#warm bodies movie x plus size reader

[bi-writes]

attached | ghost x f!reader

i have no idea what it is that binds us together. but it doesn't really matter.

type: one-shot (8.4k)

cw: zombie apocalypse au, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, dark!reader, reader described as curvy/plus-sized + has hair long enough to braid, graphic depictions of violence + murder + gore, depictions of suicidal thoughts + intentions (no actual action), mentions of depression + sadness + loneliness, depictions of assault + harassment (not by ghost), horror movie vibes, unprotected piv, allusions to baby trapping, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving), 18+

Death can be a curious thing. It used to be something definitive. Exact. It used to mean the end of something.

No, now it's a beginning. Not a sweet beginning, but a beginning nonetheless. It turns a new tide. Reactivates cells that were once dead. Sparks nerves that used to be dormant, that used to be dark. It makes muscles move even when they aren't supposed to. Brain-dead, but still hungry.

He hasn't been able to understand the phenomenon quite yet. He's tried. He's picked up a few books and tried to do his own research, but it's difficult when there is no way for him to view the cellular structure of it all on a micro-level. He cannot see the way it grows or how it takes over. He hasn't been able to figure out what techniques it uses to keep a body awake even when the central organs no longer function the way they're supposed to. What keeps it moving? What keeps the feet running and the stomach hungry and the saliva warm?

Why is it that when he plunges his blade through its heart, it still kicks? The brain is its engine, as with his own body, but this is different. The brain runs even when it has lost its necessary components. Blood circulation, oxygen, the things it needs to thrive; but this state of being is not like his own. It doesn't need the same things it used to need because its purpose is not to keep a body running. Its purpose is to eat. To infect. And that is all.

He likes to play games these days. He has a lucky silver euro, one he pried off the dead body of someone that he hated. He spit on that body before raiding his pockets. He hated that fucking brute; he disgraced the style of wearing a mask by using a fucking t-shirt instead. Perhaps Austria is a beautiful country, but it certainly produced one of the most unlikable of men. He thinks even if the world was still right-side up, he would've killed him anyway. The only thing useful about him was that he was carrying a few extra magazines and this coin in his front pocket.

Every morning, when he wakes up, he makes whatever will happen that day a game. If the coin lands on heads, he gets to kill himself today. If it lands on tails, he has to endure 24 more hours before he can play again. The rules are simple. The game is easy. Everyone knows how to play it, but not everyone will like to win it.

Today, he decides to do something different. Today, he decides if he wins, he will wait another day. He has never won this game; he decides if he can't win it, he'll manipulate it until he gets what he wants.

It hits the table with a light clink. It rattles around in a few circles before settling, and when he leans back in his chair, he sighs. He knows what it will be even without looking, but he looks anyway. When he sees the carved outline of its face-side up, his eyes flash. He won.

He never wins.

Something is keeping him here. He chooses not to ask questions. There isn't anyone to ask anyways. No one answers when he speaks. He doesn't think there is anyone left to listen.

If someone would ask him why he doesn't just put the muzzle to his temple and pull the trigger, he would just say that it was because that was how the game is played. Those are the rules. He can't try unless that's what it tells him to do. There is no fun in cheating the game; it wouldn't be proper, it wouldn't be correct. It would be grounds for disqualification, and that just wouldn't do, not for him.

He has to do things the right way. Always. It's how you keep order in a world that has none left. It's how you maintain structure even without the lines drawn in the sand. This is the way things are done; God is not waiting at the end of a very long staircase, He is rattling that coin on the table and waiting for Ghost to take a peek.

He thinks it keeps landing on tails because perhaps God is tired of playing this game with him; Ghost has never been surprised. He will always be ready for disappointment. Giving a gift is no fun when the recipient simply receives it.

It landed on heads today. He won the game. He tried to play it differently, but someone won't let him.

There's snow on the ground this morning. It snowed all night, coating the ground in a few inches of powdery ice. He looks away from the window and back towards the mirror, continue to run the razor over his head. His blonde hair falls in clumps in the sink. He keeps it neat and short, close to the head, and then he does the same with his face. He cuts the stubble close, keeping his face clean, but it doesn't wipe away the rest of his face, the things he can't just cut away. The scars, the ridges, the skin that closed over wounds angry and white and uneven. He can see his teeth through the broken skin above his lip, the yellowing of them now that he only brushes them a few times a week with his lack of proper toothpaste, and he grimaces when he sees the new red spots of raised skin left behind from the dirty mask he wears now. He dips his toothbrush into his bottle of water before brushing, careful to scrub his gums properly before spitting into the sink.

When he finishes, he makes his way back into the bedroom to get dressed. He did the washing yesterday; he found a creek only half frozen over, and he made use of the bar soap he keeps and managed to clean off most of his clothes. He feels a little better slipping into his cargos now that they aren't drenched in sweat or dirt. He tucks a long-sleeve into his pants before putting a thick windbreaker on over it, but he finally feels complete once he slips his mask on over his face. In the mirror, he adjusts it, making the skull straight, and he blinks back at himself. The mask does more than just hide him from the dead.

It keeps the living walking a careful circle around him, and he wants to keep it that way. He hasn't spoken to a single person since it began. He stopped counting the days once his boots ran out of space for notches. Anyone he sees now, he scares them off with one look, or he puts them down before they can take a step closer to finding out if he's real or not.

He doesn't take chances. He has always had a special skill, being able to sniff out the bullshit before it begins. He leans into it now, and it isn't a bullet wasted if it stops the chaos before it can wind up.

He still wears his tactical gear. He can't part with it. His holsters have not failed him, still buckled around his thighs. His vest is still strapped on, and without it, he feels naked. He has long since discarded of the Union Jack patch on his chest; there is no king nor country anymore. They are colors in different shapes, and they mean nothing now; they were buried a long time ago.

His backpack feels light. He's running out of bullets, and he doesn't like how it feels. Nowadays, he has to go further and further to get what he needs, and recently, he's taken to picking up everything and simply moving to make the trips all the easier with no home to go back to.

It's not all that different to the life he had before. He never stayed in one place too long then either. He signed the shortest leases, and he would move once it was up, never lingering and never buying more things than he could carry in the back of his truck. His memories are in his head and nowhere else. He keeps no trinkets. He saves no pictures. There is nothing from the old life that needs to be brought into the new. He shifts between both lives, one foot in the past and one in the future, and he thinks that's what really makes him live up to his name.

He's a Ghost. A drifter. Standing between two places at the same time, not knowing which to stay in and which to leave. It would hurt, if he was really human inside, if he could feel anything at all.

But he's not. His insides are nothing but organic matter. His head is a clock, ticking, counting down, but he's not aware of when it runs out.

He digs the heel of his boot into the snow to gauge the depth. It barely comes up over his toes. He huffs a little before taking a peek at the map tucked into his vest. He had circled a place just north, a main street he is hoping will have a stash of things he will need.

Ammunition. Weapons. Food. Water. A new book, for fuck's sake, maybe a Sudoku puzzle that isn't already scribbled into.

The forest gives him cover, so he sticks to it. Out in the open, he would stick out, dressed in all black. He keeps to the trees, ducking under the leaves and trying not to leave too much of a track behind. He doesn't plan on staying in that cabin again, but if he must, he doesn't want anyone seeing a way to come back to it.

The one thing he does appreciate about this new place is the quiet. It lingers, and it's calm, and when he breathes, the world breathes back. He feels like he had always been telling everyone to shut up, but now, his voice hasn't been used in months. Even when he passes other people, he doesn't speak to them. If they don't spot him, he keeps to the shadows, and if they do, they don't see him for long enough to know what hit them.

It's a good stash. The store had been rifled through by now, but in the office, there had been a nice drawer filled with supplies. A few boxes of ammunition, a revolver, and a new blade to stick in one of his boots. He picks up some other odds and ends. Batteries. A roll of yarn. A small sewing kit. A few pens. His backpack feels a little heavier, and it's a weight he appreciates when he makes his way back outside.

He sticks to the alleyways as he searches for the roof over his head for the night. He decides the cabin he slept in last night was too close to the road; if anyone was driving or following it, they could find that place too easily, and he wouldn't be able to sleep another night comfortably there knowing this truth.

He finds himself veering off road just enough. It's fucking cold, freezing, and he's grateful to the mask for helping him keep it together as he ducks under the wind and keeps an eye out for any nearby landmarks. Sometimes, on slow days like this, he would sit on a ridge and kill infected for sport. Practice focusing his sight, calculating the wind, keep his mind in check by hitting his targets and ridding the world of another one of those things.

There are different kinds of hunters out today.

He hears them before he sees them. He knows what kind they are when he hears their laughter. Low and untamed, sloppy and fucking messy. They always are. These kind spoil their treasures. They eat their food until it makes them sick, and then they do it all over again. They never learn their lesson.

When he settles his rifle down along a fallen tree, he eyes them through his scope. There are two of them. Both are fattened, with dark hair and lazy eyes, and they look greasy. Their clothes are in ruins, and their packs are light, and Ghost figures that they look enough alike to be perhaps brothers, or maybe cousins. Their smiles are equally as sadistic. The taller one tugs something along, and when Ghost aims the scope down a little, he sees her.

Her.

He's dragging her by her legs. She's kicking, but it's hard for her to do much when her arms and legs are bound by mismatched bits of fabric and rope. She's crying, that much is clear, squirming as she spits and gargles around the gag in her mouth as she tries to break free. She has heart, but she isn’t a fighter. If she was, she would’ve realized her teeth could snap that fabric of her gag, and she would know that the knot they’ve tied succumbs easily to upwards pressure.

He follows them. They keep going, dragging you and laughing as they make it to a makeshift camp hidden amongst a clearing. There's a few tents set up, a small dip in the earth to hold a campfire, and when they settle on tree trunks to sit, the smaller one takes a blade and cuts your gag off, leaning over you with a low chuckle. They mean to maim and to take and then to kill, and you know this when you look into his eyes.

"Hello, darling."

"Bite me."

He laughs again, dropping onto his knees over you, but when he gets close enough, you sit up with what little strength you have and bite him along his ear. The cartilage rips, and you tear half his ear off, and then he's scrambling off of you, screaming, holding the side of his head as he rolls around in circles in the snow. He colors it red, and you snarl with satisfaction. Ghost takes a deep breath in and lets it out shakily. The look in your eyes–he can taste that, roll it around on his tongue. You did not clock the poorly-tied knots, but you do see opportunity, and you are the kind to take it.

"You bitch!"

Just as the taller one is about to get on top of you, Ghost decides he's seen enough. He closes one eye, lines up the sight, and he lets out a cool breath as he drops the both of them within a second of each other. They fall easy; a bullet clean through the back of their heads, and now they're finally quiet again. They will not get up, either.

Your lip trembles as you look towards the trees. You watch as the leaves rustle, and when you see a man emerge from the thick of them, you start to cry. You think maybe you're seeing things; you must be so dehydrated, so hungry, that a reaper has come for you, and you are much deader than you thought.

The reaper stares down at you curiously. He swings his rifle over his shoulder, tilting his head to the side as he bends, getting a blade out of his boot before he cuts the restraints that bind you. He doesn’t hesitate when he does this; he does not deem you enough of a threat to keep you bound.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, and when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to see how human they are. They're dark, but alive, and he has blonde lashes and pale skin underneath. He covers himself, but you can still see him. There's a man under there, not a reaper.

Just a man.

I hate men.

You shake off the rest of the restraints, turning your wrists and ankles and flexing your muscles for good measure. When you realize you are nothing but a little shaken up, you look back up. He's still staring at you, hard eyes lowered in a glare as he looks you over. He's sizing you up, maybe, deciding what to do with you. You meet his eyes one more time before gathering the saliva into your mouth and spitting onto the floor. It's a garbled mess of blood, from the flesh you had severed from that man.

He blinks slowly at that, makes some decision that he doesn’t voice out loud, and then he starts to walk away.

You stand on shaky legs, taking it as your cue. You watch as he rips open the flimsy tents that those men had left behind, and he's already grabbing backpacks and rifling through them for goods. He already starts filling his own vest and backpack with the things he finds; some flashlights, fishing line, more food and ammunition. You follow him, moving to the other tent beside it and starting to grab their things and toss them outside. You get to your knees and open the packs, laying out what you find carefully. They have interesting materials in here, ones you associate with explosives. C4. Lighters. Batteries. Wiring. You clench your jaw when you pull out the last box in the bag.

Condoms.

Bunch of pricks.

He finds your discoveries useful. He opens up an empty pack he found and fills it to the brim with supplies. When he zips it up, your stomach drops when you think he might toss it over his shoulder and leave. It only sinks for a moment before he turns the backpack around, holding it up for you.

You pause for a little and think. It only takes a few seconds for you to decide to stand up and slip your arms through the straps.

When he walks again, you follow.

The sun is setting by the time you find somewhere to sleep, but it looks like luxury to you. A quaint little brick house tucked between the hills, a ways from the road and positively hidden. He spotted it through his scope a few hours ago, and he made a beeline for it. It's difficult to keep up with him; he has incredible stamina and the longest legs. He moves like a ghost, too quiet for his own good. You would never know from looking at him how stealthy he could be. For such a huge man, you would never notice him before he could get the drop on you. It makes you conscious of your own steps and how loud they are, and you try to mimic the way he moves as you keep walking.

You don't know why, but you think he must be very pleased with how quiet you've gotten. You don't know why that fact pleases you, too.

He makes you stay outside when you arrive. He pulls a small handgun out of his backpack, and he checks the chamber before handing it to you. He clicks his tongue, forcing your eyes on his, and he puts a finger to his mask-covered lips, telling you to keep quiet. You take the gun from him, pointing it at the ground and holding it at your side, and he touches a knuckle under your chin before he twists a silencer onto his own gun.

You watch with rapt attention as he clears the house. His movements are quick and calculated, and he keeps low to the ground. It's mesmerizing. Big and capable, one with the shadows. The only thing you see in the dark is the white of the skull over his face, and if you didn't know it was him, you would think that you have just seen God.

But God isn't real. Apparently ghosts are.

He is back outside in less than ten minutes, nodding his head at you. You take it as your cue to come towards him, and you hand him the gun back when you pass him. You go into the house and immediately start to light some of the candles scattered around. You set your backpack down, rubbing your shoulders out, and you take a seat on the couch.

It hits you then, the gravity of it all. Men are your captors, and then they are your savior. They'll never leave you alone. They'll never let you go. You were ruled by their iron fist in a previous life, and you will endure their wrath in this new one.

You start to cry. It's the first sound you've made since screaming. You cover your face with your hands, and you don't know why you feel safe enough to cry, but you do, and it comes out of you fast.

He tilts his head to the side as he watches you. It's a strange thing to see something so...alive. He's used to only seeing things moving that can't speak back to him. If he does see things alive, he puts them down as if they are rabid dogs.

He can't find it in himself to kill you. Something is so odd about it. About you.

Everything about today seems more than coincidence. He won the game today. And then he found you.

When he tries the sink in the bathroom, he's surprised to find it working. He grabs a bowl and fills it with water, and when he comes back into the living room, you are staring at one of the flickering candles blankly, shivering. You have stopped crying, but your face is still wet with fat, lingering tears.

It looks like you've been hit by a brick wall. Your hair is matted in places, in tangles. It’s in desperate need of a cut. It's stuck to your face around the perimeter, caked by sweat and mud and dried blood. Your clothes are in ruins; you wear a ripped jumper, thin jeans, and the soles of your boots are starting to fray and come off, and he can see where you've tried to mend them unsuccessfully with duct tape. You wear no jewelry, and your fingernails need to be cut. Those men have left marks on you, but those will fade.

He kneels in front of where you sit on the couch. Using a threadbare cloth, he dips it into the water and raises it to your face. You show no resistance. You let him wipe your face off, the tears, the dirt, the blood. It stains the cloth ugly, but you can't look at anything else except for his eyes.

They're so dark. Brown, like bark, like honey. You haven't spoken a word to him yet, but the silence is sort of bliss. All you can hear is the drip of the water when he rings out the cloth.

He helped you. He didn't have to. He could've kept walking, but he stayed with you. He didn't leave you. He could've walked away again, but he let you follow.

He isn't a good man. You know that. Anyone who has lasted this long isn't a good person. You've done the same. You've let it take you, once or twice, let the snarl in the back of your throat guide your hand. You've let the voices fester, let them eat at the acid in your stomach until they begged for more, and you won't admit it, but it felt good. Felt good to protect yourself. To rid the earth of something terrible. To say no.

He must understand that. He's decorated in its essence, the one of understanding, the one that says I know what it's like to take matters into your own hands, and he did it with you, too.

He's doing it now, cleaning you up, and you don't know him, or his face, or his name, but you'll try hard to give it back. To give him something. To tell him you are worthy and not useless. It doesn't show today, how far you've come, but you'll try.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. He's dragging the cloth over your bottom lip, and he blinks rapidly, as if a bit startled by hearing your voice. When you speak again, it's to tell him your name, and he thinks for a few moments before continuing, wiping under your jaw.

He doesn't sleep that night. He stares out the window, like a guard dog, and he lets the soft breaths of your sleep keep him awake.

The gas lighter on the stove still works. It takes a match to light it properly, but when the fire starts, you take some of the soup cans from your pack and make breakfast.

Your smile when he comes into the kitchen nearly blinds him. You look more rested than yesterday, and you ladle some soup into a bowl for him, setting it down at the table. He notices the two bowls, his and yours, and he notices that his bowl has more food.

It is then that he decides to keep you.

What he doesn't know is that you've decided the same. The world has thrown you the way out. A man, built like a bear, happy finger on the trigger and capable of getting you out of harm's way. You need to convince him that you are worthy. You need to convince him that you are valuable. A keepsake.

Men are what start wars, not what end them. Men are the cause of chaos and destruction, it is prevalent throughout history, and it is why you are here now, in a place that doesn’t exist, where people don’t breathe the same air anymore. A man thought himself correct, but he was wrong, and he didn’t listen when someone told him otherwise. They are the ones that take advantage of your vulnerability, and instead of trying to understand it, they use it to get what they want.

You can do the same.

You start by mending his clothes. He's laid some out to dry after washing, and you notice the tears in his shirts. When he comes back a little while later, with dinner hanging off his shoulder, you are seated on the couch, feet tucked under you, with a needle in your hand as you sew up one of his shirts.

You've bathed, found new clothes, warmer ones, and your hair is braided and off your face. He hates to say he prefers you a little dirty, but he likes this, too. A natural beauty. A soft face.

You make a real dinner that night. There's canned vegetables that you try to spruce up with the spices you find in the cupboards, but the real meal is the venison you're served. He butchers it outside like a professional, and he sears it on the stove with a perfect touch. When he feeds you that first bite, your mouth explodes with flavor. Your belly is full that evening, and when he blows out the candles for bed, he eats you out in the dark of the corner bedroom.

He's not sloppy like you thought he might be. Not overeager. He's easy with it, casual. Big hunk of a man smothered between your thighs, and he laves his tongue through your folds like his very own personal dessert. He drinks straight from the source, holy water spilling sweet between his teeth, and when he gets his tongue inside of you and holds it there, you nearly leave earth for somewhere else. You come like that, too, his filthy mouth sucking on your clit before he's slipping that tongue in you again, and you mewl against the bed as he tucks his hand under your ass and spreads you wider.

He tells you his name a few nights later. He doesn't speak, not ever, but when you're crying around his thick fingers, he whispers it against your ear.

"'s Simon," he growls, and you know what he means by that. He wants you to say it while you bounce on his fingers, when you rut against his thigh. He wants you to say his name when you're coming undone riding his face, when you're wetting his mask with your pussy and making him choke on your cum. Such a wet, sweet girl you are, and sometimes he skips wash day for his mask so he can shove it into his mouth and pant around it and taste you while he fucks his own fist.

It's insanity, he thinks, as he's cleaning his rifle. The idea of traditional. But it's what befallen him, what he sees all around him, and he tucks his index finger into a hole too small to pinch himself just to make sure he isn't living a dream. You're in the kitchen, mending more clothes, something warm boiling on the stove. There were seeds in the greenhouse, and you're saving them to plant in the spring, so for now, you make do with canned goods and whatever Simon hunts for during the day. You found books in the attic, and you read them at night, head in Simon's lap as he plays with your hair or rubs your sore ankles or cuts your nails. You're the only one that ever speaks; he hasn't said a word to you except for telling you his name, and you're content to be the only one that uses their voice.

He always listens. You told him one time that you loved the shade of green that the trees wore, and he came back one day with a sweatshirt of the same color for you. He noticed you trying to mend those terrible boots, and he found a new pair for you, your size this time, barely worn and fit for winter. He brings lots of things for you; books, clothes, even rocks sometimes, when he just thinks he found one that you might like.

You do like them. You have started filling a small bowl with the ones he brings, and he notices you rifling through it sometimes, just looking at them, and it makes his chest swell with pride.

Like giving a treat to a dog. Like giving him a fucking bone.

