Info - plus sized reader or maybe just identity issues, praise, love, oral (female receiving), a little Dom man, love from your man, just oral no penetration
I was shimming as I pulled on my pants. I felt the tears enter my eyes. I felt disgusting. These pants had fit so well a month or two ago. The new job is gotten had made me more anxious. My anxiety wore me out and therefore I had been eating out more. I was so tired at the end of the day that I didn't have the energy to cook myself something.
"I fucking hate you," I snarled at my pouch like stomach. I grabbed my extra skin and pinched it.
"Disgusting, lard ass, piece of absolute-"
"Excuse me?" Timothée asked. "Who exactly are you talking to?"
"No one," I grumbled.
I wasn't in a good mood. I pushed past him and tried to grab my purse. Timothée gently took my hand. He spun me around and into his arms.
"Please tell me you weren't talking to my girl," he whispered.
"You deserve someone skinner," I said in a sob. I felt tears begin to well and stream down my face.
"I love your curves. You're a goddess to me. I love the way your body is shaped," he whispered in my ear.
"You don't mean that, and I have to go to the store," I sniffled and I tried to move past him again.
"No, you're not going anywhere," he told me sternly.
"Timothée-"
"You're not going until you know how adored you are. You won't leave this house until you can hold your head high, knowing you are the sexiest, most beautiful woman who ever lived," he explained to me.
He was now on his knees. He lifted my shirt and began to kiss my stomach. I stiffened completely. I couldn't believe he was touching me there. I couldn't even touch my own stomach without cringing. To feel my rolls and my curves was horrifying to me.
"My girl, my goddess, my angel, my y/n," he praised me. He was burying myself in my skin.
"Fuck, you're so soft and so sensual. I could lick every inch of you," he swore. He now was rubbing his face in my abdomen. I finally relaxed into him.
"You're beautiful, so fucking beautiful," he told me.
"Timothée, you don't have to do this," I said awkwardly.
"I know," he snapped. His eyes met mine and they looked dark and serious.
"I know I don't have to, I WANT to," he told me. His voice was nearly vicious with obsession. "I want your body above all others. I want to worship you."
"I-I don't know what to say," I stuttered.
"Then don't talk, just moan," he smirked. With those words he pushed me back onto the couch. He pulled down my pants now. My underwear was next.
I was shocked to see he was throbbing. He'd been having a lazy day and was just in a sweater and boxers. I watched his cock pulsing, moving the fabric of his underwear. He was wet, making where his top pressed; a sheer patch where his precum had stained the fabric.
I was let me touch me with pure freedom now. I knew he wasn't lying to me or being fake. He wanted me. He chose me. He was a star who could have anyone and he picked me.
He licked and lapped at my pussy. I didn't even know if he was focused on me for a moment. Maybe he was just content to be honoured with the ability to eat me out. I felt like a deity.
He suckled at my clit. I was baffled when he ran his hands all along my body as he ate. I didn't now how he touched me but he did and he adored.
"My match, my complete mate," he groaned into my heat.
He put pressure on me. He licked like a purely happy being. I didn't want to describe him like a robot designed for this purpose. I didn't want to describe him like an animal in heat. .... How else did you describe him! Timothée Hal Chalamet was made for my pussy. He was suckling, licking, sucking, pressing, and just eating me like never before.
It happened without me even expecting it. I was coming. I wrapped my legs around his dead. I arched my pussy into his face. In that moment I didn't give a fuck about societies standards. He was adoring me with his tongue. He praised me with his mouth. He blessed me and held me in a state of bliss.
"Love you."
"Beautiful."
"My baby"
He chanted these things as I came and he kept licking. I finally saw what he saw. He was worshipping me like I worshipped him. We saw the love in one another.
"I love you," he said and I knew it was so earnest,
"I love you more."
"Shhh!"
"It's not night, I don't need to be praised."
"No shhh because you're wrong. I will always need, adore, praise, and more, on you."
