, laying on his sheet, the man couldn’t help that sensation of self satisfaction in his chest., Setting the water down on his nightstand before crawling onto the bed next to her. He hadn’t wanted her to have to get thirsty and not have anything to drink when she woke up or.. After activities.

He took a moment to look at her, watching her hands fiddle with the sheets as she looked up at him with rounded eyes, he could see the mixed emotions on her face- but it wasn’t necessarily fear. He wanted her to talk to him, tell him what was going on in that beautiful brain of hers. Sensing that she was probably needing a bit of soothing, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Hey," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "What's going on in that mind?"

She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking up. "I’m just nervous, I think. I really want to do this, and have been thinking about it for a while. But sometimes those old nerves come creeping in and I get worried you won’t like what you see. I usually don’t feel this way, but when we peel back those layers and get to the real stuff, sometimes this sort of feeling leaks past. I’m sorry.” She peeped, looking down at her lap.

Harry looked at her with a soft expression, his eyes filled with understanding. "Hey, look at me.” His finger nudged her chin up, directing her eyes at him. “There she is. Sweet thing.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers chastely, starting slow. “I know it can be scary to open up and let someone in," he said. "But I want you to know that I feel the same way. S’fucking terrifying. When you care about  someone, sex means a hell of a lot more. But I need you to listen to this, even if you don’t fully grasp it yet.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes looking over hers, hoping they could convey just how serious he was.

“I adore what I see. I’ve been attracted to you since we met. I know people have probably said some fucked up things, made this sort of thing scary for you- and I wish I could beat the hell out of them. Wish I could take that away and make your experiences only positive, only let you feel as beautiful as you actually are. I know you know how gorgeous you are, that this sort of thing brings you back- from what you’ve told me anyways. But I need you to know that I have never felt more attracted to someone in my life. S’not going to change without your clothes on.”

His words made her heart swell with affection for him. Finally. This was what she deserved. Someone tender with her heart, who got it- or at the very least, attempted to get it. That’s what she had asked for. Harry had seemingly come out of nowhere, placed in her direct path because he would get it. He was meant for her. Her eyes stung a bit as she felt the words hit her fully. It felt so fucking good to know how much he genuinely cared. How he was attracted to her, how he wanted to help her rewrite those experiences.

What she wanted to say couldn’t be expressed very well verbally, so she kissed him instead. Placing her own hand on his neck and pulling him in, kissing him fully as she urged him closer to her as she started to lean back. It was a fiery kiss, one that he could feel down to his bones. She meant this kiss. It was hot and heated, making him moan into her mouth as her fingers tugged slightly on the hair she had found to urge him closer. He would never tire of that. 

“Thank you.” She whispered against his lips, fiddling with his hair as he adjusted. “I just want you. Want to do it. Can we?” 

Harry smiled against her mouth, his heart quickening in his chest. He hadn’t expected that sort of reply.  He had been fully prepared to take more time sweet talking her- but his mouth could be put to better use. “Anything you want.” He murmured to her. “Seems you’ve still got me wrapped under your spell. M’gonna be so good to you.” His lips puckered against hers, nudging their noses together before he sat up, pulling his shirt over his head. “We go as fast or as slow as you want. I’m jus’ feeling insane that I’ve even got you here.” Going back down to her mouth, he brushed his thumb against her plump bottom lip, slightly swollen from their kisses tonight. He wondered if it stung, if it was sensitive, but she answered that by wrapping said lips around the digit and sucking on the tip of it softly. Just a bit, her tongue brushing the underside as she gave him her softest eyes clouded with that hint of lust. Lust for him. 

“I like this.” His voice trilled. “Like that you’re so pretty with your lips wrapped around me in any way.” Pushing his thumb a bit further into her mouth, he watched her cheeks hollow as she took it deeper and let her teeth grace his knuckle before pulling ot back out. “Temptress, that’s what you are.” He took his wet thumb and smeared it over her lip, spreading her own saliva on it before catching her lips in a kiss. “Need t’get you naked.” 

This is what she had been worried about initially, but with his mouth on hers she felt a little floaty as his fingers gently tugged up her sleep shirt, only breaking their kiss when he had to tug it over her head. It was abundantly clear that he was looking when she heard his breath hitch, eyes glancing down at her bare breasts. Of course she wasn’t wearing a bra to sleep, Y/N would fight demons over underwires, but she knew she made the right call when Harry knelt down and began to kiss down her neck. 

“How are you so perfect?” He groaned, peppering kisses to her while motioning for her to lay back. Harry was taking his time to play with her, to observe, to worship. “Can I touch, Sugar? Let me see how soft you really are?” 

Her nod was slow, watching his face break out in a naughty grin before his hands traveled south. Despite how comfortable she was with Harry, it still made her tense a little as his hand fell to her waist. How it ran over her stomach, the one forbidden area she usually refused to be touched- but he did nothing but love on her. Letting his hands trace every curve, every dip and edge as his mouth moved further down to the hollow of her throat and bit down softly to make her whimper. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Like one of those paintings, hm? Y’know what I’m talking about. So soft and lush, just want to bury my face in you.” He whispered, ignoring her necklaces as he moved to the swells of her breasts. They weren’t as perky as she’d like, but that apparently had no effect on Harry. He took them into his hands, audibly groaning as he kneaded them gently. He genuinely looked pained, and a peek down showed he was hard in his pants. “Christ. M’the luckiest fucking man. Look at you.” His voice coated in awe, he let his thumbs brush over her hardened nipples, exhaling shakily. 