He teaches you how to shoot. You know how to pull a trigger, but that’s the extent of your expertise. He teaches you how to stand, how to turn the safety on and off, how to hold the gun between two hands so not even his own can take it away from you. He makes sounds when you please him. Hums low, lets out a soft breath, sucks in the air through his teeth. You can’t see his face, but the way he looks at you when you fire a bullet and knock bottles off their ledges, it warms you, all the way down your spine, reaching your toes. You want him to keep looking at you this way, so you try hard, and he notices.

You’ll never be what he is, but the small victories are what have him chubbing up in his cargos and falling asleep between your thighs. You give, and he takes, and he keeps coming back for more.

He teaches you that distance is your strength. You aren’t like him; you aren’t built like a brick house, you won’t be bigger than a lot of your opponents. You need to keep them away from you, however you can. He makes you good with that gun because it’s your best chance, but in the even that you lose it or you run out of bullets, he shows you how to aim a hatchet so that the blade always lines up between someone’s shoulders.

The way you listen makes him salivate. The way you blink up at him and say yes, Simon and take his orders, it makes it difficult to keep away from you. 

Today marks two months in the house tucked on the hill. Simon hunts, and you cook, and you live in some sick, twisted housewife fantasy at the end of the fucking world. Simon provides, and you keep, and when the box of condoms falls out of your backpack one day, you glance at Simon for just a moment before he's on you.

It's animal, that first time. He tackles you practically onto the carpet of the living room, and he props you up onto your elbows and only pulls down your jeans enough that he can fit his cock between your thighs. You hear the tear of the condom wrapping, and then he's laying over your back, sinking to the base, cock nestled inside of you as he grips your throat gently and fucks you into the carpet. Poor beast, he's definitely going to need his knees massaged after this, but you can't think about that much when you're taking the fattest cock of your entire life and trying to survive underneath him. It's that fine line between pleasure and pain that you're desperate for, and you pull threads out of the carpet as you try to hang on and take it like a good girl.

You can hear his voice. It's low, and subtle, but he grunts with each agonizing thrust, hips snapping against your ass as he fucks you back onto him over and over and over again.

It's primal. Nasty. You wish he wasn't wearing a condom, you want him to be in your skin, you want him to fill you until you're full, let it spill over, and then do it all over again. You want him to bite into your throat and tear, and you want him to eat you and then put you back together, and then do it again and again and again.

"So big," you gasp, and he falters at that. You recognize it, the need for praise, and you latch onto it with claws and stay there. I need him to stay here with me. "So good...so good t-to me, Simon–"

He groans. It's music.

Keep me. Keep me. Keep me.

"Simon, please–" You scratch at his arm, not satisfied until you feel blood. When you break the skin, he laughs, a breathless laugh that has your eyes rolling back in your head as he shoves your face into the carpet and mounts you like a fucking horse. The deep slap, slap, slap of skin is enough to send you away, send you home, your mind foggy as your pussy squeezes him for all he's worth. The slick of the condom is pleasant, but you want it raw. You want every part of him carved into you, and you arch your back, suck him in, whine and cry and beg for him to just, "please, Simon, I need it, I need it."

"Need wot?"

The sound of his voice is whiplash. He hisses when he sinks deep, staying there, holding you at a sharp angle so he can knead your ass and watch it bounce back on him. He sucks on his teeth, and there's drool slipping out of your mouth. That accent, his voice, like velvet, from deep within his chest. You want to hear more of it.

"Be a man," you gasp. "Be a man, and fuck me."

He doesn't see the desperate look on your face when he slips out of you. He doesn't see the relief that washes over you when you hear the condom come off, latex crumbling as he tosses it, but he feels the warmth of your pretty pussy when he sinks back in, skin to skin, and feels you clench for dear fucking life.

"Fuckin' Christ," Simon groans, and you reach back for him, gripping his arms, forcing him to fall over on top of you. He settles with his elbows on either side of your head, and you bow your back and grip the carpet again as he fucks into you nice and slow, deep, fat head leaking precum and making you cry because finally, yes, please, this is it, what I want, I'll have you forever.

You're so pretty. Even in his past life, Simon never got to have anything pretty. He was too ugly, too big, too awkward. Any woman of good faith stayed 100 yards away, as if his mere presence was a warning alarm, some invisible radius that kept them away from him. He always thought it was for the better. He always thought good riddance, they shouldn't have me, I shouldn't have anyone. Not when only days before, he had tortured a Russian militant until he had no teeth and hung his severed fingers on twine around his own neck.

But you won't run away. He's given you opportunity. He's left the cottage and staked out the outside just to watch you, and all he sees is you moving between windows, shaking out the dust from old blankets and washing the dishes. All he sees is you sewing his clothes and cooking his food, and when he comes back inside, all he sees is your smile and your face and your pretty mouth that falls open when he makes you come all over his hand.

Now it's the end of the world, and he lets a coin flip decide whether or not he lives or dies. And even when he flips it now, it never agrees. When he asks to die, the coin tells him no. When he asks to live, it’s always interrupted by you.

Yes, it tells him. Yes, yes, yes, because it's been keeping him here, because it knows, because it saw, because he couldn't see both sides of the coin, but he can see it now, plain as day, and she's underneath him now, letting him inside, and she's begging him to come and to fill her up, and she's crying because he's such a big man, and she wants him everywhere and always and all at once, and Simon is nothing if he isn't an insatiable bastard that can finally be fucking selfish.

The way you say his name could make him move mountains. That soft breath you take. The falter of your voice. The whine. The world has gone quiet, but he'll make a new one, and he will leave it at your feet for you to step on or pick up.

Whichever you choose. You can do no wrong.

When he comes, he moans. Into your ear, he lets you hear him, lets you bask in his pleasure as he spurts hot inside of you, hauling you a little higher on your knees so he can make sure you come, too. He gives you the palm of his hand to grind on, fucking into you at the same time, humming deep when he feels you squeeze around him and shatter like glass.

He takes his mask off for the first time that night. You see his face, all of it, not just glimpses when he lifts it to eat or to drink, you see the whole thing. He has a terrible looking face. Something only a mother could love. Too old of scars to be from this new life. They slash across his brow, across his cheeks. He has a jagged nose, and the skin around his lips had been reconstructed poorly from however they had been slit.

He's a terrifying piece of flesh. He is surprised when you lean in and kiss him. He's even more surprised when you kick off your jeans, turn over, and fuck him again.

The mantra that sounds like mine repeats in his head over and over. He feels it, deep, warm and beating under his ribs alongside his heart that hasn't moved in a long while.

He found you in those woods, kicking amongst predators, and he took you home with him. Picked you up like a stray, fed you, clothed you, and now you've stayed. For a moment, he thought it wasn't real. Thought your full belly is what kept you here, the warm house. He didn't mind pretending, but he figured it wouldn't last.

He doesn't think that anymore. Not with the way you kiss his severed face. You nuzzle into it, cup his cheeks, and he finds it agony when you pull away.

He hovers now. In whatever room you are in, Simon must also be in it. If he leaves, he makes you board the doors, and you are only allowed to open them if he knocks in his special way. He tested you once, came back earlier than expected, and he was so pleased you did not open the door to his casual knock and only the special one that he made you come one, two, three times with your thighs locked around his face.

A terrible thing happens.

Not to you.

You're searching the greenhouse. Hoping to find some flower pots for the herb seeds you found, you're rummaging through the cabinets beside it. Your gun is sitting away from you, and although Simon would chastise you for this, you feel safe here, and it doesn't bother you.

It flings itself at you. It cries, what used to be a teenage girl, reaching for you because it wants a chunk of your softness, of the life you pump into the muscles that keep you running. You're protected by all the clothes you wear for the weather, and it is slow because of the cold freezing their rigid, dead bones, but it does not lessen the hunger, the fight, the determination to eat and spread.

Before it can bite, the back of its head explodes. You close your mouth and shut your eyes as rancid brain matter splatters the white snow and you, and it is wrenched off of you immediately. Simon stands there, his pistol in hand, and you have never seen him quite so angry as he is right now.

His eyes are wild. He heaves under that tact vest, breathing hard, and his grip on the handgun shakes, so much that he has to shove it back into the holster at his thigh and lean over to pick you up off the ground.

He jostles you. Growls. Is nearly an animal himself as he shoves you up against the glass of the greenhouse and snarls.

"Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?!" Simon snaps. "Is y'r fuckin' head on?!"

It's so quiet in your head even as he yells. Your eyes tear, but not because you're upset. You reach out and cup his face gently, and he stops. Stops talking, just watches, just looks at you as he bends and leans his forehead against yours and squeezes you to his chest.

What is this thing you have? What have you become? What innate thing has festered between you? He’s gripping the edge of the glass so hard, you hear it crack under his hand. There is some kind of sick sense of devotion among you. Some kind of responsibility. He’s angry because something under his tongue tasted bitter when he saw you struggling. It won’t be this easy. He won’t make it this easy. If he doesn’t get to die, then neither do you, and he will make sure of that, because that is the only way this game can remain fair.

You never wander to the greenhouse again. He makes you promise (lest he wastes his cum between your thighs instead of inside you, that's it, promise me).

Another terrible thing happens.

Not to you.

They're wanderers. When they knock at the door, they don't use Simon's special knock, so you don't open it. Instead, you blow out the candles and hide, peeking at them from the fogged window in the attic.

They are men (you aren't surprised, they seem to be the only thing that survives nature's heavy hand). Cold. Shivering. One of them is bleeding, you can see it from the blood trail he leaves in the snow that seeps from somewhere under the hem of his jeans. The one uninjured tries to force his way through the door, but Simon added more deadbolts to it, and it doesn't give under his weak attempts. You trade your handgun for the rifle, aiming it at them. If they get through the door, maybe you can draw them back out, keep them away from the house.

You try to stay quiet, but the healthier one uses his body and a log of wood to get through. They're desperate, desperate enough to not care that breaking through the door cuts him severely, splits through his jacket. The second man limps behind him, getting inside, and you decide to put the rifle back.

You will stay quiet until Simon gets back. Your strength is not being a bulldozer, so you'll hide until he can be that for you. You steady your breathing; even if they make it to the attic, you won't go quietly. You tried that last time, and if it wasn't for Simon, you'd surely be naked and dead in that clearing that you were dragged to.

This time, if you go, you will take someone with you at least. Severed ears are not enough. You will not make them artists, you will make them forgettable and unrecognizable, and you will give back what they give you tenfold. Even if it kills you.

It takes them all night before they finally make it to the attic. They eat your food and take showers in your bathroom and stink up the living room, you can hear them. And when their bellies are full and their minds wander, you dread the pull of the attic door as he wrenches it open and the ladder falls.

You manage to kill one as he drags you out from the corner. He latches onto your ankle, and as he pulls, you put your finger on the trigger of your handgun, and you put one right between his eyes. The other takes advantage of your moment of pause, turning you over onto your stomach so hard the gun flies across the attic from your hand. He tosses you down from the attic, and you land on your side in the hallway, and you cry as you get to your elbows and crawl, trying to get to your feet, but he's larger than you.

He catches you in the kitchen. Slams you over the kitchen counter, using his weight to pin you down, but Simon taught you better than that. He taught you not to give in. He taught you not to give up. You think about him when your fingers find the discarded fork on the counter and you drive it right through his fucking eye.

You don't stop. You don't let his cries keep you from bringing your arm down again. And again. And again. You make his face your blank canvas, and you paint it with your anger. For every man that ever touched you. For every man that ever thought himself worthy to have you. For every man that tried to make your body his prize, you poke a thousand holes in him, and you scream with him as you do it until he can't scream anymore.

You're holding the fork and standing over him when Simon comes home. His handgun drawn, silent as he makes his way in, his body visibly relaxing when he sees you. He glances at the man at your feet, still alive, gurgling there, choking on his own blood as he tries to breathe through the holes that are scattered across his face and neck. You meet his eyes, and you smile. It's uncanny to do it now, but you are happy to see him.

"There's..." You sniffle, wiping your face with your sleeve. "There's another i-in the attic."

You don’t get to see him smile under the mask. You don’t hear the near purr that leaves him as he climbs the ladder and sees the perfect place you’ve left your mark. He’d frame it if it wouldn’t rot.

You twirl the fork in your hand before going to the sink, dropping it in there, and you close your eyes as you listen to Simon's footsteps as he goes into the attic. It takes him a little less than an hour to get the bodies out the back door, and when he comes back inside, you're already wiping up the floor in the kitchen.

There's nothing to talk about. This is normal. This is just another day. Tomorrow, you might have to do it again, and you'll still cook dinner after sunset and clean the kitchen like you're doing now and sit Simon on the edge of the bathtub and cut his hair.

Simon found chocolate on his trip today, and you make cake with it. You sit in his lap under the candlelight, and you feed each other, bite by bite, and you giggle when Simon gets it all over his lips.

You kiss him to clean it off, and then you reach for another bite of cake. There's some measure of satisfaction you feel when your tongue finds the dent in the fork prongs from when you used it earlier. The chocolate tastes better somehow. Sweeter.

You catch him in the morning, limbs tangled with yours under the sheets, flipping a coin. You smooth a hand over his thick chest, along his pudgy stomach, and you watch with him as the coin lands on the bedside table, falling flat.

It comes up tails.

He decides then that he doesn't have to flip it anymore. It's pointless. He asked for answers, and he got one.

You were not luck. You were fate. And because of it, the coin will always land the same way.

His thoughts are interrupted when you reach for the coin. You twirl it between your fingers, thinking. He doesn't see what you see, but that's okay. Maybe he'll let you play now. Some other game, a better one.

Heads or tails, win or lose, alive or dead. Either way, you are attached. Woven together, thread by thread. There are no vows to say in this new place, but you aren't tested by the same kinds of things. There is no law to keep two people together, no governing power of men that say if left is truly left and that right is really right.

You are drawn together by shared experiences. The same trauma. You won't leave each other not because you said you wouldn't leave, but because there is no one else in the world that has seen the same things you have seen and has done the same things you have done. There is no one else in the world that will forgive you for what you had to do to survive. That will love you not just in spite of it, but because of it, because you did what was necessary, and you are here now to learn a lesson and not suffer its consequences.

It's just a game. If you win, he wins. If you lose, he loses. If you're alive, he's alive.

And if you're dead, then he must be, too.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pietro Maxmioff x fem!reader

Summary: You don't want to share a bed with Pietro. He wants nothing more than to share one with you.

Prompt: one bed - "Don't bite your lip, bite mine."

Warnings: again, I use Czech as 'Sokovian', swearing, flirty!pietro, anxious!reader

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

"Which asshole gave Pietro and me a room with only one bed!" you hiss, standing in the small living corner that is in the hotel, your arms crossed.

Steve and Tony glance up from their m friendly game of pool while Natasha smirks from where she is on the couch. Wanda, who is watching Steve and Tony's game, laughs and you snap your head around to glare at her. 

"What's so funny? Can't I switch with you? He's your brother!"

Wanda shakes her head, still smiling. "Rooms are rooms."

You huff. You're not stupid. Everyone on the team thinks you and Pietro have some romantic thing going on, which means they'd most likely done this on purpose.

"Well, fuck you all," you say and storm back into the elevator, angrily making your way up to your hotel room again. 

You open the door and almost slam into Pietro, who is walking out of the bathroom, with only a towel loosely hung around his hips.

He curses in Sokovian as his eyes widen. "Miláček (Sweetheart)," he says, finally registering it's only you, and that familiar annoying play-boy smirk curls his lips. 

"I leave you alone for barely five minutes and you've already finished your shower?" you ask in disbelief, ignoring how water still drips down his torso and over his toned abs.

Pietro makes it so damn hard to be mad at him when he looks this good. 

"I'm quick," he shrugs and walks by you, ruffling your hair with a grin. He turns and walks into the main room, calling out behind him, "Plus, now you have more time to shower yourself. You're welcome, Princezna (Princess)."

You roll your eyes and storm into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you pretend you're not completely flustered by him or his pet names. 

Once you've finished your shower, you leave the bathroom dressed in your pajamas. Your hair is dried and brushed and your skin smells like the vanilla body wash you'd used.

Pietro is lying on the right side of the bed, his arms folded behind his head as he watches a comedy movie and chuckles along. 

He perks up when he sees you and smiles. "Hey, drahoušek (darling)," he says, his voice hoarse and raspy. 

"That's three," you hum and walk over cautiously, sitting on the other end of the queen-sized bed, staring at Pietro like he's some scary unknown. "You have any more cheesy pet names I can't understand up your sleeve, Maximoff?" 

Pietro chuckles, very amused. "How do you know they're cheesy if you can't understand them, moje srdce (my heart)."

You narrow your eyes at him defiantly. "I just know," you say. "I know you."

Pietro hums and looks at you, his silver hair falling over his icy blue eyes for a moment. "Wanna finish the movie?" he asks. 

You shake your head and climb under the blanket. You hear Pietro's laugh and then he turns off the T.V. He speeds up to turn off the lights, tucking himself into the bed next to you in a blur. His body feels so warm, so close, and your head spins as you try to stay as far away from him as possible. You hate these feelings. You hate them more than anything. 

"Princezna (Princess)?"

You tense. 

"Y-yeah?"

You hear the shifting of sheets and then he's even closer, his hand coming up from behind to brush some strands of your hair as his fingertips then linger on your cheek. "Look at me, will you?" he asks seriously. 

You hesitate, not wanting to turn around. Pietro hums again and whispers something in Sokovian in your ear. His breath is warm on your skin and as if in a trance, you turn around. Your noses almost touch, causing your eyes to widen. The curtains aren't drawn closed so you can see him easily in the moonlight. 

He's gorgeous. 

You bite your lip, the action almost uncontrollable. 

Pietro's gaze hardens and without much thinking, he leans in and takes your chin in his hand, kissing your lips. In the process, he opens your mouth to disconnect your teeth from your lips as he deepens the kiss. As startled as you are, you kiss him back and pull him closer to you. No lips have ever felt softer than his.

Pietro pulls away after a moment and grins. "Don't bite your lip, next time drahoušek (darling), bite mine." 

His words cause you to halt, your body feeling weak as you look at him with wide eyes and a shiver runs through you when his thumb traces your lips.

You find yourself nodding, your shyness appearing as you realize Pietro fucking Maxmioff had just kissed you—while in the same bed—you know have to share.

Pietro is looking at you like he adores you, his eyes tracing every blemish and insecurity on your face with a look that makes your heart flutter.

"I like you," he tells you. "A lot." 

Your mind is unable to conjure up any coherent words but it's screaming at you to return the feelings. 

"You don't need to tell me now, Princezna (Princess)," he whispers and kisses your forehead. "Miluji tě (I love you)," he adds, knowing you can't understand him. His arm wraps around you and you let him, nuzzling into him. His chest fills with pride.

Your mind has only calmed down a little, or calmed down enough, that the one thing you can think is thank god for the team and their weird sense of intuition. 

tags: @tansgirlfriend, @princesssunderworld, @lqrlei, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese

[captain039]

PART 2 Daddy’s Little Girl

Logan x reader

Warnings: Age gap (early twenties reader) , swearing, first times, virgin reader, plus size reader, tension, oral f receiving, smut, daddy kink, dom!logan, Abuse (Not from Logan), anxiety, depression, mention of self harm scars, reader has muscle issues and body pain, angst

Taglist: @clairealeehelsing @dirtydianaahah

Previous part <-

You awoke with pain in your body. You were fine for a few groggy minutes before you felt all your muscles angrily annoyed at your existence. You struggled to go down the stairs and jump into the truck earning a pissed off look from your dad and back handed comment about your weight. You hardly ate, worked hard all day and yet you still looked like this, then again before when your mother was alive she would make the best food, take you out for lunch dates and sweet treats, the movies too. You want to smile at the memory as the truck bumps along and soon you’re back at the lumber station. You see most of the team already there including Logan and feel thankful he won’t be around to see you wince and struggle.

“Get some fucking work done today” your father snaps at you in the car before leaving. You gulp a bit before sliding down to the ground with a wince seeing the mask your father puts on as he shakes hands with his team members. You close the door and sigh a little only politely saying hello when the others wave before you head to your trailer. You curse when you sit down, back and hips protesting in the uncomfortable wooden table chair. You grab the couch cushion but it doesn’t help and you make a small fake sob noise before turning on the computer.

It’s around lunch and you jolt a bit realising you’re falling asleep and a cars pulled up. You relax seeing Logan’s car with him and Graham in it. You get up awkwardly but peer out the door.

“Everything ok?” You call.

“Yeah all good love, need some more blades!” Graham calls and you nod to the man with a smile before heading back inside. You press fingers to your temples your eyes hurting as well and a headache coming on.

“Knock knock” Logan says before walking in.

“What’s up?” You say putting on a smile.

“You need anything?” He asks and you frown a bit.

“No, I’m alright” you say a little confused.

“Want anything from the bakery?” He asks.

“Oh, just a sandwich please, I can pay” you say grabbing your phone.

“I’ve got Bub, be back in a bit” he says tapping the trailer before leaving. You wave them goodbye before sagging again damn this chair is killing your back. You get up and awkwardly get on the small couch, it’s not really comfortable your legs hanging off the edge with your jumper as a makeshift pillow but it’ll do.

