#x plussized reader

[jakessbtch]

☆ party | j.g

masterlist | requests

TW ✿  °   : mentions of drugs/alcohol, swearing, drinking, arguing/angst, mentions of drunken sex, sexual implications.

pairing   ✿  °   : johnnie guilbert x plus-sized reader [s/h]

summary of fic ✿  °   : After getting home from a party, where everything went wrong, she brings up an event.

requested by  ✿  ° : no-one​

word count   ✿  °   : 7k

a/n ✿  °   : its finally here! after weeks! x

Parties were probably the worst thing known to mankind. They were so horribly messy, forcing a bunch of horny and carefree young adults, barely over 21, into a 2-bedroom house, with barely any room to walk. Typically, it was so full that the countless people who decided to waste their time and attend, would spill helplessly into the front and backyard, where they’d either find someone vulnerable to grind on or a bush to throw their guts up in. There would be loud rave music, and discarded items of food, just waiting for the unfortunate to slip on, and did I have to add the common issue of no room to breathe? I mean sure, there were a few bare sofas, and dining room chairs in which were free for rest, but they were for the losers who couldn’t speak to other people. For the losers who showed up to the event alone, or had their companions desert them earlier that night, right? right. And that was where I was sat, in the kitchen which was filled with discarded cups, and few people seeking for more alcohol.

Anxiety crippled through my chest as I observed all those around me, laughing, and having fun. There were so many people, and not one face I could recognize. I deemed that this whole night had been a waste. My friends had left me to stand alone in a crowded room, and my best friend, Johnnie, left me to fight against the cruel world of drunken slurs and catcalls I couldn’t prevent. I was so scared, what if someone tried to do something, hurt me, fight me? So many prying and disgusted eyes. No matter where I glanced, someone was watching me, with awkward smiles, and looks that poked at my appearance. My big and foul appearance. This wasn’t my crowd, these weren’t my people, just look at me. I was wearing baggy grey jeans and some jacket I grabbed off the floor, which probably hadn’t been washed in a week. While every other girl I saw, wore skims and crop tops, showing off their little waists, while I tried to hide my big one.

My hand cautiously grabbed a hold of my phone, the grip tight and very much laced with hidden fear. Being on my phone was the best scenario, it would be a silent sign to passers, that I was busy in a text conversation. When I brought up the familiar note’s app, I prayed no one saw the screen. Not only would I be at a party alone, but being so much of a loser that I couldn’t even involve myself with a text interaction? All I could think of in that moment was, if it was somewhat believable. Would someone still want to speak with me? Was I shaking? I was sure I was shaking, but could other people see it? I closed my e/c eyes for a moment, trying to regulate my anxious breaths. The thick scent of weed and cigarettes filled my lungs, still not seemingly putting my mind at rest. Wasn’t that the whole point of smoking and weed? It was all so stupid now, I had always been told to ease up at events, but why not now? Why was it so difficult now that I was sitting by myself?

“You’re sitting alone. Are you alright, y/n?”

I flinched at the sudden voice, someone wanted to speak to me. my eyes instantly flashed up, them laced with all the pent-up fear I had experienced, but for the first time that night, I was relieved. Sam Golbach, someone I barely knew, someone I hardly spoke to. Though, someone to finally accompany me. Sam used to live in the same house as my friend, Jake Webber, who I used to work for at the time, with editing. Jake and I are really close, I thought of him as a brother, which meant that at some point, I’d meet his other friends, Sam, Colby Brock, and Corey Shearer. Jake always took me to small gatherings and social groups the group would shamelessly create on Friday nights. Though, during those late nights, I never stayed long, I never stayed long enough to become close with all his friends. Yet, I did stay long enough to enjoy Sam’s generous company. I offered Sam and gentle smile at his wanted concern, pulling my h/c hair out of my eyes.

“I’m fine Sam, I just want to go home. That’s all.”

Sam nodded gently at my sweet confession, his blue eyes swiftly washing over the multiple sexual interactions displayed by passing people. They had a lot of bravery displaying such intimate actions in front of so many people, in front of so many judgmental eyes like my own. However, Sam’s caring eyes diverted back to me, giving me his sole attention and a reassuring smile. His face was full of concern, and I genuinely felt that he cared for me. It seemed that he understood my fear and discomfort in a way, as if he had been in my unfortunate situation before. Sam’s company kept me grounded, the company of someone I knew made me relax. Friendly, small gatherings gave me the feeling I felt during that moment, as I knew mostly everyone who would attend, though here, it was different. I knew very little people, and I was sure everyone here was in the same boat as me. They didn’t know anyone, which made tonight the perfect ‘one-night stand’ breeding ground. A night to live and forget.

“Here, might help?”

I gently took the time in looking down at Sam’s outstretched hand, a singular red polo cup aimed in my direction, filled with a liquid I could only assume was alcohol. I never really drank at parties, because eventually I’d get too carried away, and I’d do regrettable shit that I’d find out the next day, things that would haunt me. As well as the fact, I never took drinks from other people. I didn’t know what would be in them, I’ve heard plenty of spiking stories in my life. Yet, Sam wasn’t just anyone, everyone I knew trusted him. Jake trusted him, Tara, Jake’s ex, trusted him, and Johnnie did too. They were all smart people, knowing right from wrong, and if Johnnie could trust him, a small piece inside of me claimed that I could as well. My hand graciously accepted his offering, deciding that I should just take a single drink for the night, nothing more. Afterall, I would find myself driving someone, if not all my friends, home.

“Thanks. Enough about me, are you having fun?”

My voice was hoarse as I asked him the question, deciding to divert the conversations away from my wellbeing. Who cared if I was having a rough night? Sam should be focusing on the events of his night. My lips graciously sipped the sour alcohol, the soda it was mixed with bubbling in my stomach. Sam spoke with such ease, despite the loudspeakers that sent shockwaves of sound throughout my body, and likely his own. We spoke about a few things; Colby, Creating Content, and parties. However, the conversation drew out, occupying multiple minutes of our time. How late was it? Should I find Johnnie or Tara? Jake would be drunk so he would be no help. When the plaguing thought of leaving Sam filled my mind, he beat me to the quick goodbye we shared, claiming that he had to find Colby. I was grateful for that, as the red polo cup had been emptied, and I was sick of the constant rave music radiating off the walls.

“Sorry.” “Excuse me.”

Walking through that huge and messy crowd might as well had been the worst decision I could have possibly made. No one cared that I was there, as I was being tossed around like a dog’s used chew toy. Thrown into wooden furniture as if I was nothing. All I wanted to do was turn around and yell at the rude obnoxious assholes who made my search longer, and slightly more painful. As a final resort, to get out of the sweaty and foul crowd, my hands had traced along the wall, trying to find an empty hall, or vacant room, where I could catch a breath. Where I could have a moment alone. While I was searching for the said unoccupied room, and my missing friends, I was quickly starting to tire, still regretting this whole night. I wanted to leave, and sooner than ever, why was it so hard? Suddenly, after what felt like forever, I felt a door slip from underneath my fingers, and I had never been quicker to realize that it was an unlocked room, praying that it was empty.

The minute I was blessed with the muffled music, and the loss of sweaty bodies, I had slammed the white wooden door. The silence accepted me so easily and fondly, and for the first time that night I felt relieved. I turned around with closed and relaxed eyes, not taking note of the pair who were comfortably sat on the sofa, seemingly a while before I got there. Though when a dainty and polite cough reached my aching ears, I practically jumped out of my skin. I had no idea what to expect walking into that room, a blow job, boobs? No, none of those. What I was faced with was a really pretty girl, and the last person I’d expect her with. Johnnie Guilbert. Though I didn’t care about him, what I cared about was how pretty that girl was. She had long dyed pink hair, piercing blue eyes you couldn’t forget. She was so slim as well, the complete opposite of me. when I looked at her, the hatred for myself grew. The hatred for my weight, for my skin, it just seeped into my chest, like venom. I wanted to cry, to throw up, to get rid of this suffocating feeling. I wanted to be the girl Johnnie was so clearly interested in.

A small part of me had been crushed that moment, my heart. Everyone around me knew I liked Johnnie, God, even he probably knew. I was so obvious with my feelings, complimenting him when I could, giggling whenever someone said Johnnie and I looked cute together, but he was so insufferable and awkward to say anything about it. He avoided every question about us, so I took the hint that he hated the thought of a relationship with me. That feeling wasn’t foreign, it happened a lot when you looked like me. Boys gushed about having a ‘bigger girlfriend’, but when they had the chance, they were so quick to shut it down. They didn’t care about us, they cared about a good social image. With that image came feelings, the feeling of hate, and a feeling I felt that johnnie had. I wasn’t over my own opposite feelings, and with Johnnie abandoning me during the first 5 minutes to likely speak to this girl, if felt like a sucker punch to the stomach.

I felt sick looking at the two, the serotonin radiating off of them like a heater, though, I suppressed those gut-wrenching feelings. I had to come to the realization that Johnnie wasn’t the one for me. He was the one for her, her face was red under the dim lights, her smile stretched across the room, and his face reciprocated hers. He was happy with her, and I was happy for him, even if that meant the own destruction of myself. The destruction of my romantic interest, I’d have to destroy it, for him. I waved to the two awkwardly, my e/c eyes cautiously flickering back and forth between the two. Then, silence fell on the three of us, awkwardness. I tried to speak, but nothing came out, why couldn’t I speak? Where was Jake and Tara? I wanted Tara so desperately, I wanted to tell her to drive me home, to get me out of here, to get me home. Johnnie coughed awkwardly when he noticed my trance, and I breathed out, in one shaky break, I whispered.

“I’m going home.”

I had to get out of there, I had to leave the two be. I didn’t realize I was so rude, and I intruded in on something I regretted. Without another word, I left the pair sitting on the white sofa, while I shoved my way back through the messy, carefree crowd. There were no apologies this time, I didn’t care for anyone but myself. I didn’t care about the rude comments about my weight and ignorance, them drowned out by the loud music. Did the music get louder while I was dying emotionally in that room? Was the heater on, why was it warmer? The one thing I knew, was that I needed air. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, there were so many people, so little air. After what felt like forever, I found the front door. When the cool LA air kissed my face, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. The air accepted me openly, putting my nerves at rest, and opening my mind, forgetting the previous events momentarily.

“Hey y/n/n! you alright?”

When the slurred, yet delicate voice was made known to my ears, I immediately knew who it was. Tara, just the person I needed, just the person I wanted. I was going to gush to her about what happened, about how it felt like everything leading to this moment was pointless. I always informed her about my feelings, about everything when it came to relationships. She called it ‘girl-talk’, however, by the tall and giggly man behind her, I held onto my tongue. In such a crowded place, with ears seeking for nothing but drama, someone would tell Johnnie, or that girl. It was all so complicated, and I already had enough of tonight, I didn’t need more. I looked back to the shorter girl, nodding shyly at her generous concern. I wouldn’t tell her about this, sometimes silence would beat the lying, the lying of my wellbeing. Truth was, I wasn’t fine in that moment, though I didn’t have to rudely affect others with my faults.

“I’m going home, tired, are you two driving with someone else?”

Jake started to loudly sing the 2000’s pop-rock song blaring from the confinements in the crowded, messy home, as if he had no care in the world. As if this was his last night alive. My eyes gently down casted to the two, how they seemed to fit right in with this crowd, and the comparison with the fact that I didn’t. I felt so out of place, like a sore thumb. While Tara was one of the most gorgeous women I had ever met, she was the definition of perfect. She looked amazing all the time, wearing cute little outfits, and being so precise with her make up. She was always so confident and kind to her friends and family, she knew how to control her jealousy and all her feelings. And Jake wore skimpy clothes without a worry, wearing crop tops, and styled skinny jeans with fingerless gloves. I envied the both of them, in silence. Tara shrugged nonchalantly, gaining my short attention once more.

“We’ll get someone to drive us, what about Johnnie?”

“What about me?”

I flinched at his sudden introduction, of course he had to appear now, out of all times. Why couldn’t he appear when I was sulking miserably in the kitchen, when I was alone? However, like most times, my bitter attitude was painfully obvious. The sudden distasteful expression I acquired, put Tara off drastically. Her dark brown eyes flickering between the two of us knowingly, as if she somehow knew what had happened minutes before in that room. As if she saw the interaction between the girl, Johnnie and me. When I looked up at Johnnie, I ignored his messy dark hair he hadn’t styled for hours, and the smudged blue eyeshadow spread amongst his eyes. What I did notice was that the girl he was talking to, was now gone. She wasn’t lurking behind him, like a lost dog, she wasn’t at his side. He left her alone like he did me. I bitterly ignored his presence, turning to Tara and clarifying.

“He can come if he wants, but I’m tired. See you two later.”

