I read ur rules, and I THINK this should be okay, but could I request a chubby fem reader x chuuuya ?
She's basically just feels insecure because she saw someone who she thought was better looking taking to him at a bar so she gets all into her head about it and basically pushes him away and it takes him a second to realize his gf is pushing him away and when he says something about it, it ends up in a huge argument and she ends up storming out of the house and HOURS later coming back, tells him the truth and he freaks out cuz HOW COULD ANYONE BE MORE PERFECT THAN HIS BABY
definitely angst/comfort. You can interpret the argument how you like, but I'm thinking that reader argues he was flirting (he wasn't) with this person in the bar and uses it during their argument. If ur feeling up to it, slightly smut LMAO
first time requesting something, kinda nervous 😝
you, every time — chuuya x fem!reader
cw: mentions of body insecurity & comparison, chubby reader, nsfw, arguing, hurt and comfort, pet names, slight fluff turning semi nsfw/suggestive at the ends
it started with something small. it always did.
the bar was loud, dim, gold light catching on glass and laughter, and you were sitting just a little off to the side of Chuuya, nursing a drink you had barely touched.
you noticed her before you meant to.
she was pretty in a way that felt… easy. effortless. the kind of pretty that didn't seem like it had to fight for it. fitted dress, soft laugh, leaning just a little too close when she talked to him.
and chuuya—god—he was just being himself.
charming without trying. answering her, smirking a little, tipping his glass back. he wasn't leaning in, not touching her, not doing anything wrong.
but your brain didn't care about logic. it never did when it was like this.
because she looked like someone who fit beside him.
you looked down at yourself, the way your dress fit, the way your body curved in places you’d learned to hide, to cover, to shrink. your chest tightened. you didn't say anything. you just… went quiet.
“hey,” he murmured, nudging your knee under the table. “you good?”
you hummed something noncommittal. didn't look at him. didn't look at her. he frowned, but the moment passed. or at least—it pretended to.
it didn't actually explode until later. it didn’t even start as a fight.
small things, at first—shrugging off his touch, answering with one-word replies, turning your body away when he tried to pull you closer. chuuya noticed, of course. he always noticed.
“what’s going on baby?” he asked finally, voice gentle and confused.
“don’t give me that,” he said, his tone lower this time. “you’ve been acting weird all night.”
you laughed, but it came out wrong. thin. brittle. “maybe i just don’t feel like being all over you tonight.”
his brows pulled together. “since when?”
“since you were flirting with her.”
it came out sharper than you meant. harsher. like you had been holding it between your teeth all night and it finally cut you open on the way out.
“at the bar,” you pushed, arms crossing tight over yourself. “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”
his brows knit together, confusion flickering in his expression. “i don’t, baby. i was talking, that’s it.”
“yeah?” your laugh was hollow. “you looked pretty comfortable.”
“because i was having a normal conversation,” he shot back. “what, i’m not allowed to talk to people now?”
“like what?” he said, “you’re being vague as hell, doll.”
because you couldn't say it. you couldn't say she looked better than me. you couldn't say i felt invisible sitting right next to you. you couldn't say i kept thinking you’d realize you could do better.
so instead, you went for the worst possible thing.
“sure i am,” you muttered. “because she was definitely the kind of person you’d go for, right?”
that hit something, you saw it in the way his jaw tightened.
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
you hesitated just for a second, but the damage was already there, sitting bitterly on your tongue.
“she’s prettier than me,” you said, quieter now, but heavier. “it’s not exactly hard to see.”
and for a second, you almost wished he’d just get angry. yell. say something sharp enough to cut through the mess in your head—instead, chuuya just… stared at you, like he was trying to process how the hell you got from point a to that.
like he didn’t recognize what you were saying.
“you actually think that?” he asked.
you looked away. “i’m not blind, chuuya.”
“no,” he said, voice tightening, “you’re just wrong.”
“am i?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “because from where i was standing—”
“from where you were standing,” he cut in, stepping closer, “you decided what i was thinking without asking me once.”
“i shouldn’t have to ask—”
“yeah, you should!” his voice finally broke through, just a bit louder now, edged with something raw. “because clearly whatever’s going on in your head isn’t reality.”
that stung more than it should have.