He let his lips kiss over them, the expanse peppered in soft, slightly wet kisses leaving an imprint behind that glowed in the dim light before he went to the middle of her chest. “M’trying to take my time. Know I have all night… but you’re driving me crazy.” He croaked, letting one hand down down her stomach to the edge of her lace panties. It had been a pain in the ass to actually find comfortable lace in her size, but she would gladly go on the hunt for days to find more if it made him look at her like this. A spark went up her spine and a soft gasp left her throat as his thumb moved down, stroking her slit lightly. Cupping her mound, letting his thumb trace over the lace as she exhaled shakily, his lips closing around her nipple. 

A whine she hadn’t ever made before bleated through her lips, hands finding his hair as he flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple and continued the movements over her most sensitive place. There was no hesitation, nothing she had feared had come true. No recoil, nothing but a positive, lustful gaze and words of praise leaving him. She could tell they were genuine, his excitement palpable in the room. 

“Wet for me.” He mumbled against her skin. “Got the panties wet, just sitting and waiting for me. Been dying for it just like me, hm?” He asked, smugness written on his face. “I’ve been tryin’ to pace myself.. Like you too much to rush, didn’t want to just jump into bed with you but… I’ve been dreaming about it.” Lowering himself further, Y/N made herself relax instead of tense like she had naturally inclined to doing. His lips brushed her stomach, the softness of it making him nuzzle against it before moving down. He knew she would be self conscious if he spent too much time there, but he wanted to help her get over that eventually- if she felt comfortable. He wanted to worship every inch of the woman, his modern goddess. 

“Me too.” She replied, watching with hazier eyes as he found himself snugly between her legs. The man spared no area, kissing her over the panties before moving to her thighs, the fullness making him moan. She continued talking as she felt his lips exploring. “I appreciate you wanting to take me seriously and do it right but- but I’ve been desperate for it.” It wasn’t a shameful thing to admit. Harry was beyond attractive and she had the sexiest boyfriend she’d ever seen, how could anyone blame her for being eager to fall into bed with him. “Not too much teasing, p-please.” Her words stuttered as she felt his teeth graze her thigh, making her shudder. They were still on the road to discovering what each other liked, but Y/N was impatient. She had waited far too long. 

“Oh, m’sorry, Sugar.” He murmured against her, digging his fingers into the waistband of her panties. “Just getting to know my girl. But let’s get down to it, hm? Didn’t mean to tease you.” His nimble fingers were quick to slide them off, aiding her in lifting her legs and tossing them to the side before letting out a whimper of the view. Y/N was beautiful in all areas, but this was his personal favorite at the moment. “Fuck me… You are everything.” He moaned, wasting little time before leaning in to let his tongue run up her slit. 

Her legs tensed for a moment, his arms hooking under her to hold them open in anticipation of this. She had done such a good job at sucking him the first time, and he knew he wasn’t going to ever leave her alone again. He had appreciation for all women, but Y/N was the prettiest he had ever seen. He was determined to get her soft and pliant, keep her puffy and sensitive for him before he slid his cock inside of her. Just a taste was good, but he wanted to. Greedy for her was becoming a new key trait of his. 

“Oh my god.” The girl moaned, feeling his tongue circle her clit. Looking down she could see his eyes, the hunger in them as he licked over her. It was new to her, seeing someone look almost… desperate to touch her. “Just like that, H.” Her praise seemed to make it even worse, nuzzling his face into her cunt with little care about the mess it would make on his face and testing out movements with his tongue. He was incredible, obviously, but Y/N had a bit more limited experience when it came to getting eaten out. She’d had it happen, sure, but there was something different about this time. Perhaps it was the trust, the feelings, but everything felt better. 

Harry was pleased, feeling how she relaxed for him and arched slightly into his face as her hands wound in his hair. Her heavier breathing fueled him, noting every reaction he could. Her thighs tried to close as he latched on to her swollen clit, sucking it lightly into his mouth with a wet sound that went straight to his cock, but he kept her still as he did so. He knew now that he would be spending plenty of time down here, learning exactly how to make her cum from just this alone- but he had to work her open a little bit. 

Pulling away from her clit, his face lifted and arm moved to slick his fingers against her cunt. “You’re happy, baby?” He crooned, not minding the slickness of his chin and mouth. He had no reservations about getting messy, and Y/N had expressed a like for it too, so when he crawled back up and her hands grabbed his face to kiss her, he wasn’t shocked. The response was just as hungry, sliding a finger inside of her and muting her squeak with his mouth as he suckled on her tongue. His cock rutted slightly against her thigh, groaning as he felt how truly tight she was. Soaked, but tight. 