Biding my goodbyes felt different now, or was that the sinking feeling I had in my stomach? However, besides that uncomfortable feeling, I begged for Tara or Jake to stop me. Yet, with each passing step, and each crunch on the gravel, my hopes drowned out. Though, a new hope sparked, a hope that Johnnie wanted to stay. It was obviously selfish for me to not want him to accompany me, but my night was already ruined, I didn’t need it to get worse. Distracting myself soon occupied my thoughts, my eyes wandering to the various groups of tired people. Their hushed murmurs, and the small giggles that admitted from the social circles, distracted my mind from Johnnie. My hand gripped the car door handle, listening to the bright conversations around me for a few more seconds. Then, I decided it was enough, I decided it was alright for my thoughts to corrupt my mind, and I got into the driver’s seat. The slam of the door never put me at ease, and Johnnie's approaching figure made it worse.

As Johnnie got into the car, and the engine started, my questions started to shamelessly dart around the air. The questions that made grow to hate myself, more and more, with every passing minute. Why did Johnnie leave me to stand there, in a crowd of unknown people, like an idiot? Why did he suddenly become so interested in talking to new people? However, I wasn’t a seeker for the answers I needed, and I remained silent. I continued to ask myself those questions, from the minute I was sitting in that kitchen, to now, driving home in my car. With each passing minute, which felt like hours, the air grew thicker, and my mind ran faster. What were I to do now? How could I get over something so dear to me, how could I get over Johnnie? Did I try dating apps, but who wanted me? Men liked girls who could be picked up, who could wear their clothes as a dress, they didn’t want me. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, my stomach dropping lower than my feet.

When watching the bright street signs flash past the moving car, I simply recalled the fact that Johnnie hated parties like me. That’s actually how we came to be friends, best friends. Every single party, every single gathering, we were attached by the hip. Never apart. We were always together, but that didn’t stop the thought, the thought of; what had changed now? Had I not given Johnnie the validation he needed, did he seek that validation from someone else? Why hadn’t I been enough for him? The feeling of insecurity suffocated my chest again, every time I noticed that the feeling was gone, it resurrected stronger. Why was I feeling like this, why was I so defensive over someone who wasn’t even mine to begin with? Johnnie wasn’t my boyfriend. I had to realize that. He had his own life, and I needed to start living mine, and stop worrying about my looks, and my weight, and how I acted. I had to stop being such a push-over.

When the house rolled into view, I was sure to park on the edge of the road. In a safe area in which I knew I wouldn’t have to pay for insurance. I didn’t share a house with Jake and Johnnie, but I did live around 15 minutes away, not far. Though, I was gravely unsure if I’d stay awake the whole drive back, the settling fear of a collision pictured in my mind. I was sure Jake wouldn’t mind me staying, I’d probably sleep in their unused spare room, and at some ungodly hour of the morning, Tara would join me. My eyes drooped as we made our way to the front of the door, the walk remained silent, and chilling. The only thing making noise were our steps echoing around us. Then, before long, I found myself looking at Johnnie, no, admiring him, but no longer with love, with question. I never questioned our relationship, though now, it was the only thing I could possibly think about.

Johnnie took the honors in locking the front door once the two of us were safely situated inside, while I took my time in wandering to the cleansed kitchen. I didn’t notice the darkened man enter after me at first, though he made himself known when he gently pushed his way past me, looking for something dry to eat. It was a recognized habit johnnie had adapted to after parties, after he drank. If he ate dry foods, he wouldn’t throw up, it was smart. While Johnnie searched the pantry, I remained silent. The silence was thick in the air, only growing with each second, in which I was observing his turned figure. How could he just ignore me? Did he not care, or was it rather that I had to say something to him? Did I ask why he left me to wallow in my own social fear? Ask him what type of confidence had overcome him in those meek few hours we had been apart? I dropped the car keys on the marble countertop, an overwhelming sense of unconscious mind coming over myself.

“Why did you leave me Johnnie?”

“What?”

The gentle slam of the cabinet made fear lurch within my stomach, regret climbing its way into my throat. In that moment, I regretted ever talking, I should have just shut up. When his ice blue eyes rested on my slightly shorter figure, I felt so vulnerable, so afraid. I had a quick tongue, always biting back against strangers, so why was it so different if it was my best friend? Why was I so afraid of being mean to him? At the realization that I was afraid of losing him, I shrugged slowly. This all felt stupid; did I even know what I was meaning anymore? I felt as if I was spitting gibberish. Johnnie’s face was obviously laced with some sort of confusion, and something clicked inside of me during that moment. Something bubbled, a small tinge of anger, clear frustration. I was frustrated with the fact he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying, no one did. I was suddenly glad I had brought up my issue, because now I really saw if he cared or not. It really made me question; did he not care about me anymore? What had changed?

“What do you mean ‘what’? You left me alone at the party, for 2 fucking hours. I didn’t know anyone there!”

My once small and timid voice had now raised higher than it ever had, the anger extremely prominent in my tone. I never got angry at others often, every time I was close to ruining my mood, I would attempt to reason. However, I couldn’t reason now, I wanted answers. There were so many unsaid feelings, that were starting to overload my voice box, begging for release. Though, I never wanted them shown to the world, never wanted to show them to Johnnie. I vowed to keep these feelings to myself, until the time was right, though, was there even a time anymore? Had that time happened long ago, me to oblivious and insecure to realize it? The time had passed for me, and now Johnnie was invested in finding love, him never even waiting for me.

“Whoa, y/n... look- “

“No! Do you know how embarrassed I was? Sitting alone!? I was petrified!”

Johnnie’s right hand made no attempt to silence the loud slam from the closing cupboard door, his frustration and annoyance radiating alongside my own feelings and emotions. However, I didn’t care how he felt anymore, because he didn’t care about me. My feelings weren’t relevant to him tonight. Johnnie’s large black boots made a loud thump on the cold tiles, him not hesitating to step in my direction. The contortion of his once calm face gave me a silent sign that he was trying to control the anger that was begging to be shown to the world, but that made me the slightest bit more frustrated. Why was he angry at my reaction, why was he mad? He had spent his night laughing along with one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen, he should be ecstatic about tonight, he should be happy, right? I rolled my e/c at his attitude, I wanted to drop the situation, ignore it, though I wanted answers more. I wanted to know why.

“It had always been you and I together at parties, and now you run off! What about me Johnnie!? Fucking say something!”

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

An apology would be amazing, though I didn’t say that. What did happen at his response was the expected rage burning through me at his nonchalant attitude, why couldn’t he just say sorry? Before I could think, my body reacted with my hands throwing my car keys into the walls. With the sudden adrenaline, and the lack of realization to what I had just done, I ignored Johnnie’s hard flinch at my actions. I didn’t care. I was sick of being overlooked, sick of being called the ‘fat friend’, sick of being that friend that had no other emotion apart from humor and platonic love for others. Ultimately, I was sick and tired of being hurt. I had anger, and sadness, and jealousy, and I was sick of hiding it away. So, I wouldn’t be a push over anymore, and within a few silent and short moments, and little hurried words, all those emotions spilled out, along with wet, fat tears and stuttering. With a big shaky breath in, I dryly whispered to the boy.

“Do… do you know how many people pointed and laughed at me? yeah, ‘let’s laugh at the bigger girl, who looks as if she’s never been to a party before’...”

“y/n... come on, you- “

“Sam had to sit with me! Ou-out of pity too! You should’ve been there Johnnie! But you were talking... with some girl… and leaving me behind…”

My once confident voice noticeably cracked towards the end of my sentence, the pain in my tightening chest making itself obvious to Johnnie. The only thing I could think about was how embarrassing this was, being jealous over something out of my control. I wanted to run away and hide, forget this conversation ever happened, maybe even leave the country if I was lucky enough? But I couldn’t just do that, I had to face this at some point, especially since I brought up this whole situation. I would never tell Johnnie how jealous I was, how jealous I was of that unnamed girl, I wouldn’t even tell Tara, one of my closest friends, I vowed take my feelings to the grave with me. Until death. In the sudden silence, I never looked at Johnnie, afraid of what his expression was. Was he disgusted? Humiliated? I was, with myself. My left hand hastily brought itself up to caress my pudgy wet cheeks, trying to hide the mascara filled tear stains that had blossomed in the midst’s of my outburst.

“So, you’re jealous?”

Johnnie’s voice was clearly tired, however, by his groggy and annoyed voice, I simply got the overwhelming feeling of butterflies. Though the feeling of being flustered soon was overcome with anger, and sudden disbelief. Out of everything I said, he came up with the thing I already knew. My jealousy, I wouldn’t tell him that I was of course, it was only fuel for the ego that was taller than he was. The ego that I seemed to hate so much. I wanted to rip all my hair out, asking myself; why couldn’t he just understand me for once? I wanted to slap his pretty little face, I wanted to explode with anger, I wanted to tell him how I’d leave him here to rot alone, though when I opened my mouth, jaw slack, nothing seemed to come out. Nothing but silence. Nothing but heavy breaths, for a long unwanted moment. Then, once again before thinking, a small anger-filled whisper managed to roll itself off my tongue.

“I am not jealous.”

“Then why are you acting like this?!”

His voice sounded desperate for answers, answers I didn’t know if he wanted to hear. He sounded like me, so pained, and upset, but I wondered; Did he want to hear about how scared I am of his feelings, of my own feelings? Did he want to hear that I have loved him for months on end, picturing a future where we stood in front of a suburban home with two kids and a dog? Did he want to hear that I am convinced I am in love with him? Because I believed no one has been in love with him for as long as I have, I believed that my feelings weren’t just a crush. I cried most nights, wondering why I didn’t make a move when we hung out, or why he didn’t compliment me one night when I looked my best, I believed these feelings were not normal. Johnnie needed an explanation to my actions, an explanation to why I had yelled at him, why I was so suddenly aggressive. My e/c eyes cautiously rose to look at his saddened blue ones, and the silence settled once more. With another shaky breath, I explained everything to him.

“Because I’m scared Johnnie. I’m scared of you loving someone else, I’m scared of being hurt, and being forgotten.”

And for the first time that night, I finally felt heard. Johnnie sheepishly nodded at what I said, eyes down casting to the floor and sucking in his lips, deep in thought. This situation had been dragged out for months, years if you looked close enough, and it was so clearly affecting everyone around me, around us. When I told Tara my feelings, she had made a huge effort to pair the two of us together, while Jake would band along with her, contributing to her actions. Though, when Johnnie would decline any offer, I’d get disappointed, I’d be upset, and thoughts would plague my mind. My drowned moods would suffocate everyone else too, them getting a fowl taste in their mouths over the two of us, and our attitudes. Tara would express her concern, and Jake would ask to make it all better for us. And I would decline or ignore them, because it was my issue, not theirs. Now, after months, I was finally addressing it, because I was tired, so tired, tired of running a race that Johnnie never showed up for, tired of putting my all into something I wasn’t benefiting off of.

“So that’s why I’ve been acting like a ‘jealous’ and ‘lonely’ bitch.”

“What if I’m scared too?”

My stomach simply lurched at Johnnie’s hoarse voice speaking above my own. The newer question was brought to my attention. Why was he scared? He didn’t harbor such feelings for me, right? I racked my brain for reasons, reasons for why he would like me, and it slowly started to make sense, slowly started to make itself known to my consciousness. I would remember the way his hand would linger around my own, afraid of touch, or the way he would be ghastly concerned if I drank more than 3 drinks at a party or gathering. The way he would care for me. I always brushed it off as something friends did, I had seen plenty of friends upset over drinking habits, and holding hands, so was it really different for us? I wanted to cry again, cry at the intruding thoughts, though I felt numb now, like I had drained every feeling I once had before. How did I ignore all of this, and was it too late? Too late to apologize and erase all this from my mind? I covered my reddening face with my hands, too embarrassed to face my simple realization, and all the tiredness I was unaware of crashing into my mind like a wild tsunami wave.

“What if I’m scared of dating again? What if I’m scared, I’m going to hurt you?”

Hurt me? Didn’t he already do that enough by making a stupid effort to avoid me? Leaving me confused for the whole night? I didn’t know how to respond to his words, his question, everything I thought of, came off as stand-offish and rude, so all I could do was shake my head bitterly. Obviously, it was fair enough, he could be scared of this, so was I, but by the way he had avoided me tonight, during one of the times I needed him the most, I knew it wasn’t a responsible way to act, it never was. He had hurt me, and gravely, making me rethink everything leading up to this moment. I painfully looked down to the fallen silver car keys, them resting silently on the white floor tiles. While I still tried to cascade my brain and mind for how I could respond to him, in the nicest way possible. Though, the only feeling I could succumb to and notice, was the suffocating feeling of anxiety, and giddiness.

“What if we aren’t meant to be with one another, y/n…?”

“How would you know we aren’t meant to be together, if we haven’t even dated before? There’s only one way to know for sure.”

