aaron warner + body worshipping the reader
“you’re just so beautiful, my love.” warner cooed. “my pretty girl.”
his slender fingers where currently stuffed in your plush cunt, sloppy, wet noises filling the room with each curl and thrust of them. you squirmed in his lap whenever he got too cocky and sped up the pace, the delicious slap of his hard palm against your sensitive cunt was enough to drive you mad without his praise and talented fingers— and he was well aware of that.
he noticed every little detail about you, every curve, every whine, every eye roll, every gasp that left your lips; he noticed everything about his perfect girl.
perfect, that’s what you were. so perfect for him, inside and out. especially outside, he thought. your plump body was what occupied majority of his thoughts, every dip of your body haunted him until he returned home to you and greeted his perfect body with a tight hug.
aaron just couldn’t help himself, you were everything to him. since the moment he first laid his eyes on you, you occupied his every crevice of his mind. you and your astonishing body were like a chronic illness that aaron never wanted to be cured of, an illness that shamelessly followed him around in the back of his mind constantly, gnawing at any other area of his brain that wasn’t you until you fully dominated his thoughts all together. he had never craved anything more, no amount of power could ever make him as satisfied as he is when looking at you.
so, when he discovered a nasty diary entry about yourself while snooping around, his heart burned with betrayal. you, the most beautiful woman to exist, felt as if you weren’t worthy of him? absolutely absurd.
“see this tummy?” he gestered to the chubby section of skin and fat by sliding his other hand down from the previous position on your throat to your abdomen, before giving it a soft squish. “it’s my second favorite part of you, and i will not allow you to speak of it as if it’s any shred of unworthy.”
“what’s y-our first favorite part?” you gasped out as his fingertips stroked your left wall.
he smirked a delightful smirk, one of pride and coy intentions. his green eyes flicked to your lips and you watched in anticipation through the mirror your were sat in front of. he leaned in closer, peppermint breath filling the small space between you both, before he brushed his lips against your cheek.
“these lips, love. my pretty girl’s kissable lips.”