#chub-writings

[mitsundere]

Imagine sweet Geppie with a partner who loves giving people gifts but absolutely spoils him.

Serval and Lynx get regular-sized boxes of chocolate. Gepard? He gets a box of sweets and chocolates wider than his chest.

What's that? All the Silvermane Guards received a lunchbox? Gepard gets a tiered lunchbox that fills him up until dinner.

hi, hope you guys don't mind me combining these asks! i think they're similar enough to be put together :D

-

gepard was a popular young man. he had it all; status, strength, physical appearance— majority of the population favored him people from the overworld did, at least, but everyone knew that their favor could never be comparable to the love that the captain's partner gave.

trinkets were of no use to the frontlines, nor were ugly sweaters (though you wished he would wear something more thick and comfy to combat the cold). so whenever gepard arrives home from work, he's always greeted by something new that you bought or made for him. he appreciates that you make an effort to give gifts to his sisters (and pela) as well. there's a framed photo of you guys wearing matching sweater designs in serval's workshop, and he can't help but gaze softly at the memory every time he visits.

he'd always have the most extravagant gifts, though. his sisters know it, all of the guards know it, dear qlipoth— he's sure that the entire population of belobog knows it as well. a painting in his image (with all of his medals), rare flower seeds (he doesn't know where you got them, not even lynx could find that kind of flower in her expeditions), brand new boots, art materials... gepard appreciates it all, but sometimes it's too much!

even after he brings it up with you, there's one type of gift that he wouldn't mind regularly receiving— the meals you made for him. it brings him a sense of home when he's at work. even if they get cold from the unforgiving belobogian temperatures, he still feels the warmth and love from your cooking. you'd often get carried away with making lunches for him, and you decided to send the extras with him for some of the guards.

on most days, he shares it with them. gepard was proud of your skills, and he knows that your delicious cooking would certainly boost morale. sometimes, it's not enough that he has the biggest lunchbox and most meat out of the packed lunches. he saves one or two extras for himself instead of sharing, though he would never tell you about it.

and everyone notices that the captain became just a tad bit softer after being spoiled with your gifts. on days that he worries about being out of shape, you comfort him. "there's more for me to grab and love" you say, and he lets himself be hugged and smothered with your affections.

[siberat]

Feeding Competition chapter 2

here’s the conclusion to ambu.lon’s night of vor.tex’s food… and feeding. Can he survive being fed by such a vile ‘co.n? Will ai.d be impressed by what he manages to consume? Read to find out!

[i-like-juice]

Push me

As I grow, watch the light of creativity and focus leave my eyes. My brow relax and stay relaxed. Press your fingers into my forehead and push me back onto the couch. Just barely any force is needed as just as I start to tip back, my knees give and I don't even bother resisting the loss of my stance. Falling back down into a soft pile where I belong, my hips and belly sloshing outwards and then flowing in and upwards like splashing water. Hearing that wonderfully slutty trigger of me cacking and tearing open the fabric of the stretchiest shorts we could find. My favorite. My hip and butt fat greedily expanding in as new space opens. Hold me down by just a few fingers on my forehead. I'll forget why I wanted to be anywhere else, we'll smother out that tiny ember of agency before it gets too out of hand. Yes I can feel my inner voice dying down again, good so annoying. My mouth hangs down slow and stupidly, drool moistening my lower lip. Hungry.

[simply-sithel]

Gifts by @chubsonthemoon [link]

An adorable story that made me happy to read- never mind that I'm unfamiliar with the fandom, the sentiment was universal. Twas very sweet and an exceptionally well suited gem to set within the form of a crafted & gifted item.

The color guidance on this one was tropical island, a very verdant green. Always oh so pleasing to find that perfect little patch of print to fussy cut. Origami paper is excellent for the minis, being so thin and all. An extra small mini- with 2,153 words, it only came out to 39 pages (that 28lb paper really helps bulk out the wee ones)

[creamxxbrulee]

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate 🥰🎄💕🫶🏼

Hope your day was wonderful. I spent mine at home with daddy since we couldn’t go home for the holidays this year but honestly it was perfect. It was so chill since it was just the two of us and though we both got each other a ton of awesome stuff, I’m still the most grateful for having him in my life and getting to spend the day/week off with him all to myself 😈💕

[ritunn]

Commissioned from Robin

While trying a new diet and preparing for her Wizards & Wyverns game, Cassandra found herself take on a more opulent, draconic, and pudgy form that what she was typically used to as she felt compelled to consume more and more of the food she'd purchased. When all was said and done, let us say game was canceled and she went looking for a bigger mirror.

Inspired by a very old personal writing piece I did you can check out here!

[zz-chikorita]

Thought of a random idea/ au sort of dealio where post sun/moon, after Team Skull gets disbanded, Guzma goes and lives as a recluse on Mount Lanakila because fuck people and also the ultra beasts aren't able to sense him there for some reason. His pokemon don't come out of their balls often, all being bugs and unadapted for the cold so his day to day life is going out into the snow by himself to gather/chop wood, forage, etc. He only rarely goes to the mountain's pokécenter for supplies since it's like a full day's hike from his cabin.

He keeps himself mostly covered up so people don't realize it's him, but they still avoid and are cautious of him because he's just this very large, scary, hermit.

Anyways, blah, blah, blah, insert your favorite blorbo here gets lost/injured in the snow and wakes up in a cabin, roaring fire, is offered a mug of tapu cocoa by the person who rescued them yada yada yada- Oh this guy is kinda cute, he doesn't talk much but he's very kind- something, something takes off his many layers of warm, winter clothes and he's covered in gang tattoos and other ink OH NO HE'S HOT (and also a former crime lord which is a little terrifying but like he's really just a chill dude and wants to be left alone why is everyone afraid of him?)