I muttered out, pinching the bridge of my nose with my pointer and thumb. It didn’t shock me how tired and weak my voice sounded, as yelling and sobs ripped my throat raw, it was very expected. However, due to my attention being diverted on my sore and sickened throat, I didn’t notice Johnnie making his way over to me. I didn’t notice him, until he was standing right in front of me, hands balled at his sides, messy hair, and blue eyes wide with an unrecognizable expression. With a surge of confidence, his right hand softly rested on my shoulder, it wrapping around to the back of my neck and resting there. His fingers gently dug into my skin, strands of h/c hair wrapping around them subconsciously. My eyes instantly flashed up at his touch, anxiety rushing throughout my body. It was so obvious that he was nervous as well, with the sight of his hands shaking, and the adrenaline seemingly pumping through him.

That was when I realized that this was my moment, my moment to show his how much he meant to me. An action, that I would shamefully perform, one kiss. one kiss couldn’t ruin a friendship, right? If it did ruin this, then so be it, because if Johnnie and I were meant to happen, then we would. We would find a way back to one another. So, without a second thought, I took that chance, I took that moment. My hands instantly latched onto his thin tattooed neck, gently forcing his head down and giving him all my emotion through the touching of lips. I had never kissed someone like I did Johnnie that night, I had never kissed someone with so much passion, so much want. I didn’t take the time to hyper-fixate on his body language, barely noticing his shock. I just desperately tried focusing on the continuous buzzing that radiated in my head. What I did notice was how Johnnie reciprocated the kiss, his hand moving from the back of my neck to the side of my face, his fingers so soft. He held me so delicately, as if a porcelain doll, skin so fragile and brittle, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like an art piece, I felt like I was finally someone's muse.

“Woah.”

I didn’t quite know when the pair of us became a trio, or rather a group, though when the familiar and feminine voice of the Tara Tompson filtered into the enclosed area, I had never been so quick to push Johnnie away from myself. Regret settled in my veins, should I had let him go like that, so soon? I could have held him just a little longer, I swore I could, though I didn’t. Behind the short girl, barely shorter than myself, was the tall and stumbling figure of a clearly intoxicated, Jake Webber. His thick scent was laced with weed, cigarette stench, and hard alcohol, giving me the sense that he had only gotten worse due to Johnnie and I’s departure. Though his attention wasn’t focused on me, he was far more interested in Johnnie, with a big, wide, slurred smile, and a lot of emotion in his body language and features. While Tara’s dark gaze was placed on me, and my stiff and uncomfortable posture. Bewilderment. That’s the word I’d use to describe her face, her expression. Was my surge of commitment and bravery really so shocking? I guess I wasn’t exactly outgoing, but I wasn’t that introverted either, I was a loud person, I challenged those who did wrong, so why was this different too?

“See... d-dude! I told you to ju-... ugh- just kiss her!”

Tara hissed frustratedly at Jake’s hiccups, muttering something inaudible from my stance. Though I didn’t care for the words that spilled from her maw, I was to interested in what Jake had said just moments before. ‘I told you,’ So Johnnie had been thinking about this moment, thinking about kissing me before? The knowledge of this had my stomach and chest twisting and fluttering, an uncomfortable, yet giddy, feeling arising more and more within a few short moments. Tara then grumbled at Jake, a loud and aggravated groan leaving her throat when he didn’t seem to be cooperating. After a few sharp whispers, Tara simply apologized to Johnnie and I, and they hastily stumbled away from the two of us, likely to Jake’s room so he could sober up and sleep. The interaction left Johnnie and I standing there alone and slightly stunned, the awkward aroma filling the air. My eyes drifted away from the doorframe to look at Johnnie, but he had beaten me to gaining to others attention. His eyes were already placed on my own, breath heavy and eyes clouded with the little alcohol he had drunk prior. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I whispered an apology.

“’M sorry…”

“I didn’t like her.”

I nodded subconsciously and silently, Johnnie’s strained and quiet words giving me knowledge that he was aware of the other two in the home. Though I didn’t bother acknowledging them, I was far too focused on how horse and rough his voice was, and shamelessly it had complimented his messy and unkept appearance well, or well enough to make my knees weak. His messy dark hair, jarred out wildly, while skimpy blonde roots carefully crept up the strands, barely noticeable. His dark blue make up had been smeared across his face, etched around his bright blue eyes, making them more noticeable than ever. Dark Tattoos writhing their way around his neck, the large black spider mark settling on his throat as if it was a mark since his birth, built to be there. I was staring at him for too long, too quietly. Once I had taken the effort to draw my attention from Johnnie’s attractive personality and expression, I looked down to the cleansed tiled floor. Was that it? After this would we go to bed and forget everything? Did I even want that?

“I like you. Your humor, your appearance, your kindness. I like you… more than a friend.”

“Then quit treating me like I’m less of one.”

Every single word, every single syllable that seeped from his mouth, set off a tiny firework inside of me. Fireworks in my chest, my feelings were the embodiment of the fourth of July. I had never felt so seen as a person, so honored for how I felt, and looked, and only moments prior, I felt invisible to the world. I was so vulnerable, my feelings were overlooked, ignored, and now they were noticed and appreciated more than ever. Overwhelmed, that’s what I was during that moment. Overwhelmed with my own feelings, and Johnnie’s pure ones. How was I to react now? Did I go to bed, or make the effort to hug or kiss him? Before I could make the decision in what I was to do, Johnnie had started to shake his head. His eyes moved away from my own, to the items on the kitchen countertop, him deep in thought and consideration. He opened his jaw to speak again, hand gripping tightly on his skinny jeans as he spoke confidently.

“I’m sorry y/n/n.” I love you.

“I know. I love you too.”

And for the first time in my life, I hadn’t felt like the ‘fat girl’, I felt noticed for more then my humor and weight. Johnnie made me feel wanted and seen. Since that moment, I had taken everything seriously. I took my problems, my life, my achievements, seriously. They all suddenly had purpose to me. I had commitments now, a commitment to Johnnie, a commitment to a lifelong promise that I vowed to never break. Johnnie made promises of his own, promises to never ignore my struggles, to hold me when needed, and the promise that I would always be his. From now until death do us part; And I wouldn't have it any other way.

[mi-olaaa]

Pretty girl.. (18+)

Fem!reader, softdom!ony, bf!ony, plussize!reader katoptronophilia, you alr know what it isss! Smut so no minors.. ofc. Enjoy!!

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

“Hey. Look at me mamas.” Ony murmurs into your ear, so sweetly. Too sweetly, especially for the way his dick is curving up into your gummy walls, but you listen, looking in the floor length mirror in front of you, watching how sinfully delicious he looks to you. “Onyy— fuck, i can’t” Your whines echo around the room, your head drooping slightly.

He grabs your face by your chin, gently peppering kisses, his grip on your hips tightening for a moment, as he pounds up into your dripping cunt. "Yes you can mama, this is your dick. Take it." You swear you were gonna die when he grinned so deviously at you in the mirror, the way he lowered those pretty eyes of his at you, the way his touch has you writhing under him.

You’ve been sitting on his lap in front of this damned mirror for almost an hour, looking at him bouncing you up and down by the hips, orgasm after orgasm, and he wants you to keep looking at him?

Ony's tip was reaching spots in you that you didn't even know existed, brushing up against your cervix, eliciting moans and pants from your mouth. He nips at your neck, hand leaving your chin, snaking around to your clit, rubbing circles around the puffy folds. "Baby, Ony— ouhhh please" You could feel his slender fingers on your clit, massaging the sensitive bundle.

"Please what? Use your voice pretty girl." He looks up at the mirror, watching his cock piston in and out of your pussy, and all you could do is drool. “Haah— stop teasing me please.” The moan that ripped out of your throat was pure bliss, and before you could even say it, you were squirting over his digits, some of your arousal even splattering on the bottom of the mirror in front of you two.

The clear, warm arousal of yours had him fucking into you like a madman. Ony’s grip on your hip tightened as you spasm slightly, his fingers dripping. While he had your attention on him in the mirror, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking the taste of you off of them. “Taste so fucking good mamas, need to eat you next time.” And again with that sexy gaze of his, looking directly at you this time as you nod lazily.

The way he was digging into you so deep had you damn-near screaming his name, pussy squeezing his length like a vice, milking him for all he’s got.

“Mhm mhm baby. Look at me, do what I told you, look at me.” He croons into your ear, the hand that’s not already holding you by your hips and slamming you down onto him, wraps around your torso, massaging your lovely breasts, as you come undone again.

Your moans come out wantonly, and you’re nothing but a drooling, sticky mess for him, it almost makes him wonder if it’s because you can everything in mirror? Doesn’t matter, with the way he’s filling you so good and fucking you so fast, you’re seeing stars and panting.

It’s interesting though, the way your face contorts in pleasure in the mirror to his ministrations, the way your thick thighs jiggle when you bounce on him, the tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks as your back arches so sinfully, it’s too much.

And all it does is make Ony groan, and lean down to capture one of your tears on his tongue. “C’mon mama, just one more. You think you can do that f’me?” He speaks, trying so sweetly to coax another orgasm out of you.

It takes almost all the power you have to find an orgasm in you, but you don’t have to do much with how attentive he is to you and your needs. Massaging and toying with your nipples, whispering praise in your ears, pushing all your buttons, just to see his pretty girl cum again, and you do. You come absolutely undone on his dick, a pretty, creamy white ring of your arousal at the base of his cock, all the while, he slows his thrusts, having cum into you more times than you both could count.

By the time the both of you have came to your senses, he finally pulls out of your pretty, fat pussy. Watching as dribbles of cum spill out of you, kissing your neck once again. “See, I knew you had one more in you, good job mama.” He murmurs into your panting skin, side-eyeing you in the mirror, and how you tremble slightly, looking like a deer in headlights, massaging your sore thighs, admiring the fat of them.

Too tired to do anything but nod and stick a lazy thumb up, you slump on his chest, relishing in how warm he is. Ony doesn’t bother with clean up right now, he’ll do it sometime later, all he currently cares about is getting you into bed, especially with the way you just fell asleep on him. He picks you up from the small of your back and the back of your knees, bridal-style, before getting off the edge of the bed.

Flicking off the main lights in your shared bedroom, leaving the ambient lights on, he climbs into bed, setting you down and covering you up, holding you as you both wind down, petting your head softly, and smoking a blunt before going to bed.

That dick really fucked his pretty girl to sleep.

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Authors note: heyyyy 🤭 ion have nun to say for once.. so imma shut my fat ass up. 🙃 LOVE Y’ALL 🫶🏾

[eddiexmunsonlover]

Heat Wave ~ E.M.

Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A heat wave coursing through Hawkins sends Eddie seeking out any form of relief. Even the cheap, little inflatable pool in your backyard will do, but he'll have to do something for you first. WC: 2.7k Warnings: MDNI 18+ SMUT. Unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), singular use of the phrase 'good boy', no use of Y/N, outdoor semi-public sex. Inspired from laying in the pool during the heat wave that just hit my area, wanted to get this out before summer's over!

Follow my new blog for future fics @cherryxhaze

In the dead of summer in Hawkins, Indiana, it’s another day in a seemingly endless heatwave cooking the midwest. In the Forest Hills Trailer Park, poor insulation does little to help keep the heat out of the metal sided homes, few in the neighborhood able to afford A/C costs, window units struggling to combat the high temperatures. Rather than sweltering in his room, Eddie finds relief walking under the trees in the park, leaves providing shade from the relentless sun.

He’s beginning to think it’s the only relief he’ll get from the rising temperatures this summer. Until he approaches a trailer, glimpsing through the passing trees into the backyard, yellow plastic catches his eye… and crystal clear water.

A pool. 

A cheap, inflatable one only a couple feet wide, but a pool nonetheless. Filled with cool water. He can practically feel it engulfing his warm, sweaty body. 

Next to it on a plastic lounge chair lays you, basking in the sun. Back home from college, he assumes.

“Well, well, well. Back to visit us peasants?” his voice booms, startling you out of your trance. He leans against your trailer, arms crossed with a grin plastered on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Munson. Can you be any less subtle?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather I have knocked?”

You roll your eyes, readjusting in the chair as you eye the metalhead.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, you know. Just perusing the neighborhood, decided to stop by and say hi to an old friend.” He meanders closer to your position, hiding an ulterior motive clear as day. An arched brow peeks over your sunglasses.

“Uh huh… friend…sure”

“Hey, you never spewed insults at me in the halls at school, I consider that a friend!”

You scoff out an amused chuckle as he throws a cheeky grin your way.

“Okay, sure. So, friend, what exactly is it that you wanted?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’re keeping this sweet slice of heaven back here, all to yourself.”