“I need you inside.” She panted, eyebrows furrowed as her hand slid down to his cock. Waiting for his nod, she slipped it into his pants and watched in satisfaction as his face fell into one of pleasure as she wrapped her hand around the base of him, giving a few strokes. “Please? I know it’ll hurt but- but I like it.” She whispered up at him. “Make it hurt a little bit, H. Please, just get inside me.” 

“Condom- are we?” He knelt up on his knees as he shucked his pants down, eyes on her hand. She never stopped stroking him, only once to spit on her palm to make the glide that much easier. His head wasn’t on straight right now, worked up in the arousal he felt. 

“No- No, we’re okay. I want it like this. If we can.” Y/N didn’t want to pressure him into anything, but by the look on his face he was more than happy to do so. Harry was visible to read, she found, and i instances like this she absolutely loved it- but she really wanted him to fuck her. 

“Course, anything for you.” His fingers slid out from her cunt, brought to his mouth so he could greedily get another taste of her with the deep groan that made her pulse. Y/N was beginning to get desperate. How had she lasted this long without him? “How do you want me to take you, Sugar? Hm?” His eyes were blazing as they met hers. “Like this? On your knees?” He was giving options. 

“Knees.” Leaning up for one more kiss, she took it wetly before spinning around to get comfortable. This way felt so good, and she was comfortable like this- but she hadn’t expected the spank on her bare ass. The startled squeak was accompanied by his warm hand soothing the sting, making her lean into it further. 

“God… this ass.” He moaned, holding it in his hands. Harry was obsessed with every part of her, but there was no denying he was an ass man. He’d secretly praised whatever god was out there that she had chosen this way. This position was what he’d been jerking off to for weeks, and seeing her with her face laying on the pillow, hands on the sheets and ass in the air was ten times better than it was in his fantasies. “You are the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen. This is what I dream about.” He whispered, kneading it before fisting his cock. “Want to see it move when I fuck you. Perfect fucking girl.” 

Y/N let out a garbled moan as she felt the tip of his cock run over her soaked slit, finding her entrance. The first push made her tense slightly before his hand ran down her back, soothing her. He was big. Big enough for it to sting slightly as he began to push in, making them both let out noises. It was like she could feel every bit of it. Never having forgone a condom before, it was a bit more intense than she had realized but god, was it worth it. He was being patient, slowly pushing in as she could feel him twitching against her, but it was worth it. 

“More.” She gasped. “More, H.” 

Harry was in awe of how good she was- how good she felt. Watching her cunt split open and take him, it was evident that she hadn’t been fucked in a long while, and shamefully he loved being the one to take her back. Hopefully the last cock to ever fill her, the only one she would crave, he’d tried to be gentle, but his sweet little Sugar wanted more. “More?” He laughed. “Tiny cunt can barely take this much. D’you think you can really handle more?” 

He was testing out limits, and if Y/N wasn’t already dripping? She’d be soaked all over again. “I can do it.” She whined, pushing back on to him. “Promise, I can take it. Give me more.” 

Doing as told, Harry began to push further into her. A deep groan left his mouth as he watched her swallow him up, slipping himself inside of her tight channel. It wasn’t the easiest, resisting slightly, but he could feel how wet she was getting.  “How’s it feel, Sugar?” He asked softly, holding on to her hip as he got the last bit in. Fully submerged in her, she was dripping on him. “Hm? Talk t’me.”

“Full.” The girl choked out, grabbing the sheets until her knuckles paled. “Stings, but- I love it.” Did she ever. This was the fullest she had ever been, his cock thick and long and perfect for her as he stayed seated fully in her for a few moments before she began to rock on him. “Fuck me. Don’t be gentle, please. I can- I can take anything you give me.” 

Harry would still be careful, but he trusted her. If she wanted to be fucked? He was going to deliver. Slowly pulling out a few inches, he slammed back in to make her yelp. He did it again. And again, listening to her noises as he started to find a rhythm. It was a hot, wet heaven sucking him in and he was loving every moment of it. 

Y/N was reacting just how he liked. Whimpering and pushing back on to him, moaning for him as he brought his hand down on her ass again and watched the skin ripple as it hit. His obsession with her ass was only being fueled as he watched it hit his groin. This was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. 

He continued, watching as his girl tugged at the sheets and whined for him, fueling his ego as he began to fuck into her harder. It only seemed to satisfy her more. It was the most free he had felt during sex in his life. Not worried about hurting her too much as he saw what she preferred, he pounded into her as he held her hips tightly. Surely there would be bruises on her after this, but part of him relished in that. Marks made by him on the perfect woman underneath him, marking her as freshly fucked and fully his. 

Y/N felt like she was being fucked stupid. Like each thrust was making her focus only on how to get this to never end, how she wanted him to stay humping her forever. He wasn’t holding back and fuck, did it feel good. Harry was strong, thorough and so deep she swore if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was in her stomach. “You’re giving it… so good.” She slurred, eyes watering slightly as his hand wrapped around her hair and tugged. A whine left her as she was forced up, scrambling to use her hands as he fucked into her sopping cunt like it belonged to him. “Hit me again- please.” She begged as his hand in her hair made her arch her back. 

