⇄ mena massoud x plus-size asian!reader
⇄ warnings: flufffff
⇄ ps. iv'e never written an asian oc, so i decided on something new. hope you don't mind :)
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She doesn't look like the other women he's been with in the past. She hasn't acquired big, bright eyes that pull men and women in at first glance. She doesn't possess a slender nose, or thin and soft pink lips. She doesn't have long bright locks of hair that sways with every love she makes, or the petite body with slender curves that seems to drive people insane.
That's what gets her the most. She used to love herself more than anything else, it took time, but she surely did. But, all of the work she put into loving herself as been tossed out of the window. She's been bowing to society's definition of beauty, and it's gotten her messed up.
She can't find herself to love her dark locks of thick hair, her almond shaped eyelids that hood over mocha irises, her cute button nose, and heart shaped lips. She struggles to find beauty in her body.
There was once a time where she brushed the comments about the weight she carries off with ease, but now she can't do it so easily. What people say about her arms, her belly, her thighs, is it true?
Does she need to slim down? Take those fancy diet pills advertised on television? Replace her grilled chicken, rice, and broccoli for a hearty salad? Start a brutal workout regimen where she works out for five hours all seven days of the week? Go under the knife and get the extra weight sucked out and moved to another place that'll catch attention, maybe her bottom, or her breasts. Maybe they will stop commenting on her physique if she did so. Will they?
A small sob falls from her lips as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She reaches out to herself, gasping as she withdraws her shaky hand, letting it fall by her side. She wipes her tears aggressively and turns away from the mirror, too ashamed to look at herself any longer.
Suddenly, the familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoes throughout the hallway. "Hey, baby—woah, what's wrong?"
Y/N gasps as she turns so he cannot see her. She pulls her robe closed and ties the silk strings tightly. She uses the pad of her index finger to dab her under eyes to rid of the tears.
"Nothing, nothing," she answers, her back still facing him. Mena shakes his head slowly, not buying whatever she's trying to sell.
She shudders in nervousness as he moves to stand behind her. "Talk to me, please." He moves to wrap his arms around her waist but she pushes them away gently, stepping away. Mena's eyebrows furrow in confusion. When he hears her sniffles, his shoulders fall and he frowns, putting the pieces together
"Y/N..." he begins, stepping towards her. "Love, please."
Y/N turns to face him, the whites of her eyes a crimson red from all the crying she's been doing. Tears have stained her cheeks and neck. Her skin is puffy and red. She's been bawling for hours.
"Please, don't touch me," she mumbles when he tried to reach for her hand.
"I just want to talk with you, Y/N. I'm not going to hurt you, you know this," he reassures, leaving his hand open for her to grab whenever she's ready.
Moments after standing in silence, Y/N places her small hand in his larger one. He walks her to the mirror and he stands behind her, respecting her wishes to not touch her in a way she doesn't want to be touch.
"Look at yourself," he says softly. Y/N shakes her head slowly as her lips quivers. He asks again, not changing his tone of voice. A sniffle escapes her as she raises her head. "What don't you like?"
"Everything," she mumbles. "Everything is—it's not attractive, Mena. My arms are too big, my stomach pokes out, my thighs are huge, I have stretch marks and cellulite. It's—"
Mena releases a shaky breath, not content with the fact that the love of his life has spent the last few hours tearing herself down to the point where she hates her physical self.
"Can I touch you?" Mena questions. "Nothing inappropriate."
Y/N mumbles a small yes, giving him permission to touch her. His slender arms trail around her bare middle and he rests his chin on her shoulder, bending down to nuzzle his face into her neck.
"I think everything about you is beautiful," he says softly, kissing her neck gently. "Especially the things you seem to hate the most."
Y/N shivers at his voice, swallowing softly.
"Having more weight isn't a problem, Y/N. Your arms are bigger, that's okay. You've got more strength to help carry on. And your stomach is cute, there's nothing wrong with having a little more there.
"And thighs, isn't there a saying, thick thighs save lives?" Y/N laughs lightly and nods her head. "Indeed they do. I love them, especially when they're wrapped around my—"
"Mena," she groans. He chuckles.
"Stretch marks and cellulite are inevitable,
my love. They come regardless of your weight. It's okay, even the thinnest of men and women have them. It doesn't make you any less beautiful."
He pecks the side of her cheek gently. "I need you to see what I see. And if that means we have to do this every single day, so be it. But, you need confidence in yourself."
She looks at their reflection in the mirror. She soon finds herself trying to smile as she nods her head.
"You're beautiful, absolutely breathtaking, and I love you," Mena says as he grips her hips softly to then her body around.
She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close. "I love you too."
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