you can’t convince me these men wouldn’t appreciate a pair of plush, pillowy thighs.
price keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh during long drives. fingers flexing, tapping every now and then. sometimes jiggling them, whether he realises it or not.
when there hasn’t been another car for quite some time, his hand starts to wander higher along the inside of your thigh. he just grunts when you glance at him.
“need somethin’ to keep me awake, love.”
honestly? you stop pretending to mind. not when you know those thick fingers can work absolute magic.
simon likes seeing evidence of himself on you. rough hand gripping until faint fingerprints bloom across your skin.
he’ll stare at them afterward. there’s something deeply possessive in the way he looks over the marks, eyes going darker by the second.
“look at tha’,” he murmurs, voice rough enough to send heat down your spine. “fits me hand perfect, don’t it.”
it’s a proof that you’re real. and his.
johnny would be shameless about it. pinching your thighs every chance he gets just to hear you complain about him being annoying.
the real danger starts when his teeth suddenly sink into the meat of your thigh like some needy mutt, just enough to make you jolt.
then he kisses and licks the mark like that fixes anything. grinning widely when he sees the imprint he left behind.
“coulnae help maself, bonnie.”
kyle is gone the second he rests his head in your lap. completely gone. the way you play gently with his curls, fingers massaging his scalp while his eyes flutter shut…
it would make any man melt.
“my sweet girl takin’ such good care of me.”
but be aware, this soft man might turn feral in a moment, fighting the overwhelming urge to drag his tongue along the inside of your thigh just to hear the sound you’d make for him.
graves is totally not staring at how your thighs fill out those slacks today.
he insists on wedging onto the couch beside you that is clearly too small for two people, “helping” you dig through stacked folders for a contract that he misplaced.
when he runs his mouth again to defend himself, you nudge your thigh to push him out of the way.
“careful, darlin’.” he catches your thigh before you can pull away, thumb pressing slow into the soft flesh there. “keep this up and i’m gonna forget we’re workin’.”
alejandro’s hands always drift to your thighs whenever he pulls you close. you’re never safe wearing a shorter skirt or dress near him.
loves putting you on top of the counter, spreading your legs just enough so he can stand between them with heat in his eyes.
“how’s a man supposed to stay respectful with these thighs wrapped around him, cariño?”
the worst part? that devastating grin turns downright smug when your legs part wider for him without you even realizing it.
and rudy - our sweet, disciplined rudy - pretends to be better than the rest of them.
but one look at your thighs in shorts and suddenly he’s wishing for the old rosary his abuela gave him years ago, the one sitting forgotten on the bedside table shelf.
he shuts his eyes with a quiet curse in spanish.
“dios mío you’re gonna be the death of me.”
as if gripping those worn beads could save him from every impure thought clawing through his head right now.
…and if any of these men ever catch you feeling insecure about your thighs - hating their size, disgusted by those dimples and ripples of cellulite, yada yada yada - best believe they’ll have many ways of reminding you just how much they love them.
⤷ MASTERLIST
a/n is this self-indulgent? yes. much love to all the girlies out there who are insecure with their thighs 🫶
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Unbeknownst to most, Phillip Graves is not the worst ex husband in the world.
Not the best, but the man is just shy of a B.
Theres not a doubt in his mind that he loved you, he still loves you. But sometimes love can be a little messy, adding a little too much over protectiveness with small hints of jealousy and maybe it just wasn’t the right time.
Co parenting isn’t a issue for him, doesn’t need to be asked twice about doctors visits, or the little graduation ceremony held at the end of the year for your one year old who hasn’t a clue what’s going on at day care. He’s recording the milestones and sending them to you when he’s not deployed, asking to hear the babies voice when he’s is— hell, the man is still paying your bills in the house he left for you and your baby even though you told him not to.
It’s when you bring a new man around, old habits don’t die soon. Phillip Graves doesn’t mind arguments in the parking lot at the meeting place, or sizing up the first guy you tried to bring around wip just couldn’t handle the intimidation from Graves, randomly popping up to your house with the key he still has to see if the ‘cameras still work’ or the ‘drain is clogging right’ just as you’re about to make out with the person you were dating.
The bastard.