The man chuckled in disbelief, bringing his free hand down against her ass again, and again. Watching as the spot moved and her ass rippled from the force of his thrusts. The moans coming from her felt too good to be true, but as he pulled her up and had her on her knees, he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped an arm around her own, his other hand turning her head so he could kiss her. Albeit sloppy at this angle, Y/N was feeling like she was in a dream as he cooed against her cheek. 

“So fucking wet for me, you’re dripping. Naughty girl. Like it when I rough you up a little, hm?” A yank of her hair made her mewl, doing her best to nod. “Was going to go nice and slow, make love t’you… but you had to tell me to fuck the gentleness. Had to make me fuck you like a little whore.”  The slight degradation made her cry out, clutching the arm bracing her to his chest as she searched out his lips- but he wasn’t done talking. “Knew you were dirty… But getting off on this? Being called a whore, being fucked bare and on your knees? Never knew my sweet little Sugar had it in her.” He released her hair to collar her throat, his strong hand wrapping firmly around her neck as he jostled her with his thrusts. 

“My sweet girl didn’t want soft. No… You wanted the fucking only I could give you, Yeah? All the rest couldn’t fuck you right, but you knew that I could.” His lips dragged against her ear, making her shiver. “And that’s why you’re letting me keep you. Cause I love this beautiful body, wany every single inch to crave my touch. M’gonna train you to want me everywhere. Your neck, your cunt, your stomach, your thighs… You’re going t’feel every bit of beautiful as you are.” His voice was darker, rougher, and it went straight to her cunt. Y/N swore she could cum just from that. 

“Yeah, yes, only you can fuck me like this.” She babbled back, knowing it was the truth- but she couldn’t wait until later one when she showed him it was the same for him. Only she would fuck him the way he wanted. She would take control at some point and show him that, but for now she was more than happy to let him take the lead. He did an incredible job. 

It felt like she was on fire, the tips of her nerves buzzing as he fucked into her over and over again. With whispered permission, he closed his fingers around the side of her neck in a practiced way, cutting off a bit of air and giving her the headrush she needed. “Gonna cum- I’m gonna cum, Harry.” She said frantically, voice slightly strained as the mix of his cock hitting the spot she needed, the words and his hand around her neck having her barrelling towards orgasm much faster than she had before. It was almost rare, before, to cum during penetrative sex, but he was getting her in that exact way she needed. 

“Go on, baby.” He encouraged. “Soak me, c’mon. Cum on my cock, my perfect little whore. Sweet little goddess… Show me how good you feel.” He continued the same pace, not wanting to change a thing so she could meet her end. It fueled him to know it was his doing as he watched her begin to fall over the edge. 

Y/N’s ears were ringing as she came, all she could focus on was the pleasure. White hot, spilling from her belly to her clit, all the way to her eyes as they watered. The most pathetic little scream was given as she began to tremble in his arms, nails digging into the one holding her up as her cunt fluttered around him. Her breathing caught in her throat, even as he released the grip and simply held her he worked her through it, but it was difficult to stop. She began to go limp, unable to keep herself up. 

Harry was right at the edge, feeling that orgasm- but he was gentle as he lowered her down, body following after her as he chased her orgasm. Now weighted on top of her, he used one hand to make sure he didn’t crush her while the other stayed on her throat while he buried his face into her neck, grunting as he felt his orgasm crest. It hit him like a train, his own pathetic whine leaving his chest as he shuddered on top of her, sloppy final thrusts pushing him over the edge. A moan of her name left his swollen lips into her neck as the first ribbon of cum spilled into her, stalling as his balls began to pulse and the thickened load of cum began to fill her up. 

It was more intense than either of them had felt before. Both felt stinging in their eyes, a need to stay close, and want to hold on- so they did. Recovering slowly, Harry stayed buried in her cunt as he pressed kissed silently to her cheek and neck as his cock gave its final twitches inside. Spent. It was unusually comfortable despite the stickiness between bodies, and when Y/N gathered the strength she lifted her head and whined softly for a kiss which the man happily gave. 

“You okay?” He asked softly after a few moments of quiet breathing and her body stayed under his. He was blown away, if he was honest, but he didn’t know how to verbalize it to her. 

“M’so good.” Y/N giggled, feeling his nose against hers as he smiled. “I don’t know what got into us, but I loved it.” The woman knew how rare good sex actually was at this point, especially for her, but Harry had almost read her mind. She’d directed a little, but he followed every cue her body had given. He’d taken control, was a little degrading but not too mean. She’d get him to be meaner later- or show him how mean she could be. 

“Me too.” He admitted, hissing as he adjusted in her. He was sensitive for now. “Gotta pull out in a minute. D’you want to take a shower?” His fingers were gentle as he removed them from her throat, moving the hair that was stuck to her face. “Need to make sure you’re all taken care of.”

It warmed her heart to know he cared. He actually gave a fuck if she was okay and knew what aftercare was. She’d gotten lucky. 

“Yeah. Just give me a minute.” She yawned, burying her head into the pillow. “My legs are like jell-o. You can be smug about it.” The permission was heavily earned. 

