I've been following the updates for a plus size!reader fic for a while and, look, I don't wanna tell anyone how to write about their own body, but as someone who is plus size...
Please don't make the character's weight a constant joke or plot point. If it's one or two things here and there, sure, I get it. Our size shapes our experiences and the way we move and interact with the world.
But it's insanely disheartening to read about a plus size character who is constantly being compared to "humpty-dumpty" or who discusses getting dressed up in terms that make it clear that she feels like this is a "lipstick on a pig" situation.
Fat bodies can be graceful and strong and flexible and balanced just like skinny bodies. They're not awkward or gawky. It doesn't need to be pointed out every time they're naked that they have stretch marks or cellulite.
If you feel the need to do it once, sure. Body worship/reassurance scenes can, sometimes, be affirming. But doing it every single time begins to feel reductive. Like that's the whole of the experience we can expect in a fat sex life. Apologizing for our bodies and being met with chronic, over the top reassurance.
In reality, I've never experienced a man commenting on that stuff.
Generally, they're WAY too preoccupied with the pair of boobs in front of them or getting my underwear off so they can get between my thighs to notice shit like stretch marks or dimpled skin. Hell, most of them don't even notice the big fucking tattoo I've got on my back (and I prefer positions where that would be staring them in the face!)
Let fat characters have realistic sex lives that don't revolve around our bodies ffs.
This is a follow up to The Heart of a Mandalorian.
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You shifted your hips, seeking friction, his very hard cock moving a bit inside you.
“Din, please fuck me? Please?” The quiet plea, big puppy eyes, soft body splayed beneath him…he knew this was it. He was yours, and he would be for as long as you'd have him.
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ShyVirginDin! x plus size reader
So, had some MOAR big, sweet, inexperienced!Din thots that needed written down. Y'all, this has been written and re-written and I may have a new grey hair. But I think I'm happy with it now.
SHOUT OUT TO @lowlights FOR BEING A FUCKING SAINT AND READING THIS OVER FOR ME. BLESS YOU, CHILD. BLESS YOU.
Word count: 3,850
WARNINGS: THIS IS 18+ PEOPLE. NO MINORS. If you’re under 18, seriously, go away. This is for your protection and mine. I’ll be blocking anyone without an age in their bio. LOTS OF SMUT. I don’t wanna give anything away, so read at your own risk. It’s all sweet and fluffy smut, but know that I’m choosing not to put any more warning than that. Wrap it up hon, don’t be a fool wrap your tool and all that stuff. This is fiction, be safe out there.
Reader is plush, and around Din’s age. f!reader, piercing and tattoo mentions.
✨✨Reader in this fic can visibly blush, and I was informed that not everyone can do that. I want everyone to feel welcome here! I just wanted my readers to be aware, and I want y'all to know I will be more mindful of this in the future.✨✨
If there's anything else I can improve on to make everyone comfortable, please feel free to send me a dm! 💗
Part one of this story, if you missed it here! <Part 1
Masterlist
You inhaled deeply through your nose, languidly stretching your stiff arms above your head and rolling your ankles around under the thin blanket. Your sore bones creaked and popped. Huffing out a little grunt, your gaze drifted down to your naked breasts, where a tangled mess of brown curls was nestled between them. A big, warm hand lay splayed and heavy on your hip. Smiling and tracing a ringlet with your finger, you allowed your other hand to ghost over the slow rising and falling of the strong, broad back facing you.
You’d never seen him asleep before, and had honestly wondered if the man ever actually slept at all. Always up before you, and still up when you went to bed. Seeing him resting so deeply, even when you’d stretched and wiggled around, he obviously never slept well. You’d either tuckered him out, or made him feel relaxed and safe enough to truly fall into a deeper slumber.
You sighed, and drifted in and out of a light sleep till Din’s breathing changed, and he began to stir. He gripped your dimply hip as he yawned, huffing a warm breath over your chest. Your face split into a smile at the feeling of his stubble against you, subtly shivering as goosebumps bloomed across your body.
Your eyes opened in enough time for him to look up at you with drowsy eyes and a lazy grin. He growled, and nuzzled into your warmth. Shifting a little to snuggle up as closely as possible to your body, he threw his big leg over yours, groggily bucking his hips against your upper thigh. You grinned, feeling his morning erection against you.
