In ❤w/ an orc named Nick Jakoby Plus Size Reader Imagines + Headcanons Fandoms: WWE Women ONLY SFW Teratophilia Avengers I write polyamorous fics BIG GIRLS NEED LOVE TOO
Inspired by this Tiktok and that account in general.
Bucky - softness that means realness, grounding, safety, comfort
Sometimes he needs to feel you, to remember what is real. When he wakes from a nightmare he pulls you into his arms, you back flush against his chest, nose buried in the crook of your neck and both hands grabbing the fat of your belly like an oversized plushie.
On other days he just lays his head on your softness and listens to your breathing, slowly falling asleep. And he promises himself that you will never have to be hard and cold, as long as he lives. And that he will always come back to you.
Steve - the beauty of it. Tries to draw it but is never satisfied (for reference, he would draw you like this)
He loves painting you. The way the sunlight accentuates your curves. How fabrics hug your body, instead of just falling down. He could spend days just watching you move around, mesmerized by your beauty. And he tries to capture the movement of your breasts when you giggle, the bouncing of your ass when you dance. Never getting it quite right.
Loki - everything he isn't and yearns for
He always trained his body and mind, never relaxed, never gave in. And instead of clashing with his walls and breaking you melt around him. He sees your softness as your strength, he is in awe of the way you hold radiate calm and comfort, how people make space for you, not because you command it, but because they want to. You are his opposite in so may ways and he is drawn to it. Finds himself wondering if a fabric is soft enough to be worthy of you, if a sweet treat would melt on your tongue just right and if you would allow him to kneel before you and let him worship you like the goddess he sees in you.
M'Baku - a mate that is strong and nourished, fit for the mountain winter and perfect fit in his arms
If you were skinny like the colonizers prefer, you would have a hard time in the mountains. But you aren't, you are nourished, you are well fed, because he feeds you like you deserve. Privilege of a king, to share his meals with you. Because you don't need him, you are capable and strong. His equal next to his throne and in his bed. Taking what you need, letting him work for you, and when your thick thighs wrap around his head, his hands grabbing your ass to pull you even closer, he wouldn't even mind to stay like this forever.
Yelena - precious, what she wasn't allowed to be, similar but different struggles, a home to return to
You almost became a fellow widow. It was just a coincidence you got away. And in a twisted way you became everything she wasn't allowed to be. A normal teenager. Struggling with societies beauty standards. If you ever found it strange to have a super secret assassin girlfriend, you didn't show. Leading a normal life for everyone else. But when Yelena comes home, you take a few days off and do all the normal things. Simple food, snacks and TV, cuddling, telling stories from work, making plans for the holidays, fixing things in the house. Sometimes you look at her, wishing your own body was a bit... less. And then she pats your belly and tells you how beautiful you are.
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Just some quick thoughts, because I needed to feel wanted and that tiktok gave me exactly that.
tags/warnings: witchcraft, again i did not proofread
summary: Jason dating a witch headcanons
a/n: i am a very spiritual person and i saw this prompt on pinterest and i just had to give it a shot. #ilovewitches also plz lmk if i made a mistake regarding any of the content or if it was harmful in anyway i'll take it down!
Jason who supports everything you do, even being a witch
Jason who sits and watches you cleanse your shared apartment so that no negative energy enters the home and invades his dreams. “I don’t need all this, just lay next to me and all the nightmares disappear.” he grabbed your waist and pulls you down towards the bed.
Jason who brings you random crystals he saw at the store (he just wants to be supportive) “I got you this pink one, the label said it had to do with love or something.” he shrugs sheepishly.
Jason, who gently takes interest in all your witchy activity “Wait so what does this crystal mean again?”
Jason who in every situation suggests you just hex everyone. Someone bumped into you? Hex ‘em. Damian snuck into your house again? Hex him. “Babe, i’m telling you just hex him he deserves it.” “I am not hexing your little brother Jason”
Jason who carries the charm of protection you made for him on every mission and every patrol
Jason who has gained a few habits from being with you “Jason! Let me in i’m bleeding out!” Tim clutches his side as he stands outside of your apartment building “Not until i smudge you! Now hold still!” no one was bringing bad energy into his house.
Jason who lets you do tarot card readings for him. “Haha Death card, been there done that.” he smirks and crosses his arms You just roll your eyes and smile “You’re such a dork”
Jason who leaves you alone during a full moon because he knows you have rituals to do. Instead he takes longer during patrol or sleepovers at the manor.