“Well, I will be. But I want you to be comfortable first.” He sighed. “I'll give us a minute but m”gonna have to change the bed.”  Harry didn’t want to assume anything of her for another round, but she answered that herself. 

“Don’t bother.” She mumbled. “You’re going to be back inside of me before we get out of bed tomorrow.”  Harry couldn’t argue with that. All he knew was, he had gotten a proper taste of Sugar- and he was an addict.

[minervadashwood]

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 32

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Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

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Summary: It's been a week or so since Glenn and T-Dog saved Rick. Now, your pack is getting settled in new place. Word count: 3K This chapter contains: Nesting, going into heat, firearms, smut.

Author's note: I am a little behind on posting chapters to tumblr. So I'll be trying to fix that in the next few days.

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Nest.

It was all you could think about as you took water and soap to every surface in the kitchen. The other rooms had been cleaned, from top to bottom, including the loft and the basement. The loft had a low ceiling, but Ro and Merle had made their bed up there, using an air mattress and sleeping bags. Carl slept on the main floor, closest to the wood stove, while you, Rick, and Daryl had a makeshift bed in the basement. It was a far cry from your house, a home filled with Daryl’s handiwork, not to mention modern furniture. All that remained were some old, hand-made chairs and a small kitchen table.

This cabin, like the others around it, was old, from the 1850s, you’d guessed, based on the structure and style. In more recent years the land had been repossessed then abandoned. Before then, generations of Dixons had lived here, in their own version of Walton’s mountain, before the Great Depression.

Despite the bedding downstairs in the basement of this old, cozy cabin, your omega was desperate for safety, seclusion, and comfort.

As you cleaned, you were also looking after Carl. He sat at the table, still and focused as he drew pictures to give Lori and Shane when they arrived. He’d grown quiet over the last few days, since you left home.

You hoped, for his sake, that Lori and Shane would get here soon.

The past few days remained a chaotic whirlwind, made all the worse by your biological imperative. Soon after you met Glenn and T-Dog, your mates decided it was time to get out of town, before things got worse.

The next morning, you packed what you could: clothes, food, and supplies. When it came time to pack up the pillows and blankets from your nest, you sat frozen in your nest, trying not to cry. That’s how Daryl found you when it was almost time to go.

“C’mon, Bubbie,” he said, clearing space so he could sit next to you. “You’ll make a new one.”

“You built this for me,” you replied gesturing at the bed, then running your hand along the shelves behind it. “You made this a home. For us.”

Daryl gathered you in his arms. “Yer the one who made it a home. ‘Sides we’ll come back when it dies down.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think we will. The way Glenn describes the city…I don’t think this will be safe for a long time if the dead are migrating here.” You took a deep breath. “I know we have to go.”

“Don’ mean it’s easy,” he said, hugging you. After a moment, he got off the bed and opened one of the cherry wood chests he’d made for your nesting materials. He dumped out all the unused, pillows and blankets, still in their plastic wrapping.

What to take was your decision, but Daryl helped you, arranging everything in the chest, and packing it tightly.

Later, when it was time to go, Rick reassured you, too. “We’ll get you a place for your nest in time.”

“What if we have to move again, while I’m in heat?” you asked. “It will be soon.”

“I know. We both do. That’s why we’re goin’ now. And it’s why we need to stick together. Not just us, but the new guys, too.”

You nodded. Rick wrapped you up in a tight hug.

“We owe them. I owe them,” you said. “They brought you back to me.” Even in the short time you’d known Glenn and T, you knew them to be good people. T-Dog, an alpha, kept his distance from you; he must have known you were close to your heat, but you’d gotten to know Glenn a little. He had strategic way of thinking, and you thought maybe he was some sort of weekend warrior. But no, just a delivery driver.

Now, in the cabin, you gripped the edge of the sink, panic rising. Trying to control your breathing, you glanced at the wooden chest sitting by the basement door. Then, you stared at Carl’s back, as a sudden, unwelcome wave of frustration came over you. Your omega didn’t want him near your nest. In fact, it didn’t even want your mates near it, not yet.

Outside, Merle and Ro kept watch while your mates were clearing out other cabins, making them livable. T and Glenn took one, next to yours. You bristled at having strangers so close by when your heat was imminent, but you owed them.

The front door swung open, and you flinched, letting out a whimper of surprise. Despite the gust of cold wind from the door, you were too hot to even notice, but Carl shivered.

Daryl stepped in, quickly closing the door, and going to add logs to the wood stove.

He took one look at you, and whether it was your bond or Daryl’s keen eye, he seemed to know exactly what you needed. Jutting his chin toward the basement, he sat down next to Carl, distracting the boy while you went to make your nest.

The chest was too heavy for you to carry, and through your bond you felt Daryl’s impulse to help you. Rejecting it and putting up a mental wall, you grabbed armfuls of your blankets and pillows, making a few trips up and down the basement stairs. When you were done, you locked the door at the top of the steps and got to work.