[i-like-juice]

Why I love squashing

I love sitting on and overflowing someone's lap. Or just any part of their anatomy really. As you grow you obviously get softer and wider but sometimes it's hard to appreciate your own transformation and growth even in mirrors or going over your own pictures and videos. When I'm in contact with someone else, the way I flow over them feels so amazing but what gets me is the way I can see myself. That cool sensation of skin on skin, slightly damp from perspiration or contact with my warm overly insulated body on theirs. I can feel it across so much of me in new directions as I contour to their body. It creates this mental map of myself that gives such an incredible sense of myself. There's also all those wonderful subtle gestures in body language that are so much louder with how I closely my softness presses into every inch it can find. Our bodies sharing our emotions to eachother in such a lovely and quite way. And my favorite, the way I can feel their muscles tone change as I relax more of myself onto them giving that wonderfully intoxicating sensation of mass. Yes, struggle and strain while I lounge and soften out. Playfully asking the question, "I'm not too heavy am I?"

[no-see-um-incorrect]

I DONT WANT WEREWOLVES I WANT WEREBEARS

you see media about werewolves all the time I don’t want that I’m sick of it I want WEREBEARS

-Soft squishy, bear Boi good for cuddles

-bearhugs

-Forest picnic dates.

Y’all are skipping out on the werebear 



[authoresswillowraine]

Bless Your Heart

[TW: Explicit language, gun usage, blood, death]

The night was pitch black and the smell of fresh death hung in the air. It enveloped me and permeated my senses to the point of being damn near overwhelming. The velvety copper scent was so thick I could all but taste it on my tongue. My mouth watered more with each forward step.

Blood. A lot of fucking blood.

If I had a pulse, it would’ve quickened. My long still heart wanted to pound inside my chest. It was like a wild thing clamoring to break free from its cage made of bone and flesh. Good thing it wasn’t possible.

A warm breeze danced over my cool skin, and whipped my long, thick black hair around my face. The faint sound of thunder roared from a few miles away. The storm was headed for me, not that I was frightened to be out in it. Storms energized supernatural beings and I was no exception. I relished the feeling of the electricity that played upon the wind. I knew it was getting closer with each passing second until it was right above me. A deafening ‘CRACK’ brought me up short, and I shot bolt right up in my bed.

Whoever says vampires ‘die’ at daybreak and that we don’t sleep, nor dream was either lying or believed everything fiction said about us. I slept – even snored and I dreamt in vivid details. Usually, it took me several long minutes to fully come back to reality upon waking.

The storm, however, was very real and had worked itself into my subconscious to play in my dream. The lightning was fierce and flashed brightly in my pale gray eyes. It broke through my new “guaranteed” blackout curtains – which I made a mental note of. That could be a safety issue if the sunlight ever shone through them for lesser or younger vampires. Sunlight didn’t kill even the youngest among us, but it was uncomfortable and at times, painful. It could cause hives or burns in younger vampires or weaker ones. For older, Master vampires like me it was little more than an annoyance. I didn’t enjoy the sunlight, but it wasn’t detrimental to my health in any way. Sunshades were all I required to combat the discomfort. But I hated the heat and didn’t feel much more kind about the cold. I preferred Fall.

‘Fuck.’ I thought, still salivating from the copious amounts of blood in my dream. The craving motivated me to get out of bed and do something about it before it got to be overbearing. I checked the clock on my phone: 3:21 A.M. I had gotten two whole hours of sleep before I was jolted awake. Once I was awake I played hell at going back to sleep, so it was going to be a long day for me.

My bare feet shuffled across the luxurious carpet on my bedroom floor before they hit the warming tiles of the hall that led into my kitchen. Most of the flooring throughout my home was heated. Except for the bedrooms which were all thick, lavish carpeting that matched the rest of the décor in them.

I kept emergency blood in my fridge from willing donors, which after a little heating up, would work. I preferred to feed from a living being, but I wasn’t one to call and request it at this hour. Unlike some Master Vampires, I also didn’t keep a house of willing ‘feedees’ at my beck and call. My modest home – at least from the outside- was my oasis. My sanctuary. I seldom let anyone gain entry, and those that did were trusted confidants. There were very few humans who’d had access to my home, and none who had been there by anything other than free will. I didn’t like to use my vampire powers to feed or get laid. It wasn’t my thing, because it was rape, no two ways about it. It didn’t matter if I was taking blood or having sex, consent was a requirement, not an option. I didn’t bring home ‘just anyone.' If I did that may require compulsion at the very least and wiping their memories after they left me at worst. Both of which would be rape in that scenario. No, I had willing sources and lovers, but I wasn’t up to either this night.

The best device I had found to warm the refrigerated blood was a baby bottle warmer. Don’t laugh, it worked. I could heat it to whatever temperature was my preference without scalding my mouth. You only heat the blood too long in the microwave once before learning your lesson. Blood scalds and because it’s so thick it burns far more than an instant. Luckily I healed almost immediately but it doesn’t mean I didn’t feel the pain.

As I waited for my blood to reach the perfect temperature I mulled over the dream I couldn’t shake. I had a few witches I could call upon to decipher the dream. Villia, my favorite of them all, would tell me that my instincts about what the dream meant would be more accurate than anything she could tell me. I liked any advice that told me to trust myself. After all, I had kept myself 'alive' for over four hundred years, so I couldn’t be too awful at this gut instinct thing.