Today’s no different, the southern man actually approved of the guy you’re seeing for once. Didn’t put up a fight, had a look in his blue eyes you just couldn’t read. A tension in his shoulders when he picked up your baby for his last couple of days before deploying, ‘oh, this might actually be the end of it.’
But after two months, all he wants to see if you and your kid. Hear the rabbles and babbles of your beautiful child you created while you smile and go through all the pics he’s missed out on. But today is quiet, babies down for a nap, Phillip can hear the rustling of laundry upstairs, the tv low to some show with 7 seasons. You’re pretty when his eyes land on you after making it upstairs, curls in two low ponytails, small hoops in your peircings, plain violet mid sleeve tee shirt that just compliments you so well, jeans that hug every curve on you just the way he likes. Mouth watering.
He gives the open door to your bedroom a knock. “Hey sweetheart.”
You try your bed to smile, but it’s meek, “Hi Graves, welcome back.”
Graves blue eyes wash over you, gh way you keep shifting on your feet, a little drained, “What’s wrong honey? You alright?”
You couldn’t hide it even if you tried, “Me at that guy I was dating broke up.”
He leans against the dresser, turning the volume lower on the tv, he takes it in, nodding, “Huh.” But now the question is, why would anyone on gods given earth want to break up with a prize like you? He feels his jaw lock, “Can you tell me what happened or was it just some bullshit.”
A bit of both.
You sigh, “He couldn’t fathom that I would put our child before him. And when I told him he should rethink it, he tried pinning it on me. That I could leave the baby with you—“ you take a frustrated deep breath out. Putting your energy into folding the pile of clothes on your bed. It shouldn’t be so heavy on your mind- but it’s gnawing at you. Irritated you that someone felt entitled like that, even if you’d only been dating him seriously for 4 months. Phillip would never think like that—
“I bet you’re happy it ended though right?” You try to laugh it off, eyes finally meeting his. And he’s got so much a soft look on his face when he looks at you, but it’s disgruntled, eyebrows knitted together, leaning against the dresser with his arms folded over his chest.
“Why would I ever want you t’be unhappy [+]?” Says it as if it’s a curse. The whole thing below him.
“Doesn’t matter that we’ve fought like cats ‘nd fuckin dogs, ‘nd broke my fuckin hard slidin me divorce papers— maybe I fuckin needed it t’ open my eyes.” And Graves slowly crosses the room towards you. “But I’ve always wanted what’s best for you and our kid, that aint ever gonna chance ‘long as I’m alive. You and the baby come first, doesn’t matter what’s going on. That includes making sure yer done right by even if it ain’t from me. I’ll knock the fuckin lights out that bastard or anybody else over you darlin, that clear?”
You nod, butterflies swarming in your stomach just as they’ve always have. Graves hand found itself low on your back, other hand lifting your chin.
“Good,” his thumb runs over you plump lips, planting a much needed one on them. Gentle, warm, Phillip pulls away, back of his knuckles rubbing up and down your back. “How ‘bout we take it easy, stay together as a family. Put on some Pixar movie, get all the snack ya like, cuddle up close. Just like we used t’, huh?”
You’re breathless, mind hazed over you can’t help but give him a, “yes.”
Almost as if the military man had planned, your babies cries fill your ears from the monitor and not too far down the hall.
Graves gives you that classic charming smile, “You finish this up, I’ll get the baby changed.”
It’s so easy for things to fall into place, easier when you force them too.
Maybe if Graves had known how perfect you’d fall back into his arms, he would’ve sent a stupid bastard who didn’t deserve you your way sooner.
a/n: graves is fvcked but he’s my fvcked up southern man.
Mhmm Graves manipulating reader into liking him after he arranged a marriage with their father, one of his investors, because they were sooo pretty. Slimy older man Graves that lays his southern charm on thick and basically keeps his partner beneath him, but they kinda like it
You were furious. Graves could tell, but he didn't pay much mind to it as he all but drags you to the center of the dance floor. "Let go of me!" You his angrily when he pulls you tight against his chest.
"What? Can't dance with my bride?" He smirks down at you, hand tight on your hip to keep you close. "You can fuss all you want, sweetheart. It's a done deal."