"Mmmmm…Ner kar'ta, you're so soft,” he rumbled against the breasts he’d buried himself between, the words muffled a bit.
You hummed back at him and chuckled sleepily, content just to hold him close to you as long as he'd let you.
His big paw drifted down the length of your leg and back up, brushing over your mound and petting the fuzzy hair there. You watched him as he carefully threaded his fingers through your wiry curls, making the hairs stand up taller before delicately petting them to lay flatter. He was entranced by the little bushy patch, fascinated by the way it felt to touch you there, your skin so smooth and delicate underneath the coarse hairs.
A gentle buzz of adoration warmed your chest, and you murmured a question.
"What are you thinking about, lovely man?"
He brushed his lips across your ribs in a light kiss, continuing to tenderly swirl your curly hair around one of his thick fingers for a few quiet moments before answering you.
"Soft," he murmured, “you’re just so beautiful and soft, my heart.”
He was still for another minute or so, then looked up at you, his eyes glassy.
“Stars…So are you, Din. So beautiful.”
There was a tremble in your voice, emotions welling up at the endearment he’d been using for months. His feelings for you were written all over his sweet face, unable to hide them any longer under the helmet. You pushed a curl away from his eyes, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and smiled through blurry eyes. Sniffling, you sent a short prayer of thanks to the Mother Goddess for throwing this man in your life’s path.
Slowly, you opened your legs enough to give Din some more room, gasping as he slid his middle finger through your slick. Gently, he cupped you with his broad hand. You tugged at the curls near the base of his skull, producing a grunt and a hard rut from him.
"So wet, mesh'la. How do you get so kriffing wet?" He was mumbling against your chest between little experimental flicks of his tongue.
He bounced you forward a little with the force of his next few thrusts, sliding his finger over your slit. Your hips lifted, and you cursed, chasing the teasing digits as he nipped gently at the tender flesh on the side of your breast.
You shivered as two thick fingers easily slipped in. You felt him shiver in response, tiny bumps erupting all over his heated skin. He groaned as you whimpered and writhed. You parted your legs as wide as they could go for him, an invitation to do whatever he wished.
You pulled his face up to yours for a kiss. It was frantic, messy, both of you still clumsy from sleep but so full of need. He pressed his palm into your throbbing clit unthinkingly, trying to shift himself to reach your lips easier. He growled and swallowed up the broken moan that escaped your throat, and it was at that moment he seemingly remembered he had two fingers knuckles-deep in your cunt.
He began thrusting slowly, wanting to feel every inch of you. You squirmed, breathlessly whining against his parted lips, before slotting your mouth to his, diving into a long string of inelegant but enthusiastic kisses. The wordless moans and contented sighs came together, creating a symphony that echoed through the ship.
You felt as though you were fully engulfed in the most beautiful bonfire, a raging inferno of Din inside and around you, draped over your entire being. You felt something in him shift slightly, becoming greedy in his kisses, a little harsher with his fingers. He set a fast pace, his palm slapping your clit at every pass, every sharp pat against your swollen nub sending electricity up your spine.
"You gonna give this to me? I want it, ner kar'ta. I want it-" he was growling in your ear, his husky tone sending shockwaves all the way to your core. In the space of five minutes, he had you crowing his name and soaking his hand and the bed beneath you.
He never stopped pumping his fingers, working you right through the aftershocks. You felt his heated length slip and slide gracelessly up your hip, all slick with pre-cum. His desperate sounds grew louder, and you began to tingle, knowing you're about to tip over into another, stronger orgasm, babbling to him as you pressed his head into you. He suckled on you harshly and groaned into your skin as he continued to clumsily rut.
“You’re so fucking beautiful Din, you know that? So sssweet, oh kriff-” You bucked beneath him, clutching at his shoulders, whining and muttering praises, “So fucking, s-soo, fuck fuck FUCK, kriffing, fuck yes-”
Din growled, rutting himself against you as you begged him again, not for anything in particular, though he knew what you needed.
You sucked in a long gasp, lifted your hips high, letting out all the air in your lungs through a long, low groan. Distantly, you thought you heard a loud wet sound, wondering in the back of your mind what it could’ve been. You felt yourself gushing, gushing, gushing, screaming Din’s name, clutching wildly at him. He pressed your hips down as you gasped for air. He’d stopped rubbing himself against your hip to gape at you open mouthed, awe written across his features. His own orgasm had been right on the brink, but was now completely forgotten.