I had a nagging feeling that the dream was a premonition of something bad. That dark times were ahead. Of course, I hoped like hell I was wrong, but until it happened there was no way for me to prepare. I just had to wait and see. Premonitions were the least reliable of my skillset. That sucked because it seemed like it could be one of the most useful powers if I could harness it better.

I made a mental note to ask Villia about premonition. She’d be able to help me sharpen my ability or have an idea of who could assist in that area. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t asked her before now. Another myth about us, not so mythical creatures? We were reborn with all the cool powers, like superheroes, but painted like villains.

The truth was, we came over with anything from zero extrasensory gifts, to several but not all. There were ways we could gain extra powers, and none in a pleasant manner. To enjoy gaining power, one had to find their true pairing. Doing that was about as likely as finding a hay-colored needle in a haystack. Chances are slim to none, that is.

Blood ingested; my mind no longer raced. I grabbed my remote and clicked on the television to keep me company. Once upon a time, I’d fallen into the couch potato trap. That phase had caused a bout of depression that I thought was going to put an end to my long existence. I had no idea how people made it their go-to for entertainment.

I had every channel and streaming service, yet only watched enough television so I could carry on a conversation. I avoided mainstream media like the plagues I had gotten through unscathed. If you know, you know. Instead, I kept up on news from independent and reliable sources – contacts on the inside. I knew World leaders, politicians, and their right hands. I knew military members, indie reporters, and had those types of connections. It was far more reliable and way less sensational.

The television now offered a soft glow and soothing murmuring of a random infomercial so that I no longer sat in complete silence. This was the only time I felt the deep loneliness settle into my bones. The stillness of the night and early morning hours when I only had myself to keep me company. These are the hours when I’d love to be able to wrap my arms around someone. When I wanted to experience what some of those closest to me had explained with goofy smiles on their faces. A sense of peace, of wonder, that they had found another being who added to their happiness. Unconditional love for those of them lucky enough to have it. Those relationships seemed to be rare among everyone I knew, however. We lived in what the younger generations referred to as a hookup culture. Sex had become God; love was far down the list. I understood it, somewhat. As much as I craved someone when the loneliness crept in, I had fought hard not to have anything substantial. Sex was easy, and a need. Love was something that made you weak if you allowed it. I couldn’t afford to be weak. I had too many people depending on me for their entire existence. I would not risk anyone else, let alone everyone else to abate my passing bouts of loneliness.

My eyelids drooped and I let my head fall back against the back of my bright white, overstuffed couch. I was miraculously about to doze off when a feeling washed over me. It was a warning. Someone was around the perimeter of my home, and they weren’t familiar. They wanted something, and it had to be something pressing to bring them out in an electrical storm. I was up, gun in the waistband of my pajama bottoms before they had a chance to knock on my door.

Country, gun-toting, mamaw loving, dad-bod having Vampires? Hell yes! I've got you covered. First 3 episodes will be FREE on Vella. Subscribe to see where Giddeon goes, and how well an almost 7 ft tall, country boy vampire fits in.

[historias-multorum]

"So that's where I get it from...." Says Sasuke chub lover Uchiha

[gordopickett]

The NASA Jumpsuit (For All Mankind indulgent chub love fic)

Summary: After Gordo tries, unsuccessfully, to squeeze into his NASA jumpsuit, instead of letting him get rid of it, you make him keep it. He is confused until a couple of months later when you have him try it on again, knowing full well that he has not lost a single pound in that time.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: For All Mankind (TV 2019) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gordo Stevens/Reader Characters: Gordo Stevens, Reader Additional Tags: Episode: s02e03 Rules of Engagement (For All Mankind), Chubby Gordo Stevens, chubby teddy bear Gordo Stevens, teddy bear Gordo Stevens, chub kink, Belly Kink, tummy love, belly love, chub love, fat appreciation, Body Worship, no explicit content, just suggested, this is my first character x reader fic Series: Part 10 of For All Mankind Summary:

After Gordo tries, unsuccessfully, to squeeze into his NASA jumpsuit, instead of letting him get rid of it, you make him keep it. He is confused until a couple of months later when you have him try it on again, knowing full well that he has not lost a single pound in that time.

[lardguz]

A Hero's Buttery Addiction

Just a little short thing this time, featuring a certain Hylian hero discovering the joys of cooking with butter! Inspired by @plumpybread whose art helps me visualize how to write larger sizes WAY better than I used to. I know he's like, a legend in the community already but if you haven't seen his work somehow, please check it out! His art is so good!

A cool breeze blew through the air in Rito Village, blowing south from the Hebra Mountains. Link suppressed a shiver, feeling the brisk chill around the bottom of his tunic. He adjusted the feather-lined garment quickly, pulling it down to cover his abdomen, but it immediately started riding up on him as soon as he continued walking. The Hylian grumbled to himself, opting to try and ignore it while he stocked up on supplies at the general store. Link walked into the cozy open-air hut, nodding at the Rito shopkeeper with a warm smile as he piled all of the goat butter the shop had in stock into his satchel. He handed a pouch of rupees to the Rito as payment before walking out of the store to head back out adventuring Hyrule. 

Link didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the Hylian has packed on some pounds in recent months. Once he had discovered the joys of cooking with goat butter, he never looked back, and the delicious, creamy, fattening substance had clearly affected his waistline. The sliver of pale, soft chub that peeked out from his warm Rito Tunic gave him a slight muffin top, and his thighs ever so slightly brushed together when he walked. Link seemed ignorant to these changes to his body, though; mentally, he attributed his tighter clothing to an ill-advised attempt at making a fan powered raft that fell apart, plunging him into icy cold water while fully clothed. To him, the cold water must have shrunk his clothing somehow! It couldn’t have anything to do with his new culinary obsession, surely! 