Jason who lights protection candles before he leaves for patrol so you stay protected
Jason who found a piece of paper with his name on in your socks. He didn’t question it and carried on doing the laundry
Jason who does an egg cleanse with you every month to see if anyone put evil eye on either of you
Jason who has become very intentional with his words after he started dating you “Tomorrow is gonna suck-” “Jason! Intentions!” he sighs before correcting himself “Tomorrow i will prosper, i will have fun and i will be happy.”
Park the shark x sunshine!reader. Her ex is admitted to the hospital due to an accident/injury. He was a toxic ex that would make her question her self image and shy and positive personality. Didn’t end on good terms and Park secretly has a soft spot for the reader. She somehow wormed her way into his heart (not that he’s complaining).
Asshole Ex | Brendon Park | The Pitt
Your life was good.
You had an amazing job, wonderful friends, an adorable cat named Thomas, and you were back on your own two feet. For a long time, you had been stuck in a relationship with a man who seemed to want nothing more than to bring you down with him. The relationship had taken seven years of your life, and you were determined not to let that God-awful man have a second more of your time.
And for six whole months you had managed to do just that.
You had left in the middle of the night, changed your phone number and any contact details. Accepting a job offer had been easy, a national shortage of doctors had multiple hospitals bidding for you. So you did what anyone would do; you packed up your car, and started your new life in Pittsburgh.
Not once did you hear from your ex, Jason. You weren't sure if it was because he couldn’t find you, or that he had not bothered. Not that you cared anyway. Life was so much better without that asshole in it. And you were determined to keep it that way.
Until today.
You heard him before you saw him. His voice rattled through the Emergency Department and he called Jesse an idiot for not giving him enough morphine, and how he would sue Dr Park and ‘everyone in this goddamn department for neglect.’ Six months ago, you would have frozen in fear, now you just wanted to get him out of your way as soon as possible.
“You alright, doll?” You heard Dana from behind you. “South 15 certainly is a screamer.”
You leaned back onto the counter of the nurses station, letting your head fall, trying to find energy to go and face the music. “Yeah, he always was.”
Dana cocked an eyebrow, “You know him? Seems like a nice guy.”
You let out a small laugh. Nice guy. That's what he used to say after putting you down ‘I’m only saying this to be kind, I’m a nice guy.’ “Yeah, he’s a real class act.”
You didn't wait for her to respond as you made your way over to South 15. Although you did allow yourself a final second of calm before you entered the room with a fake smile and sarcasm dripping from every word “Jason, what brings you here today? Broke another leg playing golf did we?”
“Well, look, someone’s gotten cocky. How are you, sugar? Miss me already.” His smug tone didn’t match the look of surprise on his face. He looked you up and down, and his gaze made your skin crawl. “Besides, I’m the victim here. I was attacked.”
“You started a bar fight. At 2 p.m. You are not the victim.” Dr Park scoffed, before turning to you and Jesse “He has a broken nose, and possibly a fractured rib where he fell onto the sidewalk. I’ll need to check it, though.”
Jason looked offended at Brendon’s words, although he kept his gaze on you. “I wouldn’t have started the fight if that bitch of a bartender would’ve given me another drink like a good girl. Although, you know nothing about that either, you never listened to me and now look at you. You think you got it made. You’re nothing; you’re just some doctor’s gopher- Ow! What the fuck-”
“Just checking the ribs. Hold still” Brendon did not look apologetic as he poked and assessed Jason’s ribs, grip much firmer than what could be considered necessary. “All good here. Jesse, stay with our patient here. Keep him in line.”
As he stepped away from the patient bed, Brendon gently grabbed your arm and brought you out with him. “What the fuck was that.”
“That was Jason. My ex. He is not my biggest fan.” You kept your voice straight. You weren't ashamed, not anymore.
Brendon looked at you in surprise, he couldn’t imagine someone as bright and happy as you with an asshole like him. Unfortunately, the shock of it all didn’t help stop him from saying that out loud. “You, seriously? You can do so much better than that jackass."
You nodded, but didn't say anything, listening out to Jesse telling Jason to behave or he will be sedated. You were definitely on Team Sedation, not that you would admit that aloud.
After a moment, you finally spoke. “As you can tell, Jason wasn’t the best boyfriend. He didn’t like that I had a more successful career than him. He wouldn’t accept that someone like me was a doctor. He would tell people I was just a receptionist. Not that there is anything wrong with-”
“I know, honey, but still.” Brendon rubbed the back of his neck, trying to pick his words carefully, “You didn’t deserve that.”
“I know. I left him six months ago. I moved here, I got a cat. All is good. I’m good.” You tried to reassure him, but the look on Brendon’s face was not reassuring. “It’s in the past. I’m moving past all the things he said.”
