#prince fatty

[peninsularian]

Great lick-over of the Lonnie Liston Smith anthem

[punkrockmixtapes]

Listen to: You Know I'm No Good by Prince Fatty

[cavegirl66]

:::: Prince Fatty Meets The Mutant Hifi ::::

::: Transistor Cowboy :::

Return Of Gringo

Prince Fatty Meets The Mutant Hifi in 'Return of Gringo!' is the fevered and frontal lobe-damaged brainchild of Nick Coplowe (The Mutant Hifi) and Mike Pelanconi (Prince Fatty), the result of years of plotting, planning, laughing and procrastinating. Put simply, it is a surf/ska/spaghetti western soundtrack album for a film that is yet to be made. Think Dick Dale jamming with the Skatalites with Morricone at the helm, including appearances from Alessandro Alessandroni (the original spaghetti western whistler) and you're in the right section at the record store, although it is possibly a very small section.

It's a quick draw shootout in a mexican standoff, pitting hard hitting ska against ripping surf riffs and outlaw bandito brass, the cold anarchic freedom of the wild west seen through a lomographic lens where the hot sun and scorching sand make sure that only the toughest survive, leaving their enemies to the flies, the prairie dogs and the vultures. It is the son of a thousand fathers, every one of them a bastard. Every gun sings it's own tune.

[sarcasticdragon1682]

Here's a post-dinner pic of me on the brink of bursting (/s, kind of.) I figured it'd be a wasted opportunity if I didn't post a pic of my turgid tummy.

[gizmogutt]

Will I ever have a fat boyfriend??

I've dated such beautiful fat guys but nothing's been a solid commitment of exclusivity yet. It feels so depressing. I want to find a guy who likes being fat and maybe even wants to be fatter. And i feel insane talking to normie friends because they're like... Maybe you should date someone not fat, but I'm like, I literally can't... I wouldn't be attracted to them. Maybe we could be friends but i just wouldn't feel the sensation i would when I'm with a fat person.

I don't have a kink i have a type and it's fat guys. But its feeling like there are few guys that actually want to date me. Or who i click with.

It's frustrating but not hopeless. I know one day things will work romantically and I'll finally find the fat guy i belong with.

I gotta keep fat ...i mean faith!

[gottagetpig]

Merry Christmass from your local lardass. Stuffing my piggy gut so much these holidays feels so euphoric. Just eating and eating like a good little fatty, being given all the food I deserve and more. Feeling the pounds on my swelling frame as I gorge. Getting to be pampered like the spoiled piggy prince I am with food, helping my soft and increasingly thick thighs and increasingly doughy belly grow. each day filled with oh so decadent high calorie delights I can never resist all too happy to shovel the next cake, turkey and pie into my fat addicted face as my ass strains, thighs and belly strain from my clothes, until through the frenzy of it all I feel my pants rip, my top burst and buttons pop, unable to stifle a moan at the pleasure of doing so before continuing to gorge with renewed vigour.  I deserve to be spoiled like the fat prince I am, through food, praise and worship

My gorging won't stop after Christmas, as I grow more lazy and spoiled, as my desires for more fat, more food grow my soft squishy body will blossom with more and more lard just begging to be worshipped. My gluttonous belly becomes a dough apron constantly gurgling, demanding more food as slowly waddle over to the next feast shocking people with my delectably huge heft, wheezing and waddling my way to the door ready to grace the next lucky delivery boy or fast food cashier with my divinely huge heft. My marshmallow thighs and huge bubbly ass so swathed with fat they'd fill a couch with ease. Doorways a constant struggle needing to be pushed at points as my gelatinous rear presses and eventually dwarfs the doorway. My huge body deserves to be worshipped for the icon of gluttony it is. Growing heavier and larger as I grow all the more spoiled and gluttonous. Eventually waddling a few steps leaves me wheezing, drenched with sweat as I whine and reach for the next few burgers eager to break the bed and new boundaries of my weight... 