The pudgy Hylian sat at a cooking pot, sorting through his available ingredients. Link pulled out a slab of prime meat, a large hearty bass, some Hylian mushrooms, and a stick of goat butter. He paused, thinking for a moment. If just one stick of goat butter improved the flavor of a dish so much… Why not use two? Reaching into his bag, Link grabbed another stick of butter, and tossed it into the pot with the rest of the food, watching it melt and coat the meat and mushrooms, sizzling delightfully. As soon as his meal was done, Link immediately took an eager bite, too hungry to wait any longer. The flavors exploded in his mouth, coating his tongue in a rich, oily sensation. This was amazing! He scarfed down the rest of the pile of meat, seafood, and mushrooms, patting his pudgy stomach in satisfaction. Link knew one thing for sure now: he was going to have to keep trying butter in more recipes if it made them taste this good!

 

Months passed, and Link’s reputation for cooking rich, decadent meals for himself grew. Shops all over Hyrule knew to stock up on extra goat butter, as the eager Hylian hero would travel to each and every settlement just to get his fix. As his desire for egregious amounts of butter grew, so did his waistline. Link had absolutely blown up since discovering that adding more butter to his cooking made it taste even better. The Hylian man was undeniably morbidly obese, and many of the citizens of Hyrule were a little bit worried about how rapidly he had descended into obesity, but none of them felt brave enough to try and broach the subject with the rapidly-fattening hero. 

Link has taken to using his Purah Pad to teleport him directly to each town to minimize the amount of walking he had to do. For some reason he had been getting very tired even from brief walks lately, and his horse had been similarly exhausted just from short rides. Link materialized outside the shrine at Hateno Village, taking time to gather himself before the arduous walk downhill towards the general store. He somehow still didn’t realize the cause of his growing problems was the hundreds of pounds he’d packed onto his body in mere months. Link’s body was bloated with lard, to the point that he was nearing half a ton of fat on his once-lithe frame. His face was framed by a set of cherubic chipmunk cheeks, already flushed and sweaty just from a few slow, wobbling steps away from the shrine. His neck was buried under a ring of flab, graduating him from a double chin to a pronounced triple chin. His once-toned arms were replaced with bloated sacks of blubber the size of pillows, sagging down his sides and forcing his arms out at an angle even when not in use. His elbows were long buried under all of this lard, and even his wrists and hands were beginning to plump up at the joints, making bending his fingers and grabbing food a chore. His pecs had ballooned into flabby breasts that were just starting to droop down either side of his gut. The tunic he currently wore, his blue Champions Tunic that he was given over one hundred years ago, was stretched tightly across his chest, functioning more as a bra than a more decent article of clothing and riddled with rips and tears from stretching across so much flab. His former muffin top had graduated into a stack of fluffy love handles, pooling over the straight waistband of his trousers and , when combined with his flabby chest, were half of the reason his arms stuck out at such an angle now. His bloated thighs touched at every point no matter how far apart his spread his legs to walk, forcing him into a pronounced waddle. He couldn’t even bend his knees anymore; the flab from his thighs had long since enveloped the joints, joining his meaty calves in the downfall of his once-proud stride.  

His biggest asset, however, was his gut. The slab of lard was a monument to his gluttony, forming an apron of flab that sagged down to his buried knees. Every slow, measured step he took, his stomach slapped against his meaty thighs, sending his entire flabby body jiggling and wobbling endlessly. The obese hero was sweaty and exhausted after just a few steps, panting and wheezing from the exertion of shifting just under half a ton of fat with every shuffling step, but his craving for butter-soaked food kept him from giving up on his journey to the store.  

When the sweaty, huffing pile of lard finally made it, he shoved the door open with his titanic gut, dreading what came next. Link knew intimately well that doors and him didn’t mix these days, even if he refused to accept or acknowledge why. The Hylian was an absolute wall of flab and rolls, trying to force himself through a tiny doorway. The shopkeeper could only stare in horror and fascination as the legendary hero attempted to squeeze his enormous bulk into the store, wheezing from the exertion. He grabbed the doorframe with his pudgy fingers, trying to force his double-wide hips through, but his rolls and folds were firmly wedged. Link continued panting and groaning, his bulky body oozing around either side of the door frame, when an ominous cracking noise started to occur. Suddenly, with a loud snap, the wood of the doorway and the surrounding walls splintered, and Link stumbled through into the shop, his entire body wobbling from the sudden forward momentum. Barreling forward at speeds his obese form weren’t meant to handle, the lard-laden Hylian hero overbalanced, landing on his cascading gut with so much force that it shook the entire building. Merchandise clattered to the floor from the display shelves as shockwaves rippled through his body like an ocean, and he lay on the floor gasping for air after all of his weight knocked it out of his poor, overtaxed lungs. The shopkeeper looked at the damaged doorway in horror, knowing that no matter how much butter the legendary hero was here to purchase, it wouldn’t pay for the repair costs, especially with his increased visits. Something had to be done about the gluttonous hero, but what? 