You shivered and moaned as his hand left your soaked heat and rested atop the wet curls. He surveyed the bed, your legs, his arm, the wall…
“Kar’ta? Are you? Uhm. What was that?”
You giggled wildly, still high on endorphins.
“You, Din-” taking a deep breath, and sighing contentedly, you tried again.
“You did something no one else has been able to make me do. That was…that was amaaazing.”
His eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline.
“So, that reaction was good?” He narrowed his eyes and grinned playfully at you. He arched an eyebrow and motioned with his head to the mess you'd made together.
You made a tiny shrug of your shoulders, and felt your face flush even warmer, realizing the wet sound had been you.
You smirked, hooked your leg over his middle, slowly rolled over onto him, and laid him flat on his back. Your soaking wet cunt pooled heat down his soft belly, his grin faltered and he moaned, his still rock-hard cock brushing against your slick bottom. Sliding down his body, you straddled his narrow hips. He shuddered and clung hard to your thighs, fingers flexing against the supple muscles over and over as you began to rock, slipping him through your slick sex with a lewd squelch.
He looked wild, manic, eyes wide, mouth open as he panted your name over and over. He looked down at where you were pressed against him, a broken groan ripping from his throat when his leaking, dark purple head peeked through your lips every time you rocked backward. He reached up to palm one of your breasts, mumbling gruffly in broken Mando’a.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then cursed harshly in huttese when you stopped rocking just as his panting had become ragged.
“Look at me, Mandalorian.”
His eyes flew open at the quiet demand, a ragged whine escaping from the back of his throat. You began rubbing your thumb over the sensitive skin of his frenulum, gathering your slick and his pre-cum to use as lube to skate over the tender spot. He watched you, completely enthralled as you teased the head of his dick. It twitched at your touch, poking out from the silken warmth of your body.
You eventually moved both of your hands to his broad chest, bent down, and planted a searing kiss on his lips. You licked into his mouth, moaning when he rolled your nipple between his thick, calloused fingers. He flicked your tongue with his, growling your name from deep within his chest, not noticing the small movement of your hands near his pelvis. When you lifted your hips and slipped him inside your slick depths, he gasped, choking out the endearment he'd given you.
"Fuck, ner kar'ta. Fuck."
He squeezed your thigh and breast so hard at the new sensation of filling you up, that you knew you’d bear bruises for weeks. He wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you still as he gasped for air.
He sobbed into your neck at the feel of you, how hypersensitive he was, how everything felt like electric jolts of raw pleasure surging through his body. You were a living storm cloud, engulfing him, electrifying him, smothering him in a thick mist of ecstasy. He knew now what he'd only dreamt about for months, how fucking incredible you felt. He didn't want any of it to end, writhing and clinging to you, muttering a mix of nonsense and what sounded a little like snippets of prayers against your skin.
You whispered into his hair and kissed his neck between breathy moans of praise. You told him how beautiful he was, how strong, how sweet, how much you loved the feeling of him surrounding you, of how incredible he felt deep inside you.
"Gorgeous man, so thick aren't you? Gods, you fill me up so well, Din…"
Once he'd calmed somewhat, you rose up and placed both of his hands back on your hips. Bracing yourself on his shoulders, you began rocking again, very slowly at first. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he shivered. He mumbled something about not lasting long. You chuckled at him.
"Beautiful boy, you've already given me the best orgasm I've ever had. I'm ready to make you fucking-” thrust, “lose-” thrust, “it-” thrust.
His eyebrows knit together as his head rolled back and hit the pillow. Raggedly breathing, he puffed short breaths through his parted lips. He tried desperately to keep his orgasm at bay, needing to last as long as possible.
"I don't want you to hold back, handsome."
Leaning down again to nip and kiss at his neck and chin, you paid special attention to the exposed skin in the bare parts of his short beard. You kissed every little patch where whiskers refused to grow, and Din blushed. As a teen, he'd hated how thin and sad it had come in, losing hope as the years went by that it would grow fully. It's not like anyone else but him could see it, but it still felt…less than manly. You lit him aflame as you nibbled those little shameful spots, rumbling your pleasure as you did so.
Hmm, maybe patchy’s not so bad.