The padded mats you cleaned earlier had dried. One still held hints of Daryl’s musk, pine, so you put it in the center foundation of your nest and started arranging everything around it. Nestled in the corner of the room, the nest began to grow. Releasing your perfume, you set about making the entire area yours. Blankets were piled on top of each other, pillows lined the walls. After hours of work, you were almost satisfied and crept back up the stairs to find the house empty except for Daryl and Rick, who were both pacing in the open-spaced living room and kitchen.

“Carl?” you said, still on edge, but in control of your anxiety for the moment.

“With Jesus.” Rick assured you.

“Whaddaya need from us, Bubbie?” Daryl asked, his voice low and soft.

“I need your clothes, something,” you said, your voice almost whiny. Your first heat had been so perfect. But this heat was different. You couldn’t be sure your pack would even be safe here, or how long you could stay in one place. Especially with Rick and Daryl unable to protect everyone like they had been.

Wasn’t it selfish of you to need them like you did? Not just one, but both? Yet how could you choose? Yes, you were more in sync with Daryl, but he’d claimed you and been with you for half a year now. You cared just as much for Rick, and soon you’d be bonded with him, too.

Daryl started striding across the room, but you backed away, shaking your head.

“Not yet.”

Rick shrugged out of his fur-lined deputy’s coat and untucked his shirt, unbuttoning it as you watched. His bare chest gleamed with sweat, his soft dusting of hair enticing. Your stomach clenched and all you wanted was to lay on top of him and let him ease the growing ache in your belly.

Meanwhile, Daryl froze in place, and, although it took you a moment, you finally realized what you’d inadvertently asked of him. Quickly, you opened your suitcase and started pulling out unwrapped Christmas presents. What a simpler time that had been, when your most pressing worry was dropped stitches and miscounted rows.

Setting some things on the kitchen table, you approached Daryl with his poncho, it was hooded, with two layers of thick wool.

“Trade for your coat?” you asked him.

He took it and brought it to his nose, sniffing deeply.

“Ya make this? Fer me?”

You nodded. “I did some research and it’s supposed to keep you warm while you use your crossbow.”

Your mate’s face was red, and he was blinking quickly as he stared down at the gift.

“Merry Christmas,” you said quietly. Daryl nodded without looking up, refusing to meet your eyes or Rick’s.

“I-I-I have more,” you stammered, unnerved by Daryl’s reaction. Why would he cry over a poncho? You gave Rick his wide scarf and matching gloves. Daryl had a pair of gloves, too, fingerless with rubber grips sewn on the underside—for driving his motorcycle.

“Bunny,” Rick breathed, still shirtless and sniffing his scarf. “These are amazing. And your scent is all over them.”

Daryl grunted, and got out of his coat, handing it to you, and putting on his poncho.

“’S real nice, ‘mega,” he said, adjusting the poncho on his shoulders then grabbing his crossbow from where it sat nearby.

Clutching Daryl’s coat and then grabbing Rick’s shirt, you said. “Soon. But --”

Daryl looked up. “Ya dun wan’ anyone in ‘ere but us.”

You nodded.

Rick said, “While your finishin’ up, we’ll get Carl settled in with Jesus. Already talked to him about your heat.”

“You did?”

“Carl knows that you’ll need me— us -- for a few days.”

Of course, children knew, vaguely what an omega in heat entailed. Not the actual mating, but the privacy, the duty of alphas to care for their partners.

“And the others?” you asked.

“Merle swore off drinkin’ an’ Ro’s good with the kid. Glenn and T helpin’ with keepin’ watch.”

Their reassurances consoled you. Besides, the betas in your pack knew what they needed to do, and you trusted them. But Carl…he had been taken from his mom and now his dad, too.

You pointed to two crocheted Woobles on the table. “These are for Carl.” Both were dinosaurs from his favorite cartoon.

“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Rick said.

“Go’n now,” Daryl told you, jutting his chin at the basement door. “Be dark soon, an’ cold.”

You nodded, renewed determination compelling you to tweak your nest until it was perfect and cozy for your alphas, for yourself, and for the days that followed.

*

Finally, your nest was as close to perfect as it was going to get. Surveying the pile of blankets and pillows, your omega was finally happy to have a place to share with your mates.

Despite the stress of the past few days, a glimmer of happiness bloomed. Rick could claim you. Daryl would make love to you. And the world outside would fall away.

Skin still hot, you left the basement in search of your men. You’d been cramping steadily for the past hour, nothing unmanageable but growing more intense as time went on.

Outside, you heard the rumble of engines, and a wave of tension hit you. Not your own, but Daryl’s

Grabbing your coat, you ran outside, finding Daryl on the porch and Rick standing in the worn path near the house. A little behind Rick were Merle and Ro; Merle with a shotgun pointed at the winding path that led to the cabins.

In the distance, three vehicles approached, a Jeep, a Cherokee, and an RV.

“That’s Shane and Lori,” Rick said, but his hand was on the butt of his revolver, you noticed.

You approached Daryl, standing next to him as he held his crossbow, lowered, but seemingly ready to aim at a moment’s notice.

“You said it was just them two,” Merle shouted. “Then explain the rest of ‘em.”

The cars continued to approach, Rick glanced around, his eyes landing on Merle, who had his rifle raised.