After the disastrous incident at the Hateno General Store, shopkeepers around Hyrule had begun taking Link’s purchases to him as he waited outside their shops, to minimize damage done to their buildings. It was a solution, for sure, but many worried about what would happen when Link grew too large to make the short walks to their stores from the teleport points at the towns’ shrines. Many ideas were proposed: shop stalls set up right at the shrines just for Link, some sort of horse and cart system to carry the growing hero to his destinations, even a conveyor belt to carry him to the store entrances was suggested! However, Link ended up solving the problem himself while cooking one day. He’d begun using his Ultra Hand powers to help him grab ingredients once his arms became basically useless at grabbing things around his enormous bulk. As he sat on a log that his fat ass almost completely devoured, using his prosthetic’s powers to move a fourth stick of butter into the cooking pot for the large hunk of gourmet meat he was sauteeing, Link got an idea. He used his fat sausage fingers to switch the function of his hand to the Copy ability, which usually only worked for building materials. He noticed that the sticks of butter were able to be copied, somehow. Confused, Link decided to try it out, multiplying one stick of goat butter into ten, and moving the pile onto his chest where he could inspect them better. The sticks of butter had a gentle greenish-blue glow to them, but otherwise appeared to be normal sticks of butter.  

Link devoured the butter-soaked gourmet meat as he contemplated the glowing butter sticks nestled between his ample breasts when suddenly he was struck by an idea. Straining against the rolls of his arm fat, he craned his overburdened arm towards his chest, grabbing a stick of greenish butter in his fattened hands. Link brought the strange butter towards his pudgy lips slowly, his bountiful lard making it hard for him to reach his mouth with his pillowy arms. He finally shoved the stick of butter into his mouth, the oily fats coating his tongue. His blue eyes lit up as he swallowed: it was incredible! The duplicated butter tasted even richer and more delicious than normal goat butter, and that was without cooking it! Link shoved his hands under his bloated pecs, shifting their mass upwards and forcing the nine remaining sticks of magical butter directly in range of his greedy maw. The greedy Hylian began slurping down the stack of entire sticks of butter while using his Ultra Hand to create more copies, piling them up on his chest within easy eating distance. Link had no idea of the future he had just very quickly resigned himself to with this discovery, but the shopkeepers of Hyrule wouldn’t have to worry about their entryways being broken anymore. 

The citizens of Hyrule whispered about what had become of their legendary hero. Shopkeepers quickly noticed his increasingly-frequent trips to their stores had stopped abruptly, leaving them with mixed feelings of concern for what could have happened to Link, but also relieved that they wouldn’t have to keep paying for hefty repair bills anymore. Only those who were closest to Link knew where he’d ended up, and why he’d disappeared altogether. When asked by any concerned Hylians, they would simply assure them that Link was fine, comfortable, and happily retired from adventuring. 

Sidon, the newly-crowned king of Zora’s Domain, walked swiftly through the thick underbrush of a secluded forest region tucked away from any towns or roaming travelers. The red scaled Zora knew the way to go intimately, having made the journey many times over the year or so he’d been coming here in secret. Plus, it wasn’t too hard to find what he was looking for—All he had to do was follow the sounds of loud gurgling and slurping. Sidon crested the top of a hill, looking down into what had once been a lush, forested valley. The trees had long since been buried, the valley completely filled by a churning, wobbling mass of pale flab. He knew the mountainous blob below him was his most cherished partner, Link, the hero of Hyrule. 

Sidon hopped down from the forested hill, sliding on his finned feet until he landed on the soft form below. It was harder than ever to tell exactly what part of Link’s swollen body he was standing upon, but Sidon was pretty sure it was his stomach. His gigantic gut was constantly stuffed with the replicated butter that Link was somehow constantly creating more of, causing the cascading waterfall of flab to grow more and more every moment as his body worked overtime to convert the literal gallons of butter he consumed into adipose. Sidon could feel the mountainesque stomach below his feet groaning and churning, causing the blobby body of his boyfriend to always be in some sort of state of movement even after long ago losing his mobility.  

The Zora king began the long hike towards the center of Link’s growing mass, clinging desperately to whatever rolls and folds he could grab whenever a particularly strong tremor shifted the oceanic mass like tides crashing upon a shore. Sidon crested the top of Link’s stomach rolls after twenty minutes of climbing, trying to identify more parts of the blob’s body to use as landmarks. He could pretty easily find Link’s breasts due to his nipples, though they were a lot lower down than Sidon was now. Link’s tits were so huge that they’d lost all shape and form, sagging under their weight to the point that they drooped towards the lowest rolls of his gut. He could also guess where Link’s arms were from the location of his chest, gazing at the swollen pancake stacks of rolls directly above the meaty breasts. Sidon figured that Link’s hands must be buried under literal feet of flab at this point, looking at the divots where they’d long ago vanished. Even if he could unearth his fands from all of that lard, there was no way he’d be able to use them for anything aside from his Ultra Hand’s powers; his digits must be so coated in fat that they’d be barely recognizable as hands anymore.  

Once he’d figured out where Link’s useless arms were, finding his head was easy. Sidon looked at the recessed dip in the blobby mountain between the boulder-sized fat deposits that used to be Link’s biceps and forearms towards where a constant flow of glowing green liquid was manifesting and pouring downward into. Sidon swiftly scrambled over Link’s bloated cleavage, taking care not to slip; he’d once made that mistake and it took him hours to wrench his leg free from the cavernous crevasse. Once he’d crested the twin hills of lard, it was easy going from there, as Link’s chins had multiplied into a nice staircase of neck rolls. As he descended down, Sidon entered what could only be described as a cavern of fat formed by the encroaching mass of Link’s flabby jowls and collapsing back rolls. He followed the green glow of magically-duplicated butter deeper into the humid cave, the sounds of hungry slurping and desperate moans growing louder and louder. Finally, Sidon reached the end of the vast fat cave and approached his boyfriend’s bloated face eagerly.  