“What did he say?”
“Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?” You then tried to joke, but it didn't land. “Just drop it, Brendon, please, for me?”
And he did.
For now.
He watched you slip away into the chaos that was the ED, glad that you’re not working one-on-one with this Jason. He would be the buffer between you and him all day if he had too. He would do anything for you in a heartbeat. Always.
aang, in all his avatar glory, is not above tongue-fucking his cum right back into your quivering, convulsing pussy. his wide, stupefied eyes glow white as he licks and scoops and sucks with relentless devotion, lithe tongue sweeping across your folds with striking precision only a master of the four elements could possess. powerful arms pin your thighs against the mattress while roughened hands palm over your lower stomach, cradling the skin above your uterus with something almost reverent in their touch.
“it has to take. . .” he’s mumbling to himself, practically incoherent, but you can still hear the raw desperation threaded through his guttural chanting. “has to, has to, has to—!”
“a-aang, mmph! what’s wrong? did something happen on your trip—?” you whimper through the haze of overstimulation, hands scrambling against his shoulders as you search for something to ground yourself with. he’s been at it for hours, ever since he returned from his home air temple. had stormed into your shared bedroom with the doors rattling against the walls behind him, barely a greeting leaving his mouth before he was climbing over you, frantic hands shoving the hefty layers of his robes and beads from his body like they’ve suddenly become unbearable.
in mere seconds he had you flat on your back.
then on all fours.
and then on your side and everything else in between.
the room is in absolute shambles— feathers spilling from torn pillows and swirling through the air in frantic, whirling currents. the bed barely remains intact beneath you, headboard split apart and canopy hanging in splintered ruin, all of it unable to withstand the force of him as the elements hum beneath his tortured skin.
“aang, honey, are you— hah!— okay? talk to me, baby. please.”
what new revelation could he have possibly had for him to suddenly fold you into a million different positions?
and you tried to run, to tap out after the nth round, but did you really think you could escape the hold of an avatar in his avatar state? a handsome, beefy, six-foot-five, one-hundred-something kilogram man so utterly desperate to revive an entire bloodline, yet far too in love to want to do it with anyone else but you?
aang’s voice comes out rough, wrecked with pathetic want. “need to get you pregnant,” he finally admits, lips never leaving your twitching clit. “need it right fucking now.”
his sharp, unfamiliar words send a shiver down your spine.
he begrudgingly sits up, one hand keeping you spread for him while the other drags down his chiseled abs, ghosting over the twin downward arrows that curl just above his v–line. he fists his burly cock in slow, measured strokes as he readies another thick load, bright eyes trailing from your flushed face to your heaving breasts, tongue-in-cheek.
your heart jumps. you know that look. “aang, i know how much reviving air bending means to you, the duty you have to your people—” you start in an attempt to soothe.
because when he gets like this you tend to wobble for weeks.
he cuts you off with a dry, humorless chuckle. “you think that’s what this is about?” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing.
you could only gulp in response.
then, he’s rising above you, broad, muscular shoulders boxing you in as he settles between your thighs. the heavy heat of his dick presses against your sensitive, aching entrance, his incandescent gaze dragging over your face like he’s trying to memorize every expression, every shaky inhale.
mapping out your features in his mind with perfect, painful precision.
the realization that had struck him back at the temple as he looked at every mural, every worn painting and towering statue of the air nomads. they all looked like his people. familiar faces, familiar smiles, familiar eyes, familiar powers.
but none of them resembled you.
none carried the curve of your lashes or the little furrow in your brow when you worried. none had your laugh, the unique slope of your nose, your warmth, your favor for sour over sweet, your gentleness for children and particular bugs. and suddenly, the grief that sat in his chest for years changed shape entirely. because what would be the point of preserving the world he lost if, in doing so, he lost every trace of the person he loved most within it?
“this—this isn’t about me reviving airbenders or a duty to save my dying culture. this isn’t about avatar sonam or tagah or monk gyatso or anything that has to do with bending. this is about you and me and me wanting to start a family with you,” he states with that heavy, solid avatar voice of his. firm and sure, thumb brushing along your jaw, “this is about me making sure that a part of you will always exist in a world where the avatar exists. that your lips, your eyes, your soul. . . live on for eternity. so that every time i look into this world through the eyes of the new avatar, i can still see you. see you in our grandchildren, in our great-great grandchildren, in the people that will come to exist because we loved each other. . . to know that you’ll always be in my life someway, somehow.”
“aang. . .”