You awake to a gentle shake frowning as you come back to reality.

“Sorry, sweetheart” you hear and mumble an it’s ok before you realise it’s Logan.

“Ah, oh no” you say getting up way too quickly and rushing to see your phone thankfully empty of calls.

“Fuck” you mutter leaning against the desk biting your inner cheek. You wish this pain would leave or you could go to the doctor.

“What happened? You ok?” Logan asks reminding you he’s still there and that you’re not wearing a jumper.

“Fuck, I mean yes, sorry” you stand up forcing a smile awkwardly trying to hide your inner arms.

“You don’t have to lie to me Bub, what’s going on?” He asks and you sag a bit in the shoulders.

“Just some pain” you shrug.

“Where?” He asks placing the bag he’s got in his hand on the table before circling it.

“My back, hips, shoulders, neck” you ramble.

“It’s fine really, I’ll take some Panadol” you say frowning a bit when he goes behind you.

“Geez your necks tight” you almost moan as his hands gently massage your shoulders and neck.

“Got a million knots too” you can’t think properly with his hands on you, your head hanging.

“It’s fine” you slur like you’re drunk.

“You’re not fine” he tsks and you just nod a little. It feels so nice, his hands are warm too strong but gentle. It’s interrupted by your flinching when you see your dad’s car approaching. You move away faster than you ever have making the man frown his hands hung mid air before he lowers them. You wince at the sudden movement wanting to scream at yourself. Your dad walks up to the trailer and frowns seeing Logan already there and eyes the small bag on the table.

“Lunch’s in the car, Grahams got it” Logan says casually as you stare at your feet.

“Thanks Logan” is all your father says as he gathers more rope and heads back to the car.

“I got you a sandwich and some juice” Logan says pointing to the bag.

“Thank you” you mutter.

“Just take it easy alright, try not to sit or stand too long, have a warm bath maybe hey?” You nod as the man leaves with a small sigh. Once they’re gone again you sit down take some Panadol and try not to cry at work.

Back at home the door doesn’t even close before your father’s yelling at you. Something about how you’re seducing Logan and being a pig of a slut. His words hurt and bring you down two steps you’ve taken weeks to climb back up before you’re heading up the stairs once he done.

“And no fucking shower! Water bills already damn high!” He growls and you nod. You don’t sleep well that night, the pain making you cry or overwhelming motions.

The next day it’s cold, windy and looks like it might storm, you rug up the best you can knowing the cold will affect you even more and shut the trailer door hoping to keep some warmth in. There’s no heater or air con in the trailer either. You feel gross too from not having a small shower yesterday and not sleeping properly. You hear the door open and see Logan again giving him a small smile.

“How can I help?” You ask.

“Wondering if you could look up some recent shipping info, I forgot the folder at home” he sighs a bit and sits down on the couch.

“Yeah sure, for the Terria company right?” You ask and he nods. You search your emails but find nothing of the forms needing to be filled out.

“They came in person here? Didn’t they to drop off the forms?” You ask and Logan nods.

“They didn’t send an email” you add and Logan sighs.

“Worried you were gonna say that” he chuckles lightly.

“Sorry” you say.

“Not your fault bub, feel like going for a drive?” He asks and you hesitate.

“My dad-“ you trailed off quietly.

“He doesn’t need to know” Logan smirks and you sigh but nod. It’s nice and warm in the car, you were shivering in the trailer. You snuggle into your hoodie with a small sigh as the rain starts coming down lightly.

“Ah damn” Logan mutters. Damn indeed it’s going to be a short day and a long day of your father drinking and yelling. You realise you’re heading to his house, you’ve been there once or twice before, it’s nice, a little scary on the mountain all alone but nice. It begins pouring down by the time you make it to his house, thunder rumbling through the sky. You can’t make it to the house without getting soaked, his drive way not suited to running and you shudder and shiver as you enter through the door.

“Hang on I’ll get us some towels” he says heading off to the bathroom no doubt. You look around it’s been renovated since you last saw it. Some new furniture too, it’s got a modern but cozy feel too it.

“I’ll turn the heater on first then get the fire going” he says wrapping a towel around you.

“Geez you got soaked” he says and you chuckle a bit.

“I didn’t want to fall over face first in a mud puddle” you gesture outside to the now muddy road and he chuckles.

“I have some spare clothes for you, don’t want you to get sick” he says and you flush a bit.

“Take a warm shower if you want too” he calls as he heads down the hall coming back out with clothes. You’re stood frozen though thinking he’d just get the papers and go back, soaking or not.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when he sees you not moved from the door.

“I thought we were grabbing the forms” you say.

“Too dangerous to drive in this weather especially on this road, we’ll have to stay here for a bit” he says and you tense. Your dad’s going to freak.

“Oh, I’ll call my dad- or a taxi-“ you babble a bit fumbling for your phone cursing when you see a black screen, you forgot to charge it last night.

“Hey” Logan comes closer. You’re still shaking from the cold, your body aching even more.

“You’re shaking” he says voice quiet face close to yours, too close.

“Come on” he says and you frown as he turns to walk before he looks back and cocks his head.

“Come on, you need to warm up” he adds and you let out a shaky sigh. He leads you to the bathroom and you look at the fancy remade bathroom, big shower and one of those fancy jet baths.

“Your girlfriend make you buy you that?” You chuckle softly as he frowns and looks to the tub after he lays the clothes down.

“Girlfriend?” He questions and you freeze embarrassed.

“I just thought-“ you apologise quickly.

“It was a freebie from the company I went through for hiring a renovator” he says and you nod making a small ‘o’ sound.

“Logan I think I should just go home-“ you say nervously.

“It’s a storm outside Bub, no one’s going anywhere” he chuckles as he fiddles with the shower before turning to you a small frown on his face.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He asks. You’re still shaking teeth chattering and bones aching.

“I don’t think I should be here” you whisper looking down to your soaked boots.

“I invited you, if your dad calls just say you’re with me” he says like it’s not the worst thing in the world. It isn’t the worst thing, you oh so love the soft look he’s giving you as he turns on the shower and steam rises.

“Logan” you mumble more to yourself.

“Just take a warm shower? So you don’t get sick?” He asks tilting your chin up with his finger.

“How- how long can I be in there?” You ask and he frowns and you curse silently.

“I need to leave” you say rushed cursing your phone and shrugging off the towel.

“Hey, hey-“ Logan cups your cheeks and you freeze in place looking into his eyes.

“You’re shaking like leaf, you barely walked inside without limping, please, take a warm shower however long you need” his words strike you as his thumb gently caresses your cheek.

“I’ll deal with your pops” he says and you nod taking a small breath.

“Atta girl” he says softly leaving the bathroom and closing the door as you sag and sigh.

Next part ->

[owlbeforesunrise]

I'll care for you

Pairing: Changbin x chubby!reader Summary:  You were really needy for your boyfriend but you couldn't really express that. Genre: Smut Au/Trope: Smau Warning: Penetrative sex Rating: Mature Word Count: 1 445 A/N:  I decided as plus size girly to have a more plus size reader focus on my future fics...sorry.... not sorry

You let out a loud sigh as you stared at the ceiling. You were completely out stretched on your body listening to the sound of rain scattering on the roof. You felt kind of silly for feeling so…needy but you felt a little bit neglected by your boyfriend. It’s not like he wasn’t paying attention to you, he was extremely attentive to you and was always there when you needed him. The issue was with you, you were struggling internally. It had been awhile since you and your boyfriend had been intimate with each other and it was…weighing on you. You were kind of embarrassed when it came to sexual parts of relationships and it was extremely difficult for you to communicate what you wanted in that regard. It didn’t make it easier that your boyfriend was fucking Changbin. Him being the unit he was made it more difficult than expected and being his gym buddy made it exceptionally harder. You decided to go to the gym with him for the past couple months as a form of motivation but yesterday was the last straw. You barely did any working out as you ogled at your boyfriend as he did his workout. It was too much. That’s why you were staring at your ceiling right now, after feigning sickness to avoid the gym, you were home alone trying to calm yourself from the thoughts of your boyfriend manhandling you. The heat in your cheeks was intense, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

“Babe, I’m home!” You heard Changbin yell as he shut the front door. You slightly cringed, the embarrassment still coursing through you. Come on, get yourself together. It’s not a big deal. You let out a breath to psych yourself out, quickly getting off the bed to greet your boyfriend.

“Hey baby.” He said throwing his gym bag on the floor. His outfit was not doing you any favours, he was wearing a tight short sleeved compression short and matching sweatpants. He extends his arms, inviting you in for a hug. “Don’t worry, I’m clean. I showered just for you.” You giggle at that and hop over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms enveloped you, his warm, spicy scent engulfing you. Feeling his strong arms wrapped around you always comforted you…his strong, thick, muscular arms…so strong…able to manhandle you…stop!

“We should watch a movie!” You say, pushing off of Changbin, a lot louder than intended. You laugh, trying to hide your awkwardness. He gives you a puzzled look as you clumsily make your way to the couch.

“Are you feeling okay?” He says following you and plopping himself next to you.

“Okay? Of course I’m okay, I just really want us to watch this movie.” You say grabbing the remote, barely paying attention to the movie you hastily put on. You lay on Changbin’s side, looking up at his confused expression. “Let’s watch!”

You’ve barely been able to concentrate on the movie from the proximity. You snuggle with Changbin, his arm pulling you in closer. His warm scent wafted to you, making you slightly dizzy. You looked up into his eyes and…he looked so cute…ugh. He smiled down at you sweetly which you couldn’t help reciprocating. You just loved him so much, he was simultaneously the sweetest man you have ever met and also extremely…attractive. You tried to focus on the movie again, doing a horrible job at that. You could not focus…that is until a particular scene came on. The actors were hastily taking off their clothes while kissing passionately.You felt the heat rushing to your face at the unfolding scene. You look up at Changbin to gauge his reaction but you're faced with his eyes looking intently into yours. 

“Hi.” he said lightly, A smile graced his features making you feel shy under his gaze. 

“Hi.” you smile, looking at his chest to avoid his gaze. You felt his finger lightly push your chin up to meet his eyes again.

“Are you okay, babe? Is there something you need?” 

“N-no…I’m okay. I’m great.” You tried to turn your attention back to the screen. Changbin lightly gripped your chin, stopping you.

“Babe…if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” Your eyes looked down back to his chest, still embarrassed but getting the courage to express yourself.

It’s just- okay it’s just that I’ve been certain things and I-I…ugh.” You trail your fingers down his chest not sure how to say the right words. 

“Talk to me…” he lightly caressed your cheek with his thumb. You let out a sigh and slowly looked into your boyfriend's eyes again.

“I-um…I want you Changbin.” Changbin sucked in a breath through his nose.

“How do you want me….?” You bite your lip and went on to drag your hand to lightly grip his waist.

“I want you…to fuck me…” Changbin crashed his lips onto your, tightening the grip on your head slightly. He passionately kissed you as if he’s been wanting this as long as you have. His tongue lightly caressed your bottom lip, you opened up inviting him in further. You moved yourself to straddle Changbins lap, breaking the kiss to breathe.  He looked up at you with swollen lips, his breathing slightly heavy. He moved his hands down your waist, grasping at the curves of your belly. Your hands went to remove your shirt off of your body, throwing it onto the floor. His eyes zeroed in on your chest, staring at your breast noticing you weren’t wearing a bra. He licked his lips before going in to plant kisses onto your breast. He took one of your ample tits into his hand, lightly cupping the plushness. A soft gasp left your lips as you gripped his muscular shoulders trying to contain yourself, biting your lip to stop any more noises from leaving you. Changbin seemed not to like this reaction from you because before you knew it you were flipped onto your back. You squeak from the sudden movement, looking into his eyes taken aback. He took off the tight compression shirt that hugged his muscular torso.

“Is this okay?” He says slightly breathless. You nod eagerly, enjoying this change from his usual gentle approach. “I need to hear your words.”

“Yes. I love it.” He laughs at your excitement pulling your pants down with your panties, completely removing them, He slots himself between your thighs, roughly hiking your legs to wrap around his hips. He hungrily engulfed your lips with yours passionately kissing you while simultaneously grinding his hardened bulge against your unclothed clit making you moan into the kiss. You were slowly losing it so you started to erratically pull down his sweats, unable to wait any longer. Changbin the hint and pulled down his sweats while peppering sweet kisses down your jaw. He pulled down his sweats and boxers enough, letting his cock spring out of their confines. You spread your legs wider and watched as he lined his cock to your entrance and slowly slid into warmth. He let out a groan as you tightly gripped him. As he botttomed you out he gripped your thick thighs until your calves were resting on his shoulders. The new position nearly took your breath away as you felt him everywhere, all you knew in the moment was Changbin. Before you knew it he was pounding into you. As he pressed you into the sofa cushion he hit that spot that made you dizzy. He hit over and over again making you unable to stop the loud, embarrassing noises that were coming from your mouth. He was usually so gentle with you and you could usually control any noises that wanted to come out but right now that was impossible. The position made for a pleasant friction on your bundle of nerves and with the way he repeatedly nudged that spot, you knew you weren’t going to last very long. It still surprised you how violently it hit as you let out a sound that you’ve never heard from your own lips, and your whole body tensed.  Changbin’s pace was now erratic as he chased his own high, his breath slightly laboured until you finally groaned. 

You lay there for a couple minutes as Changbin softly lifted himself off you, straightening your legs into a more comfortable position. As you lay with your eyes softly clothes feeling your body relax, you felt Changbin softly cleaning you asking ‘are you okay’ or ‘did I hurt you?” but you assured him you were great…better than ever.

If you enjoyed this, please like and reblog

[koolaidoverwriting]

Dating HCs for Toby, Cody and EJ x a plus size female reader? NSFW and SFW 🫡

PLUS SIZE DATING HEADCANONS

CHARACTERS: Ticci Toby, X-Virus, Eyeless Jack, AFAB Reader

This was pretty fun. I had some trouble with Cody's part. I don't think about him often... My bad...

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Overall Fluffy Fun, Positive Body Talk, Nothing Graphic But There's Biting

NSFW UNDER CUT! MINORS DNI!

TICCI TOBY

SFW:

Fiiirst of all: Toby loves your body. He's not the type to judge anyone by their frame. He thinks you're absolutely gorgeous because you're his. God forbid you feel insecure because you'll get drowned in kisses and love bites. If you have stretch marks? Toby thinks they're so fucking cool. Like a tiger's stripes.

Toby squishes your round cheeks, telling you just how much he adores you. He snuggles up against you while he yaps on about his day. The way he stumbles over his words and speeds from topic to topic makes you chuckle.

He especially likes laying on your stomach and chest. Toby could rest on top of you for hours. There's nothing better than coming home to warm cuddles after a tiring mission. And nothing better than waking up to the sight of your pretty face.

Toby would ask for a piggyback ride. Literally whenever he can. He loves playing with your hair while you carry him around. Maybe he'll try to give you one, too.

But... Toby's weak and would probably end up breaking a wrist. It's okay. It was worth it to see your reaction when he lifted you up.

NSFW:

You can't have thick thighs and not expect Toby to go in between them. Toby is a total sucker for thighs. He'll kiss up your thighs, leave small hickeys, and squish them as much as he can.

Toby fucking loves when you crush his head while he's eating you out. Suffocating in his favourite person ever? Fuck yeah. There's something so attractive about you squirming and heaving while he pleasures you.

He also adores your breasts. They're breathtaking. He thinks they look really good in tight and revealing clothing. Toby takes every opportunity to fondle your tits. Or better yet, suck on them. You're watching a movie together? Oh, he's definitely going to play with your tits while you watch the movie.

Toby prefers fucking you from the back. That way he gets a good view of your ass and he gets to grope your breasts. Toby gives you plenty of compliments. Whispering how much he loves your body, calling you sweet names, all while he abuses your sensitive pussy.

Aftercare with Toby means you two will cuddle until Toby starts craving food. From there, you'll either head to the kitchen or open up Doordash. Either way, Toby's indecision makes for lighthearted banter over what to eat.

X-VIRUS

SFW:

A general rule for dating Cody, you have to get over any and all dislike toward rats. Cody has a bunch of rats, both as his pets and test subjects.

Cody thinks your chub is perfect for him. He doesn't care about anyone's appearance, so why would he care about yours? He's honestly still not over the fact you chose to date him. Plus, what's better than extra plush to knead when he's stressed?

As a workaholic, Cody rarely sleeps in his bed. He's normally asleep at his desk with his lab-coat still on. You find yourself carrying him to bed more often than not. But it's fine. Because when he blinks awake and softly mumbles your name, it's the cutest thing in the world.

When you do get to sleep with Cody, expect for him to wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your chest. He hums against your skin, noting how nice you smell, or how warm you feel.

He likes sitting on your lap and squishing your fat while he thinks about future experiments. Subconscious fidgeting. 

NSFW:

My version of Cody isn't the most sexuality active. He still thinks you're hot and would love to fuck you over his desk, but he has a looooot of work to do... So he isn't regularly thinking about sex.

Anyway, speaking of fucking you over his desk — he can and will do that. Cody bends you over, fucking into you with a careless rhythm. He gropes your thighs, your ass, your hips. All the soft flesh he can get his hands on.

He clearly prefers handsy stuff over penetration. Cody would love to feel you all over. He notes down your reaction for every little thing, figuring out what gets you most excited. Your breasts and belly are the funnest to play with. You may catch him squeezing your breasts as a stress reliever sometimes.

Cody typically hates surprises, but you giving him an impromptu blowjob underneath the table? Absolutely (just watch out for the rats). He could not avoid looking down at your beautiful face sucking him off — how your cheeks hollow and your face gets flushed a pretty pink.

With aftercare, Cody will offer you water and a kiss on the forehead. He'll either stay with you for a few minutes or go straight back to working. It depends on the situation... But if you ask him politely to stay, he might stay cuddling you.

EYELESS JACK

SFW:

Oh, Jack could care less about your body shape. He likes what's on the inside, not what's on the outside (this is a pun). Your body looks so fucking edible. He just wants to leave little bitemarks all over you.

Jack cares about you dearly. You're sick? Rest assured, he's going to be by your side, cuddling up with you because he can't get sick himself. You're hungry? He'll make you an entire feast of all your favourite foods, and some kidneys for himself. You're sad? Jack will try everything in his power to cheer you up. His monotone voice doesn't mean he doesn't love you any less. Trust him.

Whenever you cuddle together, you will have to put the AC or fan on max. Jack's body temperature is always hot. The warmth would be far too suffocating without something to cool it down.

Showers with Jack are nice for that reason. Your bodies can be pressed up against each other in a cool, intimate shower.

His love languages are quality time and gift giving. Expect him to hug you out of nowhere or bring you a random organ, similar to how a cat brings back dead birds.

NSFW:

Jack is a hefty guy. Muscular, tall, and can lift you up like you're made of stuffing. He uses his strength during sex. He knows how to handle you; he can fuck you standing up, fuck you on the bed, against the wall — anywhere you want.

But that doesn't mean he isn't soft with you. He cares about your body and wants you to be pleasured nicely. Jack tries not to hurt you with his claws, or bruise your cervix with his absolute monster of a cock.

You may get some dark bruises on your body though. Jack loooves biting. He also likes when you bite him as well. So if you're into that, go for it. Jack will be delighted.

Jack can eat you out real good. Consequently, you squeeze his head with your thighs, moaning out with pleasure. Your hands grip the sheets as he thrusts his tongues in and out of your cunt. Jack thinks your reaction is just adorable. To him, it's the best part of giving you head.

You can definitely ride his face, too. Who the fuck cares if he can hardly breathe? He certainly doesn't. Jack will happily lick up all your juices. He has three tongues for a reason.

!!! for some reason the images are glitched to me... huh. weird. well. i hope this was good! i've never written an x reader for cody before. fun little experiment... :3

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size seer!reader

— summary: cursed with the ability to see futuristic visions, you somehow manage to save spencer reid.

— warnings: mentions of dead pets, bloody noses, past seizures, and serial killers.

— wc: 1290

⋆ a/n: hello! okay so i understand that this is completely random and honestly it was a completed wip that was sitting in my drafts so i figured 'why not?' i'm not really pleased with the ending so if anyone would be interested in a part two or continuation, i wouldn't be against it!

masterlist | AO3

The first time you had a vision you were six playing in your mother’s garden, blissfully running through the overgrowths of plants and vegetation before you dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks.

You don’t remember much aside from the scene that played behind your eyes, like a burnt movie;  dark clouds, blurred yelling, and a puff of fur running out into the street. When you had come-to with a gasp, you were in the hospital.

Apparently when you had fainted you started seizing, body shaking fiercely as blood pooled from your nose. The MRI scans showed that your brain was so healthy it was like the seizure hadn't happened at all.

Sometimes your visions took a while to come to fruition, but when it did, they were never wrong. 