Link’s face was no longer recognizable, so covered in flab that no distinguishable features remained. Fat has long ago collapsed over his forehead, covering his eyes completely. His pointed ears were buried between rolls of cheek and back fat, as was his golden hair. All that remained was his mouth, though even that wasn’t enough to recognize him by. His lips had plumpened considerably, and were pinched between his engorged jowls into a permanent pout as he sucked down hundreds of gallons of melted magical butter. Sidon didn’t mind though, he loved Link no matter how fat he got. The Zora hero plopped himself down on one of Link’s cheeks, kissing his partner’s flabby face before settling down to watch him eat for a while. One thing was for sure, Link sure made a comfortable bed no matter where you laid on him now. 

[lovelybucky1]

Ok! I don't know if you can write about a wolverine who is obsessed with an older student at mansion x, what's the surprise? That she has a daddy kink with him because he has daddy issues-.

Professor!logan x student!fem!reader w daddy kink pleaaaaseee (Obviously reader is of legal age but there is Age gap between she and logan, and of course, smut!)

Cliché (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Logan isn’t a teacher by any means. He doesn’t have a lot of patience and prefers just to do rather than show people how it’s done. Xavier didn’t really give him a choice to be a teacher or not. He led Logan into a classroom full of students one day and told him to have at it. Logan wasn’t pleased with Charles, but he managed to improvise well enough. He’s been teaching since then, and while it is more bearable than he thought it would be, he still isn’t a fan. That is, until you showed up in class.

You caught his eye immediately. He could justify it to himself more if you were playing the part of the slutty student wearing short skirts and dropping your pencil so that you could give him a flash of your tits when you bent down. But you weren’t doing any of that. You were just a normal student, taking notes, listening intently, and raising your hand when you knew the answer. You weren’t trying to tempt him into anything, and Logan was a creep for wishing that you were. 

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and for the most part, he was successful. He was able to compartmentalize well enough to be an effective teacher and not sport a half-chub in the middle of every class. He thought he had finally gotten over his stupid crush that he was way too old to be having, but then you had asked him for extra help.

Like the beginning of every student-teacher porno, you came to his “office hours”, which really meant you knocked on his bedroom door late one night. You were having trouble understanding whatever dull topic Logan was teaching that week, which was unusual for you because you study frequently. You asked him to explain and he did, walking you through it to the best of his ability. Logan was suspicious because the topic wasn’t difficult to understand, and you’re a smart girl. 

After fifteen minutes of you nodding along to his explanation and occasionally biting your lip, Logan called you out. 

“You don’t really need help understanding this, do you?”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Yes I do,” you respond hurriedly. “I told you, I was a little confused by all of the information.”

Logan shook his head. “We’ve gone over topics much more difficult than this and you had no problem. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Logan couldn’t help but wonder if his inappropriate fantasies were coming true. It had all the cliches: office hours, a smart girl playing dumb, a half-assed excuse to be close to him. He can hear your heart beating quickly, and when he sniffs the air, he can smell a musky tang of arousal.

He turns to face you, and suddenly you’re unable to meet his eyes. You’re looking down at where you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Nervous, embarrassed. Gently, he places his hand under your chin and tilts your head up. You timidly look at him, eyes searching his for any signs of anger.

“What’re you doin’ here, dollface?” he asks.

He’s hoping, praying, that you don’t say what he so badly wants you to say. 

“I just… wanted to see you,” you respond. You know it makes you sound crazy, but you can’t think of any other explanation that isn’t entirely inappropriate. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel compelled to word-vomit. “I wanted your attention and this was the only way I knew how to get it and I’m so sorry, I know this is so inappropriate. Please just forget about this and I’ll drop your class-”

Logan shushes you. “You wanted my attention?” he asks. You nod hesitantly. “What for?”

You shrug, but Logan doesn’t take that for an answer. “I’m attracted to you.” 

You wince as you rip off the band-aid, and you’re so scared to see your professor’s reaction. He should yell at you, call you all sorts of names for your disgusting fantasies, kick you out of the room and have you expelled. But he doesn’t.

“That right?” Logan asks with a smirk. “You’re all worried just ‘cause you have a little crush?” Maybe it’s mean to tease you, especially when you’re looking at him like you’re about to cry, but he can’t help it. “You know I’m too old for you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not too old for me.”

Logan hums. “Then you’re too young for me.”

“I’m an adult,” you pout. “I’m not too young.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs. “I’m your teacher. I’m old enough to be your father.” Logan takes note of how your eyes sparkle at that. “You like me because I’m old enough to be your father.”

You look away shyly, and that gives Logan all the confirmation he needs. 

“Y’know, ever since I met you, I’ve been trying not to think about how much I want to bend you over one of those desks. It made me feel so fuckin’ guilty for thinking about you like that, but this whole time, you’ve been sittin’ in my class, thinking about me being your daddy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. When you devised this little plan and walked in here, you thought you would chicken out, much less have it lead anywhere. 

“I have been thinking about that,” you say.

“I’d be real sweet to ya, baby. Give you everything you’ve been wanting.”

The two of you are crossing so many lines, but neither of you seem to care anymore. He’s wanted you for weeks and as morally upstanding as he tries to be, he is still just a man.

“I want it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hands are on your hips, grabbing at your skin possessively as he smashes his lips against yours. He dominates the kiss, but you don’t mind the pinch of your lips between his teeth. It’s messy and wet and everything you’ve been dreaming of while you watch him in class. 