He smiled and basked in the warmth of your adoration.
You had not paused in the lazy roll of your hips, still reveling in the beautiful sensation of being so incredibly full of your Mandalorian. You whispered something against his neck that made him freeze in place.
"I've got an implant, so fill me up, shiny. I wanna drip with you for days."
Din made a strangled sound in his throat, wrapped his arms around you again, and easily flipped you on your back. He did it so quickly, your breath hitched in your throat, and you squeaked in disbelief as you landed. He then grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one of his huge hands. His eyes were pressed closed, his hips flush against your ass as he calmed his breathing. Taking huge lungfuls of air as he kept you caged to the bed with his heavy frame.
After a few minutes his eyes opened, staring at something beyond your head.
"Din?" You whispered tentatively.
You shifted slightly under him, which finally caught his attention, his gaze snapping to your face. His brows un-furrowed, his lips curling into a cheeky grin. The apples of his cheeks bloomed a rosy pink before he leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. He whispered in a low tone against your lips,
"I think it's my turn now, ner kar'ta."
You nodded silently, letting him kiss every inch of your face, he made sure not to miss a single freckle or smile line.
Time seemed to slow down, every tiny detail coming into laser focus. A single droplet of sweat glistened in the low light as it dripped lazily down Din's temple. The muscles in his neck drawing taut, his unfairly long eyelashes brushing his rosey cheeks, the bud of his tongue wetting his lower lip and making it shine.
You felt him pulse deep inside and you whimpered in pleasure. Din's eyes fluttered open, his gaze wandering over you. He released your outstretched arms, his hands gently skating down, down, touching scars, caressing stretch marks. He loved the silvery sheen of them against the light, reminding him again of a heavenly body, of stars streaking across the night sky, an aurora borealis dancing across your skin. He ran his fingers across them, his light touch skimming your plush tummy. He smiled when you gasped and wriggled beneath him.
“Tickly,” you whispered, as he brushed his fingertips over your little navel bar. He liked how it twinkled in the light.
You loved that he seemed to enjoy what you called imperfections. He didn’t turn a blind eye and pretend not to see them. He genuinely liked them, he called attention to them, touching them with reverence.
“Bid mesh'la, cyar'ika…”
He’d propped himself up on his knees, looking down at you. His hands were finally still, sitting atop your bent knees after tracing every single silver mark, scar, and freckle he could see. He’d followed the lines of the tattoo between your breasts with his fingers, kissing the cluster of stars in the center when he was finished. He’d seemingly paused in his exploration of you, so you reached down, scritching at the wiry hair beneath Din’s bellybutton. He jerked slightly at the sensation with a muffled grunt.
"Tickly," he whispered back to you with mischief in his eyes.
Logging that information away for later…
You shifted your hips, seeking friction, his very hard cock moving a bit inside you.
“Din, please fuck me? Please?” The quiet plea, big puppy eyes, soft body splayed beneath him…he knew this was it. He was yours, and he would be for as long as you'd have him.
Steeling himself, his heart thumping hard in his ears, he gingerly hooked his hands under your knees, lifting them up and pressing them close to your body. It seemed to work in erotic holos, so he figured, why not? You watched, entranced by how tenderly he was handling you. He had suddenly become shy again, avoiding your eyes, fidgeting.
He was hesitating.
You caressed his knuckles, trying to bring him back, drawing him out from the depths he'd crawled down into. His head cast down, he glanced down at you through his lashes. Your heart skipped a beat, a breath hitched in your throat.
"What if I’m no good at this part?"
You let out the breath you were holding and chuckled.
"You'll never know till you try."
You winked at him, and the stress he was holding in seemed to dissipate, melting into a dimpled smile. You lifted your arms, reaching for him, bringing him down to snuggle into your embrace. You swiped that same curl away from his eyes again to plant a tender kiss on his forehead. He sat up after a moment, braced himself on his forearms, and looked down at you with a watery smile. He kissed the tip of your nose, closed his eyes, and began to move.
Your eyebrows knit together as he began slowly rolling his hips, pulling and pushing into you. You took in the breathtaking sight of him, strong and vulnerable all at once. He whimpered and bit his lip, his broad shoulders rippling as he slowly rolled his hips forward, stuffing you full.