Your childhood dog had managed to weasel its way out from your backyard on that fateful cloudy day. You remember the way the warm wind whipped at your skin, that soon to be familiar feeling in your gut that told you that signaled the inevitable.

It was too late by the time the pet had taken off for the road, where it ended up fatally crushed beneath a moving truck.

You learned not to doubt your ability quickly.

They were triggered by small things, details of everyday life that weren't deeply thought about; like the color of someone's clothes or a certain smell or sound. You knew it was a vision when your nose began to leak blood – which was very inconvenient seeing as though a majority of the time when you’d see things in public.

You'd come to learn that your eyes blur like fog for just a moment until you reconnect with your body. It was a freakish feeling and just downright annoying.

You didn't want to see these things, you didn't want to feel responsible for saving people. It was a hassle, and it was a struggle that all but stole a piece of your soul when it happened. You were isolated and alone, and if that meant keeping others and your mental health safe, then you would just have to grin and bear it.

You just hadn't expected him.

The crosswalks were always somehow crowded in the mornings, a sigh wrenching its way through your lips as you brushed against people.

You were so disoriented when it happened, a single brush to the hand shut your brain down, that sickening feeling of guilt twisting through your nerves.

It was a peculiar scene, one that was dark and eerie, a lingering feeling of danger caught in between the notion that you were not supposed to be there. The house was abandoned and dark, their arms poised outwards like they were holding something. It was as if you were sharing the person's point of view when you were shoved, landing on the ground with a gun pointed at your head.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what happened when your vision went dark. 

You were pulled back into reality with a gasp, a warmth trickling over your lip that was undoubtedly blood. Usually, you wouldn't chase after who the vision pertained to, long sacrificing responsibility, but there was something about it that was just… wrong. Like even your subconscious knowing that, that wasn’t how it was supposed to end for them.

Experiencing your visions took less and less time to register, barely a second had passed before your hand shot out to catch the wrist of the person.

It was connected to a man, a very beautiful man, a man that was now staring at you like you were fucking crazy.

“Ye– oh! Are you alright?!” The man asked in concern, the confusion in his brows dissipating into concern. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… there’ll be a door.”

“A door?” “Yes, a door - fuck - just… just don’t go wherever you are going by yourself. There’s gonna be someone that’s gonna kill you, you need backup. A friend, partner, family, I don’t know just - just don’t go into scary creepy houses by yourself alright? You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

The man’s mind looked like it was traveling a mile a minute, but you didn’t wait. Releasing your grip on him, you all but shoved past him, digging into your messenger bag for your handy tissues, you found that the crimson liquid had begun to dribble down your chin.

So much for trying to be early.

Spencer’s whole week was thrown off by the random warning that he had received. Now, he’s spoken to many mentally disturbed individuals during his time with the BAU, but nothing has quite stuck with him the way your words did.

Maybe it was because you had looked so frantic when you had approached him, or maybe the fact that there was more blood on your face than what could be considered healthy. It was strange that he had found himself wanting to believe you, because in his line of work, going into scary creepy houses – as you put it – by himself was an incredibly bad idea. 

Spencer has never been the superstitious type; why would he be with the number of scientific discoveries and facts that completely debunked superstitious myths?

But there was something with the way that this scene was playing out in front of him that had struck him as odd.

Flown away to a city state, he and his team were called out to deal with an Unsub that had deluded himself into believing that he was the boogeyman. He killed in the night and lay dormant during the day, but he was accelerating enough that many victims hadn’t made it through the afternoon.

They cracked down on a house where he was determined to be, a decrepit thing that used to be the killer’s childhood home. His team were speaking about how to split up to investigate, and there was basically a boulder in his stomach that told him that that was an extremely bad idea.

“Guys, I don’t think splitting up is a smart idea.” Spencer had found himself interrupting despite the lump in his throat. “I think we should go in pairs; the house has no electricity, which means no light. It would be easy to be blindsided.”

Though Hotch had given him a contemplative look, he had agreed, pairing off the others, Spencer and Derek serving as a duo themselves.

He knew the situation was bad when Derek didn’t talk, creeping through the damp, mold ridden home on high alert. They split off for a moment before joining back together, stopping in front of what was a closed door.

“There’ll be a door… You need backup… Someone that’s gonna kill you…”

Your voice rings through his head like a hit gong.

“Morgan.” He murmured quietly as he approached. When he twisted the knob with the intent to throw it open, someone lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. He doesn’t writhe for long before the unsub is shot, Morgan apprehending the man.

Spencer usually isn’t this dazed after an experience like that, but there was something about this instance that told him that maybe - just maybe - this one had been too close of a call.

And the only thing he could find himself thinking about was how the fuck did you know about all of this? 

A part of him is unsure, cautious of the information that he had just used to basically save his life. You could have manipulated this, sure, but there were so many constantly changing and unexpected variables to this case that it would’ve made it damn near impossible to manipulate everything in your favor.

Which begs the question of who are you? (And how does he thank you?)

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[nanamincreampie]

Playboy Toji part 3

Toji Fushiguro x Black plus size reader

(part1) (part2)

Warnings: nipple play, pussy eating, blowjob, handjob, cowgirl, fingering, doggystyle, nipple play, body worship, Gojo being a drama queen,unprotective sex

The days following your date, Toji found himself constantly thinking about you. The simple kiss you gave him lingered in his mind like a warm imprint. It was so different from the usual fleeting conquests he was used to; this felt like something deeper. For the first time in years, he wasn’t chasing someone for the thrill of it. He wanted you, truly, and it had nothing to do with his usual charm or reputation.

He texted you the next day, nothing over the top, just a casual message. But when you responded, it made his whole day. He didn’t push for another date right away, taking Geto’s advice to heart. Instead, he kept it cool, building up anticipation while letting things flow naturally. Still, Toji couldn’t deny how excited he was when Friday rolled around, and you agreed to another night out.

This time, you both decided on something more laid-back, a movie and pizza at his place. Toji didn’t want to mess this up, so he actually cleaned up his room for the first time in a while, shoving clothes in the closet and straightening up the mess around his bed. Gojo teased him mercilessly, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

"Look at you, Mr. Domestic. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day."

Toji rolled his eyes but didn’t bother denying it. He was serious about impressing you tonight, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way.

When you arrived, dressed casually but still managing to look stunning in leggings and an oversized hoodie, Toji’s pulse quickened. You greeted him with a warm smile, the same one that made his heart skip a beat, and handed him a box of cookies you’d baked earlier.

"Hope you like chocolate chip," you teased, stepping inside as Toji took the box, smiling like an idiot.

The night went smoothly. Toji surprised himself by how easy it was to talk to you, the usual pressure of his ‘playboy’ persona nowhere to be found. You both spent the evening laughing at the movie, bantering over pizza, and enjoying the comfortable vibe that filled the room.

Halfway through the night, Toji realized just how much he liked this you. There was no need to put on a show or impress you with smooth lines. You were genuinely enjoying yourself, and that fact alone made him feel… real, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

At some point during the movie, your legs ended up draped over his lap, and he absentmindedly traced circles on your thigh. You didn’t pull away, leaning into him a little more, your body naturally gravitating toward his. The tension between you both simmered under the surface, unspoken but undeniable.

As the credits rolled, Toji glanced down at you, your eyes focused on the screen but your lips slightly parted, making it hard for him to concentrate. You turned to him, noticing the way his eyes had darkened, and that playful smirk of his made a slow return.

"Didn’t think you’d be the cuddly type," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Only for you," he shot back, his voice low and dripping with sincerity. He shifted slightly, bringing a hand up to gently brush your hair back. You felt the intensity in his gaze, the weight of what he wasn’t saying yet.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned in, slowly closing the distance between you two. And this time, when his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft or shy, it was hungry, full of all the desire he’d been holding back since that first kiss.

Toji’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring yours with a passion that left you breathless. You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as you shifted in his lap, straddling him without thinking.

His hands roamed your back, gripping the fabric of your hoodie as he kissed you with a fervor that sent sparks shooting through your veins. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension between you building to a point where neither of you could hold back anymore.

Toji broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and ragged. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, his hands resting on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin.

You smiled, your lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. "I think I’m starting to get the idea."

Without another word, Toji captured your lips again, pulling you impossibly closer. The night had only just begun, and neither of you were ready to stop now.

Toji’s hands tightened around your waist as he pulled you closer, his breath mingling with yours. The heat between you intensified, and the world outside faded away. He lifted you off his lap and gently laid you back against the couch, hovering above you, eyes dark with desire.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his gaze roving over your face, taking in every detail. The playful teasing from earlier had transformed into something far more serious, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, igniting a fire deep within.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in another fierce kiss, this one more desperate, more passionate. You felt his hands roam your body, exploring the curves he’d admired since you met. He slid his hands beneath your hoodie, fingers gliding over your soft skin as he worshipped every inch of you.

When his hands found your breasts, he hesitated for just a moment, gauging your reaction. But when you sighed against his mouth and pressed into his touch, he took it as an invitation. His fingers found your bra clasp, deftly unclasping it before pushing it aside, leaving your breasts exposed to him.

Toji’s mouth broke away from yours, trailing kisses down your jaw and along your neck, leaving a path of fire in his wake. His lips found your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before taking it into his mouth. You gasped, arching your back as pleasure shot through you, and his other hand squeezed and kneaded your other breast.

“God, you feel amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot as he continued to suck and tease your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each flick of his tongue and gentle tug with his teeth made you squirm beneath him.

You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly as his hands roamed lower, tracing the curves of your body, savoring every inch of you. He paused at the waistband of your leggings, looking up at you for approval. With a breathless nod, you gave him the go-ahead, and he slowly peeled them down, revealing your panties beneath.

Toji’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, utterly entranced. “So fucking beautiful,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. He kissed his way down your stomach, his lips brushing against your skin as he made his way to your thighs, leaving you aching for more.

His mouth found your entrance, teasing your folds with soft kisses before diving in with fervor. You gasped, feeling his tongue work magic as he licked and sucked, exploring every inch of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you writhed beneath his skilled ministrations.

“Toji, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper. “I need more.”

He responded by sliding two fingers inside you, curving them to hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. Your body tightened around him, a whimper escaping your lips as he found his rhythm, pumping in and out of you while his mouth continued its delicious assault.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his breath hitching as you squeezed around him. “I could get lost in you.”

You could feel the tension building again, that familiar coil tightening deep within you as he expertly worked you closer and closer to the edge. “I’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling as he continued to work his magic.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you come around me.”

With a few more thrusts, the pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out his name, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Toji’s fingers never slowed, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you finally collapsed back against the couch, breathless and spent.

But he wasn’t done yet. He climbed up your body, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he pressed against you. You could feel him hard against your thigh, and it ignited something primal within you.

“Now it’s my turn,” you murmured against his lips, your confidence surging as you pushed him back against the couch. He looked at you with surprise, but it quickly morphed into lust as you slid down his body, your hands finding the waistband of his pants.

Toji let out a low growl of approval as you unbuttoned and unzipped him, pulling his pants down just enough to free his aching length. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, the heat radiating off his body as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

“Shit, just like that,” he hissed, his head thrown back against the couch as you began to take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him deeper, inch by inch. You could feel him harden even more in your mouth, and you reveled in the power you had over him as he groaned, the sound sending a thrill through you. You hollowed your cheeks, pulling back just enough to let your tongue tease his sensitive head before taking him deeper once more, your own desires fueling your movements.

Toji's hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as he thrust gently into your mouth. “Just like that, baby,” he breathed, the raw need in his voice making you even more eager. You could feel the tension building between you both again, the anticipation of what was to come electrifying the air around you.

You picked up the pace, your mouth working him with skill as you sucked and licked, drawing moans from his lips. The thrill of taking him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat, made your heart race. You looked up at him, locking eyes, and the sight of him lost in pleasure only fueled your hunger.

“Stop,” he suddenly gasped, pulling you back up to him, his breath ragged. “I want to feel you around me, not just in your mouth.” You nodded, your own desire matching his intensity as you straddled him again. The air was thick with anticipation as you aligned yourself with him, your heart racing. You lowered yourself down slowly, feeling him stretch you in the most delicious way. A gasp escaped your lips as you finally took him all the way in, a soft moan escaping his lips as you settled.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he guided you into a steady rhythm. You could feel him filling you completely, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You began to rock your hips, setting the pace, while Toji’s eyes were locked onto yours, dark with desire.

“Just like that, keep going,” he urged, his voice husky as he watched you, mesmerized. You could feel the heat radiating between you, the connection deepening with each thrust. The way he looked at you, full of admiration and lust, made you crave him even more.

The intensity grew as you began to bounce on him, feeling him hit all the right spots with every movement. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, but Toji wasn’t having it. “Let me hear you,” he encouraged, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing and teasing your nipples as he watched you.

His fingers sent jolts of pleasure through you, the dual sensations of his hands on your chest and the way he filled you making it hard to concentrate. “Toji,” you gasped, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathed against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his control slipping as you rode him harder, each thrust igniting a fire deep within.

“Let go for me, babe,” he whispered, his fingers digging into your hips as he met your movements with his own, thrusting up to meet you. You could feel the pressure building again, your body responding to his every touch as you lost yourself in the moment.

With a sudden burst of desire, you shifted your position, flipping around to present yourself on all fours. You felt the heat of his gaze on you as you looked back over your shoulder, your heart racing with anticipation. Toji didn’t hesitate, positioning himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he growled, and before you could respond, he plunged back into you, filling you completely. A moan escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming as he began to thrust hard and deep, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Just like that,” you gasped, the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixing with the sounds of your shared pleasure. Each thrust sent shockwaves through you, igniting every nerve ending as you felt yourself getting lost in the sensations.

Toji leaned forward, his hands still gripping your hips as he adjusted his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you gasping for more. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath heavy as he picked up the pace, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

You could feel your body tightening, the tension building as he continued to thrust deep into you, his hands moving to your waist, holding you in place as he lost himself in you. You wanted to scream, to let the world know how good it felt, but all that came out were breathless moans and gasps.

“Can you come for me?” he asked, his voice low and demanding, sending another wave of desire crashing over you. “I want to feel you come around me.”

With a desperate nod, you replied, “I’m so close,” the words barely escaping your lips. The pressure built higher and higher, the heat between you two consuming everything as he pushed you toward your climax.

“Let go for me, baby,” he urged, his voice a mixture of encouragement and raw need. And with one last thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, the wave crashing over you as you let out a breathless cry, your body tightening around him as you came, pleasure washing over you in waves.

Toji’s moans mixed with yours, and with a few more powerful thrusts, he followed you over the edge, releasing inside you with a deep groan that resonated in your very core. You felt every tremor of his body, the heat of his release filling you, and the sensation sent aftershocks through you as you both collapsed into each other, breathless and spent.

For a moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of your heated connection. Toji pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you as he pressed kisses to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“That was… insane,” he murmured, a smile spreading across his face as he glanced at you. You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart racing from the intensity of what you had just shared.

“Definitely,” you replied, snuggling against him, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you. The connection between you felt more profound than ever, and as you lay there together. 

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room of the frat house. You stirred awake, the soft sound of the nearby clock ticking slowly bringing you back to reality. As your eyelids fluttered open, you realized you were nestled against Toji, his strong arms wrapped around you, still sleeping peacefully.

You smiled to yourself, reliving the events of last night the passion, the connection, the way he made you feel so alive. But as you shifted slightly, you became aware of the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Your heart raced at the realization that Gojo might be up.

Just as you propped yourself up to glance toward the door, it swung open, revealing a bleary-eyed Gojo, his hair a wild mess and his usual playful demeanor replaced by sheer horror.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening comically as he took in the sight of you and Toji sprawled together on the couch. “What in the world have I walked into?”

You chuckled, pulling the blanket closer around you as Toji groaned, stirring awake at the sound of Gojo’s voice. He squinted at the sudden brightness and then at Gojo, his expression morphing into one of confusion.

“What the hell are you yelling about?” Toji grumbled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Gojo dramatically placed a hand on his chest, feigning a faint. “My eyes! My innocent, pure eyes!” he cried, staggering back dramatically as if he had just witnessed a horror movie. “I thought we were friends! I thought we had trust! How could you do this to me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the room and making Toji roll his eyes. “Shut up, Gojo. It’s too early for your theatrics,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

But Gojo was relentless, hands on his hips as he paced the floor like a stage actor preparing for a dramatic monologue. “You’ve tarnished our sacred frat house! The couch will never be the same!” He exaggeratedly pointed at the cushions, as if they were stained with evidence of your night together.

You giggled, throwing a pillow at him, but Gojo dodged it with surprising agility. “What’s next? Are you going to start writing love letters to each other? ‘To my dearest Toji, your kisses taste like dreams, and your touch ignites my soul’?”

Toji groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, clearly done with Gojo’s antics. “Dude, get a grip. We were just hanging out. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Gojo, undeterred, dramatically collapsed onto the couch, clutching his forehead as if he were suffering from a great tragedy. “I can’t believe you’ve turned my best friend into a relationship guy. This is a travesty!”

You laughed, watching the performance unfold. “Oh come on, Gojo. Can’t a guy just enjoy a night with a girl without it being the end of the world?”

“Not if that guy is you, Toji! You were supposed to be the wild one! The carefree, charming heartbreaker!” He threw his hands up as if pleading to the heavens. “What happened to you?”

Toji finally lifted his head, smirking at Gojo’s over-the-top reaction. “Maybe I’m just tired of the ‘wild’ life,” he said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Maybe I’ve found something… or someone worth sticking around for.”

Gojo froze, his mouth agape in shock. “No. Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me. That’s not what this is about, is it? You’re not going to start planning dates and romantic getaways, are you?”

You couldn’t help but join in the teasing. “Well, he did bring me flowers, didn’t he?”

Toji laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. You’re both hilarious.”

Gojo sat up, his face a mixture of disbelief and mock horror. “This is a nightmare. I need to call Geto and inform him immediately! He needs to prepare himself for this change in the status quo!”

As Gojo continued his melodramatic rant, you felt warmth spread through your chest, the laughter and camaraderie filling the air like a blanket of comfort.

“Okay, Romeo, enough drama for one morning,” Toji finally said, nudging you gently. “What do you say we get some breakfast?”

You smiled, still feeling the remnants of last night’s heat between you. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great, because I’m starving,” Gojo added, finally breaking character, though his playful grin remained. “And maybe I’ll stop being traumatized if I can get some food in me.”

As you all started to move, the lightness of the morning filled the room, and despite Gojo’s antics, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. You and Toji had shared something beautiful, and this was just the beginning of your journey together.

[postmodernbeliever]

little darling- fox mulder x female reader (SMUT OH MY GOD…)

fox mulder knows how badly you want to be touched, to be taken care of, and he is obsessed with being the first and only guy to do it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

my ao3 | word count: 6,071

content tags: smut, smut so good in my brain it came out poetic?, loss of virginity, virginity kink, dom fox mulder, protective gentle extremely horny fox mulder, embarrassment, sexual fantasy, plus size reader gets sooooo much love, im blushing just posting this aaaaaaa, oh some religious bits bc catholic girls are freaky and also his sex is THAT good, cross-posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

fox knew it was wrong, and he didn’t care. he knew how he thought about you, how he touched you in his mind, how he wanted to possess you was culpable- but then again, how shameful could it truly be? how bad was it to want to take care of you, to teach you the right way, to want to show you how good love is supposed to feel? well, maybe it wasn’t completely pure, because he nearly came untouched just thinking about you sometimes, but he just couldn’t help himself. he wanted to. he wanted to be the one you chose to give yourself to. the only one. 

it was always in the most mundane moments, like this one, that he needed it most, which played into his guilt. soft moments where you were unaware of what you were saying or doing, clueless as to how you were making him feel. now, as you sat watching the sex scene from basic instinct while fox pretended to be filling out a case file at his desk, was one of those moments. you squirmed in your seat with a sweet blush on your cheeks, watching the slight caricature of sharon stone on top of michael douglas, pupils blown wide and trying to hide your interest. fox was doing his best not to move a muscle, but he felt like a vein would pop if he didn’t turn around to look at you. his stomach was twisting itself into hot, trembling knots just wondering what the scene was doing to you. 

you’ve been dating him for a few months now, and upon meeting him, you fell in love in a way you still didn’t understand. he did, too. he idolizes you, he holds you up above everyone else to his detriment. after the first few dates, you told him that you wanted to take the physical aspects of the relationship slow because you had personal obstacles to overcome; he promised to do so, because when you look at him, his entire world glows, and he refused to jeopardize that heaven you unraveled. but he’s learned a lot about you since then simply through deduction. the few risqué movies you’ve watched with him proved through the surprise on your face that you hadn’t seen much video porn, let alone been touched; the books you tried to hide in your purse had absurd covers with the lustful silhouettes of cowboys and prairie girls, corporate bosses and assistants, big looming over small against some dark backdrop– all of it meaning that when you were alone, you fantasized. but the most telling was when fox himself touched you, albeit innocently. it was like you’d never been touched by anything before. when fox’s fingers ghosted over your knuckles as he held your hand, you’d giggle like a schoolgirl, hiding your face in your shoulder. even better, when he brought those same hands to the soft, warm apples of your cheeks, you’d shudder, melting into his touch like you’d lost your volition. it didn't matter how he did it- if his hands were on you in some capacity, your breath hitched in your throat like a fool. 

you wanted to let him touch you. there wasn’t a thing in the world you wanted more than to let him give you all of the things you’d dreamed, all of the things he must be aching to, but it was difficult for you. it seemed no amount of love was enough to break down your walls– you’d never let anyone that close. you’d always struggled with your body and your worth, and the little dating experience you’d had wasn’t much to boast about. you weren’t what people wanted, even if you were deserving. you knew fox was different, and that to him you weren't too big or not pretty enough, but you had just about every anxiety about physical affection. he had no idea you were a virgin on top of it all, which only made the pressure greater. you just couldn’t get over the fear. but you yearned to have it, so much so that even the smallest instances set your body aflame. you had the most lewd things running through your head when fox did just about anything. once you watched the man reach for the cereal box on the top shelf in his kitchen, and his sleep shirt rode up to reveal the dark happy trail that disappeared down his pants, and you felt so dizzy you could’ve dropped dead. and whenever he was close, it was unbearable. you replayed the sensation of his strong, lean hands resting protectively over your hip at his friend’s house. you thought about the way his lips felt on your forehead so often you could’ve written a book based solely on the texture. it drove you insane, the way you wanted him, and you drove yourself insane every time you didn’t act on it. but what did you know of hands, of mouths, of letting someone see what you shroud in fabric every day? what did you know of making him feel good, too, of being worth the wait for him?

now, as you curled up on his couch, you watched michael douglas’ hand grip sharon stone’s leg. it was big, but not big like fox’s. you imagined it was your boyfriend on the television, dark and brooding, as you saw how the man dove between the blonde’s legs, starving; her back arched, propelling her hips forward into his face, and she let out a soft moan. in your head, you saw yourself on that bed, and fox as hungry. you squeezed your thighs together and gathered the blanket draped across your legs in your palms, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. but the agent who listened to the heavy breathing on screen saw exactly what was happening to you. he saw the blood rushing to the tips of your ears, tinting them the color of your bitten lips; he saw the way you shifted rhythmically beneath the blanket, almost undetectable, but absolutely undeniable. fox looked up at the ceiling as if to thank the god he didn’t believe in for playing basic instinct on cable, and he stood up from the desk, stalking over to sit beside you on the couch. as his body made the cushions dip, you smiled nervously. through a cracking voice, you said, “i didn’t know this movie was all… y’know.”