"I'll make your life hell." You vow as he twirls you, the slightly sheer dress he chose for the reception billowing around your legs. "You're a godless, filty man. You have me half naked in front of all these guests... I'm nothing but meat to you."
"Ah, don't say that, sweetheart." He coos as he dips you low to the ground. You yelp, gripping his shoulder tight, which makes him grin wickedly down at you. "You're also the reason your Daddy's business can keep running. Such a pretty thing for me." He whispers as he nuzzles his nose against your neck. He raises you up from the dip as the song ends, the crowd of people you didn't know clapping and cheering their support.
"I hate you."
"That's okay, darling. I'll treat you real nice."
Phillip believed the only thing a woman should do is rest. The housekeeper he hired kept things clean, his cook prepared all his meals, and he had landscapers for anything outside. He made sure you quit your job. It was insulting for you to work when he could provide everything you could ever need.
"You are not taking my fucking car!" You snarl, diving after the keys held in Graves hand. He dangles them over his head, grinning down at you as he jingles them in the air. "Give. That. Back."
"If you need to go somewhere, you can call the driver. It's not safe for a lady to drive around on her own." He explains softly, like he was talking a child down from a tantrum.
"I've been driving for years! No accidents, no tickets, don't bullshit me!" You shove his chest hard, getting angrier when he barely budges. "Give me back my keys!"
"I already sold the car, sweetheart. It's not like the keys would get you anywhere." He chuckles as he drops them onto the floor. You froze, not even bothering to grab the keys off the floor.
"You didn't... You fucking sold it!?"
"What have I told you about that foul mouth, sweetheart?" He sighs as he strokes your hair away from your face. "Yes, I sold it. Don't worry, I took that stash of money you had in the trunk and put it towards some clothes for when we travel! You needed something for winter."
Tears flood your eyes, heart pounding so hard you could barely hear what he was saying. You should have known that Graves would find the money. It was stupid to keep it there, and now it was gone.
"Oh, hey, hey... don't cry, darling!" He thumbs a few tears away from your face. "What, is it because I said we're going to the mountains? We can pick something else." He assures with that same gentle tone. "Oh, poor thing." He coos as he guides you into his chest, grinning when you melt into him.
It didn't take long for Phillip to make you comfortable. Everything you wanted, you got. Except your freedom, of course. He couldn't let you have that. "I've got you that new mixer, darling. Do you need help setting up your little bakery tomorrow?" He murmurs as he wraps his arms around your waist.
The money always went back into ingredients, or your new favorite skincare that Phillip insisted on. "No, baby, I'll be fine." You assure, turning and giving him a kiss. "Did you order me that new dress? For the ball?"
"It's already on the way." He chuckles, giving your bottom a squeeze. "I'll be in my study if you need me." You knew he wanted you to need him. He expected you to need him, to wander into his office and crawl under his desk for his cock. He didn't care about what you needed to finish before opening. He just cared about his own needs.
You let him fuck you over the desk while the dough rises, and finish baking all your cookies before going to bed. The morning before you opened the small front porch bakery was the best. Silent and peaceful as you baked the last of your treats, decorated everything, and packaged it to go. You went through two cups of coffee by the time you opened. The line down the sidewalk made you smile, ready to interact with anyone who wasn't Phillip or his team.
People who saw you outside of him.
"Hello, love, four of the cinnamon rolls, please." The bearded man was charming, a worn fishing hat on his head though you doubted he had time for it.
"Coming right up." You hum as you shuffle a few boxes aside. You find a four pack, setting them on the counter and taking the fifty dollar bill from his hands.