“Yeah, I bought it all by myself.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Hmm. I guess maybe I just thought, being the generous person you are, you’d be willing to share with a friend. I mean, considering the conditions.” He gestures around him with open arms, putting on all the charm he can muster in those dimples.

Despite his stance on the existence of your friendship, you’d never been more than neighbors and classmates. Your circles at Hawkins High never ran or meshed together, your friends falling into the norm of calling him a ‘freak’. A nickname, insult rather, that you never partook in berating him with. An insult that remained when he failed his senior year, meant to graduate with your class. You’ve heard from friends in passing that he failed this year too. You never thought less of him for it though, unlike everyone else in town.

To be honest, you’ve always had a liking for him despite your minimal interactions. Eyes lingering over him when you’d see him in class or the halls, fighting a smirk from his theatrics at lunch. You’d become an outcast like him if your friends knew, but you’d been hiding a crush on Eddie Munson for years. As you look over him now, it becomes strikingly clear that your crush hasn’t faded in the year away at college.

“You think flattery will work on me, hmm?” you remark with a grin.

“Well I only speak the truth, cross my heart.” His actions follow his words, hand over heart.

“Hmm” Your propped up leg fidgets side to side as you consider him.

“Okay, I’ll let you take a dip. But only if there’s something in it for me.” You decide with a confident smile, reveling in the way it catches him off guard before his theatrics kick back in.

“Why, of course. It’s only fair. What would you have me do?”

You keep him a little on edge, taking your time in deciding as you look amongst the yard until a perfect idea pops into your mind at the bottle next to you.

“Well, it is time for me to reapply. Mind giving me a hand?” You throw your own charm his way, a bottle of sunscreen extended out to him.

He only falters for a split second before nodding like a bobble head.

“Uh y-yeah, sure. Of course.” He answers almost too eagerly. “Skin care is important.” 

He worries the forced chuckle gives him away.

When you turn to lay on your stomach, he’s grateful you can’t see the way his entire expression fumbles.

To be fair, he’s always had the hots for you. Given your differing social groupings, he never thought he’d stand a chance. Now, he wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him with your demand. Eying the way your bottoms have bunched up between your cheeks, full figure on display for him, barely covered by the cloth.

A deep sigh rises from your chest at the sensation of his calloused hands spreading the cool lotion along your warm skin. Working from your shoulders and down your arms, you feel the anticipation rising as his hands move down your back. 

Lower and lower until.. his hands meet your calves. His tongue peeks from between his lips, watching as his hands move higher, from your calves to your thighs. An irresistible tug pulling his eyes and hands to move to your ass. 

“Do you uh- want me to..?” he questions, eyeing your cheeks only half covered by your bottoms.

“If you wouldn’t mind… not trying to deal with sunburn on my ass.” You answer sweetly, ending with a lighthearted laugh.

The sensation shoots right between your legs, only inches away from where his calloused fingers knead the plush flesh of your ass. You have to bite your lip to muffle the moan threatening to rise up your throat.

Eddie almost swears he feels the slightest push of your ass against his hands. He’s mesmerized by it, unable to stop himself from visualizing what’s underneath the slither of cloth. He never thought he’d ever be this close to you, let alone touching you like this. He wants to lose himself in it, in you but stops himself before his lingering touch becomes suspicious.

“A-alright, you’re all good.”

You flip over onto your back with a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie. You wouldn’t mind doing this side too, right?”

His eyebrows shoot up with a bob of his adam’s apple, gulping at the proposition before forcing a chuckle.

“Just trying to get a free massage out of me, aren’t ya?”

“Well you know, college is very stressful and I did say you’d have to make it worth my while”

He licks his lips before sinking his teeth into them, looking down at the sunscreen in his hands.

“Yeah, alright” he agrees with a smirk.

His movements mimic his work on your backside. Shoulders, down your arms, slowing as they glide across your chest, forcing himself not to linger before moving down to your stomach. Working up your calves, to your thighs. Admiring the way his fingers dig into the doughy flesh, your covered pussy right in his face.

You’re enjoying yourself far too much, watching how flustered you’re making him through the shade of your sunglasses. As his fingers glide up your legs, you spread them open ever so slowly. Biting your lip as his hands caress up to the inside of your thighs, eyeing the growing bulge in his shorts.

“Eddie…”

Wide eyes shoot up from your core to meet your eyes, now uncovered with your sunglasses moved atop your hair.

“Do you want a taste?”

He watches as your hand slides down your stomach, inching toward your pussy before they flash back up to meet yours.

“It’s a question, not an order.” You giggle at his silence, giving him an out.

“You’re serious?” He asks in disbelief, mouth agape. 

You nod softly, biting your bottom lip as your fingers ghost over your clit.

“Wanted you for a long time” You mutter, breathing becoming heavier at the prospect of finally getting what you’ve wanted for so long.

“Shit…” His gaze falls back down to where your hand is, rubbing your pussy through your bathing suit. “You don’t have to ask me twice, sweetheart.”

His hand replaces yours, gently sliding your bottoms to the side and groaning at the sight of your pussy. You gasp softly as his tongue dives between your folds, licking a long stripe from your already wet hole and up to your clit. Hands sliding up your body, pulling both sides of your top to the side to free your breasts. Rough hands engulfing them, massaging them between his fingers as he shoves his face in your pussy like a starving man. Tongue exploring every crevice, lapping up your juices as his nose nudges against your clit.

“Oh fuck” You moan, head falling back as your fingers tug at his curls.

His fingers pinch and roll your nipple between them as his tongue circles your clit, bringing his other hand down to tease your entrance with his fingers. Slowly sliding two ringed digits in, tongue flicking against your clit before sucking it into his mouth, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure, moans freely falling from your lips. 

You force your eyes open to watch. The sight of Eddie Munson between your legs, mouth worshiping your pussy, tongue working you in a way no guy ever has before, it’s sending you closer to the edge faster than you ever have before. 

You bite your lip at the sight, fingers running through his hair. The metal of his rings digging into the flesh of your ass with each thrust of his fingers into you.

“Mmm, good boy.”

A deep, rumbling moan rises from his chest, sending vibrations through your clit sucked between his lips as the pads of his finger rub against your g-spot.

“Fuck, Eddie. You’re gonna make me cum!”

Your admission only eggs him on more, sucking onto your clit harder, fingers moving faster in and out of your soaking walls that clench around them. His eyes flutter open to meet yours and that’s all it takes, every muscle in your body tightening, thighs trembling around his head as you grip it. 

Coming down from your orgasm, he replaces his soaked fingers with his tongue. Licking up every bit of your juice he can.

“Taste s’good, baby” he mumbles, face still buried in your pussy.

You whine at the praise and sensation, grabbing onto his hand and bringing his fingers to your mouth, sucking your cum off them. He pulls his attention back to you with a guttural moan, the action making his cock throb even harder in his shorts. Your other hand reaches out to rub him through the fabric, never breaking eye contact.

“Need to feel you inside me” you beg, rubbing the pads of his fingers along your bottom lip.

“Christ…”

His other hand eagerly reaches for the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down under his balls, throbbing cock springing free. Yanking his shirt off to relieve him from the heat of the sun and your sweating bodies.

He lines his cock up with your entrance, slowly sliding himself into your warm, wet walls until he’s fully sheathed inside you with a moan. His mouth latches onto one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling your nipple as he begins slowly thrusting into you.

“Fuck, yes!” you gasp out in pleasure, one hand in his hair as the other grips onto the lounge chair beneath you.

His mouth moves from your breast to your mouth in a hot, wet kiss as he shoves his cock as deep as he can inside you.

“Feel so good. Always wanted to fuck you, sweetheart. Feel this tight pussy wrapped around me.” he mutters against your lips. Sweat makes his bangs stick to his forehead, lips moving to latch onto your neck.

More moans escape your lips from the power his words, mouth, cock, the power he has over you, giving you more pleasure than you’ve ever felt by any other guy in Hawkins or college.

One of his arms hooks under your knee, giving him deeper access as his hips collide with yours, your hands attempting to grip onto his sweaty back. The sensation, his cock stretching you out with every thrust is overwhelming, consuming every bit of your attention, the fact of being in your backyard long forgotten.

“Eddie!” 

Your whines of pleasure are met with a stifled chuckle.

“Better quiet down, sweetheart. Don’t want the whole neighborhood to hear you, do you?” his husky voice and breath fan over your ear, sending chills down your spine amid the relentless heat surrounding you. 

His reminder, the reality that anyone passing along the same path he did, looking through just the right break in the trees at just the right time, would see Eddie “the freak” Munson balls deep in your pussy on the lounge chair in your backyard.

It only turns you on more, making your walls clench around him, delighting in the broken moans it pulls from him against your ear before he chuckles again.

“Mmm you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl”

His thrusts pick up in pace, your sweat aiding to the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

“You were so cocky earlier, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, out of breath. Sporting a smirk as his face moves into your vision, hovering above you.

You groan in a mix of pleasure and annoyance.

“Just- oh…shut up and fuck me”

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he moves your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing his cock to go even deeper inside you. His hands keep a harsh grip on your hips as he plows into you mercilessly. The new position and rough thrusts making the wet, slapping sounds of his skin on yours, his balls slapping your ass grow even louder along with your moans.

“Oh god oh god, yes!” your desperate whimpers fumble from your lips, a white knuckle grip on the plastic holding your bodies up. You’re sure it’ll buckle beneath you at any moment from the power of his thrusts.

“Mmm. What if your mother came home right now, fuck, to find her precious daughter getting fucked by the town freak, huh?” 

Even in his pleasure, the smug teasing still breaks through. Taking even more pleasure in watching you unravel beneath him, because of him, a girl once thought to be completely unattainable, now cockdrunk for him.

“Mmm don’t care, feel too fucking good” you answer breathlessly, feeling yourself quickly barreling toward your climax again.

He can’t decide where to look, watching your face twist in pleasure or watch his cock disappear in and out between your pussy lips. Despite his teasing, he can feel he doesn’t have much longer, and if the way your walls are pulsing around his cock is any sign, he knows you don’t either.

“Gonna cum again for me, baby? Give it to me, wanna feel you soak my cock, pretty girl”

He keeps up his relentless pace as much as he can and you feel like his cock is about to split you in two, making your toes curl in their position next to his head. You can’t stop it even if you tried, waves of pleasure crashing through your whole body as you meet your end.

“Fuck, Eddie!” you squeal in overwhelming pleasure, hands moving to grip onto his arms. Your head thrown back, mouth falling open, back arching off the chair as everything in you clenches.

The tight grip you have on his cock and the scream of his name as you cum is all it takes to drive him into his own climax, removing his cock from the warm confines of your pussy to cum all over your bare stomach with a deep moan of your name.

Your grips loosen, his head falling to rest on your chest as your legs fall to his sides. Heavy breaths and chests heaving as you recoup from your highs.

“Shit. If this is what I have to do to use your pool… I’ll be here all summer.”

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 1

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

content warning: It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were, how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

Leave a like and a comment! Let me know how you feel 😶‍���️

[letsyapthenightaway]

“Well it's not like I'm your girlfriend” with the hockey boys

Matt Rempe- He probably got into another fight after promising you he wouldn't anymore. Get's caught off guard you had a point but it still hurt him. He wanted you, and he thought you felt the same, now he questions it all. Did you mean it as a "you haven't asked me" or "I don't care" his mind races, and he can't help but get defensive about it. Because of how his mind is racing, he can't help but stutter, then his voice is firm as he tells you "Y-You don't mean that, you know we aren't just friends!" I feel like it would just escalate the argument and somehow jealousy would get mixed in.

Luke Hughes- Shut's up so quickly, this argument between you two was stupid and pointless. You had a point though, he hadn't asked you. He had no right to claim you, no matter how much he wanted to. I feel like he would tear up and have trouble thinking of what to say next. He just wants to pull you into a hug but knows that now is not the moment. If you walk out he would chase after you "Wait let's talk about this" but still wouldn't know what to say causing you to leave. Will gather his thoughts and will make you a little gift basket and appear at your doorstep. Now knowing what he will say and that's “Can I be your boyfriend?”

Jack Hughes- Let's out a shocked laugh, Were all those nights together for nothing? Did you not see how much he loved you? Tells you right there that you can't say that. Friends don't do the things you two did, friends don't say the things you two do. Yeah, he messed up never officially asking you but don't say that you two had nothing. I wanna say that he would kiss you on the spot, your face in his hands pouring his soul into the kiss.

Quinn Hughes- You did not just say that to him, gives you a blank face. Unlike the other's he did ask you, he did the whole flowers, dinner, and present thing. What nonsense did you just say? Your right! He didn't see you as a girlfriend, no. After all this time he saw you as his wife! You're the one he wants to be with so he's gonna take a deep breath and get to the bottom of this. Maybe will try to walk away to give you both time to think.