My body is a temple

So worship every roll

Spoil me rotten

Feed me more.~

[wlwarhammer]

Jon is actually evil like no one is safe from a read 😭

The king? Fatty

8 year old girl? Stupid and boring

Her 7 year old brother? Fat like his fat dad

The crown prince? Botched lip filler

Jon’s own brother? Stupid smile

[iidilio]

Characters who would never tire of boosting your self-esteem, who would adore you even with your 'fatties' and 'stretch marks' even though you think they are ugly and would remind you how much they love you every chance they get:

geto suguru, itadori yuji, jason todd, damian wayne, bruce wayne, clark kent, diana prince, itachi uchiha, naruto uzumaki, shisui uchiha, sesshomaru, inuyasha, howl jenkins pendragon, jirô horikoshi, shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya,

Oh, any character you think fits into the soft category 🤭…

[emyn-arnens]

In honor of Tolkien Reading Day, I've put together a rec list of some old favorites that center on this year's theme of fellowship and community. Enjoy!

The Courtship of Lady Éowyn by @starry-mantle (T, Merry, Éowyn, and Faramir, 7k):

Merry is happy to see the change that has come over Lady Éowyn. He is happier still to learn of her betrothal. But he simply cannot abide Faramir’s flagrant disregard for proper courtship procedures.

The Last Midwinter by @sallysavestheday (G, Sam, Rosie, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli, and Faramir, 1.3k):

Frodo is fading. Rosie and Sam assemble a crowd of old friends to help him through the darkest days of the year.

Last Summer by rhymer23 (G, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, and Merry, 5.4k):

It is one year on, and the Shire has never been more glorious. But to the hobbits of the Fellowship, even the sweet taste of summer can stir memories of the winter that has passed.

The Power of Tea by @hobbitwrangler (G, Bilbo, Gilraen, and Elrond, 1.8k):

While waiting for Aragorn and the hobbits to reach Rivendell, Bilbo attempts to ease Gilraen's anxiety by offering her tea.

The Swallow by rhymer23 (G, Merry, Pippin, and Éomer, 4.3k):

Having said his last farewells to the Shire, Merry visits Edoras and its King one final time.

theft and shrubbery by @southfarthing (G, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Fatty, and Ted Sandyman, 2.7k):

Hobbiton's notorious poetry society decides to hold its meeting in Sandyman's front garden. At midnight. Rather loudly. Frodo can't say he's particularly sorry about it.

with every seed you sow, let it wash away, wash away by @rarepairnation (G, Faramir, Éowyn, and Legolas, 4k):

“It is a gift, Master Elf,” says Faramir with a sad, sad smile, “to have the chance to choose the day of your death. Though I can only imagine it is a bitter one.” Legolas opens his mouth, then closes it. In Faramir's smile glitters the barest glint of mirth. “It is death, is it not? Of a kind. A journey to a realm you do not know, and behind your ship, one to which you can never return.” In which an elf and a prince of Gondor speak of grief and death and the sea, and life and song and brothers.

[mirielsart]

May I suggest an alternate, more unhinged Fellowship of the Ring?

From left to right:

- Halbarad (the normal one, very underrated)

- Lady Dis (has been carrying a grudge for a very long time)

- Tauriel (I love her, and I want her to go on a nice roadtrip with her mother-in-law)

- Prince Imrahil (I just think he's neat)

- Cirdan the Shipwright (too old for this shit, parents the others, will probably go on rampage at some point)

- Grimbeorn the Old (looks like they could kill you, is actually a cinammon roll)

- Lobelia Sackville-Baggins (will see the manager and kick his arse)

- Farmer Maggot (keeper of the single braincell, secretly the most dangerous of the lot)

- Radagast (has no idea what is going on, is just along for the ride, has the same abilities as Snow-White in Shrek)

Now, please, do tell me how that trainwreck goes. One thing I know for sure is that they're all smoking weed by the time they reach the gates of Moria.

Other contenders I thought to include but didn't : Tom Bombadil, Goldberry, Beregond, Glorfindel, Faramir, Rosie Cotto, Fatty Bolger, Elladan and Elrohir, Thorin Stonehelm, Gwaihir.