"Let me get your change -"
"No, love. You keep it." He assures as he pats the table. "I'll be back next week, alright?" You chuckle nervously as you pocket the bill, awkwardly waving him goodbye as the next customer walks up.
farmer!graves runs that farm as if it were the military. meticulously and with calculated moves. excep sometimes pawns aka farmhands decide to flunk out at the worst possible times and with not enough notice to do something about it.
graves hates more than anything to have to ask you for help around the estate, but with breeding season starting and work pilling up in every corner he find himself with no option than to take in your offer for another set of working hands.
except this man, just like when he was in the military, often lets his personal interest overpower his profesional ones. that's how breeding season starts with you being the first thing getting breed in that farm.
your body laid over a tree on a more secluded area - can't let any of his pawns catch a view of his beautiful wife's naked body -. his shirt laid over the tree to prevent hurting you, but still the blunt force of his hips as he fucks his leaky cock into you makes your body slide. hands grabbing your hips to keep you still as his thrusts get erratic and he burries himself to the hilt, his twitching balls laying heavily against your poor sensitive clit. pearly cum soon painting your gummy walls and, much to his dismay, leaking out as soon as he pulls his dick from you.
too bad, he will have to fuck more of his cum into you later, but not before pulling your panties up and making you keep a mess between your legs all day.
- Husband!Graves who you originally worked for as his secretary, as soon as he saw your sweet smile he decided right then and there that he would be the one to put a ring on your finger
- Husband!Graves that every single morning never fails (unless he's deployed) to embrace you flush against his chest and plant a kiss on your cheek making sure that you're awake first before asking if you want him to make you breakfast. He's not afraid to let you know he loves you, darling.
- Husband!Graves who insists that you put on your wedding dress again every anniversary of your wedding, and makes you sit on his lap sharing a beer while you watch the sun go over the horizon together. "Can't break tradition now, can we, sugar?"
- Husband!Graves who always falls asleep on your shoulder if you two watch a movie together late at night; his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you're sat on his lap. He insists he's just 'resting his eyes'. But you both know that's not true.
- Husband!Graves who has the eyesight of a 50 year old man, but suspiciously only at home. Always beckons you over, his reading glasses perched on his nose, asking you to read something for him. You think it's just an excuse for him to rely on you for a change, but you don't mind, in fact it feels nice, different.
- Husband!Graves who loves spoiling you, to him it's more than just another way for him to dote on you, it's how he shows his love for you in physical form. You been wanting a new designer bag? Done. Out of your expensive perfume? Already in your bedroom. Can you really blame him for wanting to spend his hard earned money on his sweet and caring wife?
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CW: mid/plus-size reader, photos of people wearing lingerie!, mentions of sex/sexual activities
Photos are not indicative of reader's body type/skin colour/other physical attributes! Just meant to be examples, but us bigger girls deserve some rep on here (but also why is it so hard to find cute pics of mid/plus-size girlies that aren't ads or extremely edited?)
All rights go to owners of the photos! I tried to crop out their faces as best I could <3
John Price
Price would love anything feminine. He adores when you play into his housewife kink, parading around the house in babydoll dresses and fur-lined robes (preferably sheer). He wouldn't even bother with taking the pieces off once he gets his hands on you, simply pulling and adjusting where necessary. Not above ripping either, but don't worry, he'll gladly buy you some new sets. Maybe he should get you some of those crotchless panties, poppet, would save him a lot of hassle.
Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish
Listen, as much as he loves it seeing you all dolled up, there is nothing that gets him going quicker than you in some raggedy, hole-ridden comfy clothes, preferably when they're his. His boxers framing your plump ass so nicely, digging into your flesh a bit when you move and his shirt doing nothing to hide the jiggle of your tits while your nipples poke through the fabric. If he sees you like this, his hands are all over you in a split second. God forbid your shirt is cropped, showing off your soft tummy and the underside of your breasts — you couldn't pry him off with a crowbar.
(you cannot tell me Johnny doesn't own some dumbass boxers like this)
Simon 'Ghost' Riley
In fear of repeating myself, I think Simon would also go a little dreamy-eyed over you in your comfies. Except, unlike Johnny, he loves those sweet little pj-sets you wear. He's still a little taken aback every time he comes home to you curled up on his — your — couch. The realization that he has something this sweet to come home to — that he has a home at all, hitting him like a freight train. Like Price, doesn't bother taking your pajamas off when he pounces on you. Just makes it easier for him to tuck you into bed after he's done with you.
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
Garters, belts, straps, buckles, the whole thing. And best believe he's the one picking them out, too. You'll randomly find boxes on your bed, the contents in different styles, colours, fabrics. He insists you model them for him, or send him pictures if he's deployed. The sets are an absolute nightmare to get into, but he'll gladly help you take them off, darlin'. Don't mind him though, if he snaps a photo or two in the process. Also loves it when you wear lingerie as part of an actual outfit. What can I say, the man loves showing you off (with the knowledge he's the only one that gets to see the full sets and everything underneath them later).