Connor Bedard- I can imagine you two sat in a park or something just relaxing. You said it in a joking manner as you playfully pushed him, his laugh slowly stopped as he looked at you. You both got along amazingly, attached at the hip, affectionate, and got mistaken for a couple already. What was stopping him? So he asks you on the spot "So become it...be my girlfriend" as if it was so casual. Leaving you shocked looking at him as his smile slowly appears on his face as he grabs your hand.

[holylulusworld]

Pipsqueak & Grumpy

Summary: Logan defends you.

Pairing: Wolverine (Logan Howlett) x Plussized (short) Reader

Warnings: grumpy Wolverine (you know him), sunshine reader, plus-sized reader, bullying/fat-shaming, protective Wolverine

A/N: Please consider that I write for the taller version of Wolverine from the movies, not the comics.

“Slow down, big grump,” you giggle because your boyfriend (or not boyfriend because Logan hates the word) is stomping toward the bookstore. If he hates anything, it’s shopping, but he makes an exception for you. His hold on your hand is light, but it makes your heart flutter. “Logan.”

“What is it, Pipsqueak?” He stops in his tracks, almost making you bump into his back. Logan cocks one brow while looking down at you. “I’m not smoking.”

“I asked you to slow down.” You pout. “My legs are shorter, and you’re so fast.”

“Aw, do you want me to carry you?” Logan grabs your waist, intending to lift you. “I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you around. No problem, sweet Pipsqueak.”

“No!” You playfully swat his chest. “That’s for the bedroom only.” Your eyes narrow as you watch three girls and their boyfriends walk toward you and Logan. They watch you interact and start laughing.

“Man, I wouldn’t try lifting that chubby bumblebee,” one of the boys laughs. “You’ll break your back, or worse.”

Logan dips his head as they step closer. He grits his teeth, already tensing. One more word from the idiots not knowing what they got themselves into, and there will be blood coloring the street. Not Logan’s, though.

“First and final warning,” your boyfriend growls in their direction. “Get the fuck away from me and my girlfriend.” Your heart flutters because Logan called you his girlfriend in front of others; you only wish it wasn’t at that moment.

“GIRLFRIEND?” One of the girls says, scoffing. “You could do so much better. You’re not that old.” The group starts laughing when the boy talking shit calls you a fat, short cow.

Logan growls like the animal he can turn into. He gently cups your face and pecks your temple before he turns on his heels. Logan looks the boys up and down, a dark smirk on his lips.

One of them already steps back, tugging at his girlfriend’s hand.

“So, you think you can come here and talk like that about my girlfriend?” Logan’s voice alone makes the girls whimper. They didn’t expect Logan to look like a feral wolf when he turned around. “I see you need me to tell you how to treat a woman, right.”

“Sir, they didn’t mean to-.” The last boy raises his hands in surrender and walks back. “Uh, I didn’t say a thing.”

“You didn’t say a thing; that’s right.” Wolverine steps even closer. “At least your friends were brave enough to believe they could make fun of my girl. You were just standing next to them, laughing like a hyena. A real man would never allow his friends to do such a shady thing.”

“Sir…” The girl laughing at you squeaks. “But she’s…” She screams in terror when Logan lifts his left arm and slowly slides his claws out. He chuckles darkly when the girl wets her pants. “Nooooo!”

“What will it be, boys?” Logan asks, sliding the claws on his right hand out. “A taste of my claws, or you on your knees begging my beautiful girl for forgiveness.”

He cocks his head, waiting for their answer. The girls run off, while the boys fall to their knees, murmuring apologies.

“I can’t hear you!” Wolverine yells. “Louder! I want everyone to know that you are little boys with small dicks and even smaller brains. You will tell them that you said all this shit because you are not man enough to satisfy a hot-blooded woman like my girlfriend.”

“We are little boys with small dicks and even smaller brains,” the boys say in unison. “We are not man enough to satisfy your hot-blooded woman.”

“Damn right,” Logan huffs. He slides his claws back in, but steps closer to the kneeling boys. “You’ll stay like that for ten more minutes and repeat the words. If,” he says while sliding his claws back out, "you ever say something like that to anyone ever again, I’ll find you and cut your tiny cocks off.”

As fast as he put the group into their place, Logan turned back around, his features softening.

“Now, Pipsqueak, we are going to get the books you wanted,” Logan smirks when you look up at him like he’s your hero (and he truly is in any way).

He grabs your waist, easily lifts you, and throws you over his shoulders, laughing loudly as people stop walking only to stare at the bizarre scene. The boys are still reciting the words, while Logan carries you toward the bookstore, whistling a tune.

“Logan,” you giggle and laugh. “Let me down!”

“Never, Pipsqueak,” he laughs and swats your ass with his hand. “I’d never let you down.”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[yanderexchubbyreader]

yan!king x chubby!maid!reader

~*well, this managed to get uploaded on accident, but I guess for those who come across this, welcome to the soft launch of the blog!*~

warnings: explicit nsfw, noncon, somnophilia, cum inside, obsessed king just loves his pretty lil maid so much and wants you to have his babies

- imagine being specifically chosen by the yan!king himself to serve as his personal maid

- he’s seen you around the castle for a few years, becoming obsessed with you and your soft frame

- it had gotten to the point he’d go insane if he didn’t have you, and he promoted you so he could see and speak with you every day

- imagine the yan!king getting violently angry when you’re not the one to tend to him

- his heart would shatter, thinking his darling must not love him anymore

- he gets so mean and scours the castle himself to track you down, practically crying because you didn’t like him anymore

- he’d find you in your room, having overslept that morning

- imagine having to talk him out of the tantrum that tried to follow after, reassuring him that you did like him

- yan!king would take that as a hint that you had feelings for him as well, and now he’d stop at nothing to make you his queen

- you’re now by his side 24/7, even moving into the servant’s room that was directly across from his

- imagine yan!king sneaking into your room one night, sick of just imagining how you felt and ready to just get his hands on the real thing

- he’d start by oh-so-slowly pushing the edge of your night gown up, drooling as the pads of his fingers finally touched your soft skin, his cock becoming hard at just that

- then, he’d push his hand between her thighs to cup your center, his middle finger sliding up your slit

- as his fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, he’d drink in your unconscious moans, his other hand pumping at his cock

- imagine yan!king has your legs pushed upwards, thrusting his cock into your puffy pussy at a gentle pace

- he’s whimpering at how good you feel, your walls pulsing around him

- he’d fill you up so much, crying at the immense pleasure of finally being able to cum inside of you, having to force himself off of you so he didn’t wake you from another round

- the next morning, he’d take notice in your limp and your hand rubbing at your aching lower back, feeling pride in having claimed you

- he’d do it a few more times before finally trying to court you while you were awake, but you’d never know that

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Big Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend, Spencer, are getting ready for a night out, when your insecurities start to get the best of you.

Word Count: 1531 -- it's just a lil guy

Warnings: Body insecurities, maybe a little bit of a big-girl-soapbox

A/N: I definitely wrote this very quickly this afternoon because I literally just felt like it. This is just a short lil one for the big gals who just want someone to notice them.

Anyway hope you enjoy! Thank you all who have commented/reblogged/liked my last fic!!

-

Your jeans hugged your curvy hips as you tugged them up to your belly button, covering the bottom, larger part of your stomach. You were tall, for a woman, but not taller than Spencer. He was, what, 6’1”? You stood around 5’9”, so he still towered over you, still had to look down at you when he spoke, still had to crane his neck to whisper in your ear. 

You were wearing a flowy, sage green blouse. Why were clothes so hard to find for a larger girl? It was all cold-shoulders and obnoxious patterns. You just wanted something that flattered your body type and made you feel sexy. Apparently that was just a ridiculous request. This blouse was cute, but modest, with a ruched, fluted bunching of the fabric in the middle. The collar was low-cut to accent your breasts, but the sleeves were long, which was annoying. You were going dancing tonight with your boyfriend and his coworkers. You didn’t want to show off all of your body, by any means, but you wanted to look hot. Who could blame you? And it was also going to get hot, temperature-wise. Long sleeves just didn’t feel like the most pragmatic choice. 

Sometimes you just gave up and went with the best option. And this blouse, that made you feel like you were going to a casual church event, not to a bar, was, unfortunately, the best option. 

You inhaled sharply and shrugged your shoulders as you looked in the full-length mirror hooked on the back of the closet door. Your hair looked really cute - the two biggest pieces on either side in the front were braided and dangled in front of you, effectively bringing your hair out of your eyes but also provided something to give your hair a little pizzazz. Your makeup looked great - a simple, subtle smokey eye and glossy lips. Your black boots looked good, peeking out from your wide-legged jeans, which hugged your hips and, honestly, made your butt look really good. 

It was just this stupid shirt. And maybe you were getting too much in your head about it. But you were transfixed on it, hating the way the sleeves bunched up a little, how the bottom half flowed beneath the ruched fabric, effectively covering your stomach, meeting your jeans and the top of your thighs. The color was too muted for a going-out top - you wished you could wear something more exciting. 

You sometimes wished you looked like Emily or JJ, or had the self-confidence to rock loud looks like Penelope did. But then you remembered that you were who you were for a reason. You looked like you simply because that was what you looked like. And there was no point in wishing you looked like someone else. 

Plus, Spencer was really into your body. He was nearly always staring at your breasts when you were in private, sometimes to the point where you had to snap your fingers in front of his eyes to garner his attention. 

It was flattering. You didn’t mind it if your boyfriend objectified you a little bit. He was respectful about it. 

“Y/N, are you about ready?” Spencer walked into your bedroom as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes met Spencer’s and you saw his neutral expression turn into a full-fledged grin, biting his tongue and all. “You look really nice,” he said, and you shook your head. 

“I look like a chaperone at a middle school dance,” you frowned, tugging at the fabric of your blouse in some illogical attempt to make it look different. 

“What?” Spencer stood behind you in the mirror. His chin basically met the top of your head, like too puzzle pieces. One hand rested on your hip, while the other slowly brushed your hair to one side so he could press a kiss to your neck. “I think you look great,” he added. 

You immediately felt tingly and your knees wobbled at the action. “But I’m not dressing for you,” you said, your voice instinctively dropping as Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck. You were having trouble concentrating on what you were trying to say. “I’m dressing for me, and I want to look cute. I can’t believe you’re even going tonight. You don’t dance, Spencer,” you pointed out, your self-control somehow beating out your desire for Spencer in the moment. You broke away from him and turned around to face him. 

“You do look cute, Y/N. I don’t understand what the issue is?” Spencer’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at you. “Also, I’m going out tonight because you want to. And I’m trying to keep an open mind. I might enjoy it.” 

You were proud of him. When you started dating about six months ago, he would have simply politely declined an invitation to a night out. And while you didn’t love going out every night, or even every weekend, for that matter, you did enjoy a night out occasionally. 

Regardless, he still didn’t quite understand what you were feeling about that damn shirt. “The issue,” you began, heaving a sigh, “is that I’m insecure about my body. Like any woman. You don’t get it, because you’re a man, and you literally have nothing to be insecure about.”

You knew the words were incorrect the moment you said them, but something kept you from backpedaling. You watched as Spencer shook his head, letting a small laugh escape him. “You could not be further from the truth,” Spencer pointed out, and you knew he was right. Men had plenty to be insecure about, and it was, in some ways, even more difficult for men to express those feelings. 

“Well, I think you’re perfect,” You let a small, playful smile creep onto your face, and Spencer rolled his eyes as you used his own tactic from earlier. He stepped towards you and his hands found your waist, contouring to match your curves. He knew them so well now, he could probably draw a map of your body with his eyes closed. 

“I appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice a little softer as your eyes met his. His head dipped down, and you thought, certainly, that he was going to kiss you, but instead, his lips stopped just barely by your ears. You could feel his breath on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as he spoke. “You might be insecure, Y/N, but I am, too. You’re just human.” 

“What are you insecure about?” You found yourself asking, pulling your head back to look at him properly. Now you were curious. 

“My hands, mostly,” Spencer removed his hands from your waist, holding them palm-up, as if to present them to you for the first time. 

“What’s wrong with your hands?” You asked, placing your palms atop his. 

“They’re really big,” Spencer said timidly, and, admittedly, they were. But just by comparison. Your hands fit into his with plenty of extra space. You used your index fingers to trace his palms. 

“They’re not too big,” you told him, and Spencer just smiled down at you, shaking his head, like he was just humoring you. “I love your hands,” you continued. “I love that you can put your palm over an entire half of my face,” you said, guiding his palm to your cheek and grinning when his skin touched yours. Spencer’s thumb brushed your cheekbone. 

“And I love your body,” Spencer replied, and you just pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, Y/N, listen to me.” 

You let out a frustrated little exhale through your nose and let him continue. 