Your back hits the door and Logan keeps you pinned against the surface. You’re helpless to do anything but take what he gives you; his large body covering you entirely. His hands find their way under your ass and he tells you to jump. He holds you up with ease as you wrap your legs around his waist. He grinds against you, your little scrap of lace panties rubbing the bulge in his jeans. He’s thankful that you decided to wear a dress because the idea of fumbling with more than one pair of pants right now pisses him off. 

He manages to get his pants undone and pushed low enough to free his cock. Your panties get pulled to the side and his fingers slot themselves inside of you to work you open. Your face is buried in Logan’s neck, where you muffle all of your whines and moans. You’re certain that anyone out in the hall would be able to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If anything, Logan would be the one to get in trouble for sleeping with a student. You’d just be an innocent victim.

“Daddy,” you moan when he rubs that spot deep inside of you. 

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” he coos.

He continues to open you up on his fingers until he deems you loose enough to take him. When he pulls out his fingers, he wipes them on his thigh before grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch.

You both groan simultaneously as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and your pussy feels like heaven around his aching cock. You’ve both been craving this taboo relationship for so long and now that it’s finally real, it’s making your head spin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Logan growls against your neck as he begins to rut into you.

His gruff voice, casual display of strength, and the feeling of him inside you work together to light your body on fire. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to stifle your moans. 

“Logan,” you gasp after a particularly hard thrust.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and this won’t last much longer,” he tells you.

The thought that you doing something so simple as moaning his name could bring him to the edge boggles your mind. The Wolverine coming undone for some girl, a student, no less. You find yourself on a bit of a power trip, knowing what you’re doing to him. It’s only fair because he’s been torturing you for weeks without even knowing it.

You reach down between your bodies to rub at your clit. It’s sensitive from neglect, but as soon as you make contact with it, that coil in your belly starts to tighten. Hot waves of pleasure roll over your body as Logan drives his cock into you. Each bump of your g-spot causes a moan to escape from your mouth and he responds with groans of his own. 

“Logan, Logan,” you pant. “Daddy! I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Logan’s teeth find your neck. He bites at the skin under your ear and in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’ll leave a mark.

“Cum for me, princess. Gush all over my dick,” he mumbles against your skin.

You do exactly that. A few moments later, you’re clenching around his length as you rub tight circles over your clit. A moan rips from your throat as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks- or a ton of feathers, they weigh the same.

Logan staves off his orgasm long enough for you to ride out yours. Once you come down, he pulls out of you and jerks himself off to completion. Hot, thick ropes of cum paint your stomach and you watch in awe as the muscles in his arm move with the action.

You both stand there, your back against the door, as you catch your breath. You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes; your mind hazy with the remnants of your pleasure.

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, dollface,” he says.

Logan bends down to scoop you into his arms. He walks you the few feet over to his bed and lays you down gently before grabbing some tissues to clean you off. You tell him you could’ve walked, but he shushes you and replies “Let me take care of you.”

You do, and it feels like the closest to heaven you’ve ever been. The man of your dreams just fucked you stupid and is now coddling you in his bed. What could be better than this?

Logan rids himself of the rest of his clothes and joins you on the bed. He slings an arm over your waist and pulls your back flush to his chest so he can spoon you. He tucks your shoulder under his chin and presses a kiss to your neck, close to the spot he sunk his teeth into earlier. 

“Does this mean I get extra credit, professor?” you ask, giggling.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. You still gotta do your homework.”

[heavenbarnes]

have to write this because @evisnotok had some crazy good points in the notes | p1 p2 p3

the 141 know they can rely on your older bf!simon to come through with a fully stocked camera roll. whether they’re killing time in a safe house, back on base, or crowded around a sticky table at a pub.

their eyes are all on one thing.

that’d be you.

with your blessing, of course. simon had told you about johnny accidentally stumbling across his (not very well guarded) collection of intimate photos and he hadn’t missed the way your eyes had shifted and your thighs had tensed.

it’d been a change of minuscule proportions but simon had been watching you with well trained eyes- waiting for any telltale signs.

when he mentioned the way johnny had to adjust the front of his trousers, he could practically hear your mouth water.

when he took it so far as to tell you what johnny had said? you’d spent the rest of the evening humping simon’s leg like a bitch in heat as he laid out all the filthy things sergeant mactavish wanted to do to you.

so when the rest of the 141 caught on, found out about this little arrangement between simon and johnny- they wanted in. they’d seen the pretty little thing that simon kept at home and they wanted to see just how pretty you could get.

it started with the phone being passed around the group (simon had to overcome a few things before he’d let you get passed around the group) and it escalated into a group chat that was full to the fucking brim of your best moments.

videos of you crying simon’s name as you stuff yourself with your fingers.

photos of you with your back arched and your feet kicking.

videos of you being absolutely wrecked by simon the night he gets back from deployment.

photos of you with cum painting your cheeks and a big smile on your face.

they’re almost always for simon’s enjoyment but that last one- that was something different. unfamiliar sense of altruism filling his chest when he had you on your knees.

you’d been sucking his cock for the best part of an hour now, no complaints to be had. simon had put a pillow under your knees and his steady stream of praises had you keening into the hand that stroked your cheek.

“doin’ such a good job for me, sweet’art”

as you felt his balls tense up in your hand, where you’d been stroking them with your palm- you gave him one last long lick before you started tugging him off.

sitting back on your haunches, you stuck your tongue out in waiting when the hand that was around the back of your neck started to grip harder.

“gonna’ cum all over that pretty fuckin’ face”

you twisted your wrist, hand coming up over the leaky head of his cock before sliding it back down. spit flicked around as his foreskin moved beneath your grip, simon’s voice became gruntier than usual.