‘oh, yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” fox nodded, attempting his best unassuming expression. “still good, though, huh?”

“i mean, sure,”

“yeah, i think so, too.”

fox sighed just a tad too loudly and let his hand fall on your thigh. nothing but the blanket was between his palm and your skin. you looked to him with a pleading pair of eyes, though you didn’t really know what you were pleading for. the moaning from the television got louder, and you felt so warm, and his hand wasn’t going anywhere. you had no idea what to do. fox grinned at you and let his head tilt back over the couch as he swallowed thickly. you stared at the curve of his stately neck, how his adam’s apple bobbed, and every inch of your body pined in his wake. fox gazed at you, lounged wide like a lion, and his hand slowly traveled up your thigh to the crease of your hip. he slid his fingers across the soft crevice, and you were still at a statue, stuck between craving the friction and terrified to feel it. 

“can i ask you something personal?” fox’s voice was gentle. husky.

“...mhm.”

“has anyone ever, uh,” you followed his gaze to the tv, where michael douglas was doing things that made your hands sweat. “have you ever done it like that?”

you prayed that a black hole would open up in the floor and suck you in, so you never had to admit the truth. but his hand was still in that soft spot, and his minty eyes were made of looking glass, and the image of him that fucked your mind was so boggling you were on the edge of giving up. 

“just out of curiosity,” he added, lips curling into a cheshire smile.

you ran a hand across your burning cheeks and murmured, “uh, no. no, i haven't.”

“it’s interesting, y’know, how they can make it look so real,” fox pursed his lips, pushing his hand back down your thigh to rest on your knee. 

before you could bite your tongue, you confided, “i wouldn’t really know.”

fox’s hand paused at the crest of your kneecap, a chill running down his body. he thought of you, his pretty, quiet, gentle girl, and he never once stopped to think why you were so reserved. he always blamed the little silver cross that hung from your neck and some guy from your past, but he neglected other options. but now, his mouth watered. 

“really?”

you tugged the blanket up to your face. “is that a bad thing?”

the man turned to face you, pulling your hands away to reveal the flushed face beneath. you were breathing so heavily. a need rattled his bones, one he wished he could stifle. pictures flashed in his brain- you, writhing beneath him, the feeling so new, making pretty faces as he did what the people in movies do. him, defiling you, ruining the girl you’ve been, clutching to your cross as your mouth bled with his name. maybe he was a monster, but his cock twitched in his dress pants at the humiliated expression you bore.

“no, baby, of course not!” he chuckled, “no, that’s– that’s a good thing.”

“but i-”

“everyone does things at their own pace,” 

“but…”

“but what, sweetheart? i don’t expect anything from you.” fox sweetly lied. he wouldn’t force it, but he wanted it. badly. 

“i just wish that, uh, that i had by now. sometimes. i guess.” 

your eyes darted between the television screen and the way his nimble fingers encased both of your wrists. it only took one hand for him to hold you down… what a career he could make with his other hand free. 

“have you ever tried?” 

“...no.”

“do you want to?”

you let out a nervous hum. something came over you like it always does, and you leaned over to hide in his shoulder; in a way, that was better than letting him see your face. his hand rested at the nape of your neck as he cooed, “awh, baby, it’s okay.”

“it’s not really okay,” you mumbled into his shirt. “it’s embarrassing.”

“i don’t think it is. i think it’s cute.”

you felt his hand run down your back, and you pushed yourself a little closer, so you could rest against his neck. fox kept talking since you were at a loss. 

“nothing embarrassing about that, i promise. truthfully, you’re better off. so many guys out there just wanna take advantage, y’know?” he reasoned, tracing little things at the small of your back, fingertips like pens. “probably would’ve wished you didn’t, because you’re so hard on yourself… i would hate to know you lost your virginity to some guy who didn’t care about you. not the way i do.”

the heat of your breath against his neck was maddening. everything about you was maddening. how you curled into him for protection, for reassurance, how your palms tugged at the wrinkled cotton of his work shirt because you didn’t know where to put them. the little nods of agreement you made with every opinion he voiced. he wanted to knock you on your back and fuck you right there, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t spring it on you. you had to want it, you had to let him. and he knew you wanted to let him because it was all over you. 

he asked again, “baby, do you want to?”

he raised his wandering hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you felt this urge inside you, an indulgence just begging to be released. acting selfishly, you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and beneath your lips, you felt the vibration of a little growl. fox tangled his palm in your hair, and as gently as he could, he pulled your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“is that a yes?”

your stomach churned. “yes.”

“good. come on.”

fox rose from the couch and tugged you up with him. he watched the blanket fall from your legs to see that your sleep shorts had ridden up and tucked themselves in the chub of where your thighs and legs met, that sacred spot he’d touched before, and he rolled his eyes in ardor. with your shaky hand in his, the man led you into his bedroom, where he motioned for you to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“fox, i…”

“what, love?”

“i… i don’t know.”

you watched him walk over to his closet and open the doors, revealing the shuffled-around mess inside. with his back turned to you, you saw his hands disappear to unbutton the dress shirt that crumpled on his shoulders from a day’s work. as he pulled it over his head, the spotless skin of his sculpted back smiled at you. your hips were warm. 

“you’re nervous,” he said, still facing away as he threw the shirt into the basket. “i know you are. but it’s not so scary. plus, you’re with me. i’m nice, aren’t i?” “you’re very nice,” you smiled, “but you’ve done this before. you… you know so much more than i do.”

“are you sure?” fox’s laugh rumbled low in his throat, “because i’ve seen the books you read. bet you’ve got all kinds of ideas i’ve never even tried before.”

you shifted on the bed, tucking your legs into a crisscross. “w-well, that’s different!”

“no, it’s not!” the man teased, shaking his head like you were hopeless. he crossed the room, back to you, where he stood like a pillar before the bed. when you didn’t meet his gaze, he tucked his finger beneath your chin and made you. “you’ve been thinking about it for so long, haven’t you, sweetheart? about me? must be so lonely, just thinking, never doing.” 

he passed his thumb over your trembling chin, admiring your starry eyes, how they reflected so much love. you were so pretty, a pretty he couldn’t have imagined if he’d seen all the most beautiful women in the world. none of them could hold a candle to his girl. “you’re so smart, so good at handling things when they’re hard. but you never let anyone handle you, do you? not even me, baby, and i could be so good at it.”

you couldn’t control how you let him sway you. you gave yourself over, basking in the rush. he settled on his knees, so you had to look down, and he pressed his hands to where your love handles dipped, passing the skin over in his hands. 

“i’ve wanted to let you,” you sighed, “i’ve… thought about it.”

fox’s eyes, eager as a puppy’s, looked up at you as he asked, “well, when we’re in your head, where do i start?”

you shivered. “you kiss me first.”

the man decided that you deserved to have your fantasies fulfilled; if in your pretty mind you’d dreamed up a routine, then he’d follow it, and he’d prove to you that nothing was as good as the real deal. he pushed up on his knees and leaned in, thankful for his low-set bed, as he pressed his lips against yours. you disassembled against his touch; he moved with a cadence that had your head spinning, fingers behind your ears, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. you’d kissed him plenty, but never like this. never so messy, so desperate. he tasted warm, and kind, sunshine in a mouth. you let out a soft whimper as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“i think you’re a bad girl in that head of yours, angel,” he mumbled into your mouth. “what do i do next up there?”

you were too afraid to say it, and you didn’t want to pull away from his lips, so instead you reached for the wrist that held his hand to your face. fox’s throat tightened as you guided his hand down to your stomach, a place you didn’t let him touch often. 

“so pretty, baby,” he admired, knowing exactly what it is you needed from him. he paraded his kisses down to your neck, where he got so much sloppier. he licked a stripe over your throat, nipping at the soft skin of your jaw, and he passed the chub of you over in his devastating hands. you keeled forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and he littered your ear with little pecks. “so soft. i love your tummy, y’know. how it looks when you wear those pretty dresses, and how when you wear my shirts i can see the shape. fuckin’ adorable, you have no idea. prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“fox,” you whined. he was barely even touching you, but the weight of his words anchored your lungs to the floor. 

he took a little liberty and leaned down to tug your shirt up, and began brushing his lips over you, spit for paint. you let your hands wander to his hair, and your stomach flipped at the noises he made. 

“now what, sweetheart?”

“y-you… agh,”

fox pulled away, and you swooned at the sight of his pretty lips already swollen. “forgettin’ already?”

“well…” you trailed off, feeling a mental fog roll in.

fox stood up and pushed at your shoulders, tilting you back onto his bed. laying down, he had more access to pushing your shirt up and seeing you for real. he sucked at his teeth, handsome face overtaken with want; you curved like a muse beneath him, and he wondered why you hid all this body beneath clothes. you felt his hands like a compass, mapping the cascading mountain ranges and slow, dipping valleys of your hips and thighs, as if his whole world was discovering you, as if his purpose existed within the endless confines of your flesh and bones. and his hands roamed freely, nomadically, through your land, committing every road that made you shiver to memory. 

“where do you touch yourself, princess?” fox smiled. you whined, and he clicked his tongue. “come on, show me.”

your hand shook, but you rested it over your shorts, and you curled your fingers in to prove you knew how. 

“good girl. bet you know just what to do, huh?”

“mhm,”

“but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?” fox pouted playfully as he hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band squeezing your waist. 

“no,” you wheezed, “never.”

“fuck. you sound so pretty when you need me. let me see you.”

trying to stop himself from rushing, the man clambered on top of you and grabbed you by the back of your knees, pushing you up the bed a bit. when your head hit pillows, he tucked them behind you, and he crawled back down to your legs with a mission. gently, he tugged your shorts down, and beneath were little black boyshorts that cut into the skin of your thighs. he looked about as starving as michael douglas as he flattened his palms against your hips, adoring the sight. 

“y’know, most girls hide lacy things,” he teased, “i like this so much better.”

breathlessly, you said, “lace is itchy.”

“god, you’re just dying for it, aren’t you?”

you pushed up into his palms and whispered, “please.”

“please what?”

“do it,” you heaved, “i need it, fox.”

he didn’t need to be told again. he slid your panties down in one sweep and practically drooled over what you had kept from him all this time. he could’ve cried. this must be what people felt when they saw the mona lisa for the first time, or had a prayer answered. this was his very own da vinci original. this was god’s divinity trapped in your lower half. you were an irritated pink, your pussy plump as the rest of you; as he pushed your thighs wide, he found a sheen already coating your skin. “fuck, sweetheart, is this from the movie or me?”

“y-you.” you kicked yourself for all your stammering, but the glow of his cheeks soothed the embarrassment. 

“oh, yeah?”

you didn’t know how easy it would be to let yourself be touched before you just tried it. here, with the one man who might be the direct work on god on earth, you wanted to spill every secret now that you knew something of hands. your heart beat against your ribcage relentlessly as you admitted, “was imagining it was you on tv, fox, you and me,”

“jesus christ,” fox grunted, eyes dirty and dark. “i can fuck you better than he ever could.”

fox pressed his thumb to the bundle of nerves that throbbed between your legs, and just the pressure alone drew a dangerous moan from the back of your throat. he relished in the sound as he began to circle his finger, leaning down to kiss the searing skin. you rolled your hips against his touch, begging for more friction, and he wordlessly rewarded you with a new motion, one that needed two fingers for rubbing. you grabbed at his forearm as it came into reach, and he felt like he could explode from how you tugged at him. you held onto his arm like it was a lifeline. any other girl would’ve grabbed the bedsheets or touched her body, but your inexperience meant you were acting on instinct, and that quite possibly was the best thing he’d ever seen. watching you feel so good for the first time in your life had him panting like a dog. you were all his now, his pretty girl under his spell. an angel who knew only one name. 

“good, baby?”

“mm-nngh,” was all you had to say. 

“what a pretty girl.”

“fox…”

“good girl. only i can make you feel like this, right? not those guys in your books, none of those movies. just me, my hands, baby, my mouth,”

you used your grip on his arm to try and get him to go faster, but he refused. he wriggled free from your grasp and left a ghostly kiss on your stomach, tutting, “oh, no, angel. i’m gonna make this last. want you out of your mind when i’m done.”

you’ve felt powerless all your life, and you do even now, but this is the first time you’ve ever needed more. you were engrossed in being taken. you’d been too afraid to pray for this because you weren’t sure how the man upstairs would feel about you breaking his technical rules, but you had to have yearned to let fox take your virginity every night since you met him. you knew he’s done this before, but you didn’t know he was so gifted; but even he could tell you that it wasn’t so much his experience as it was how he wanted to ruin every other guy for you. and how could you want another when his hand– that which wrapped around the neck of a pistol, that which choked the air of men’s throats– circled your clit so gently, working a new kind of love into you that you never thought imaginable?

“been dreaming about this, y’know,” fox drawled, leaving stinging kisses on your waist. “been thinking about how our first time would go. and you’re doing so good, you’re taking it so well right now.”

you couldn’t speak. every word got caught in your chest. so instead you tugged at his hair, trying to get him to kiss you. he giggled, hovering over you and slowing his fingers so he could give you what you wanted. you moaned into his mouth, lips gnashing against his teeth in your eagerness, and just when you felt like you were starting to have some control, you felt two of his fingers push between your folds. they went so much deeper than you’ve ever gotten your own, and as he curled them inside you, your entire body shook. gasping against his cheek, you exhaled, “oh my god,”

“be careful, baby, you don’t want him to hear you,” fox warned, voice thick with lust. 

you grabbed at his chest, fingers running through the little curling hairs that grew in a thicket over his heart, and you felt it beating, keeping time with his hand. you wondered if sex felt like this for everyone the first time around, but then again, how could it? unless fox was there for them all, they could never have had it this good. 

“you’re so pretty,” fox cooed, “so pretty on my fingers. d’you feel pretty, baby?”

“mmm,”

“tell me you feel pretty,”

“i- i feel pretty.”

“mhm. what about me, love, you think i’m pretty, too? my hands feel pretty?”

“fuck,” you squeaked, “fox!”

“i know you do. say it.”

“you’re so pretty,” you droned, trying to catch his lips in a kiss, but he rerouted to your neck. 

you ground into his palm over and over again, and he felt you burning up on his fingertips, contracting, squeezing, shaking. he moaned into your shoulder, “do you wanna cum, baby?”

your hands scratched at his arms, and to his surprise, you shook your head violently. “not yet,”

“really?”

“mm-mm. not… not time yet.”

fox’s pupils swallowed the green of his eyes. the man licked his lips and slowed to a stop, letting his fingers rest inside of you, and he asked, “what comes next, then?”

even in a position so lewd as this one, you were too embarrassed to explain. so you reached up to his mouth, swiping your thumb across his slick bottom lip, and with pretty little doe eyes, you popped your finger into his mouth. you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, swirling his tongue over the salty taste of your skin, and you whispered, “i need you.”

fox pulled off your finger with a pop. “how?” 

he followed your lidded gaze as it traveled down to the bulge in his pants, and he nearly passed out. 

“you sure you’re ready for that?” his eyebrows knit together in true concern, but he knew he was the one who had to answer the question, too. he wanted to do right by you– you couldn’t regret this, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you did. “i can wait, you know. this is about you.”

“no. i’m ready,”

“positive?”

“mhm,” you sighed, “just… don’t hurt me.”

the man above you melted like putty, and the hunger he’d touched you with went soft. you saw that toothy grin again, the one that gave you butterflies, and he promised, “i’d never hurt you, angel.”

the scruff of his jaw even tinted a lovesick pink as he kissed you. your fingers scratched at the back of his ears like you would a dog’s, and you confessed between breaths, “i love you, foxie.”

his hands flew to his waist and he rushed to undo his belt and shimmy the slacks down. he wanted to scream, he wanted to stand at the edge of the world and tell every soul about the way you coated his entire existence in sugar, but right now, it was just you. he was alone with his girl, and if he couldn’t tell the world, he could at least make you sick of hearing it. 

“i’m so fuckin’ in love with you,” he swore, marking your face with invisible prints of his mouth. “i’m all yours, princess.”

“oh, god,” you groaned, watching how he spilled out of his boxers with glazed eyes. you had no idea where he was hiding all that. you felt a little dorky for the surprise, but who could blame you?

fox was too far to reign in. he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, and he made you scoot up against his headboard; you pressed your back against the cold wood, and you yelped as he raised you in the air, pinning you to the wall. 

“fox, i-”

“you’re not too heavy,” he stopped you, knowing what you were going to say. “you’re perfect.”

you couldn’t complain- truthfully, you didn’t even get the chance to think about it, because he was all over you. with one hand holding you up by the leg, and the other gripping the headboard with white knuckles, he pushed himself between your legs, and you knocked your head into the wall at the way he stuffed you. 

“fuck, fox!”

it didn’t hurt, but god, was he big. pinned to the wall like this, you had no bearings. he had you suspended, stapled down by his sheer strength;  you never thought you could be fucked like this, some little ragdoll he could throw around, but clearly you underestimated how much he could handle. you felt the wind leaving your lungs as he pulled out and snapped back in, pelvis rolling hard against your swollen clit. he moved like a wave crashing down, managing to soak every part of you with his skin.

“fuck, sweetheart, so much better than i imagined,” he croaked, “feels okay, right?”

“s-so… so big…”

“oh, baby, i know,” he babied, leaving pinprick kisses on your jaw. “you can take it, pretty girl.”

his big hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of your neck as he fucked you into the creaking headboard. you were an endless machine of moans and profanities, head lolling, trying to keep your eyes open to watch the way his lips parted at the feeling of you encircling him. he tugged at your hair, and a guttural groan escaped your lips. 

“always wanted to get fucked like this, huh, baby? you’re such a good girl, you deserve it,”

“fox, please,”

“such a pretty girl,” he moaned, “jesus, you sure you’ve never done this before?”

as you bucked your hips against his swelling length, you offered a drunken grin. “only in my… dreams.”

“oh my god. you’ve got no idea how hot you are.”

he was everywhere, he was heaven, he was the pounding in your head as you collapsed against his body, letting him use you like a toy. you scratched at his shoulders, mouth all over his sizzling skin, and he flooded your ears with pretty praises. you hoped to god that by the time he was done you’d have the print of his hands tattooed on your hips, or that he’d never be done and you could float on by in this bliss forever. but his hips were thrusting hard, and falling out of time, and you felt your tummy squeezing like it was running out of air. he drowned in you, mouth full of dirty whines and strings of i love yous, and you knew you couldn’t hold back.

“f-fox… oh- oh god…”

“gonna cum for me, princess?”