“I love the way you look. But I wouldn’t care if you were any bigger or any smaller. Because I love you. I’m attracted to you, to your mind, to your sense of compassion, and to your body. I love the way your hips fill out your jeans, how your stomach looks in your yoga pants,” he said. “I love the way you wiggle your toes when we’re watching something funny on TV, how you do a little shimmy in your seat when you’re eating something you really enjoy,” he explained, mimicking the movement. You looped your arms around his neck. “But mostly, I’m in love with your personality. How you challenge me, how you seem to bring out the best version of myself.”

You let out a wistful sigh. If this were a Jane Austen novel, you would have swooned. But instead, you used your grip around his neck to bring his face down to yours and kiss him. It was slow at first, then a little more intense, and when you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his. 

“You ready to go now?” Spencer asked, and when your eyes opened, you saw that he was smiling down at you. 

You shook your head, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “Not yet,” you said, your hands sliding down his arms until your palms met his. You tugged him in the direction of your bed. “I want to show you how much I love these big hands.” 

[hookhausenschips]

Can I request plus size!reader where she is dating Charles but instead of her getting hate and stuff for her looks, the fans actually love her and question how Charles can handle all of her? THEY ARE THIRSTY thank you- 🦥 anon

Anon I love you, I enjoyed creating this. It might be extra cheesy but🤷🏽‍♀️🫶🏽

All Mine

Navigation

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: Thirsty fans, Charles is clingy, Y/N is a smartass but she loves her man

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Click here to join any of my taglists

Charles Leclerc had always been known for his charm both on and off the track, but when the news broke that the Ferrari driver was dating a plus-size Black woman named Y/N, the internet exploded in a way no one quite expected.

Instead of the usual scrutiny that comes with being in the spotlight, especially for women who don’t fit the stereotypical mold, Y/N was met with nothing but love—and a lot of thirst. Leclerc’s fans couldn’t get enough of her confidence, radiant smile, and how effortlessly she seemed to handle herself next to the F1 star. But that wasn’t all. The conversation online quickly shifted to something a bit more… provocative.

“How does Charles even handle her?” one fan tweeted, accompanied by a gif of someone dramatically fainting. Another user posted, “Charles out here pulling a QUEEN like Y/N? Boy, you better be built for this!” with fire emojis.

The more they saw of the couple, the thirstier the comments got.

“Charles, blink twice if you’re okay!” one commenter joked after seeing a video of the couple laughing together at a party, Y/N playfully teasing him.

In an interview with a lifestyle magazine, Leclerc was asked about the dynamic between him and Y/N. His face lit up with a wide grin. “She’s incredible. I think I’m the lucky one, honestly. She’s got this presence… it’s magnetic.”

Y/N wasn’t shy about showing her love for Charles either, posting candid moments of the two together on her Instagram. One video that sent fans into a frenzy showed them dancing in their living room, Charles clearly struggling to keep up with Y/N’s moves.

The comments were on fire.

“How is he not on his knees for her 24/7?” one fan asked under the post. “Girl, you are TOO MUCH. Give him a break!” another joked.

At one point, during a Ferrari fan event, a group of women wearing matching T-shirts that read “Charles, can YOU handle her?” held up a sign that read, “Y/N, teach us your ways!”

Charles saw it and burst into laughter, shaking his head. Y/N, who was watching from the sidelines, waved at the group, flashing her signature smile.

“Maybe they should be asking me how I can handle him,” Y/N later joked on her Instagram story, winking at the camera.

From the moment I stepped into Charles’ world, I knew it was going to be intense. I mean, the guy’s an F1 driver, one of the most loved on the grid. But what I didn’t expect was the complete opposite of what I thought would come my way. The moment people found out about us—about me—it was like the fans flipped a switch. And not the kind of switch where they throw shade. Nope. These people were thirsty.

It started small. A few comments under pictures I posted of us together.

“You’re glowing, girl! But, uh, how is Charles handling all of that?” with a winking emoji.

I’d scroll through my Instagram and see stuff like, “We need to check on Charles’ endurance off the track!” or “How does a man with that much stamina survive with a goddess like her?” It made me laugh, honestly. But the more I saw, the wilder it got.

One night, we were at home, lounging on the couch, and I showed Charles a few of the more… explicit tweets.

“Charles, you good, mate?” I read out loud, barely able to contain my laughter. “Blink twice if she’s got you needing an oxygen mask.”

Charles took one look at the screen, his cheeks turning bright red. “They really think I’m struggling out here, don’t they?” he said, shaking his head with that boyish smile I adored.

I grinned at him, nudging him with my elbow. “I mean, they aren’t wrong. You barely keep up with me when we dance.”

“That’s because you don’t warn me before you start those Beyoncé routines in the living room,” he teased back, pretending to huff in frustration.

But the comments weren’t just about Charles. They were about me, too. The fans genuinely loved me, which was wild considering how harsh people can be. They loved my curves, my confidence, and how I didn’t shy away from showing affection to Charles in public. I was always expecting the backlash, the snide remarks about being a plus-size Black woman dating a guy like him. Instead, I was getting comments like, “Sis, PLEASE drop the workout routine because you look FIRE!” and “Y/N, I need your energy. Charles is lucky to even be in your orbit.”

The first time I saw the group of fans at a Ferrari event wearing shirts that said “Charles, can YOU handle her?” I couldn’t stop laughing. I waved at them, completely blown away by how extra they were. I guess I should’ve been embarrassed or something, but I wasn’t. I was feeling myself. And clearly, so were they.

Later, when Charles and I were back home, I sat cross-legged on the bed, still buzzing from the energy of the event.

“They really love you,” he said, leaning against the doorway, watching me as I scrolled through the photos of us.

I looked up at him and grinned. “They love us. Mostly because they think you can’t handle me.”

Charles raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Oh, really?” he challenged, stepping closer, his voice low. “They’re wrong, you know. I can handle you just fine.”

I shot him a playful look. “Prove it.”

The next day, I posted a picture of us—his arms wrapped around me, me standing on my toes to kiss his cheek, the two of us smiling like we didn’t have a care in the world. The caption read: He can handle me just fine, thanks for asking.

The comments? Pure chaos.

“I BET HE CAN! 👀🔥”

“Girl, we don’t need details, but we’re imagining PLENTY.”

“I’m screaming—this whole thing is too much, and I’m living for it!”

Life with Charles was like this. Fun, light-hearted, but also deeper than the public ever saw. Sure, they saw the surface—how he adored me, how we were always laughing together. But what they didn’t see was the late-night talks, the quiet moments where he’d trace patterns on my back, or the times he’d look at me like I was the only person in the world.

The fans were obsessed, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. But if they knew just how lucky I felt to have him? I think they’d really lose it.

It was the night before the race, and we were in our hotel room, another triple header. The race schedule had been nonstop, and though Charles loved the track, the constant travel and media pressure was taking a toll. He’d just gotten back from practice, exhausted, sweaty, and clearly in need of a break. I was lounging on the bed, scrolling through my phone, when I heard the shower turn off in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Charles emerged, his hair damp and messy, a towel slung low around his hips. He looked up and caught my eye, offering me a small, tired smile. But there was something else—something heavy in the way he looked at me, as if he was holding onto something he wasn’t ready to say yet.

“You okay?” I asked, setting my phone down and sitting up on the bed.

He nodded, but instead of going to his suitcase to get dressed, he walked straight over to me and flopped down on the bed, still only in his towel. Without saying a word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest.

“Charles, you’re still wet!” I squealed, laughing as I felt the water from his hair drip onto me.

He just buried his face in my neck, mumbling something I couldn’t quite catch. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, letting him hold me, sensing he needed it. After a few moments of silence, I spoke up.

“What’s going on, baby?” I asked softly.

Charles sighed, his arms tightening around me. “I don’t know. Just… I missed you today.” His voice was muffled against my skin, and there was a softness in his tone that I hadn’t heard earlier.

I pulled back slightly to look at him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’ve seen me like, every day. What’s really bothering you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then finally admitted, “I’ve been seeing some of the comments again.”

I frowned. “Comments? What comments?”

“You know,” he said, his green eyes locking with mine, “the ones about you. The thirsty ones. People going on and on about how… how they’d kill to be with you. And I know it’s harmless, but sometimes… sometimes I just don’t like it.” He sounded almost shy as he said it, like he didn’t want to admit he was feeling jealous.

I couldn’t help but smile, finding it cute that this confident, world-class driver was feeling protective. “Charles, you’re not actually jealous, are you?”

He looked away, his face turning a bit red. “Maybe a little,” he muttered. “I just don’t like the way they talk about you. They don’t know you like I do. They don’t get to have you the way I do.”

My heart softened, and I leaned in to kiss him gently. “You know you’re the only one who has me, right? No one else even comes close.”

“I know,” he said, his lips brushing mine softly before he pulled back. “It’s just—sometimes I get these thoughts. Like… they don’t deserve to talk about you like that. You’re mine, and I don’t want to share even the idea of you.”

I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I belong to you, Charles. All of me. No one else gets to handle me like this.” I gave him a cheeky smile, knowing that would make him laugh.

And sure enough, his expression lightened, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “Damn right, they don’t,” he said, pulling me even closer. “I’m the only one who can handle you.”

I smirked, enjoying this clingy, vulnerable side of him. “You sure you can handle all of this, Leclerc? Because some of those fans seem to think you’re struggling.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly pretending to be offended. “Oh, please. They have no idea what they’re talking about. I’m doing just fine.”

I giggled, giving him a playful shove. “You sure? Because the way you’re acting tonight makes me think you’re feeling a little insecure, Mr. Ferrari.”

“I’m not insecure,” he insisted, his voice a bit defensive but still soft. “I just… I want to make sure you know that I love you. And that… that I’m the only one who gets to be with you like this.”

I smiled, resting my forehead against his. “I know, Charles. And I love you, too. More than anyone could ever imagine.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. We just stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. Charles held me like he needed to remind himself that I was really here, that I was his.

Finally, I broke the silence. “You’re so clingy tonight. Is this what I should expect every time someone thirsts over me online?”

He laughed, his arms still locked around me. “Maybe. Guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

“I think I can manage that,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek before snuggling into his chest, both of us content in the quiet comfort of just being together.

Charles tightened his arms around me as I nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat comforting. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting soft shadows on the walls, and the sound of the city outside faded into the background. It was just us in our little bubble, away from the noise and the track and all the pressures of the race weekend.

I could feel him relax a little, his muscles unclenching as he held me close. I traced small circles on his bare chest, smiling to myself. I loved this side of him—the part of Charles that wasn’t the confident, cool F1 driver but the sweet, vulnerable guy who just wanted to make sure I felt loved.

“So,” I murmured against his skin, “are you going to get clingy every time someone slides into my DMs or comments on my posts?”

He laughed softly, his breath warm against my hair. “Maybe I will. You’re my girlfriend—can’t let anyone think they have a chance.”

“Oh, they know they don’t have a chance,” I teased, looking up at him. “They’re just living out their little fantasies. It’s cute, really.”

Charles pouted, his brows furrowing just a little. “Cute for them, but not for me.”

I giggled, poking his side. “Aw, is someone a little jealous?” I teased, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

He rolled his eyes, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” I admitted, grinning. “It’s not every day I get to see Charles Leclerc all jealous and possessive.”

He huffed, but his arms stayed firmly around me. “I’m not that possessive,” he mumbled, though I could tell he was lying.

“Oh, really?” I arched an eyebrow, sitting up slightly to look him in the eye. “Then explain why you’re clinging to me like I’m about to disappear.”

Charles’ green eyes sparkled as he met my gaze, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Because you’re the best thing in my life,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And sometimes I just want to make sure you know that. That you’re mine.”

My heart fluttered at his words. As much as I teased him, I loved how deeply he cared for me. His jealousy wasn’t about insecurity—it was about how much he valued what we had. I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I know, Charles,” I whispered against his mouth. “I know, and I’m yours. Always.”

He kissed me back, his lips soft and slow, like he was savoring the moment. When we finally pulled away, he sighed, his forehead resting against mine. “I’m sorry for being weird about it. I just… I don’t want anyone thinking they can take what’s mine.”

I smiled, brushing my fingers through his damp hair. “No one could, even if they tried.”

He pulled me back down to lay against his chest, his hand gently stroking my back. “Good. Because I don’t think I’d survive without you.”

I laughed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a while, we lay there in comfortable silence, my head resting against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. The tension from earlier melted away, leaving only the warmth of being close to each other.

Just when I thought he had drifted off, he spoke again, his voice soft and teasing this time. “So… you’re saying if they thirst over you more, I get more cuddles?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

I smiled against his skin. “I do.”

Charles let out a content sigh, his hold on me never loosening. “Good, because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

And honestly, I didn’t want him to.

After a beat of silence, he added, “Just… promise me something?”

I tilted my head. “What?”

“If the fans keep getting thirstier, you’ll remind them who you belong to?”

I grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure they know exactly who’s handling me just fine.”

y/n

liked by fan1, fan2, charles_leclerc, and others

tagged: charles_leclerc

y/n: always asking how he can handle me, GIRL HOW CAN I HANDLE HIM. I’M SLURPING UNTIL IT’S FALLING OFF THE BONE😉😩🥵

[View all Comments]

arthur_leclerc: putain de merde, j’espère que maman mère verra pas ça [holy shit I hope mom doesn’t see this]

⤷ y/n: I will apologize later but rn…

lorenzotl: y/n please there are kids…

⤷ y/n: yes Lorenzo down my legs and soon to be swallowed

landonorris: I need you to log off

⤷ y/n: you’re not tall enough to speak to me like that you funky gremlin

charles_leclerc: Mon amour…

⤷ y/n: literally begging on my knees Sharl

⤷ charles_leclerc meet me in my drivers room 👀

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.

CL16 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @xoscar03, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @omgsuperstarg

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

**Tag List**

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25

@kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily

@titty-teetee @princessaxoxo @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

@toooldforobsessions @carrie80reads @mayloma @mollymal @posiemax

@identity2212 @alwayzmsbehavn @cardierreh15

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁If your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you. For some reason, I could tag everyone this time....if you are tagged, but were not notified, please let me know.

[readychilledwine]

Crush

Summary - Deciding to take a yoga class may have been the best decision you've ever made

Warnings - plus size reader, discussions of gym culture and health

A/n - fic 3 for @cassianappreciationweek day 7! We get NSFW from here 💕

🗡Cassian Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

The clang of weights was almost as annoying as the front desk girl staring at you. You hated gyms, hated the judgment that came with walking into one, hated the way people stared at you as if you weren't the ideal person to actually be at a place for improving yourself. 

“Look,” you interrupted her politely, “I am fully aware I am paying more to take this class because I don't have a membership. Considering I'm just trying out this fitness thing, not really interested in spending $100 a month just then also pay $80 for the one class I'm interested in taking.” Her smiled dropped slightly as she just nodded and took your card, finishing your sign up for the yoga course you and 3 of your closest friends were trying. 

You knew she was just trying to meet her numbers, but it was something from gym culture you hated. The constant pushing to join their cult and have access to “everything” instead of just being able to pay for the classes you were interested in was crazy to you. The way gym culture pushed looking a certain way to be considered healthy and attractive also bothered you greatly. 

Health had to do with more than just the numbers on the scales. It had to do with your mind, your soul, and that was what you were here to work. Your mind and soul, and if you happened to gain some muscle strength from yoga, that was just an added bonus. You were all wanting to try yoga as a form of stress relief, relaxation, and self care.  No pressure, no expectations, just fun. 

The four of you were all laughing as you headed into the gym, not even bothering to stop and look at anyone or anything going on. In your mind, it was just a scene you'd watched hundreds of times. Ripped men showing off their muscles, gym girls vlogging their “workouts” in outfits you never would be caught wearing. You were here for you, not for the show someone thought they could put on for you.

Cassian was in a squat rack, watching you through the mirror as he stood with weights resting on his wide shoulders. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Every curve, every strand of hair. You were perfect in his eyes. Rhys followed his glance before grinning, “That's my assistant. Y/n!” 

You glanced up, instantly waving at Rhys and he waved back. He motioned for you to come over, “Hello, darling. What brings you here?”

“Yoga,” you shrugged. “Trying it for stress relief. Mean boss and all!” 

Rhysand laughed at your response, eyes sparkling, “You brought water?” You nodded to him. “Good, that room gets way too hot. I admire the yoga classes, but I can't do it. Oh! By the way,” he motioned to Cassian, “this is my brother, Cassian. You know Az from security.”

And that's when it began.

Two months. Two long months of you and Cassian trading no more than your names, smiles, and slightly flirtatious banter and digs at each other when you would cross paths at the water fountain. 

Today was his day, though. Today he'd finally ask if you wanted him to help you workout, and if you said no, he'd offer dinner instead. Rhys had been forced into telling him every detail of your life. He knew your favorite color, food, how you took coffee. He felt like he knew about you, but now he truly needed to know you.

He needed more than glances that left you blushing. Needed more than you making him go home and spend his night staring at the ceiling in his empty bed wondering if you liked him the way he liked you.

Today was his day. He knew it as he kept glancing at you.

Two months had sucked you into your own version of gym culture, and while your goal was still more the stress relief, you had to admit it was fun watching your booty get even better. You had to also admit deep down that you had other reasons for coming to the gym outside of yoga class, though. That reason was 6’5”, dark curly hair, swirling tribal tattoos, and looking oh so delicious in his black shorts today.

You reminded yourself you were mainly here to focus on you. To get yourself into your head space and earn the snacks waiting for you at home, and zeroed in on the goal of reaching 10,000 stairs by the end of the week.

You were deep into your workout and in your own world when Cassian approached, admiring each jiggle not so secretly, “So y/n.”

“MOTHER F-” you cover your mouth, slapping the emergency stop button and feeling his hand instantly stabilizing you by touching your back. “You scared me!”

“I can tell,” he chuckled back. “I was just wondering if you wanted to try free weights with me today? I spot you? Teach you some stuff?”

I blinked at him, “Really?” He nodded almost boyishly, a playful grin on his face. “I can't spot you, though.”

He motioned over her shoulder to your boss and Azriel, “They exist still. Unfortunately.”

You bit your lip, knowing you'd look so out of place beside the 3 of them. “Cassian, I don't really work out to be-”

“You work out to take care of stress and eat whatever snacks you want. I know. Rhys told me. You'll get tired of cardio soon, so learning another area wouldn't hurt.”

You glared towards Rhys, “Traitor.”

“Is that a yes?”

You sighed and nodded, wiping down the handles of the machine you were on before letting him pull you over to Rhys and Azriel.

One workout became two. Two became twice a week. Twice a week became him coming over and enjoying snacks and a movie. Snacks and movie became dinner with Cassian at an expensive restaurant with Rhys, his wife, Feyre, Azriel, and his possibly girlfriend, Nesta. 

The table was silent as Cassian ordered a fairly unhealthy pasta, ate bread with you, and then shared dessert. It had been so long since they watched him genuinely enjoy food. “Cheat day,” he said casually as Azriel raised a brow at him. “I'm trying to mix y/n's work out to eat what she wants into my lifestyle once a week.” 

“He seems to like our snack and movie nights,” you glanced up at him, to you just admiring the way he smiled. But to the rest of the table, it was clear the gym crush you two shared was becoming much much more. Azriel slipped Rhys money under the table, conceding that he had won the bet. 

“Y/n told me a lot of research shows a cheat day is actually better for you than 7 hard days,” Cassian took another bite of the melted chocolate fudge brownie. “So we have a cheat day now on Sunday. We call it Sinday.”

“We still do a light walk,” you offered as Rhys looked confused. “But more of a “find some wilderness and explore walk than follow this beaten path one.” That dinner turned into many more. It turned into meeting each other's families. To merging friend groups. 

No activity you two tried topped the gym together. Especially after Cassian built and began running his own. His gym was built to cater to those who'd never felt welcomed. One way windows so the people inside could look out, but no one would see in. A mirror room dedicated to progress selfies to stop people from capturing a stranger in their pictures, a strict no bullying policy. He had made a safe haven for those who were serious about their workouts, and those who were just starting, and you could not have been more proud, especially now that you were teaching yoga and hot yoga classes there.

You two posed in the mirror, sweat dripping down him as he flexed and you kissed his cheek with your leg popped up, waiting for the camera to click breaking the no selfies on the main workout floor rule.

“Gross,” Azriel yelled. “Focus on training you two!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian shot back. “I'm coming. Enjoy yoga, baby.”

“I will. Snacks tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he answered. “Those little no bake cookie balls would be so good."

"Oh, yeah. We'll pick those up!"

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[mi-olaaa]

↳˗ˏˋ Jjk men as your babydaddy. ˊˎ˗ ↴

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Gojo Satoru.. ☆ ˊˎ˗

• He is so clingy, it’s almost sickening— y’all might’ve broken up, but to him? That don’t matter.

• You don’t know what a moment of peace is anymore, as soon two found out you were pregnant, he was ON it.

• Doctor’s appointments? He’s there. Shopping trips? He’s there. Whether it’s you resting at home and he’s caressing your belly, or you in the bed taking a nap. Gojo is there.

• What Gojo lacks in personal space he makes up for with how much he absolutely spoils and dotes on you. Whatever you want. Baby clothes, random pregnancy gadgets, even maternity clothes and stuff unrelated to pregnancy, you have it.

• About you two breaking up? Like I said it doesn’t matter, Gojo is literally there everyday almost, helping you out with everything, all the heavy lifting you can’t do at a certain point in your pregnancy, setting up the nursery, fucking you so good when your hormones become too much, and plenty other things to take care of the mama to be.

• Most importantly of all, when your bundle of joy was born, he was there, holding your hand through it all, ready to meet his baby with you.

Toji Fushiguro..☆ ˊˎ˗

• Toji honestly.. He’s not the best, but yk.. He’s definitely something.

• The whole reason you two broke up is because of you getting pregnant, he couldn’t handle it, literally, he walked out on you.

• He didn’t come back for a long ass time, you were only a month away from giving birth when he finally decided to accept the fact that he was a father again.

• He’s still the same asshole you know, but a little sweeter, but only because he felt guilty. Goes to a couple of the last appointments, and was there when the gender was found out.

• Gives you your space when you asks, understands that you are definitely still mad at him, but he looks absolutely adorable in the pictures you take of him and the baby.

• Sees the child every time on his visitation, one rare time he doesn’t, had to do another job. Other than that.. I mean idk, he could lean more the shitty bd at times, but he has his good moments too.

Nanami Kento..☆ ˊˎ˗

• When you found out you were pregnant, he was over the MOON. I mean, this man was crying, but not bawling his eyes out 😭

• Was talking so much shit about being a girl dad, while you thought it would be a boy. He won.

• Always says something along the lines of ‘my girls’. Always. He still has love for you definitely, and respects any boundaries you have, but yo’ ass was definitely testing how much self control he had some days.

• Turns out he had a pretty good amount of control to respect said boundaries, but it wasn’t until you FaceTimed him one night on that pregnancy hormone shit— Horny and leaking? How could he not take care of you?

• Whew shit y’all. If you weren’t already pregnant, you definitely would’ve been now. He put that WORK in. (He made gentle, intimate love to you, he’s too much of a loverboy to do anything else frfr (at least while you’re pregnant))

• Kento was there when you gave birth, and afterwards to help you with postpartum, mans is so obviously in love with you. SNEAK ATTACK— he proposes to you, and you quite literally woke up from a nap, holding your baby girl. You said yes. You said yes right? YOU BETTER HAD SAID YES MF HE IS SUCH A CUTIE PATOOTIE

Choso Kamo.. ☆ ˊˎ˗

• Honestly for the both of you, those nine months were a blur, he was there, partially out of curiosity though. 😭

• You had twins! Two little chubby cheek babies, one a girl, and one a boy.

• Choso doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he’s trying y’all. He took almost an hour when he changed them for the first time, and cried because the babies were crying and he thought they must’ve been mad at him.

• always has the twins in those cute ass lil fuzzy animal onesies, his favorite to put them in are the shark ones. And he sends you pictures of them of course!

• Loves his kids to death and literally cannot process through his day without seeing them at least once. He might have some slight feelings for you, but pushes them down in respect of trying not to make a disruptive home life for the kids (is literally just convinced if you two get back together you will break up again and yeah..)

Suguru Geto.. ☆ ˊˎ˗

• Girl dad. I mean, he already had Mimiko and Nanako, ofc he’s a girl dad, don’t matter if they adopted frfr. Did i mention he’s a girl dad? HE IS A GIRL DAD. BOWS IN HIS HAIR, STICKERS AND ALL.

• Sucks ass at changing diapers tho, sorry y’all, we can’t all be great. His baby got that luscious hair from her daddy, blame him for heartburn.

• You two broke up? He dgaf about that! Literally js be all up in ya damn house, but honestly, if he wasn’t on the day your water broke, you would’ve been giving birth in the shower— so be thankful I guess? 😭

• He dotes on you, makes late night target runs for the random shit you crave, be tired asf, but anything for you pookie 🫶🏾, especially since you’re carrying his child.

• Mimiko and Nanako love the child too, tbf it’s a baby, who wouldn’t? Take their little sister shopping mf 😭 playing at the park when she’s older, and babysit too.

• Geto could be busy at some point, but when he is, he makes sure to see his kid once a week. He is such a cutie patootie with his skrunkly ass baby, you can’t help but take photos when you can.