“fine,” you said, grabbing your jacket. “if i’m so disconnected from reality, maybe you should go find someone who isn’t.”
“don’t twist this, don't just shut down after throwing accusations at me—”
but you were already moving.
“no, i’m not leaving it—”
the door slammed harder than you meant it to.
the night cooled into something quieter, streets emptier, your anger long gone—it left something deeper, doubt, guilt, that hollow feeling in your chest that made everything ache. by the time you came back, your hands were shaking.
the apartment was quiet, and the lights were still on. chuuya was on the couch—head tilted back. there was an ashtray next to him, and you could see faint dark circles under his eyes.
“you’re back,” he said, not angry, but not relieved either. just… steady.
the silence stretched, then snapped.
“what the hell was that baby?” he said quietly, standing now. “you disappear for hours over something i didn’t even do—”
“i know,” you said quickly. ".. i know you weren’t flirting."
his eyes narrowed slightly. “then why say it?”
... you forced yourself to keep going.
“…because she was pretty,” you admitted. “she looked… perfect, and i just kept thinking—why would you choose me over someone like that, when she looked like someone who makes sense next to you?"
that lands softer. but deeper. there's silence again. then—
“are you serious right now?”
“baby", he cut in, stepping closer again, hands coming up to cup your face. “look at me."
you hesitated, bet met his eyes. and god, he looked… almost offended.
“do you even hear yourself? how could anyone be more perfect than you for me? genuinely? ” he asked, sounding almost flabbergasted.
you shook your head, eyes stinging. “it doesn’t feel like that.”
“yeah, well, it should,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his voice softer now, but no less intense. he paused for a second, giving you time to pull away again. you didn’t. “do you have any idea how i see you?”
you went still. his voice dropped to something more raw, “because it’s not… whatever the hell you’re telling yourself.”
“i see you and I see the girl I've chosen. and I'll choose you everyday. with all i have. you think i’d throw that away over some random person at a bar?” he said, quieter now. “you think that’s all it takes?”
you shook your head again, this time because you couldn’t trust your voice.
his hands slid down to your arms, then to your waist. “you don’t get to decide what i want for me,” he added, his grip tightening just a little.. “and i want you. got it?”
he said it gently, but it was real. you nodded briefly, shifting closer, closing the space you’d created hours ago, your forehead pressing lightly against his chest, just now realizing how much you had missed this familiar warmth.
“don’t do that again sweetheart,” he muttered into your hair. “just… talk to me.”
“not ‘try’,” he corrected softly. “do.” you huffed a quiet laugh against him. “bossy.”
and then he pulled you in properly—solid and grounding, arms wrapping around you like he had been waiting to do it all night. you pressed into him, forehead against his collarbone, breathing him in. his hand slid up your back, slow, reassuring—fingers splaying like he was memorizing you.
“…i’m sorry,” you murmured.
he exhaled, tension finally easing out of him. “yeah, you better be.” he muttered, and you could hear the faint smirk curling on his lips just hearing his voice.
your hands curled into his shirt without thinking—his grip softened, thumbs brushing slow, absent circles into your hips. there’s a shift, then.
his gaze dipped, just for a second, to your lips—then back up.
“you done pushing me away?” he murmured.
he tilted your chin up again, softer this time. and leaned down.
his mouth caught yours softly and gently, his hand stayed at your waist, thumb pressing just slightly, grounding you there while his lips move slow, steady—nothing rushed, nothing careless, it's deliberate, like he's trying to prove something.
his hand cupped your face with a kind of fragile awe, like he forgot how soft your skin felt under his fingers, the other one sliding down to your ass while he hooked a thigh between your legs, pulling you flush against him.
you gasped against his mouth, hands coming up to his shoulders, clinging to him before you could think. he groaned, grinding against you slow, just enough pressure to make you whimper.
he hummed, biting your lip lightly with a smirk before letting go, making you gasp. he pulled back just enough, voice rougher, "let me make you forget all about it yeah?" I'll give you somethin' else to cry 'bout my love"
you stared at him with wide, glassy eyes, fingers tightened in his shirt. your slick lips parted instinctively, pink tongue coming out to wet them before answering, voice all high and breathy,
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