“i… i’ve never…”

the feeling in your stomach was foreign and hot, and it was backing up all the functions of your brain. all you felt was fox between your legs, terrorizing this little spot that short-circuited all your nerves, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping his mouth with yours– and when he hit it one last time, with eyes rolling back, and you let everything go. fox felt the warmth of you spilling over him, and the silent scream you let out had him unraveling in seconds. his hands were all over your face, fingers on your teeth as he came inside you, feeling himself mixing with you, and nearly bursting again just knowing he was. 

“oh, baby,” he fussed, “good girl, atta girl!”

pulling out slowly, so you didn’t feel too shocked, he slid you down the headboard softly and helped prop you up against the pillows again. you couldn't see straight, and everything twinkled, but you did catch a glimpse of him sneaking back down the bed. the man admired the mess he left behind. the smallest dribble spilled out of you, and all of a sudden he was lapping it up with his tongue, thirsty as a castaway. your entire body buzzed with overstimulation, and in what felt like screams but only came out strangled, you exclaimed, “fuck, oh my god!”

his tongue split you open, collecting all the juices between your hips and smearing the inside of your thighs, the pretty little mound of your pussy, making you shimmer like an angel. he sucked, and he swirled, and he dug his tongue between your folds like a freak, and you grabbed at his sweaty hair, so full of him you wanted to thank your angels for sending you someone so perfect.

“come on, i know you’ve got more,” fox coaxed, “one more, baby, one more.”

black spots crossed your line of vision as you watched his face disappear in your legs, and the tidal wave rose again, drowning you in a feeling that had you bucking against his tongue like a rogue horse. you’d never been able to make yourself cum, but all it took was fox mulder to pull two loads right out of you. you felt disgusting, you felt drunk, you felt so good you could’ve died this way. you didn’t ever want to leave the bed. fox made his way back up, heaving, and he kissed you with milky lips. you tasted yourself on his tongue, and you needed his palms to pin your hips down as you trembled, stuck on your high. 

“good girl, didn’t that feel good?” kiss. “you did so good, baby,” kiss, “so good for me,” kiss, “m’so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“mm… agh,” 

“i know, love, take a deep breath.” you felt his hand press against your warm tummy, and he told you again, “take a deep breath for me.”

you smiled, trapped beneath him, and you breathed like he wanted you to. anything he wanted, for the rest of his life, he would get. through fuzzy vision, you saw his glittery eyes, the grecian curve of his face, the little white strip of teeth behind his handsome smile, and you felt so in love you didn’t know what to do with yourself. he started to blush under your gaze, so he laid down on top of you, resting his head on your chest to listen to your racing heartbeat. 

“foxie,” you whispered.

“hm?”

“m’not a virgin anymore,” you giggled, the joy bubbling out of you. 

his warm laugh echoed in your ribs. “not anymore.”

“all yours now,” you swooned, “are you happy?”

you felt his hand slither behind your back, and he scratched at your spine, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling. then he attacked your neck and shoulders, mercilessly going after all the spots he knows are most sensitive until you lost your breath again from his innocent touch. “stupid question!”

“ah!– fox– agh, stop!” you swatted at his hands, a blissful wreck.

“‘course i’m happy,” he chuckled as he relented. “are you?”

in a huff, you rested your spinning head on his pillows and blushed. “mhm. very.”

“worth the wait?”

“definitely. thank you.”

“my pleasure,” he teased, flopping down beside you and lacing his fingers with yours. and when a comfortable silence fell, he couldn’t help himself: “you know i’m never gonna stop thinking about this, right? i’m ruined for life.”

“shut up,” you laughed. 

“no, seriously. get ready for a life of me drooling over you doing absolutely nothing.”

“i’d like that life, i think.”

you curled up in his side, and he drew you close, letting you hide in the crook of his neck the same way you did in what felt like a lifetime ago on his couch. there was still a little devil on his shoulder, applauding him for taking a piece of you that no one else could have now, but more than anything, his heart ebbed and flowed in his chest, blossoming each time he looked down at your pretty face. he meant it when he said he was ruined. you ruined everything by letting him fall in love with you, and he has never felt so lucky. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

inspired by this ask ;)

[afyrian]

jack-o'-lantern frights osamu miya x gn!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 1k | halloween event: day five

    standing in your kitchen, you stare down at a couple pumpkins resting over a few old newspapers. beside them, osamu has set down a couple knives and scoops. resting your hands on your hips, your eyes narrow, a smile spreading on your lips. "honey? when did you get these pumpkins?" you look back at the staircase, figuring osamu would be up there.

  your work clothes are still on, clay splattered along your jeans. pursing your lips, you walk over to the bottom of the stairs, giving one more shout, "osamu! what's going on?"

  waiting a few moments, you hear his feet thump against the floor, the noise of something falling to the ground. smiling, you lean against the railing, watching as osamu makes his way to the staircase. he halts to a stop, looking down at you. on his shirt is a jack-o'-lantern design. you had never seen him in bright orange, but you're quick to realize everything suits him.

  "i thought you weren't supposed to get home until later? like seven?" he hurries down the stairs, bringing his hands up to your cheeks and pulling you in for a far too quick kiss. 

  "yeah, i wanted to get home so we could have a longer weekend together. and this might just be the perfect way to spend the weekend before halloween together," you bring your hands up to his shoulders, only for his hand to move to your lower back, guiding you back to the kitchen. 

  osamu leans to the side of you, eyes holding your gaze. his hand is warm against you, his body temperature differing from the cooling temperatures of the outdoors. "plus, honey, i figured we could take the inners and make some korokke. i know you like my kabocha korokke but pumpkin is used interchangeably so i figured you may enjoy-"

  "oh i love it 'samu," you lean towards him, kissing his lips with a softness that could rival a cartoon cloud. 

  his hair is freshly cleaned, your hand reaching up and holding against his short hair. there's a softness to the hairs, a fresh sent of shampoo and his signature deodorant. separating from his lips, you smile, a drunken smile that can only be brought out sober by a full and warm love. 

  looking back down at the pumpkins, you notice the different sizes of them. some smaller, one that's especially larger than the others. "i got different sizes because i know you've never carved a pumpkin, so you have as many choices as you could need," osamu wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

  "wow, you are such a catch.. and i'll take one of the bigger ones, get the whole carving experience," you nod, watching as his face lights up. 

  suddenly, his lips drop into a frown as his hand pats his pockets. his eyebrows furrow, the same expression on his face as when he can't figure out the right proportions for a new recipe he's trying. "i left my phone upstairs, which has some carving inspiration on it. let me go get it and then the festivities can begin," osamu kisses your temple, gently removing himself from your touch and hurries for the stairs. 

  looking back in the direction he disappeared in, you can feel your heart racing more. you know you're in love, you can feel it, see it. but there's nothing more refreshing than waiting for him to return, to feel the excitement build. shaking your head, you sit down beside on the pumpkins, trying to remember some of the faces you've seen in movies and other media. 

  waiting for his feet pounding down the stairs, you spin the pumpkin around, checking every side to find the best carving position. when you don’t hear him soon, you roll your eyes, “i’m gonna start carving without you!”

  “why would you do that?” a familiar voice echoes behind you, however, when you turn around, a masked individual with a hammer is standing there. 

  “holy shit!” the words escape from your mouth quicker than you can think, hand reaching up, clenched into a fist, you hit across the mask.

  falling backwards, osamu immediately lifts the mask, holding up his hands in defense. staring at him, you blink slowly, trying to process what had just happened. “it’s me! i’m so sorry! i know you like scary halloween stuff and i got too enthusiastic!” his voice is loud as he defends himself, shaking his hands in the air.

  “osamu miya… you scared the living shit out of me! i do like horror but if you ever do that again you better be hoping i’m not holding a knife! god, you scared me half to death,” you bring your hands up to your face, resting it within the palms of your hands.

  osamu sets down the mask, crawling to you, he rests one hand on your thigh, the other reaching for your hip. “i’m so sorry babe,” he brings one hand up, slowly moving yours from your face, “i will never let atsumu give me advice every again.”

  your anger dissipates as you wonder what sort of advice osamu was asking for. your lips form into a disgusted frown, eyebrows raising. “advice from atsumu? what sort of advice would you ever take from your nefarious twin?” a smile wants to form, finding the situation all too funny, but you stand there keeping a straight face. 

  “just that sometimes someone who likes horror or halloween may enjoy a little fright. and since you like it so much, i thought it would’ve worked… wow i’m gonna block him, i’m so sorry n/n,” osamu shakes his head, raising your hand up to his lips, kissing the palm of your hand in a form of apology.

  biting your lip, you roll your eyes, letting your heart rate return to normal. “you’re forgiven, but only if you make the best dinner you’ve ever made tomorrow. and you let me pick the movie for the next movie night,” your free hand rests at your side, the other holding onto his.

  “that is one deal i am more than happy with.”

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@bae-ashlynn @puffychu6781 @nekozaki

[gladiatorcunt]

- # MERCURY POISONING !!

i wanna be found, passenger in your car (don’t leave)

cw: based on an ask for plus sized afab!reader, ambiguous era, pt. 3 to these posts, (toxic but softer with reader) dom!art x sub!reader x (toxic but softer with reader) switch!patrick, daddy kink, usage of the words fat & chubby etc. as something positive bc they can be! sexualized self esteem excersizes/body positivity/methods of fixing your insecurities lol, dead dove hints & vibes but not too apparent, established poly relationship, implied sensory issues & insecurities relating to being plus sized, porno type dirty talk meant to be that way, character/relationship study vibes, mild fighting/jealousy/possessiveness (playful and light hearted), hinted dacryphilia & overstimulation & orgasm delay/denial but not rlly they’re just playing, patrick’s very hairy bc i said so, anal & spanking & rimming bc they <3 ur fat ass, thigh fucking, chubby chaser vibes, video recordings (that don’t get shared), alcohol mention (fantasy of doing body shots)

wc: 3.2k

1k event. / please consider commissioning me!

You’ve been getting better at getting out of your own head, your confidence has grown a lot over the course of your relationship with your boyfriends. You used to beg them to keep the lights off and they were lucky if you sent 1% of the total amount of nudes that stay locked away in your group chat. As time has gone by, you’re allowing the house to be bathed in a warm glow and you’ll send cute little videos of you shaking your ass while you hump their pillows.

They’re so proud of you, coming out of your shell in all the ways they always knew you could. Plus, it never mattered that they couldn’t see you in all your glory at first (though it drove them insane to have to be content with imagining how your body looks as it jiggles as they hammer into your holes), they just wanted you to be comfortable and happy. That’s never gonna stop being their number one priority.

So it’s a gift when you beckon them closer in your silk bathrobe, your after shower movie nights never fail to derail into a different kind of show. You lean your head back against Art’s shoulder and languidly arch your back, your panties brushing against his bulge in an “accidental” movement. He softly hisses and gives Patrick a look, your eyes follow him in confusion as you watch him run to get something from the bedroom and come back. In his hairy hands rests a pile of post it notes and a black marker from your stash on your desk. Your brow furrows but you’re much more interested in getting Art’s half-hard cock re-acquainted with the cleft of your ass. Your cheeks part to make way for his length that’s quickly chubbing up.

“Fuck, angel, you couldn’t have waited until the movie was over?” Art teases and reclines against the couch, looking every bit as satisfied as a king.

You smile and find comfort in the implication of being split open and speared, impaled by someone who loves you, “Needed you now, and we’ve seen Gladiator before.”

His tip is a millimeter away from catching on your hole but Patrick wrenches you up out of Art’s lap and into his. If Art is the overarching king, Patrick is the spoiled prince that treats you like you’re a piping hot turkey leg. He tears you to bits with his teeth, snarling and licking his lips to chase the taste.

“Please, c’mon, fuckin’ need to taste you so bad. Need you to break my neck when you sit on my face.” He hisses, more rabid dog than human man.

The post it notes in his hand are getting crushed by his too tight grip, Patrick realizes what he’s doing and

Your eyes glint dangerously as you swivel your hips from side to side, causing your thick cheeks to jiggle around Art’s cock. You stare Patrick dead in the eye, so horny that you’re not shy about showing them how much you’re willing to put on a show for them. To become their favorite stripping whore that would rather die mid lap dance then be normal about wanting them. Art groans and clamps a heavy hand onto your right cheek, your flesh bulging out in between his fingers as he gropes you like you’re just some hot piece of ass.

You are, but they appreciate you for more than just your best assets. Even though there are times where your stretch marks and stomach rolls feel like equal parts of the relationship, to name a couple extra members of their weird little harem.

Art laughs, the rich guy kind of laugh that soaks your underwear and drips onto their country club floor, “What’d we say about teasing, hm? Daddy’s already about to burst, he’ll just come crying to me if you don’t give him what he wants.”

Patrick peels off one of the sticky notes and glares weakly, but he doesn’t deny it.

When you’re not in the mood to have sex, or Patrick pushes your buttons too often and too much, you’ll lie on your tummy in your canopy bed and watch with droopy eyes as Art puts the other man through the ringer. Fucking machines, nipple clamps, vibrators in multiple places and Patrick’s lips spreading around a ball gag. You’re there for the aftercare, running your hands through his hair and calling him Daddy while you cockwarm his soft dick.

“We have a present for you too, Angel, a little self esteem exercise.” Art coos, abruptly stopping your movements and sliding his hands around your hips.

You feel the warning bubbling under the surface, and you know you won’t be moving from your position until he explicitly says so. You both call Patrick Daddy, because he needs it, but Art needs to actually put it into practice to feel satisfied with his life. He started out as the friend that “fathered” you and Patrick, and something corny like this is so him that it’s mind bogglingly sexy. He loves a good pussy inspection, letting his “assistant” handle your other hole.

The minutes that passed are littered with neon sticky notes that bear crudely written compliments and affirmations. Ones that Patrick came up with are charmingly lewd, the stuff that oddly endearing porn video comments wish they could be made of.

“Tummy rolls so squishy I squirted and my dick fell off.”

“Chubby pussy #1 crack cocaine hotspot, watch out.”

“Who needs church when you have these jiggly tits?”

“God peaked with this one, No Nut November final boss.”

“Everyone on Earth should die but me and my boyfriends because my boyfriends would miss my fat ass.”

“World’s best thick thighs.”

“My chubby cheeks look so cute when a cock is bulging out of them that it brings people to tears.”

“Looks so pretty being double stuffed, fat bitches just take dick better.” *And a badly drawn shrug emoji.*

Art’s messages are heart warming in their own way, but it’s the underlying assured dominance and smoothness in the written tone that make the experience so sensual. With him, it’s about reading in between the lines more than it is about getting on the dick and doing splits on it right away. The prey is being circled by its hunter until they can’t stop the inevitable from happening. The jaws of a bear trap and the teeth of men are the same things in different bodies.

“Such gorgeous curves, running my hands over them takes all my stress away.”

“Perfect cock sucking lips, so good my boyfriends couldn't be prouder of me if they tried.”

“My beautiful baby, with the cutest chubby tummy that puts everyone else to shame.”

“This ass was made for spanking, it could honestly never be fat enough. Still waiting on a demonstration to see how well they move to music.”

“Stretch marks + cum waist chains = <3”

“At their best when taking bites of cake and getting the frosting smeared all over their face after a cum bath. Can’t tell the difference when they mix together sometimes.”

“To be bred.” And a doodle that resembles those corny car decals with the stick figure parents and their ridiculously large family.

The notes feel well…. uh…. sticky on your skin. Awkward too, but the fiery worship etched onto your boyfriend’s faces makes it all worth it. Patrick drools as he takes in the sight of your tits covered in the brightly colored stationary, and you can tell he really isn’t focusing on the words on them so much as he is the heaving boobs they’re attached too. Art sighs pleasantly and runs a hand over the notes covering your ass, not caring about the sounds of crinkling paper or his nails lightly scratching against it. You almost look like a modern art project, nude and adorned with pure love.

“How about a reward for being such a trooper? Gonna give you that dick you’ve been craving, Angel.” Art says, helping you peel the notes off and tossing them on the floor. (He’ll remember to pick them up and keep them in a box for you, in case you need the reminders, or just to see you squirm because you’re so silly you can’t even take a compliment when you’re not fucked out and cock drunk.)

Patrick does the same on his end, and you get only a few seconds to open your mouth and stammer (being bold isn’t a permanent thing, apparently) before you feel the wet sensation of a tongue darting around your rim. You gasp, trying to turn around to look at Art burying his face between your ass cheeks but Patrick tugs your face back in his direction and catches you in a toe curling sloppy kiss. His specialty, all saliva and his slick tongue seducing yours to slide against it hopelessly searching for the solution to the feeling blooming deep in your guts.

Art pulls back, dragging his tongue along your rim as he glances up at you and Patrick, smiling. “Mmm, look at that, pussy’s saying hello. ‘s inviting me in, it’d be rude to say no.”

You obviously can’t respond while you’re getting tongue fucked, but if you could you think you might cry. It should be what you want, what you always want. But doesn’t your ass deserve the same treatment your cunt gets? Doesn’t it deserve to get fucked through every circle of hell and back around again like your mouth does? You wiggle your hips in front of Art’s face, announcing your disapproval and moaning into Patrick’s mouth.

Wiggling gets your ass smacked, Art is quick to remind you. He soothes the sting of his (to him) gentle love tap with a loving kiss to the center of the thick globe, nipping the area for good measure.

“Don’t get greedy, I can always pay this hole some attention later. Gonna eat this ass like it deserves when you’re too dumb to push me away when it gets too much.” Because that's what you always do, pretty kitty that can’t seem to back up your big mouth with your stamina.

You like it when they keep going after you pass out though, so it’s a win win for you either way. The rocking motions your pudge makes when they speed up their thrusts has the same effect as a rickety rocking chair on you. This time will most likely be no different, you’ve been so stressed with all the responsibilities you have to deal with, you deserve a good all expenses paid trip to pound town more than ever right now. Patrick grunts and bites your bottom lip, cracking his eyes open to gaze longingly at the swell of your ass. He’ll clearly want his own seat at the table for Art’s midnight snack.

“Now keep kissing on Daddy, need your mouth and brain occupied so you don’t tense up, baby.” Art murmurs as he rises up on his knees, kneeling on the couch and reaching forward to spread your plump ass cheeks to catch a sight of the prize hidden below them.

Your pussy’s glistening, your pubic hair’s all wet and stuck to your mound because you’re that soaked. Your face burns, and for once you’re glad that you can’t see how smug Art looks right now. Patrick too, he’d rub your face in it (then mash it into his bulge). You get lost in the sauce, making out with Patrick is not something for the weak, the way his tongue digs into your mouth like he’s trying to eat you from the inside out fucks you up mentally. There’s hushed whispering going on behind you, like Art’s having an engaging conversation with your pussy.

“You don’t mind if I don’t prep you that much, right? You can take it, always gushing and babbling like a river when you see me. ‘s gonna make Daddy jealous.”

He pushes in a couple fingers anyway, crooking them just right and scissoring them into your heat when you seem a little too into your kiss with Patrick. Oh well, you’ll remember that he’s still there soon enough. You make the cutest little squeaks against Patrick’s lips, and he just can’t resist meanly pinching your nipples and squeezing your tits like they’re water balloons. Patrick breaks away to lob a flurry of pecks along your throat, hurriedly stopping every so often to quickly suck the patch of skin he’s hovering over at that moment. You sigh, knuckle deep in perpetual bliss, and arch into his touch. The exposure of more skin calls Patrick like blood to a shark and he’s on it, a few licks away from slobbering on your pulse point.

“Hah- Fuck, Daddy, shit- so good.” You moan and succumb to his whims, the added pressure in your pussy only heighting the climbing pleasure you’re feeling.

Art whistles slowly as he slides his fingers out, depriving you of the show that is him licking them clean fried chicken style, no skin or meat left on the bone in sight. Your poor hole clenches around nothing, pouting like you would if he could see you. But he already does that everytime he closes his eyes, you live wrapped around the nerve endings connected to his brain, a beloved parasite. He’d love nothing more than to do shots off your body, then chase it down with a lime wedge and your pussy juice.

(Yes they’d love you if you were a worm, but maybe they’d prefer you to be a tapeworm that lives inside one of them.)

He grasps his aching hard dick in his hands, shallowly pumping up and down in lazy strokes as he just dead eye stares at your puffy pussy. Your folds are so chubby that your little clit is hidden away, but he knows that he’ll find it in no time at all when the mood strikes him. You and Patrick make the prettiest picture, two messy pets that need to stick together so much that they love to swap spit. Art loves a good three way kiss, but he will always have a special soft spot for watching his babies play. He likes to be the overseeing figure in the room when it’s just about you and Patrick, makes him feel like he’s doing something right, taking care of the three of you. Keeping you all inside this fragile bird’s nest.

“Pat, keep ‘em there, be a good boy and do what you’re best at.” He orders, positioning his long cock at your entrance and easing the bell shaped tip in.