“you fuckin’ like that, huh? like it when i paint you like i fuckin’ own you?”

like? as if he didn’t already.

simon always got mouthy when he was nearing that peak and the minute the dams broke and he was shooting hot ropes of cum across your eagerly waiting face, his words were trailing off into broken moans.

you kept stroking him until his fingers had to pry you off him, hips beginning to jolt with sensitivity. but you didn’t move, sat still on your knees so simon could get a good look at you.

eyes following his movements, he reached across to pick up his cellphone before you heard the shutter sound a couple times (his phone is never silent, unless he’s on duty- at home it’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard).

still holding his phone steady, simon reaches his thumb out to drag through some of his cum, before he presses it to your tongue and snaps another picture.

as he drags it away, he lifts his phone for a higher angle before you see his lip quirk up in amusement.

“that’s it, smile for the lads yeah?”

and the group chat never goes without, now whenever they see “ghost sent an attachment” their cocks chub up in almost pavlovian response.

the photos are filthy but their messages are filthier, the way they speak about you is enough to have your cheeks burning and your ears ringing.

“steamin’ jesus L.T you’re one lucky fucker”

“look at the state a’that, so fuckin’ pretty”

“so fuckin’ good at taking loads- got y’one well trained”

filthy enough to turn you inside out- your stomach fucking flipping with every word simon read to you.

one hand holding his phone, the other between your thighs, three thick fingers stuffed inside you. each new message he read, he’d flex his fingers against the spongy little spot that had your eyes rolling.

“can feel you squeezing my fuckin’ fingers, y’like the way they talk about you?”

your hands wrapped around his wrist, fingernails digging into the ink of his tattoos as he spurred you to the edge. leaning back against his chest, his phone was hovering right before your face and you could see those three little dots jumping as johnny typed a new message.

“almost there L.T can y’spare one more?”

you didn’t mean to moan out loud but the image of johnny stroking himself to you was nearly too much. head tipped back onto simon’s shoulder as your hips bucked into his hand, you felt his chuckle rumble against your spine.

long arm reaching up and the unmistakable sound of the shutter ringing around the room, you heard him type a quick reply before you opened your eyes.

debauched, the photo looked fucking debauched. spread out for him with your legs over his thick thighs and your hand practically forcing his fingers deeper into you.

you felt simon shift as he pressed a kiss to your heated cheek, thick cock pressing into the small of your back. he hummed as he slowly started to grind into you.

he knew it was all for show, that you just had this filthy little voyeuristic part of you that needed to be satiated by the praise of these men. he knew that at the end of it all-

“you’re all mine, aren’t ya?”

he just had to be sure, he was only man after all.

not a thought behind your eyes or a doubt in your mind, you nodded furiously as you melted further into his touch.

“only yours, si”

[rowarn]

cw: dubcon if u squint, mean!simon, cum play?, teasing and punishment <3

sorry i haven't been posting proper works lately, i just haven't had any motivation in sitting down long term to write ): i hope u can understand <3 but here's something i cooked up a bit!!!

You, who just had to get on his nerves. You just had to mouth off at him every chance you got. His patience was a thin thread and you were snipping at it around every turn.

He’d been gone for so long, he was exhausted and worn to the bone. He just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to himself to wind down. 

But you were so damn needy for him, pawing at him the second you could get your greedy little hands on him. He was so tired that he simply couldn’t even fathom the idea of getting hard. 

But in the face of your whimpering, the feeling of your soft tits pressed against him as you gripped his cock through his sweats, he could feel himself chubbing up despite it all.

You knew how tired he was. You knew he just wanted to rest and decompress. Yet there you were, tugging his cock from his sweats, stroking him languidly like he was your own personal little toy. 

And for some reason that just set him off. 

Before you knew it, you were pinned face down on the couch, your panties stretched around your thighs. 

“Please, Simon,” you pant, voice pitchy and broken from how utterly needy you were. 

He thought you were so cute, begging him like you hadn’t gotten on his one good nerve the second he walked through the door.

Just to tease you, to be mean because you deserved it for being such a damned brat, he pressed the tip of his leaking cock against your pretty little hole. He felt you clench, eager to suck all of him in. You wanted to be filled so badly, precious cunt drooling slick down to the couch in sticky strings at the mere idea of getting stuffed nice and full by your boyfriend’s perfect cock. 

He tapped the head against your clit, the little bud stiff and neglected. The stimulation made you tremble, a sweet moan escaping your lips from how good the fleeting pleasure felt. 

With you distracted by the teasing, Simon quickly began to jerk himself off, using the sweet, wet heat of your cunt to edge him to a quick release. It had been weeks since he’d gotten off, so it was easy for him to find that euphoria with your pretty little ass perked up just for him, ready and willing to be used - something you weren't even going to get.

That thought alone had him cumming with a soft gasp, making sure to aim it right at the crotch of your panties, spilling his load in the pretty, purple cotton stretched around your thighs. 

“S-Simon?” you asked, already sounding on the verge to tears as you listened to cum without you. 

“There you go, love,” he grunts, lazily tugging your messy panties up. 

You whined when his cum smeared all over your cunt, mixing with your creamy juices. The cotton soaked up the liquids and plastered itself to your folds, giving him the perfect view. 

Meanly, he patted your cunt before tucking his cock away and climbing off of the couch with a grunt. You flopped onto your side, tearily watching as he made a show of stretching and yawning.

“Really needed that, sweetheart,” he grinned, “I want you to keep my cum nice and warm in your panties while I go have a nap. Think I’ve earned one. And maybe when I’m back, you’ll stop bein’ such a damned brat and I’ll give you what you want, yeah?”