“Put that down, Merle,” Rick ordered.

“Ya gonna make me?”

Daryl gruffly shouted, “Merle!”

Merle shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. If y’all wanna risk it, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Glenn, from across the way, spoke up. “It’s all good. More people, yeah? Safer that way.”

You agreed with Glenn and Rick, at least on principle. Yet, right now, on the verge of your heat, the thought of strangers being near you or your nest, felt like a threat on your pack’s territory.

Just then, Carl ran out of the cabin next door, without a coat on. Merle lowered his gun even more at the sight of the pup, but you could still see the tension in his shoulders. Next to him, Ro was quiet and still, his hand at his side holding a gun.

The red Jeep barely came to a stop before Lori appeared, throwing herself out of the passenger side door and running to Carl. Shane got out, too, and you relaxed at that. If Rick trusted Shane enough to tell him about this place, then the people with Shane had to be trustworthy, too, right?

Shane’s scent didn’t alarm you, not like it had the first time you’d met him, but there were more alphas’ scents emanating as other people emerged from their vehicles. One alpha’s odor burnt in your nostrils; when a balding, scowling man looked your way, you knew it was him. In the same car were a thin woman and a cowering little girl, who was around Carl’s age.

The alpha stared at you, his eyes bulging, it seemed, making you gasp and hide behind Daryl. Daryl squared his shoulders and adjusted his grip on the crossbow as Rick took an intimidating step toward the strange alpha.

Still, the frightening man didn’t look away.

Rick’s voice sliced through your fog. “Inside. Now.”

Not a command, and not directed at you.

Daryl said, “Holler if—”

“I will,” Rick replied, keeping his eyes on the strangers.

Daryl took you by the arm and guided you back into the cabin. Inside the warm living room, you took off your outerwear as quickly as you donned it moments ago. Your body was at war with your mind. Cramps of need swept through your middle, beginning the incessant pulsing at your core. You reached for the kitchen table to steady yourself, but Daryl caught you, holding you tightly against him, your backside pressing against his front. Slick moistened your underwear, and Daryl’s reaction was nearly instantaneous as you felt him grow hard against you.

Glancing out the windows to see Rick shaking hands with the strangers, you trembled as Daryl let out a possessive growl and rubbed his scent on you. Melting against him with a whimper, you let your instincts take over, ignoring the activity outside. With a huff, Daryl let go of you for just a moment to shoulder his crossbow, then he practically shoved you to the basement door. Eagerly you obeyed, flying down the stairs and burrowing on top of your nest.

“Daryl,” you whined, stripping off your layers of warm clothing and gazing up at him.

He locked the door, and after placing his weapon nearby, Daryl laid next to you, pulling you against him and running his teeth along your neck.

“Fuck, Bubbie,” he groaned, and began kissing his mark. With his hand on your hip, he pulled you to him and threw a leg over you, kissing and fondling you onto your back. Ridding himself quickly of his clothes, Daryl lowered himself above you, his bare skin on yours as he settled between your legs and kissed you again.

Your core throbbed, clenching and unclenching, demanding more than kisses from the alpha on top of you. Daryl started pressing his cock to the apex of your thighs, just slowly grinding his hips against you as his mouth and hands worked you to a fever pitch. You grabbed at him, too, sinking your nails into his back, squeezing his upper arms, reaching for his ass to urge him closer. Daryl was frantic and somehow still gentle, knowing all your favorite places for his mouth and hands. The scent of your arousal only grew stronger, and Daryl groaned in response. Fumbling, he rearranged himself so he rested on one forearm while his other hand cupped your mound. Taking one breast into his mouth, Daryl sucked and nipped at your sensitive bud as he slipped a finger inside you.

“Yer so wet, ‘mega’” he told you, “Jus’ lettin’ me right in. Feel so good on my hand.”

Your belly fluttered at his praise. Raising your hips to meet his hand you moved slowly, then with more intensity as he added another finger. His hand knew just how to make you come unraveled.

“Yes, Daryl, please .” you begged, getting close.

Suddenly, Daryl’s fingers left you, and you cried out in protest. He silenced you with a kiss on your mouth, immediately breaching the seam of your lips with his tongue. At the same time, his cock slipped through your folds and found its home in your soaking, needy pussy.

“Ye-e-e-sss,” you moaned. His cock was so big and perfect, stretching you and filling you. When he started moving you hung onto him for dear life, savoring the feel of him inside you, of his mouth on yours, of his entire body caging you in.

In your soul, you felt Daryl too, his passion and his desire, crashing into you the more he worked your body. He paused his kisses and locked eyes with you, holding your face in his hands as he thrust, the steady movement of his cock inside you sending you over the edge.

“I love you, Daryl,” you moaned, pulsing around him and holding his gaze. His knot notched into place, and he came, filling you even more. Nuzzling your gland and his mark, Daryl kissed you gently, then his mouth moved, lightly kissing your jaw then your mouth. He collapsed on top of you then rolled you over so you could lay on his chest, his knot holding you together. Reaching beside you, you found one of your favorite knitted blankets and covered you both.