“i realize now that there will come a day when airbending returns, whether in our lifetime or long after we’re gone.” he presses his forehead against yours, tone softer despite the ache in his words. “i know that i’ll get to see that vision through the eyes of the avatars who will come after me. and if i keep chasing impossible answers, impossible resolves— if i keep throwing myself at a future i can’t force into existence— i’ll lose you in the process. i’ll waste the little time we’re given together. with our friends. with our children. the thought of losing you to time. . .”
it killed him.
you feel it. the shift in him. the sincerity behind every broken word, every trembling breath. the sheer despair that claws through him at the thought of you leaving nothing behind of yourself, of the love the two of you share. the regret he’d forever live with if he only prioritized the revival of air-bending or the kids that would inherit it. and the fact that he still hasn’t left the avatar state only makes it worse, every emotion stripped raw and vulnerable beneath glowing eyes and tattoos and shaking hands.
“so i vow now that i will never neglect your life or your culture for the sake of mine. whether we have airbending children or not. . . that is up to the universe.”
his hands cup your cheeks gently as he leans in, drawing you into a slow, sloppy kiss. you could only gasp softly when his tongue slips past your lips, kissing you like he’s trying to seal his fate with yours.
he slowly pulls away, thick fingers easing you open as he makes room for himself. “i can live without other airbenders. i can make due with the acolyte family we’ve founded. what i cannot live without is you. what i cannot imagine not ingrained in this world beyond my lifetime is you.”
aang smiles for the first time tonight, like the image in his mind was far more beautiful than anything he could’ve ever imagined. he sinks inside, massive and overwhelming, drawing a raspy breath from your lungs at the sheer stretch of him. still, you pull him closer, wanting nothing more than to feel the slow, heavy drag of him inside you.
“so for now,” he whispers, breath warm against your lips as he begins moving slowly, in and out, “all i want is a child with you. one that embodies everything that you are. one that will carry on your memory, your curiosity, your strength, your traits.” gone was the glow of the avatar state, the white fading slowly from his eyes until they were simply his again, fixed on yours with a tenderness so deep it was almost unbearable. “so i’m begging you. . . give me a baby that looks just like you.”
you cry out helplessly as he buries his face into your throat, holding you impossibly close. every stroke is long and deliberate, driven far less by hunger and more by an emotion too large for words. the slick of your arousal coats his balls as you helplessly grind against him, cunt fluttering around the girthiness of his base. you could feel all the veins that line him, tracing your walls as he fucked you like he needed you to breathe.
you blink back the tears threatening to spill. “b-but i do want our baby to be like you. i do want to help you—”
he shakes his head fervently, fingers tightening around you like he’s afraid you still don’t understand. “no. no,” he rasps, “i don’t want this to be some duty you carry for me. i want this because it’s us. because it’s the life we chose together. no obligations. no sacrifices.”
you feel the dampness at the corner of his eyes as he clings to you, hands roaming your body in a worship-like trance, as though he was reassuring himself that you were real and here and present and his. to have and to hold and to sink himself into when the world is in chaos.
“please,” he croaks hoarsely into your neck, voice cracking around the word, and the raw vulnerability in it makes your chest ache more than anything else ever could. “say you’ll give me a baby, sweetheart. say you’ll give me this one thing. even if they come without air-bending.”
a broken sound leaves your throat as you cling to his shoulders, nodding desperately against him, back arching into his warmth. “yes,” you breathe out shakily, fingers curling around his nape. “yes, yes, yes. of course, i will.”
the words—your defining proclamation—undo him entirely. he groans into the curve of your neck, holding you so tightly it almost hurts, every breath hot, cold, then hot again against your skin. he cums in thick, long spurts, coating your insides pearly white as you cream on his cock, legs caging him in. his tattoos begin to faintly glow once more as he shivers, hips still pumping his seed into you, forehead pressed beneath your jaw, as though he can’t bear even an inch of distance between you.
when he finally pulls back, his eyes have returned to their natural state, shining with something far softer than desire.
devotion, perhaps. a need to always keep you safe. to give you—and your children—a world that offers everything and takes nothing in return.
“i love you,” he murmurs softly, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face. he rests his forehead against yours again, eyes slipping closed as his heart, for once, is at ease. “thank you.”
your lips tremble into a tired smile, fingers curling weakly around his head. “you never have to thank me for loving you.”
though your words alone could never truly capture the depth of everything you’ve given him.