König
Anything resembling some cheap halloween costume from party city. It honestly doesn't matter to him what; sexy secretary, naughty nurse, you name it. Literally whatever. He will lose his mind a little if you go as far as to engage in some roleplay pertaining to whatever you're wearing — acting like he's your boss or your patient. Oh, a pair of animal ears can and will make his eyes roll back in his head. (He will, however, ensure that your outfits are of relatively good quality — they've gotta outlast a least a few rounds, Schatzi).
Philip Graves
Ugh, he's so nasty (affectionate). He wants you to look hyper-feminine. His perfect little all-american wife (even if you've never set foot in the usa, or don't yet wear a ring on your finger) in her hyper-feminine lingerie, waiting for her soldier to come home. Frilly bras, lacy undies and silky night dresses in white or pink or any pastel shade. He gets off on the innocence they exude — makes him want to ruin you. And then wife you up. Maybe give you a baby or two.
Alejandro Vargas
Corsets!!! Or anything somewhat structured, really. This man adores the shape of your body no matter what, and the way the corset only accentuates the curve of your waist and pushes your tits up so deliciously has him rock fucking hard. If you choose to add some thigh-highs to that with the plush fat of your thighs spilling over the edge you may as well have killed him. He also has this weird infatuation with the marks the corset leaves on your skin after you (or he) take it off.
Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra
This poor man nearly faints the first time you wear lingerie for him (and pretty much every time after that). It doesn't particularly matter to him what it is, but he does like it when you stick to the classics: simple lacy bra and panty set. He likes that it makes you feel confident and (relatively) comfortable, as your comfort is always his number one priority. He also just thinks the simplicity of the sets helps accentuate the beauty of your body, rather than distract from it.
Valeria Garza
Anything expensive. Like, crazy expensive. She has the money, amor, why not spend it on something she enjoys? She'll make sure you only wear the highest quality fabrics (and that goes for all your clothing, by the way, she likes taking care of her girl). There are diamonds glittering all over your body, highlighting all your curves and twinkling with every move you make, and a nice string of pearls disappearing between your folds.
(I couldn't find ANY photos of this type of lingerie on bigger bodies, my apologies. Rest assured Valeria will get everything custom-made for you — remember, only the best for her girl)
The Premise. After the world ended, it was women who rebuilt society – women who came to run emerging settlements – and women who carefully controlled the few men that weren’t taken by the apocalypse. Any “unclaimed” male is game to be captured by a settlement and used for breeding or labour. Each reader must make her way in a different version of this world, choosing to exploit, assist, or use the men she encounters.
The Stories. All fics are female reader self-inserts, but each has a different pairing. They are listed below with their authors:
Published:
Gaz: "Flint" by @gloomwitchwrites (read on AO3 here)
Ghost: "Devil Bone" by @gloomwitchwrites (or read on AO3 here)
Soap (Reboot): "Absconder" by @unseaworthy (or read on AO3 here)
Nikto: "Feral Yield" by @konigswaifu (or read on AO3 here)
König: "Rotwood" by @konigswaifu (or read on AO3 here)
Coming Soon:
Graves: @silverlullabies
Nikolai: @verascrow
Price: @bunnyreaper
Soap (OG): @youarehereyouaresafe
Alejandro: @ominous-potato96
Please Note. These stories each come with their own rating, content warnings, and tags.
Stories will be released over the coming months. This masterlist will be updated with titles and links as they are posted. Enjoy!
A pretty little southern lady who is utterly obsessed with literally all animals. Bugs? Love em. Birds? Love em. Fish? Love em.
She only wears one pair of shoes until they wear completely out then she buys an identical pair. She wears the same 10 outfits over and over. And best of all? She is Terrible at talking out loud.
She whispers all the time, which is wild considering her husband is the loudest man ever to live.
They met at a party. Some government official’s birthday.
Graves found her in one of the upstairs bathrooms with all the house’s pets curled up in the tub with them and cooing softly.