You moaned in unison, which encouraged him to pick up the pace. Before long he was rutting into you, leaving all thoughts of being slow behind. Or even gentle, for that matter. He was growling, baring his teeth, wrenching the mattress with his fists and fucking you.
The loud slapping of skin on skin making his blood boil, his voice rasping as he strung together every curse word in every language he knew as he roughly pumped into you.
Suddenly, one of you shifted very slightly. His hips stuttered as he slipped out and banged himself against your pelvis. You both grunted in pain, his heavy head thumping against your chest as he groaned and fisted the sheets beneath you. You panted for a couple of heartbeats, and then patted his head.
“Hey, are you ok Din?”
He groaned, long and low.
“Hey, I’m ok, I promise.”
He pushed himself back onto his forearms, face to face with you again. His face was extremely red, from his scalp down to his neck.
“Did I mess it all up?”
His voice was so small. You leaned up to peck him on the lips, and rub your nose against his.
“No, sweet boy. You didn’t mess it up. This kind of thing happens even with more experienced people. If you’re okay, we can keep going. I swear, I’m fine.”
He took a deep breath, fumbled a little bit getting himself back in, and started thrusting into you again. He started out slow, getting himself good and slick, then picked up the pace to where he was before. Rutting into you hard, he’d found a good rhythm, and angled his hips just right. He was catching your spot, pressing that little button over and over again. Your orgasm immediately began to build back up to a devastating degree.
Your nails scratched down his back as you moaned, he hissed and snarled as you cried out, shaking violently and gushing around him. You soaked his cock, screamed his name, squeezed him so incredibly hard and locked him in place. He made a strangled noise and went entirely stiff, spurting over and over into you. Filling you up till it spilled out from around his still-pulsing length.
Din’s whole body was practically vibrating above you as he moved through his aftershocks, sweat was pouring from him, and he was filling his lungs with every breath. You began to relax, enjoying the feeling of his broad chest expanding and retracting against your breasts. You felt like you were melting into the bed, your limbs relaxing, your body so tired again. He softened, eventually slipping himself out of you with a quiet grunt. You tucked his face under your chin and against your neck, petting his hair and humming a nameless tune. Distantly, you heard him say something, and you jolted. You must have dozed off for a second.
“Hmm?” Your eyes were closed and your voice was raspy.
“My heart…can we do it again?”
You chuckled and opened one eye to peer down at his earnest, eager face.
“I need a snack first. Hell, maybe another nap too, and I dunno about you, but I’m covered in bodily fluids.” His eyebrows scrunched together, the gears in his brain almost audible. He hoisted himself up and crawled out of the bunk. You heard him pad through the ship, fumble around in the bathroom for something, then the tinkling sound of water running.
He reappeared with a steaming hot washcloth. He arched his eyebrows and gestured, silently asking permission. You nodded and smiled tiredly. He gently wiped you up, making sure not to miss a single spot. Once he was sure you were all clean, he wiped himself down and tossed the washcloth into the laundry bin. He disappeared again, and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, Din was gently shaking you awake.
“Here you go, mesh’la. Eat and drink before you fall asleep again.”
He helped you sit up and handed you a rations bar in your favorite flavor. You smiled at him, remembering the fact that he’d always stop at one particular vendor on one specific planet just to stock up on these for you. You happily munched together, leaning close and kissing tenderly every few bites. You passed the water vessel back and forth once you were finished eating, the both of you guzzling it down like you’d crawled across a heated desert floor for a week.
Once your bellies were full, thirsts were quenched, and bladders attended to, you hunkered back down together to nap. He lay you down on his chest this time, threading his fingers through your hair, languidly caressing your smaller hand splayed out on his chest. He smiled and sighed deep. He didn’t know it was possible to be so incredibly happy.
“Once I wake up from this power nap, you’re so gonna get it, Din.” He chuckled, your drowsily slurred attempt at a sexy threat falling way short of its mark.
“Looking forward to it, ner kar’ta.” He kissed your forehead, wrapped the blanket around the two of you, and closed his eyes. Tiny, breathy snores lulled him to sleep in no time, and he fell into a deep, restful slumber, dreaming of your sweet smile and kind eyes.
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Mando'a translations
Kar'ta - Heart
Mesh'la - Beautiful
Ner Kar'ta - My Heart
"Bid mesh'la, cyar'ika." - So beautiful, sweetheart.