I remember you posted that you write alien vs predator now, so if possible could you write something about a yandere yautja x chubby!f!reader??? Like maybe she accidentally witnessed some them hunting on earth but as they were going to kill her another yautja grabbed her and ran or fought the others, he’s usually content just watching but she was threatened and he couldn’t stay away…. Or even just headcanons about them and what they’d be like as a partner
Sorry🫣
— Yandere Yautja with a female! chubby mate
Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about chubby reader, and yautja stuff.
A/N: I changed it up a bit and decided to write headcanons about having a darling who is chubby. I hope that’s alright :)
In his planet, or rather culture, female Yautja have a naturally larger and masculine build: muscular thighs, fit hands that’ll be thrown at anybody, and a good athletic build. But, since the day he saw you and touched you? He died at the second, and swore to protect you to all the Gods. And ensuring, you’d be his by the end of the night.
To get it easy — he sees no issue with your size. Generally sees you as a ‘plushy’ and more huggable, there’s nothing wrong with that.
But if he senses you being sad over your weight, he clicks in annoyance. How dare you insult yourself like that? Within seconds, he hikes you up on his shoulders by one hand, showing you that weight doesn’t mean a thing to him, so nor should you care.
It’s no surprise that Yautja’s love heat, and your beloved mate sees you as a heat source. He has to be touching you at every given moment, muzzling his face deeper into your belly rolls as you two sleep in.
Finds your stretch marks remarkable. Scars are a symbol of strength, and are praised highly in the culture and with your lovely Yautja, he views them as a form of scars.
Handsy to a capitalized H, and doesn’t know a thing of personal space. Your skin is so warm and soft, his paws squishing and handling you is his favorite hobby. Adores the scent you have, and uses your thighs as pillows.
Generally would love for you to go naked in the house. Nudity isn’t a source of shame in yautja culture, so he’d be confused if he sees you embarrassed. In all, he admires and wishes for the day to come; imagining himself pulling your clothes off, chirping and clicking in excitement as his hand covers your hips and addicting curves.
Very protective, and whilst that’s guaranteed with his aggressive stance, it’s mustered up a bit because of how gorgeous you are. He’s convinced that if any other ‘ooman, or yautja, sees you – they might get attracted and try to steal you away. He’s ready to fight and tear off limbs if must. Possessive to its finest.
Treats you with the finest things he can find and cook. He cooks you amazing food, ones that leave your mouth salivating, and wakes you up with breakfast in bed; admiring your sleep figure and messy hair from awakening.
Loves to dress you up in clothes, especially if it’s in pelts that he hunted for you. Admires looking at you from behind, smiling like he’s made the day, and stares you down like a mad-man. You’re just so cute, ‘ooman.
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Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!
(thinking of dragon john price wanting your chubby self as an addition to his hoard 😩)
The first time John Price walks into your café, it’s because he needs something strong to shake the weariness from his old bones. The bell above the door chimes, and the warmth of roasted beans and sugar wraps around him like a comfort he didn’t know he needed.
And then he sees you.
You’re behind the counter, moving with easy confidence, soft hands making quick work of a steaming pitcher of milk. There’s a warmth in your smile when you greet him, eyes bright, cheeks plush and inviting. Something in his chest tightens- something ancient, something hungry.
He doesn’t speak at first, just rumbles out his order in that low, gravelly timbre of his, but he watches you. The way your hands move, steady and capable. The way your curves shift as you reach for a cup, the fabric of your uniform stretching over the swell of your stomach, your hips. You’re soft. Lush. And suddenly, John forgets what it was he came in for beyond you.
The coffee you place in front of him is perfect. He barely tastes it.
After that, he starts coming in more often.
At first, it’s under the excuse of needing a pick-me-up before work, but then it becomes something else entirely. A routine. A habit. A hoarding. He brings trinkets sometimes- small things, barely noticeable at first. A shiny coin from some distant country, left on the counter as a tip. A sleek, carved wooden bracelet he insists on you wearing. A packet of specialty tea, even though this is a coffee shop, because he thought you might like it. And you do, the smile you give him always so pretty, so soft, like most humans are, except none of them is you.
It’s instinct, this need to gift, to gather, to keep.
And when other men linger too long at the counter, when they smile at you just a little too wide, John bristles. His shoulders square, big wings soreading ever so slightly, the scales along his tail sharpening. He makes himself big, more than he already is, and lets his presence fill the space until they think better of their flirting and take their coffee to go.
He doesn’t like them looking at what’s his.
Not yet, not officially- but he’s working on that.
Because you don’t know it yet, his sweet barista, but John has already made up his mind. You belong with him, with them. In his hoard, where he can keep you warm and safe, where he and his men can adore you properly.
You just haven’t figured it out yet.
(Reblogs for more)
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