When you exhale into him, Patrick can imagine that it’s his hole being pushed in. The way your back bends, your upper half curling towards the slick-sticky-hot attention being paid to your backside. Your mouth splits apart as you gape and silently cry out for something beyond the capabilities of a mortal man. Art’s dick brushes against the fleshy globes of your ass teasingly as he sinks into your walls. Inch by inch, you’re getting re-acquainted and reuniting dear old friends.

Patrick pets your head and pulls you closer to knock his forehead against yours, “ It’s okay, you were made for this, your body’s been built for this. Made for him, made for me.”

Art’s cock is his cock and vice versa when it comes to you. You’re like a magical fleshlight, Patrick swears he can feel your velvet grip suck in more of his girth, even as he creates a necklace for you out of teeth indents.

You hang your head, courageously allowing yourself to be carved into, “Ohhhhh, thank you, Daddy.”

He starts getting impatient though, as he always does, and shuffles around so he can slide under your body. His stubble scratches against your folds as he lies there, just breathing on your pussy and reaching up to feel where Art is splitting your ass open. You choke on a startled moan when Patrick’s fingers tease the barely there veins on Art’s cock and then rub little circles into your clit. Art groans and lets his self control slip a tad, he grinds his teeth together and plunges the rest of the way into you in one thrust. Patrick fucking chuckles, bouncing the other man’s balls in his hands as he nudges the hump of his nose bridge against your poor throbbing clit.

They like to have competitions over who can make you cum faster when they eat you out. Patrick is more of a messy eater, he doesn’t have much of a technique and relies on how horny the raw scent of pussy gets him. He’ll slobber all over your folds and hollow his cheeks as he sucks the soul out of your clit. He knows you like his nose too so he always makes sure to let you hump it as much as you want. Art’s not quite so vivacious, he prefers to methodically kitten lick your clit until your begging just gets too close to sobbing (his favorite) and he moves down to expertly tongue fuck you into overstimulation.

Patrick has you hurtling over the edge in a not bad five minutes, not his best but not his worst time. Art’s done better, the smug grin he sends down at him saying as much. You’re still reeling from Art dragging out his thrusts in your ass so you’re forced to feel every inch of his long length grapple onto your impossibly tight walls as it slides in and out. Schlick, pop, schlick, pop, schlick, pop. Your boys being who they are don’t let you recover much in between orgasms, they just want their baby to feel so good you wish you’d die. So Art postpones making you cum on his cock and swaps with Patrick, it’s one of those kinds of days where devouring you to the bone very nearly beats pummeling the shit out of your holes.

Art makes you cum so hard on his tongue that you gush like a burst pipe four minutes later, and Patrick speeds up his movements. Your ass feels like it’s torn and two and impaled on a tree trunk but it’s just as well, you’re ruined for anybody else who thinks they’d know how to handle your delectable body. He harshly slaps both of your jiggling ass cheeks like it’s your fault he lost their little match.

He fondly sneers and holds his hand out above your head, beseechingly. Like how someone would ask a dog to spit out whatever they shouldn’t have in their mouth, but they’re too cute to be genuinely mad at.

Art grins and climbs out from under you. He rolls his shoulders back, a winner doing a victory lap.

He spits out a glob of your cum, “fat pussy cum tastes like candy,” and grants him a deep kiss of his own. They hug around you and their mouths drift apart, returning to your shoulders and dancing along them. There’s no purpose or intent to kickstart another round, they just want to worship their baby, tongues cleaning and appraising the marble bones of your statue. Though they know depriving you of raw cock is its own torture, you’ll get your holes filled before the night over. You haven’t even started properly whining and batting your eyelashes yet.

You on the other hand can't wait to see how they’ll react to your anniversary present, the special frosting and sprinkles are tucked away in their own shelf in a cabinet on the floor. You’re too scared to take a risk by adding a candle, but they’ll get the idea anyway.

[nyxiswrites1200]

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒎

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, OOC(?), Implied Age gap, p in v, fingering, praise, pet names, size kink, nipple play, oral sex, body insecurities, aftercare

Mentions: Reader is a single mom, Reader is implied to be younger than Toji, Pet names (mama, darling, daddy)

AO3 Link

AN: So, this is my first Toji fic mostly because I wasn't a fan of him but fine he's hot 😮‍💨 so please don't shit on me if this is bad.

----

Sometimes it really was too much. You wouldn't trade your kid for anything in the world. You loved your child, they were everything to you. However, ever since your ex-boyfriend left about a year ago, things haven't been easy. 

It was hard to find any time for yourself. Even years after pregnancy, you were still suffering from some mental struggles. Between work and raising the kid on your own, there wasn't much time to take care of yourself. 

Toji had recently moved into the apartment building. Only a few doors down from you. He didn't take much notice of you until you bumped into him one morning, quite literally. 

Toji was heading to the elevator so he could go to the gym on the first floor. Meanwhile, you were heading off to work and dropping your kid off at daycare. 

Your head was overflowing with thoughts. You were thinking about the bills and what to fix for dinner, along with the small amount of sleep you managed. You felt overwhelmed with embarrassment and almost disappointment in yourself when you bumped into the brick wall that is Toji. 

“Oh god, I'm so sorry” you quickly said as Toji met your gaze. 

He took in your appearance. From the color of your eyes to your figure, even noticing the weary look on your face. 

There wasn't much you could say for yourself. That one coincidental meeting turned into ‘good mornings’ when you left for work; they turned into him knowing your kid’s name, and eventually you hired a babysitter to spend your night with Toji. 

“Hey mama” he smirked as he let you into his apartment. It was cleaner than you expected. You didn't really know how to act around Toji sometimes. His presence took up so much space, and just his aura alone was dominating. You didn't know much about Toji, but a part of you didn't want to know too much. You already felt your emotions were out of line with Toji. The simple act of him placing his large hand on your lower back made your skin warm. 

The both of you ended up watching a movie on the couch. Which eventually leads to Toji listening to your rambling.

“I'm just so fucking tired…” you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Between work and my kid, and my bastard ex leaving” you groaned with annoyance. You weren't sure why you were telling him all this, but you needed a vent so badly. 

“Mm, the bastard left you alone with the kid?” Toji rasped; he knew he wasn't a perfect parent. You didn't know that, however. But Toji knew how young your kid was, and he's met enough women to know it wasn't easy for you. Plus, the postpartum depression of any child birth is hard to conquer. 

“Yeah” you sigh in response. “Everything was fine in our relationship; I don't know why he changed like that…”. 

Toji did feel a little insincere when it came to you. He wanted to be honest, but he didn't know if that would do either of you any good. At first, he did just want to sleep with you, but now? He felt infatuated. 

“People change, it’s hell but it happens” he responds. Toji places his hand on your thigh and rubs it gently. “But you didn't deserve that, darling” he comforts. The action sends a familiar feeling to the space in between your thighs. 

A part of you gives into reason and thinks you should leave, but Toji must have noticed. “Let me take care of you. You work so hard, mama. Just let a real man take care of you” he rasps. He needed you, and you wanted him. 

“I don't much remember how to let someone…take care of me” you sigh but Toji doesn't mind. “Let me help you remember” he smirks. 

Toji leans in close, and you respond, giving him the silent answer he needs. He kisses you; he’s firm and a bit rough. But you kind of liked it. 

Kisses turn into making out, tongues tasting one another, and then his hands slip into your panties. Pulling away from the kiss leaves a trail of drool connecting your lips to his. “So wet, mama. Just relax for me, I know how to take care of pretty things” he rasps and you don't bother to question him. 

Toji’s fingers toy with your clit. You moan as your hands grip his broad shoulders. “Fuck- Toji~” you can't help but moan; you were so sensitive ever since having your kid. “Good girl, doing good for me. Nobody’s been paying this pretty pussy any attention?” He chuckles lowly as he finally just takes off your panties. He needs to see it—see how slick you are and how your walls tighten. 

“No” you whine “Nobody pays attention to me, I’m not as good looking since I had a kid” you admit. Well, your ex told you that. Toji doesn't believe it, if anything; knowing this now only makes him want to fuck your pussy full and show you how ‘unattractive’ he thinks you are. 

“Let me show you how fucking sexy you are, babe” 

You writhe beneath Toji on his bed now. He is two fingers deep in your pussy as he adds a third. A pathetic moan leaves your lips as you grind into his hand while he fucks you full of his fingers, down to his knuckles. 

“Ahah- Toji- Oh God~” you moan out loudly, only hoping maybe your neighbors aren't hearing. Especially your babysitter. You swear you didn't hire them just to go fuck some older man, even if it was happening now.

“So pretty, mama. Tightening around my fingers, making such a mess…” he smirks as he watches your pussy clench around him. The messy squelching sounds from how wet you were only made Toji’s cock ache. 

“Toji- I'm gonna cum..fuck~” you moan out, your head tilting back into the pillows. But your pleasure was taken away just as quickly as it started. You let out a pant as you looked at Toji with a pathetic whine. 

“Don't start, I'm not gonna leave you. Just need that pretty pussy sopping around my cock. Want you to squirt all over me, mama so I can lick your cunt clean after.” He smirks, his words almost being enough to send you over the edge. 

Toji frees his cock from his sweatpants, and it's fucking huge. More than you ever took, but fuck if that didn't have your cunt tightening around nothing. He’s painfully hard, with the tip leaking pre-cum. 

“Can you spit on it for me, mama? Wanna get it nice and slick for you” You've never been in something so erotic. You sit up and gather some saliva on your tongue before spitting it out onto Toji’s cock. He doesn't hesitate to smear it all over the tip with his hand and then down his length. 

“That's my good girl, so fucking sweet to me” he rasps as a groan leaves his throat. He needed your pussy clenching around him. Toji tugs at your shirt, but you pull back a little, and he pauses, looking at you, wanting an explanation as to why you didn't allow it. His intense gaze makes you fold. 

“I just…what if you don't like it…” you look away. Toji was such an attractive man. He was muscular, tall, broad, and, overall, just masculine. You were sure he could have anybody he wanted, and he probably has. 

Toji looked at you as if being anything less than a horny bastard for you was impossible. He quickly pulled off your shirt; obviously, he won that battle. 

“If I don't like it?” He groans as he rubs his tip along the slick entrance of your pussy “That's not possible, let me show you how I feel about you”. He then fills up your cunt in one swift motion. A loud moan falls from you as you writhe with pleasure beneath him, your legs hooking around his waist.

Pathetic whimpers leave your throat as you get used to his size. He gives you a minute, but then he's relentless.

Toji grabs your thighs and presses them into you. His cock hits deep, kissing your cervix as he begins to fuck you. His thrusts hit that spot in you every time; his pace was too fast. You could barely pull in a breath between each thrust. You moan out loudly into the small apartment. Your hands coming up to grip onto his broad shoulders. 

“So fucking tight, you're so pretty…” he chuckles breathlessly, watching you writhe on his cock. He leaned down and popped one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. 

It was so fucking erotic. Toji’s black hair draped over his face as he sucked on your breasts, teeth grazing you. His cock fucking the deepest part of you as his muscular arms held your thighs open. His balls slapping into your ass with every desperate thrust. 

You scratch into his back as you moan out for him. He was overwhelming, but you loved every second of it. You've never been fucked this good, and you haven't felt anywhere near this good in a while. 

Toji pulled off your hardened nipple. He pressed a hand onto your stomach, and you tightened around him when you noticed the noticeable bulge he left in you with every thrust. 

“So fucking big, daddy~” you moan as you continue to scratch into him. “Yeah, mama~? This cock fucking you good? Gonna squirt all over daddy’s cock?” 

“Mhm, I'm so close-” you whine. Toji pulls back a little as he wraps one hand around your throat. He presses his forehead against yours as his pace quickens. 

“Look at me, I want to look at your pretty face as I fill this pretty cunt” he groans as he relentlessly rails into you.

The apartment was filled with pathetic moans from both of you, wet squelching sounds, and skin slapping against each other. 

“Toji Toji-” you scream out for him as you squirt onto his cock. Your liquids are soaking his dick and lower stomach. Your pussy tightens around him, dragging more moans from the man on top of you. You feel his cock twitch as the tip presses into your cervix, then he cums. Toji pants as he watches your expression contort with pleasure as he fills your pussy. 

“Good girl, so fucking dirty, mama” he chuckles. He thrusts a few more times, making sure his cum was fucked into you. In truth, he could do this all night. He wanted to keep pounding you. Fucking you full of his cum, fuck you until his cock went limp, but that's not what tonight was about. 

He slowly drags his cock out of you. He groans at the sight of your cum covering every inch of his cock and some of his stomach. He leans in and kisses your cheek before his head finds its way between your thighs. His tongue ran over the slit. 

You whine in response, tangling a hand into his messy hair. Toji licks all over your cunt, sucking up all your cum like it was his only meal for the month. He groaned against your pussy as he fucked his tongue inside of you. 

“Daddy- it's too much, I can't-” you whine as you writhe beneath him, making him hold your thighs open. Toji doesn't care; he was obsessed with you and drunk on your pretty pussy. 

He laps at you until you cum again, squirting all over his face. You shake beneath him with pleasure as you try to catch your breath.

His face covered in your slick, he smirks, running a hand through his hair as he takes you in. The look in his eyes definitely makes you reconsider your ex’s words. 

Toji gives you both a bath. He was also a lot more caring than you expected. Maybe there was more to Toji than you could understand, at least right now. 

He places kisses on your neck as he cleans you up, taking care of you. “Mm, take care of yourself” he rasps as he kisses the back of your neck. “Can't keep fucking you good if you let yourself wither away” he whispers in your ear. 

Toji himself didn't even know why he was so obsessed with you. He thought maybe he just wanted to fuck you. But it was obvious now that he wanted more than just one night with the single mom a few apartments down.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 4. The Wolf

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, smut (masterbation) - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You are Joel talk a bit more and you figure out what your job is going to be. 1.3K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Here Chapter 2 Here Chapter 3 Here

Chapter 4. The Wolf

It’s been three days since you got to Jackson, and it’s starting to finally feel real. No longer like a fever dream at the end of your life. Tonight is movie night, Jurassic Park, one of your favorite movies, and you’re going with Joel. You wake up on that Friday like a kid on Christmas morning, bouncing down the stairs to the kitchen, but Joel and Ellie are nowhere to be seen. You notice a plate covered in a cloth napkin the color of the sky on a spring day, under it, eggs, bacon and even toast, still relatively warm. You smile to yourself thinking maybe Joel did this, but you think better of yourself and decide it must have been Ellie, it still warms your heart. You’ve only known these people three days and they’ve woven into your soul already. Then, by the coffee pot, you see a mug with a wolf painted on it, one with an owl is washed and sat to dry by the sink. This gesture, you know, is Joels.

One of the few times you two have spoken since you arrived was the other night when you couldn’t sleep. You find Joel downstairs by the fireplace carving another animal for his wooden menagerie, you suppose. You pick up the carving of the light-colored wolf you noticed your first time in the house and say, “Wolves have always been my favorite.” Joel grunts and you take that as a sign to keep going. “They have a pack, they take care of each other, and they howl at the fucking moon, they’re cool.” You put the sculpture back on the mantle and when your eyes find Joel’s he’s looking right at you, no longer cutting into the wood in his hands. The light from the fire dances in his eyes and it feels like a spark igniting something in the quiet. After what feels like an eternity, you say, “Well, I guess I’ll try and get some sleep. Night, Joel.” And you scurry up the steps, while Joel watches the fire, never again to resume his carving that night.

But as you return to your room, you still can’t sleep. Every time you close your eyes you see his face, his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Before you can stop yourself, your unburned hand finds its way into your sleep shorts, grazing the wet material of your underwear. Causing you to moan out loud. Shit. You have to be quiet! You bite your lip to keep your whimpering contained as you push your underwear to the side and truly feel the slick between your legs. You haven’t felt this way in so long. Actually, turned on. Maybe a constant fear of death messes with your libido. You bet there are studies on that from before. But now, oh you are so wet, and it feels so good. You use two fingers to bring your wetness up to your clit and swirl it around. Your head and shoulders lurch forward as the pressure to your nub almost makes you cry out. You bring your other hand up to your mouth and bite into the back of it to keep from making noise as you slip those same two fingers down to your entrance. You’re so soaked that your fingers just slip right into your tight hole. Fuck, did this always feel so good? You close your eyes again and with two fingers deep inside and your thumb rubbing against your clit, you picture him. You picture him pushing you against a wall. Hovering over you. Standing over you while you’re on your knees. You imagine what his thick fingers could do instead of your small ones. And then you imagine his voice, telling you to come for him and that’s all it takes. Your sex squeezes down on your fingers and you bite so hard into the back of your hand you taste blood. As you start to come down and regulate your breathing you hear the door of Joel’s bedroom close loudly. Even though you’re terrified he heard all your whimpers and moans, you’re so relaxed you end up falling asleep with a smile on your face. You almost kind of hope he listened.  

You come back to yourself in the kitchen holding the wolf mug thinking about the night before and what it could mean moving forward. If he heard you, maybe he liked it, maybe he’ll want more? You know it’s probably wishful thinking, but you let your mind go there anyway. Today is your first day of work at the library. Joel suggested that since you like books and movies so much, that might be the place best suited for you. Except for the quiet part, since you have such a, quote, “Loud Mouth”. But Jackson’s library didn’t really follow the old rules, you’d come to find out. You get dressed in the clothes Maria gave you and look at yourself in the mirror. A disgusted look on your face as you take in the bright pink polo collared shirt you’re wearing.

There’s a knock on the door and after you answer, Joel opens it but stays standing in the doorway. He gives you a once over in your new clothes and then takes in the look on your face. “You gotta get to work soon, I walked Ellie to school and thought I’d come back for you. What’s with the face?” He asks, his hands on his hips, one knee jutted out. “It’s nothing, it’s fine. Let’s go.” You turn to face him, and he rolls his eyes, what is his deal, ugh. He stops you by putting a hand up, palm facing you, “No, none of that, what is it? Spit it out.” You look down at your shoes knowing this is going to end in you getting told you’re a spoiled brat, but he asked so you explain, “Look, I am really thankful for the clothes, mine were gross and falling apart and it’s really no big deal but,” you pause, “I don’t wear pink. Okay, I wear like black if I can find it or other dark colors, this just makes me feel weird and off. I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things but, yeah so, that’s what’s wrong.”

You’re still looking at your shoes when you hear a snort. Looking up at Joel who’s smiling and trying to keep from laughing. “You asshole, don’t laugh at me,” you pout. Trying to regain his composure Joel says with a chuckle, “I’m sorry, Ash, ha, it’s just, oh god, now that you say it, you do look a little outta place in that pink.” You can’t help it; you start laughing too. And you swat at his arms and chest, and he puts his hands up in defense. “Well, don’t just laugh at me, help me, old man,” you say. Joel, still laughing slightly, responds, “Oh, not you too with the old man thing.” You smile, “Ah, you’re not that old, you’re what 50? I’m 40 so I guess I’m old too.” He finally starts to calm his laughter and catch his breath. “40, huh? I wouldn’t have thought that. I woulda thought 60 maybe,” he says completely deadpan. You squint angrily at him and start to brush past him when he huffs another laugh and grabs your upper arm to stop you next to him in the door frame. You’re so close, and he’s towering over you and his hand on your arm feels like fire. “Stop, there’s a place in town, we’ll go see what we can find for you to wear that isn’t,” he grabs at the hem of your hot pink shirt touching the skin of your belly with his calloused fingers and you think you might melt into a puddle on the floor right in front of him, “this.” His eyes trace from where his finger touches you up your chest to your lips that just happen to be parted and then to your eyes that are wild. He looks at you like he might think you’re beautiful. Before you can think to move or say something or breathe, he’s walking down the stairs and yelling back at you, “Let’s go, you’re gonna be late!”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Thunder shield, that’s it that’s the request. You can do it/ have it anyway you want haha 💗

.⋆｡Just A Warm-Up｡⋆.

Thundershield x plus size reader

Steve wants to play while Thor’s away and you’re just along for the ride

Warnings: this isn’t full on smut but it’s still smut, cockwarming, d/s dynamics, sub!reader, switch!steve (he’s also a bit of a brat), dom!thor, little degradation, implied m/m smut

WC: 889

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

When Steve raised a single dark blond eyebrow at you an hour ago, you knew that your simple afternoon of doing laundry and watching your favourite trashy reality show was going to be thrown out the window in favour of his devious idea.

“You know we’re gonna get in trouble right?” You had told him as his thick fingers pulled at the waistband of your sweatpants after he made himself comfortable on your couch.

He looked up at you with a smirk. “Not if you listen to what I tell you to do.”

So now here you were, on one of your boyfriends’ lap, trying as hard as you could to watch the documentary he had put on but with your mind already going fuzzy around the edges, it was incredibly hard. 

You shifted on his lap but suddenly, Steve’s large hands were on your hips, keeping you completely still. “I told you not to fidget.” He chastised you. A shameful heat crawled up your neck and you could only whine.

“Sorry Captain.” He smiled at you and granted a single kiss to your cheek.

“Good girl. Now, Thor should be home soon and I don’t think he would appreciate that we’re playing without him so stay still.” You nodded and forced your body to relax back into his strong chest, laying your head on his shoulder where the smell of his cologne was most prominent.