Summary: Alternate first meeting between the Winchester brothers and Ash, featuring the Reader, Ash’s plus size wife.
Rated: Mature - sexual references/situations
Read on AO3
Please consider buying me a coffee
y/h/l = your hair length
y/h/c = your hair colour
y/e/c = your eye colour
“We could really use all the help we can get.”, Sam said.
“Well, we can’t.” Ellen told them, “But Ash will.”
“Who’s Ash?”, Sam asked.
“Ash!”, Ellen hollered.
The man who had been asleep on top of the pool table when the brothers had entered the bar abruptly awoke, briefly thrashing in disorientation.
“What?”, The recently awoken man called back, “Closing time?”
Sam looked to Jo in disbelief, “That’s Ash?”
“Mhm.” She replied, “He’s a genius.”
Just then a woman emerged through the swinging kitchen doors. She was beautiful with (y/h/l), (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) eyes, and a full figure that boasted of wide, voluptuous hips. Her thick thighs were wrapped snugly in dark, high-waisted denim paired with a cropped black tank, and a plaid long sleeved shirt draped around her waist.
And she was carrying a full plate piled high with sausage, bacon, eggs, toast and hashbrowns.
Dean had never been in love, but he thought this might be what it felt like.
Ash smiled when he caught sight of the beautiful creature gliding across the floor towards him, “Is that my gorgeous wife, my Goddess of Sunshine, bringing me breakfast?”
Dean was pretty sure that his brain straight up short circuited when he heard the dishevelled man before him refer to this absolutely indescribable creature as his ‘wife'.
You giggled at your husband's antics, a light blush rising to your cheeks and a cute little skip invading your step as you closed the remaining space between yourself and your mullet-rocking love. You paid no mind to the Harvelles and the Winchesters, too caught up in the warmth of Ash's smile, the little spark in his eyes. Life around hunters was short, and since you knew these guys weren't a threat you weren't going to waste time worrying about them when you could be spending these precious moments with the man of your dreams.
As soon as you were within range, Ash’s hands automatically reached out to grasp at your alluringly wide hips, using them to pull you toward him, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into soft, pliable flesh. His legs spread at the knees where they dangled over the edge of the pool table he was sitting on to accommodate your form stepping between them.
You set the breakfast plate down beside him on the table, one arm reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers delicately gliding through the long hair at his nape. You plucked a piece of sausage from the large plate you had made and held it up in front of him. Feeding each other was just one of the many public displays of affection that the two of you frequently engaged in with a disgusting lack of shame. He quickly took the hint and parted his lips, taking the bite into his mouth and groaning as the flavor hit his tongue.
He swallowed the morsel, then leaned forward to press dozens of playful, nipping kisses into the crook of your neck, causing your giggling to recommence as he cooed, “You’re far too good to me, My Love. Don’t know how I got so lucky to end up with someone so wonderful as you.”
Dean was honestly wondering about that as well.
Seriously, the dude had a freaking mullet and looked like he belonged on the road with Lynyrd Skynyrd. He was scrawny, of average height and had a mullet. It was strange (but also kind of awesome) enough to warrant mentioning twice. Dean had no idea how a guy like that could end up with someone like you. He couldn't decide whether he should be jealous or declare the other man his hero.
Ellen, while used to the cloying PDA that the two of you shared as a couple, had clearly decided that was enough of that and said dryly, “Alright lovebirds, if you could pry yourselves away from one another for a few minutes, these boys need some help from you, Ash.”
* * * *
“Sorry, I guess I haven't introduced myself, yet.” You apologized, holding out your arm towards the Winchester brothers for a handshake as you took your rightful perch upon Ash's lap. “I’m (Y/N),” you informed them. “Married to the genius.”
Sam accepted your proffered hand and formally introduced himself in turn, where as Dean scoffed as he dropped a folder to land with a smack! onto the bar top, “You gotta be kidding, this guys no genius. He’s a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie.”
His dismissive tone immediately made you bristle. You hated when jerks would come in here looking for Ash's help only to then completely dismiss and underestimate his intelligence based solely upon his appearance. It pissed you off every time, though it amused Ash to no end.
As if to prove this, Ash smiled, eyes narrowing on Dean in a look of assessment, “I like you.”
“Thanks,” Dean muttered, no further convinced that this dude was anywhere near the ‘genius’ Ellen and Jo claimed he was.