Still breathing heavily, Daryl cradled you in his arms, teeth teasing your earlobe as you sighed against him.

“I love ya, too, Bubbie,” he whispered, speaking the words aloud for the first time.

You wondered if he felt the fullness of your heart through the bond. He must have because he sighed and relaxed, whispering more sweet words in your ear.

“So perfect, my omega, so strong.”

Almost nothing else existed as Daryl held you in your makeshift nest. Only one piece was missing, and as you nestled into Daryl’s chest, you hoped that Rick would join you soon.

==

Next chapter.

==

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[austinstyles]

Love me, for me

Austin!Elvis x plus size reader

Note: I decided to write a plus size reader fanfic, since I myself am also not very slim. And you can imagine the reader however you want them to look like. I am not sure how many words for those of you how want the word count. And the reader uses she/her pronounce.

Warning: kissing, spelling mistakes, making out.

Y/n pov

The year was 1961 and me and Elvis have been dating for a year, after coming home form the army Elvis asked me out and we started our relationship after the first date. Today was our 1 year anniversary, and we were going to celebrate it tonight. I was getting ready and putting on my blue and white polkadots dress the dress was one of Elvis favorite dresses on me. The dress fits perfectly on my curvy body, and around my butt I look in the mirror and feel like tonight is going to be a good night. Down stairs I heard a nock on the front door. I can hear Elvis voice talking to my mother, and I walked down the stairs and see Elvis in a pair of pink pants and a black shirt. He looks so very handsome tonight.

In the car we were going to the park for our picnic in the night sky. It was a beautiful night and the stars were so amazing on this night. “ Here we are y/n” Elvis said as he parked the car. “It is a beautiful place for a picnic Elvis.” I told him and kissed his cheek.

Elvis pov

Y/n is so beautiful tonight, I can’t believe I meet this amazing person and the love we have for each other s so strong. I am falling for her more and more everyday. I put the blanket on the ground and we sit down on the blanket and start putting the food out, we started to dig in the two of us. My momma had made the food and help me pack the basket before I picked up my girlfriend. I love calling y/n my girlfriend. Here curves are one of the amazing things about her and she is confident in herself.

After eating we cleaned up the whole leftovers and packed the basket up again, we walked to the car and I opened the door for her and closed and sat in the car on the drivers side. We both toured to face each other and our lips touched and we were kissing. Sparks were flying everywhere.

Y/n pov

Kissing Elvis is the best felling In the entire world, and we started making out and we don’t stop for for the next minutes. We start to pull away and I look into his eyes and immediately “ I love that you love me, fore me Elvis. You are the best boyfriend in the world.” My mouth blurted out, and I meant everything I said. “ I am the luckiest in the world to love you y/n and I love you so much.” Elvis told me and my heart melted, he is amazing. And I love him and his singing.  “let’s get you home before your parents get mad at me for breaking your curfew.” Elvis told you and you agree even if you don’t the night to end.

Elvis dropped me off at home and walked me to the front door and we shard a goodbye kiss and I walked inside my house and saw Elvis driving away to his own house. I saw my parents sitting in the living room and heard “Who was the date tonight?” My mom asking with a smile. “ Amazing night with Elvis everything was perfect.” I said smile and thinking about the beautiful night with my boyfriend. “ I am going to bed good night.” I tell my family and go to my bedroom and get ready for bed.

2 weeks later.

Elvis pov

It is date night today and I am so excited to see my beautiful girlfriend again, we have not had a date night in a while so I am very excited.

I pick up y/n and I drive us to the restaurant, we had a reservation and we get there. We ate our food and get in the car and I drive us to a parking spot and turn to y/n and we started kissing. And kissing led to making out. And we were at it for 5 minutes and pulled away.

“I am the happiness person a live Elvis. I am so happy that you love me for me. “ “ I could never get enough of you my loving girlfriend. You are the best girlfriend in the world.” We told each other.

And started kissing again.

Best day of my life was the day of our relationship started. And I am so happy everyday I have her in my life.

Hope everyone enjoyed this fanfic. Feel free to request a fanfic you want me to write.

🩷😃👍🏻🌸🖤

Grace

[grimfabulist]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Boondock Saints (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Connor MacManus/Murphy MacManus/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Connor MacManus, Murphy MacManus, Rocco (Boondock Saints), Doc (Boondock Saints), Paul Smecker, Dolly (Boondock Saints), Duffy (Boondock Saints), Greenly (Boondock Saints), Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Plus-Size Character, POV First Person, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Threesome - F/M/M, Accents, Canon-Typical Violence, Twin Codependency, Light Dom/sub Summary:

Meghan McCarthy grew up with the MacManus twins in Ireland. She, along with their friends Rowena and Liam McGinty have always been thick as thieves. It wasn't until she joined the boys in the states that the three became more than friends.

While Meghan navigates her relationship with the boys, she also harbors a dangerous secret when items are stolen from her Uncle's home. Items that are more than sentimental to her family. She and Rowena decide they are going to steal them back, not caring that those who stole the items are linked to a bigger crime circle.

The Yakavetta's aren't the only crooked family in Boston.

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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