Steve readjusted the blanket that was draped over both your legs, pulling it up so it now lay across your waist, completely concealing your lower half. 

And right on time, the front door opened and a booming voice called out- “My loves! I have returned!”

Steve gave you another firm warning in the form of a pinch to your naked thigh before he called back. “We’re in the living room!” 

Thundering footsteps echoed through the house as Thor hurried to get to you. “You would not believe the day that I have had, first Loki tricked me… again! But do not fret, my wound shall heal soon- what are you doing?”

His massive body easily filled the doorframe, his blue eyes squinting at the pair of you. While you were scrambling to find some excuse as to why you were in this situation, Steve threw his arm over the back of the couch, a smirk still painted on his face. 

“We’re just having a cuddle and watching a movie, isn’t that right doll.” You nodded eagerly in response, letting out a sigh of relief as Thor’s eyes brightened once more, seemingly content with his answer.

“Well, then the Spider boy showed me this new trick he learned and I-“ But his words went in one ear and out the other as Steve readjusted below you, forcing his thick cock even deeper inside you and it took all of your willpower not to moan.

He hissed through his teeth as you clamped down on him. Your fingers curled into your palm in some desperate attempt to keep yourself from moving or moaning or even breathing wrong but evidently, it wasn’t enough.

Before you could stop it, a whine escaped your lips, immediately silencing your godly boyfriend and making the man beneath you inhale sharply. The game was up.

The blanket easily slid away from your laps, exposing exactly what was happening to your shared boyfriend. Your soft legs were spread apart by Steve’s thick thighs, keeping you open enough for his cock to be comfortably nestled in your dripping cunt to keep him warm. Already, his blue jeans were stained almost black from your wetness and a ring of creamy white gathered at the base of his cock.

Neither of you moved, the gravity of the situation now making itself apparent as Thor’s expression darkened and his own jeans grew considerably tighter as his cock came to life.

“I will give you both one chance to explain yourselves before I start to think of ways to punish you for playing without my permission.” Steve’s cock throbbed inside of you and you shot him a glare.

“Masochist.” You hissed under your breath but evidently, both men heard you.

Thor’s eyes locked onto you. “How about you start princess- tell me the truth.”

But before you could answer, Steve had decided that he wanted to play even more. “She’s just warming me up so that I could fuck you when you got home. I mean, that is what she’s here for.” You curled into yourself, not because you were hurt by what he said but because you knew what was coming next.

Moving too quick to comprehend, you were suddenly suspended in the air and then tucked into the chest of your god. And with barely any time to wince at the emptiness you now felt, Thor’s fly was open and his own cock prodded at your entrance. 

“Yes you did have a warm-up, but not for you.” You cried out as he sank you down onto him, easily taking him to the hilt even with his massive size considering how Steve had already stretched you enough to take him. “She’s going to get the fucking of a lifetime while you just watch. And then-“

Steve swallowed thickly, his hand now inching towards his own aching length. “Then, I’ll be warmed up enough to take you.” 

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @km-ffluv

Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017 @beautyb1ade @bitchy-bi-trash @mewlingoizys @queer_poncho @everything-is-awesomesauce @hc-geralt-23 @wisteriia222 @certifiedhunter

[lovesuhng]

Loved - Na Jaemin

couple: Jaemin x fem!reader genre: fluff; slightly suggestive; friends to lovers w.c: 1.3k synopsis: You have always been insecure about some things, including your body, but your best friend is going to make you feel like the most beautiful woman and, above all, loved. warnings: The protagonist has some marks on her body like stretch marks and scars, and it is also implied that she is plus-size. a/n: Once again, this idea came to me while I was coming back from college. I wanted to write a story with the protagonist having tattoos, so I used one of my tattoos as inspiration (the tattoo in the photo is mine hehehe), and sorry, I don't know how to write suggestive scenes.

"When are you going to buy a car, Nana?" The day had been as chaotic as possible, and to top it off, you and your friend Jaemin got caught in a sudden rainstorm as you left the university. You had just arrived at your apartment, which was the closest.

"Maybe in about 10 years, if I can get a job. Cars are not cheap!" 

"10 years? That's a long time! But okay, now go and take a shower. Your luck is that I still have your clothes," you said, returning from your room, handing Jaemin a hoodie and sweatpants he had left in your apartment one day. "I'll make something for us to eat. Pasta?"

"It's the only thing you know how to make," Jaemin said, entering your bathroom.

"AND IF YOU COMPLAIN, YOU WON'T EAT!"

While Jaemin showered, you took off your wet clothes, put on a robe (after all, you were going to take a shower as soon as your friend finished, and you couldn't risk catching a cold), put water on the pasta to boil, and started preparing the ingredients for the sauce. Some time later, with the pasta cooking and the sauce being finished, Jaemin came out of the shower and caught your attention. You knew your best friend was very handsome, but the sight of him freshly showered was out of this world, especially because he hadn't put on a shirt. Wet hair, strong arms that you easily imagined around your body, the defined abs from the hours he spent at the gym, the sweatpants slightly lowered, showing the waistband of his underwear. In short, that was a sight that easily made you nervous and disconcerted. Jaemin was also nervous because seeing you in just a robe and wet hair played with a man's imagination.

"I-I'm going to take a shower and be back for us to eat. KEEP AN EYE ON THE PASTA!"

After a warm and relaxing shower, you changed clothes, put a towel on your hair, and went to the kitchen, where you found the table set and your friend waiting for you to have dinner.

"Look at everything being so neat. Ready to get married, huh?"

Jaemin just smiled because deep down, he wanted to repeat this scene with you every night. You spent some time eating and talking, discussing some gossip from the university and Jaemin's internship. After dinner, you convinced him to do a skincare routine, since, with the heavy rain, Jaemin would stay overnight at your apartment, something that happened frequently.

In the bedroom, you were sitting on your bed, where Jaemin was looking for a movie for you both to watch, and you were just lamenting how tired you were.

"I'm so tired that I would do anything not to have to comb this hair. You could do it for me, right?" "Okay."

"What do you mean 'okay'? Are you really going to comb my hair?"

"Aren't you tired? I'll do it for you."

"Man, you're the best! The comb and the cream are on the little table over there."

You were almost regretting letting Jaemin comb your hair. It wasn't that he was bad; on the contrary, he was very careful, applied the cream, and untangled your strands in such a delicate way. The issue was his proximity that made you very nervous. You were practically between his legs, hoping he wouldn't hear your heart beating so fast. When he finished, you made a move to leave, but Jaemin's strong hands embraced your waist, bringing you even closer to him.

"Any problem?" Your voice came out faltering, like a whisper, making him notice your nervousness.

"The only problem is that I can't hide what I feel for you."

You were incredulous at your friend's declaration. You still couldn't understand that Jaemin also felt something for you.

"I fell in love with you the day I saw you running late on the first day of high school." Jaemin stroked your arm gently, as if he were passing a feather over it. The touch was delicate, subtle, and he listed all your qualities. "I love how dedicated you are, I love when you make me laugh, I love when you care, saying that I should go out more or that I should have some tea when you think I'm going to get sick. I love when you cry watching '10 Things I Hate About You' or the end of High School Musical 3. I love every detail about you, including your tattoos, which make you even more beautiful." Then, you felt Jaemin's sweet lips kissing each little heart on your right arm, going up from your shoulder to your neck, giving you shivers. Jaemin turned you around, making you sit on his lap, looked deeply into your eyes, and asked, "Do you feel something for me too?"

You just nodded.

"Baby, I need you to say it to me." He caressed your cheek, maintaining eye contact. "Do you love me as much as I love you?"

"Since the moment I first saw you. I love you, Jaemin."

Jaemin broke the almost nonexistent space and kissed you. A sweet, calm kiss, but eagerly anticipated, happening at the right moment. "I've wanted to do this for so long," Jaemin said between the kisses, making you smile. The kiss became hotter, and you were running out of air. So, he pulled away from your mouth and went straight to your neck, while you closed your eyes, enjoying every touch of Jaemin. That's when you felt Jaemin's hands lifting the black tank top you were wearing. Your biggest insecurity woke up, and you quickly got out of your friend's lap, who didn't understand what had happened.

"What happened, my love?" He blushed at the nickname Jaemin had given you. "Am I going too fast?"

"No! I think we waited too long, the thing is…," you said, pointing to your own body. "You're so handsome, so... attractive." You tried to say it in a funny tone, getting a smile from the man. "And I'm like this... Oh, and there's the fact that I've never done this before." Jaemin understood what you meant, well aware of this insecurity, especially with your body. You always wondered why you couldn't be thinner and compared yourself to other girls, especially when you went to the gym with your friend. Then he got up from the bed and held your hands.

"Don't say that. I know this insecurity has been bothering you for a long time, but know that you don't have to feel that way around me. You're the most beautiful woman there is, and I love every little bit of you. You're damn sexy." This also drew a chuckle from you and made Jaemin approach you once again, putting his hands on your waist. "I just want you to trust me and let me make you the most loved woman in the world."

The smile on your face was the certainty that Jaemin had that you wanted it as much as he did. At that moment, to show that you were ready and more confident, you did something he didn't expect: slowly took off the black tank top you were wearing, almost revealing yourself completely to your best friend. He looked at you in disbelief. He looked at your titties, which, for you, were far from pretty, because they had some stretch marks that made you completely uncomfortable, but that, for Jaemin, made them even more perfect.

“Wow, how beautiful you are and mine.”

Placing your hands on his neck, you just made a request to Jaemin. “Now, prove that you really love me, Na Jaemin.”

He started an even more passionate kiss than you shared before. Jaemin's hands gently caressed your bare back, while you scratched your friend's sculpted abdomen under his shirt.

It was your first time and with someone you had been in love with for a long time, but it was also the first time you felt confident, beautiful. Jaemin has this power over you: to make you feel truly loved.

[thegreencanary]

You’re So Damn Perfect

Inspired by this request. I didn’t do the single for a long time thing but if you want that to be more a part of it let me know and I will write another one!

Paring: Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader (plus size)

Style: Y/N and You. A little ooc Billy, I mean he’s still alive soooooo

Summary: You and Billy have been dating a while and you’re a bigger girl. Some people have something to say about it but Billy has a great response. Set 1989, 5 years after Billy graduated High School.

TW: SMUT. MINORS DNI. GO. SHOO. AWAY!!! Also some body shaming. It’s light smut.

A/N: My work! I don’t give anyone permission to use it for any media or other reasons. Please don’t claim it as your own.

“Okay but hear me out…”

“No.”

You laughed as Billy cut you off. The two of you were riding back from a date and you were trying to convince him to let you drive his car one day. He shut you down as he always did but the squeeze of your thigh let you know it was playful. The mid length dress you wore went over your knees but you could still feel the callouses on his strong hands. He parked his car outside of your job, a quick stop to pick up your paycheck, and the pair of you walked inside. It was a slow Tuesday night at the bar, but Sydney was working, and she sneered the moment you two walked in. You rolled your eyes but just went to the back to grab your shit.

Sydney was tan, beautiful and skinny; and she had a huge thing for Billy. It made your blood boil, but Billy assumed you knew that you were his type, not her. That didn’t stop you from getting pissed when you came out from the back and she was leaned over the bar trying to flirt with your boyfriend.

“Have you seen the new horror movie in theaters? Black Rainbow?”

Her hand reached out to touch his arm, but thankfully he moved away before she could. He saw you, and smiled; that calmed you down. Billy didn’t smile for a lot of people, but he did for you.

“Nope. Ready babe?”

You confidently walked to him and wrapped one of your arms around his waist while his strong arm went over your shoulder. He turned you away from her and lead you out the door but her last words still stung as he took you outside.

“Fat bitch.”

The ride was quieter than before, he talked and you gave little answers; but it was obvious the fun atmosphere was gone. You turned to him curiously when he passed the turn to get you to your apartment.

“Billy? Where are we—“

“Hush. Trust me.”

“Billy…I just want to go home…”

He sighed and pulled the car over, killing the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt; he got out and you were even more confused. You watched him walk around to your side, so you unbuckled your seatbelt as well. He all but ripped the door off of the car and you tensed. Billy was bad but you didn’t know what you did. He grabbed your waist and turned you, so your legs were dangling outside the car; but your but was still on the seat. Billy got low, squatting before you.

“Billy?”

He gave you a look that locked your jaw closed. There was a darkness in his eyes; it was something you’d seen before…and you tried to cross your legs to hide the excitement that began to warm up in you.

His hands lifted up your dress, and Billy broke his eye contact with you when he pulled your legs apart. Kissing from your ankle up to your knee, then pausing.

“You’re so damn sexy.”

Before you could respond he kissed up your thigh, and you became harshly aware of where you were. If a care drove by they would see his face in your lap.

“Billy…Billy wait…”

He groaned, but held back, looking up at you. The red blush that covered your face made him smirk.

“Someone could see…”

His grip on your thighs tightened as Billy pulled himself up to be face to face with you. His lips stopped just before yours.

“Let them see. I want everyone to know how much I fucking want you.”

A soft whimper left your lips. The sentiment was nice but…it was still embarrassing. He could see the hesitation, and Billy may have been an ass to everyone but not to you. He groaned, and rested his head on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he kissed your neck before standing, placing your legs back in his car; but your dress was still hiked up to your underwear.

The California boy shut your door and went back to his side. He sat, started up the car and when you went to put your dress down; his free hand stopped you. It rested high on your thigh, gripping it tightly. He slowly began to caress your thigh, going up and down your leg. Your hips shifted and he let out a deep chuckle.

“What do you expect Y/N? I can’t keep my hands off of you. You’re so fucking beautiful, I want you all the time.”

Damn it. Billy always knew how to make you blush. His hand moved further up until it rested right before your core. The angle was a little uncomfortable so he flicked his pinky under the fabric.

“Scoot down for me baby. I’m going to make you feel good.”

A soft gasp escaped your lips but your body obeyed. Hips moving forward, you slinked forward and leaned the chair back. It didn’t feel…sensual but doing anything for Billy had a sexual air to it.

“That’s my girl.”

His eyes were still firm on the road but Billy’s jaw was tense and he was white knuckling the wheel with his other hand. Slowly, his free hand slipped into your underwear and he let out a breathy laugh.

“Already wet. Have I told you how fucking sexy you are?”

Before you could answer his fingers began to move up and down teasing you. You bit down on your lip and screwed your eyes shut. Billy noticed how quiet your were being and he used two fingers to start rubbing circles on your clit.

“I want to hear you.”

You let go of your lip and soft, restrained moans left you. The road became more empty as he just drove and you had no idea where he was going. That didn’t matter as he sped up his circular motion. The lewd sounds filling the air, mixing with the soft sound of the radio.

“Billy…”

He gripped the wheel tighter.

“Hold on baby. We’re almost there.”

He kept his pace while pressing on the gas pedal abbot more. It was just cornfields at this point, and the sun was almost fully set. Suddenly he pulled off into a clearing. It would have shocked you but his fingers went from your clit to entering you as he turned; and your gasp was from the pleasure. Billy didn’t even kill the engine, he just threw it in park and immediately turned his full attention on you.

“Holy Fuck. You’re so god damn gorgeous.”

He leaned over and captured your mouth in a kiss. There was no doubt his positioning was uncomfortable for him but he didn’t care. His fingers sped up inside you and your climax was close.

He pulled his lips away and looked into your eyes as it was closer and closer to you finishing.

“You’re mine. All mine. I just want you, no one else gets to see you like this. Cum for me baby. Just for me.”

Your head went back as you arched into his fingers; cumming. He smirked as you unraveled before him. Slowly, he removed his fingers; but he brought them up to his lips. Tasting you he chuckled, you could hear it but you still had your eyes closed. There was some shuffling and then a *click*.

Slowly you opened your eyes to see him taking a Polaroid picture.

“Billy?”

He kissed your forehead as you came to a little bit.

“I want to remember this, how beautiful you are. Is that okay?”

You knew if you told him to burn it; he would. But you kinda liked the idea of him having some risqué photos of you. Nodding, you sat up fully.

“We should take some more…”

Billy smirked and finally killed the car engine. You were in the middle of nowhere and he was going to prove to you how he felt. He cared about how you looked, because he loved how you looked.

“I love you Y/N. I want to take pictures of you exposed. You’re so sexy baby. I won’t ever let you forget it.”

He got out of the car and went around to your side again. It was going to be a long night.

————-

The end!

A/N: this is my first smut like piece. Be kind! As usual constructive criticism is appreciated!! I hope y’all liked it!

[anomaly-hivemind]

Cuddle Buddies | Cuddling w/ Sunny Day Jack x Reader

Word Count: 1,038

Horror Masterlist, Kinktober Masterlist

You were still feeling a bit bad after work, you didn’t really think that a simple yogurt would have given him such a reaction. So the trip back home was a bit of a more silent one, and you're definitely not going to get any surprises any time soon. He really looked like you had poisoned him and or assaulted his taste buds, which you probably did with your terrible choice flavor combination. Unfortunately it's far too late for you to go back now that you were already unlocking the door. Plus there are no reload points in life after all. 

You flopped on the couch with a sigh, maybe if you watch some TV you'll feel better. The show was in reality watching you inside of the other way around.  It took a total of three infomercials before Jack appeared in front of the TV, a small awkward smirk on his face and slightly raised eyebrows. 

“Why the long face, Sunshine?”  He looks at you for a moment before sitting beside you on the couch. You could feel his body heat from where he sat, Jack has always felt so warm.  

“I feel bad about earlier, y’know at work.” You look up at Jack, his large arm lying behind your head, fingers playing with a few strands of hair. 

“...Oh Sunspot,” Jack sighed with a worried expression on his face. He pulled you closer to him, thighs touching each other. His dark eyes were staring into yours, with the intent to sooth. 

“I’m sorry.” The words escaped your lips with a whisper you barely registered as your own.  

“You have nothing to apologize for, my star.” Jack places hand on your face with his thumb caressing your face. His voice was soft like it always tends to be when he was being comforting, yet it almost seemed to have a slight sultry tone to it.  You decided to not think too much about it and push the thought to the back of your mind. 

“I didn't mean to give you the impression that you upset me, Sunshine.” Jack gave you a smile, leaning a bit closer. 

“You sure? Is there any way I can make it up to you?” You decided to ask in hopes to at least make yourself feel a bit better since he had already seemed to have forgiving you. But the look on his face made you question if that was a good idea. Jack was smirking, eyes half lidded giving you the same look he had a few days prior when you kissed him.

Jack wrapped his large gloved hands around the fat of your thighs and pulled you into his lap. His head falling onto your shoulder, his breath fanning your burning ears. His arms encasing you at the waist, pressing you on his chest.

“I have a few ideas, if you really want to make it up to me with that bad sugar.” He whispers in your ear, his lip brushing against the shell of it . One of his hands moved up your stomach and on to your chest, right over your heart which is currently at beatboxing speed. Trying your best to look over at him maybe wasn't the smartest thing to do when this close, because now your noses were touching. 

Quickly turning away you decided to talk, then you curse yourself when you stutter a bit. “Like what exactly?” 

“Well for starters we can stay exactly like this and watch one of those movies you like. Then later we can decide what happens next.” He chuckled lightly after he spoke and if you were looking at his face he’d probably have a big goofy grin on his face.  He pecks your cheek  before leaning over to grab the remote and handing it to you. 

Both of you now kinda lying on the couch to be more comfortable, picking an old looking horror movie on Netflix. It was bad in hindsight, like borderline shitty but it had joke potential so you both watched it all the way through. Jack was rubbing the side of your waist, squeezing and kneading your skin. He really is the touchy time but it's clear with the rising heat to your face that you don't mind it that much. His other hand was intertwined with yours; however the size of his hand basically covered most of yours. 

The movie was near its climax, where the main girl is running, before magically tripping over her own feet.  Groaning at the cliche, you roll your eyes. Why are they all like this no one knows.  

“Why do they always do this? I would never trip in this situation, and if I did I sure as hell am not staying on the ground.” you proclaimed with a loud sigh.

“‘I'd protect you. I would never let someone hurt you especially like this, they would never even get the chance.” Jack said with surprising seriousness that it catches you off guard a bit.  You shift in your spot on his lap to look at him and he moves his arms to keep his hold on you.  

“I bet you would, Jack but can you even interact with other people that aren't me?” You tilt your head a bit and raise an eyebrow. 

“If it means keeping you to myself then i’m sure,” he said with a closed eyed smile, not sure if he was joking or not. “Your safety means the world to me sunshine, and I will do anything to make sure of it” He continued in a low tone, as he hugged you tighter. 

“That is so sweet” You fell into his chest and his body heat was pulling you in. Eyes getting heavy with each passing moment and his caressing hands were luring you to sleep.  Jack slowly gets up and carefully picks you up, holding you with ease. 

“Let's get you to bed my sunshine,” he said softly,  placing you on the bed and then curling up beside you. Covering the blanket over the two of you, whispering a good night into your ear. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you as close to your body as he could before falling asleep with you.