You, less than impressed with Dean's attitude, snorted, “You know, Asshole, Ash is the one meant to be helping you, not the other way around. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover? Just because the genius comes wrapped in this sexy, mullet rocker package doesn’t negate his intelligence. And again, you asked for his help, so a little respect would go a long way.”
The reprimand left Dean's mouth agape, his expression becoming thoroughly dumbfounded upon hearing you utter the words ‘sexy, mullet rocker package’ with such conviction and clear lack of humor. If he'd thought his mind had short circuited earlier after hearing Ash call you his wife, at this point Dean would be surprised if his brain hadn't begun leaking out of his ears.
It was all proving to be a little too much for Sam, who had to turn his face away in a desperate attempt to try and cover up his uncontrollable laughter, both in response to his brother's expression as well as the absolute seriousness with which you referred to your husband's sex appeal.
While the majority of the time you were Ash's sweet girl, his Goddess of Sunshine, that didn’t mean that you were weak, or that you couldn’t or wouldn't stand up and stand your ground when challenged. You were actually quite protective over those you loved and wouldn’t hesitate to defend them in any way you deemed necessary. Though this was a very mild example of this trait, the point still stood; His girl wouldn’t stand for anyone disrespecting the man she loved, especially on their own territory. It was something that always filled him with warmth and pride to witness, and just another of the many things he absolutely adored about his wife.
Ash’s arms squeezed your waist in a comforting gesture, hands lightly skimming up and down your sides soothingly. “It’s okay, Baby Girl, the man hasn’t seen my work before. The skepticism, while a bit irritating, is expected.”
Dean shrugged, sitting himself down on a bar stool, “Well, alright then. This stuff’s a year’s worth of our Dad’s work.”, he placed one of his palms atop the folder, smirking as he slid it toward Ash, “So, uh, let’s see what you make of it.”
Ash opened the folder and pulled out the contents. His chin rested comfortably in the junction between your shoulder and neck, eyes quickly scanning over the pages as he leafed through the documents. He shook his head, confounded, before pulling his gaze back to focus on the Winchesters.
“C’mon, this crap ain’t real. Ain’t nobody can track a demon like this.”, Ash said, not quite believing what he was looking at.
The brothers shared a knowing look, before Sam turned back towards Ash and simply said, “Our Dad could.”
Ash’s eyebrows rose a bit before furrowing slightly, his hands returning to leaf through the papers in front of him with renewed interest, “These are non parametric statistical overviews. Cross-spectrum correlations. Jeez, I mean… damn. They’re signs, omens. If you can track them, you can track the demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms.”, He glanced up and said, “You ever been struck by lightning? It ain’t fun.”
His voice was practically a growl by the end of his monologue and you couldn't help the way heat began to pool between your legs, core clenching around nothing. You shifted a bit in his lap, just barely grinding against his thigh before settling again. Ash was still focused on the information before him, though his head did turn slightly to press a brief kiss to your neck while one of his hands absentmindedly drifted down your body to rest on your inner thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.
“Can you track it or not?”, Sam asked impatiently.
Ash cleared his throat, “Yeah, with this, I think so. But it’s gonna take time. Uh, gimme…”, he paused, taking a moment to calculate, “51 hours.”, he decided, eyes meeting Sam and Dean’s head on.
Sam and Dean shared another communicative look while you carefully gathered the papers and slipped them back into their folder. Once all were back in order you rose from Ash’s lap to allow him to stand as well, his arm immediately returning to once again wrap around your waist after taking to his feet. Meeting seemingly adjourned, the two of you began striding towards the back room that you called home.
“Hey, man,”, Dean sounded from the bar, causing Ash and yourself to pause and turn back towards the elder Winchester, “By the way, I, uh, dig the haircut.”
Ash practically puffed out his chest with pride as he hammed, “All business up front, party in the back!”, you can’t help but giggle as he flourishes the long ends of his hair dramatically.
As the two of you turned to continue on your path towards your room, Ash leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he practically growled, “Don’t worry, Baby Girl, I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna spend at least 23 of those 51 hours makin' you come apart underneath o' me.”
A shiver ran up your body, shots of arousal pooling low in your core at the implication. Ash really was the sexiest mullet rocker/genius, and you were so proud to get to call him your husband.
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