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Authors note: honestly ion got nun to say 🤷🏾‍♀️ except for #girldadnanami2024‼️

‘IGHT BYEE 🫶🏾

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

[letsyapthenightaway]

The Hockey Boys Finding Out You Support Another Team

Okay I simp for all of them but…I'm an Islander

Luke Hughes - feels betrayed when he sees you in some other team jersey. How can his girl wear another team? And in front of him!? The devils are teasing him. Saying he's Fallin for the enemy, and he's pouting about it but won't tell you. Once you figure out why he's all pout and you tease him he'd whine even more. Would try to walk away pull him back in and give him some loving.

Jack Hughes - “Oh really? That's how it's going to be?” the moment he sees you in another Jersey. “They aren't even that good!” sassy man apocalypse with him. Scuff every time he looks at your Jersey, arms crossed and rolling his eyes. It's giving “go with your other man” but it's all jokes at the end.

Quinn Hughes- I feel like he'd take it like a champ but it does make him even more competitive. Looks at your Jersey and laughs while shaking his head. “Fine, but when I win don't come to me” in a playful way. He always wants to win a game but he's definitely winning this one.

Matt Rempe- a quick no while shaking his head with an “I can't believe this” laugh and a “very funny, go change” The others chirp him enough as it is. When he notices you're serious about being on the other team he's torn. I can see him stumble on his words a little while trying to convince you to wear his jersey but he will also drop a sassy remark. Like everyone else I want him to play not fight but a fight will break out. Between Matt and the player whose jersey you are wearing. Another boy who would need some love after the game.

Connor Bedard- one thing I love about Connor is his smile but it would drop so slowly once he notices you're sporting another team. I feel like he would glare so hard! Would also question a lot “So why him/them” now has a little one-sided beef jealousy? with the other player but won't admit it. Everyone can feel it! Bedard is in game mode, crazy serious, almost like he has something to prove. If he gets chirped he's not fighting, but he will play rougher. Won't talk to you for a bit and will be a little distant but once he does it will be soft while playing with your fingers.

[holylulusworld]

BFG (1)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language

BFG masterlist

“Fuck me, that guy could break me into two halves,” you sigh dreamily as the new face in town steps into the diner. “What a man.”

You lick your lips. He’s tall, and you mean tall when you say it. If anyone wants you to guess, you’d say he’s at least 6’5.

“Y/N, what was the price of the peach pie again?” The new waitress asks. She’s pretty and friendly but her memory is not the best.

Maybe she just smokes too much weed. You don’t blame her. This sleepy little town does this to you. If you don’t take drugs or drink, you spend the time dreaming of a different life.

You sigh again, this time out of frustration because you must take your eye off the thick hottie and turn your attention toward Sally Ann, the new waitress.

“It’s…” You tell her the price while dipping your head to glance at the newbie's ass when he passes the counter by. “Damn him, he’s thick too. What do you weigh, baby? Two hundred and fifty pounds?”

“Miss,” Sally Ann almost whimpers when this mountain of a man asks her about the peach pie. She looks a little lost, and you gladly jump in to turn his attention toward you.

“You can come over here,” you tap the counter. “This spot looks like you’ll fit in.” You grin as he chuckles at your bad joke about his size. “The seat is extra-large. One of our regulars needed a little extra space and cushion.”

“I guess he was tall too,” He asks while plopping down on the larger seat. The seat creaks under his weight and you hope he didn’t break it. Even though, you wouldn’t mind if he tries to break you.

“In size, not height,” you shrug. “That’s what I heard. This was before my time, and he died some years ago. This means, the seat is all yours now, sweetie.”

“Sweetie,” his laughter is deep and rich as he tries to not blush at your flirty banter. “No one ever called me sweet.”

“What a shame,” you pat his hand. Fuck. It looks like his hand is as big as one of your plates. “So, tell me,” you lean closer to whisper, “are you a BFG or are you a bad guy.”

“BFG?” He cocks his head. “Oh…” He chuckles again. “I’m friendly, don’t worry. I only get mad if you want to…”

“Fuck with you?” You cockily reply and mirror his smirk. “Hmm…I don’t think you could handle me, sweetie. I’m too much of a woman for most of the guys in town.”

His eyes scan your body at your words. He hums and drops his eyes to your ass. “I can handle any situation.” His face remains stoic, but his eyes give his dirty thoughts away. “Can I have a slice of the peach pie, ma’am?”

“Only if you never call me ma’am again,” you point a manicured finger at the giant. “People called my granny ma’am.”

“You don’t look like a granny to me,” he waves his huge hand to brush your concern off. “More like you are stranded in a place you don’t belong.” Ah, he tries to analyze you while checking your ass and tits out. “You’re not here for long.”

“Just like you,” you wink at him. “I’ll get you your pie now, and you better eat it up. It’s the best in town.”

“I bet he can break a bone only by grabbing you too hard,” Sally Ann watches the newbie eat his pie. “I wouldn’t want him to touch me. He looks like a brute.”

“No, sweetie,” you let your eyes wander from his broad shoulders, down to his wide back and further to his perfect ass, “he’s the kind of guy knowing how to handle a woman. I don’t think he underestimates his strength. The only problem is, he’s too big for my bed.”

“What?” Sally Ann squeaks. “Don’t tell me you want to take him home.”

“I’d take him anywhere he wants to go,” you nonchalantly admit. “It’s been ages since a real man tried to put his hands on me. This man over there has hands as big as our plates. He knows how to touch a woman.”

You bite your lower lip when he dips his head to look at you. He smirks and lifts the now empty plate. “Can I have another one?”

God, how you love a man who can eat. “Sure, sweetie,” you make your way toward him, swaying your hips on purpose. He glances at Sally Ann who looks a little scared. “How do you like your pie? Do you want some whipped cream too?”

He shrugs. “I’m not picky.”

“You can be picky,” you wink at him. “I won’t let you leave this town hungry and unsatisfied.”

His eyes darken at your words. “What can you recommend? What’s your specialty?”

“I asked you first,” you hold out your hand. “I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”

“Reacher,” he gruffly replies, but his hand takes yours. It’s huge in contrast to your hand, but warm and surprisingly gentle. “I’m here for…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” You hastily say. “I know you are not the kind of man answering questions. If you promise me to not cause trouble at the diner, you are always welcome here.”

“I can’t promise to not cause trouble but,” he squeezes your hand, “I promise that I’ll try not to cause trouble at your diner.”

“You know that this is my diner? How?”

“Sally Ann over there and the other waitresses always look at you for confirmation. The guests show more respect to you, and you don’t keep the tips. You put the money into the tip jar the waitresses share at the end of their shift.”

“You’re quite observant, Reacher.”

“I assume you took over the diner from your,” he searches your face. “Grandmother not so long ago. You still try to figure things out, but your pie tastes great.”

“She died six months ago. Granny left me her house, and the diner,” you sigh, and drop your gaze. “I left my well-paid job, and life behind. She was always good to me, and I didn’t bring it over me to sell the diner.”

“What was your job?” You’ve got the feeling the conversation turned out to be an interrogation.

“Aw, sweetie,” you wink at him, “if you want to know more about me, buy me dinner first.”

He watches you walk away, wondering if you have anything to do with the crime he investigates. Reacher shakes his head. No. You don’t look like a killer. And he doesn’t think for one second that you can break a guy’s neck.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” Sally Ann asks. She’s still intimidated by Reacher’s size or rather his cheer presence at the diner.

“Where’s Y/N?” He cocks his head to look for you.

“I don’t know. She looked pissed and went to the back entrance.”

“I-“ he gets his wallet out to throw money onto the counter. Reacher follows you out of the back entrace, searching for you.

“Whoa, watch your step,” you push your hands against his firm chest to stop him from running the poor dog over. “Hey, that’s his spot. You are not allowed to leave through this entrance.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. He's relieved that you are not on the run, because you are the killer. “I was looking for you. I didn’t want to piss you off asking about your job.”

“Huh? I didn’t leave because you asked me about my job,” you point out. “I saw that bastard from across the street chase this poor guy away. He was only looking for food.”

“Someone tried to hurt the dog?” He squares his jaw. “Who? What did they do?”

You crouch down to add water to the feeding bowl. “The owner of the fancy new restaurant across the street. He always shoos away the kids and pets. I don’t like that man.”

“Restaurant across the street. Got it,” he looks like he makes a mental note. “Is that little boy your dog?”

“He only comes around to get free food,” you smile as the stray feasts on the food you bought for him. “I wanted to take him home, but I guess he likes his freedom. He checks in once in a while to let me know he’s still alive.”

“A stray,” Reacher watches you pat the dog. “Maybe he’s scared of settling down. Someone must’ve chased him away before.”

“Hmm…” You nod thoughtfully and pat the dog’s head. “I only want to protect him. If he runs around town the guy from across the street will hurt him.”

“He won’t.” You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder. “I got a few things to take care of in town. Do you know a cheap motel?”

“I got a spare room I rent out,” you hastily say. “I mean, you could have it. It has got a bathroom too. You can use the kitchen if you clean it afterward. If you help me repair the sink, you can have it for free.”

He nods and holds out his hand to help you up. “I can’t tell you when I’ll be around.”

“Don’t worry,” you grab his hand to write your address on his hand. “You can come around anytime.” His eyes widen when you put a key in his hand next.

“You trust me enough to hand me a key to your home?” He looks surprised. “You’re a little careless.”

“Believe me,” you pat his chest, “I’m not careless, nor dumb. I know exactly who I let inside my house.”

Reacher quirks a brow at your words but doesn’t ask what you mean. You turn your attention back toward the dog, and he’s got work to do.

He will start with the restaurant owner across the street.

Part 2

All works tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superheroees-blog

@thevelvetseries

@anaelsbrunette

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@wally-darling-hyperfixation

@zxph-yr

@belovedcherry

@matsumama

@emoryhemsworth

@buckybarnesplumwhore

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​

@princesssterek​

@xoxabs88xox​

@wandering-spiritash​

@riathearora

@the-loml-got-nailed

@greeneyedblondie44​

@gh0stgurl​

@charmed-asylum​ 

@fallen-wolf22​

@thegirlnextdoorssister​

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187​

@black-rose-29​

@caplanbuckybarnes​

@wykkedwitch​

@sexicherri3​

@loki-laufeyson-1054​

@liloxclu

@km-ffluv​

@bubsonnobx

[yanderexchubbyreader]

yan!boss x chubby!secretary!reader

warnings: i don’t know what warnings to put lmao, creepy behaviours, reference to stalking at the end, he spoils you, digs through your trash and then jacks off to your photo, obsessive behaviours, no harm to reader but yan!boss has a shrine

~~~

- Imagine randomly getting a job offer as a secretary in a local business office in your town

- The email made the job sound amazing. Benefits, paid vacation days, and the lovey double digit an hour pay rate was just the cake on top

- You hoped that your first day would be easy, but upon meeting your boss, you realized that you didn’t just get hired by luck

- Yan!Boss is a little obsessive over you, and that’s a fact that you easily found out in 20 minutes

- He never left your side, usually invading your bubble and asking questions about your personal life, even some things that you felt a little embarrassed to talk about

- Any business trips, meetings or luncheons, Yan!Boss always has you in tow, treating you more like his wife rather than his employee

- Hell, he even pays for your nail and hair appointments, or practically forces you to take his credit card to spoil yourself silly, as long as you pick up something nice to wear in the office

- AKA something that shows off more of your chest and neck, and preferrably something a little short on the legs, as well

- He quickly rescinded that desire, firing 7 of his employees without hesitation for ogling your body when you came in a low cut dress that landed at your mid thigh

- You’d end up wearing his suit jacket to cover yourself, but maybe that was his plan all along

- Yan!Boss has no secrets about being obsessed with you, everyone in the office sees how he follows you like a puppy dog when you step away from your desk

- But they don’t understand just how deep that obsession goes, hell, you don’t even know what goes on in his office

- Until you stepped into the space one day, trying to deliver a file to your employer, when you stumbled upon something that just turned your stomach

- Yan!Boss has a little corner of his office just for stuff that reminds him of you

- You would have thought it was cute, if it wasn’t for the fact you saw the lipstick that you had been missing for weeks

- Along with a napkin that had said lipstick blotted on it

- And what you recognized was a collection of trash that he had collected from your bin, mainly straws and chewing gum wrappers that you disposed your old gum into

- And the worst part?

- Yan!Boss was indecent, his hand wrapped around his cock as he stared at a picture of you that he had printed and framed

- As quietly as you could, you just stepped back, closing the office door and rushing to your desk to gather your things

- He came out a few moments later, looking as normal as he did on a daily basis, immediately coming to your side as he noticed you packing up

- Feigning sick, you rushed away, denying his offer to take you home while trying to keep your voice from wavering

- You put in your two weeks as soon as you got home, already having decided you weren’t returning to the office so you didn’t have to look at your boss anymore

- Well… Sucks for you that he knows your address, huh?