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#7 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology, the wonderful arrival of Nanami Kento | 780 words

previous next series masterlist

Toji Zenin, 20 years old, leant over the toilet bowl, retching out the complimentary breakfast onigiri offered by Perfect Prince Escort Services. It had taken two days for his brain to process the dreadful happenings at Shiori Park. Perhaps he didn’t react earlier because he was rendered mentally catatonic at how horrific the whole experience was. It brought tears to his eyes, a burning pain to his chest that threw him to his knees on the work bathroom floor. He couldn’t think of anything else the past couple of days. 

For the very first time in his entire life, someone had protected him. 

It made him want to fucking stab his neck. 

Sure, he wasn’t in any real danger, Yuzu wouldn’t ever shoot him, even if he did have bullets. And then was the fact that he could swat away small bullets like flies. But you didn’t know that. You just… protected him. 

Everytime he thinks about this his stomach ache twists worse. 

He’s 6’2 and 90 kgs. Utter ridiculousness that you were the one who leapt in front of him. Maybe you were one of those Mother Teresa types with an ‘I can fix him’ complex. Or that you psychologically placed him in the position of your dead younger siblings, making protecting him your first instinct. Could be both. Or neither. 

Toji pukes into the toilet again, unable to explain away your terrifying behaviour as mental illness. 

Knock-knock. “Zenin-kun? You’ve been there a while, do you need assistance?” Nanami called through the door. 

“No.”

“Are you sure? I could fix you a nice cup of warm tea and you could tell me all about–”

“Can you kill me, Nanami-senpai?”

A pause. “Is it that drastic?”

“Worse.”

“...Would a 5000 yen note make it any better?”

Nanami lent him money now and then to help the young boy out with his rent or gas. Toji attempted to return it on time, but the difference between the sum borrowed and repaid kept growing, till he finally stopped refusing to take any more from him out of shame. It made him feel a bit nice about himself, the fact that he still had that shame, boot-scraped bits of noble Zenin pride. Not that Nanami stopped offering. 

Toji joined Nanami for a smoke outside. Nanami was always quitting and relapsing; he’d go through cycles where he decided that his health mattered and drank green smoothies in between appointments, cycling to work, talking about omega-3 fatty acids. It would last somewhere around 2-3 weeks before he’d start sneaking in a cigarette–“once in a while doesn’t hurt, I read the research”, and then the smoothies would get less and less green until they were suspiciously whisky-coloured. Those weeks his shirts would reek of unslept nights spent chain-smoking on his balcony, watching the rivers of yellow and red car lights flow relentlessly on the roads. He’d ask Toji of the future and what they were all doing with their lives. 

Toji would just shrug. He genuinely did not care.  

Business soared for Nanami during those days. The meals he’d skip would sharpen his jawline and cheekbones, adorn him with an air of tortured melancholy that had women lining up for him. Something about the sallowness of his skin, dark circles too. Toji didn’t get it, but if it works then it works. 

He knew Nanami understood. He was kind. He’d offer 5000 yen with no expectations of getting it back, Nanami repeated his offer as they stood outside the escort shop, cigarettes in hand. Clearly the start of another relapse, Toji thought, a tiny nicotine patch peeking through his sleeve. 

Toji dragged a long breath. “A client crossed a boundary. I think. I’m just uncomfortable with her behaviour.” His brain felt fuzzy.

“Hmm. Why don’t you t–”

“But I didn’t tell her not to do it before. I didn’t know it made me uncomfortable before she did it.”

“It doesn't matter.” Nanami shook his head. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“She… she jumped in front of a gun to protect me.” Bile rose up his chest at the very detestable thought. 

“... For real?”   “For real.” 

They stood in silence for a bit. People-watching. A customer walked into Perfect Princes and came out with a few Suguru Geto pamphlets. 

“Give her a gift, say thank you, and return back to formal business relations. Done and over with.” Nanami doused his smoke out, wrapped the butt in a tissue and threw it into the non-biodegradable dustbin. “Again, Toji, never do anything you don’t want to.”

He patted the boy on the back, telling him to quit smoking (just words, for both of them), and went into the store. He had an appointment at 11.

previous next series masterlist

a/n: nanami just can't help himself from helping others, can he? esp lost kids

also personal update i got a horrendous haircut i wanted to take off an inch he took off five i was about to cry leaving the salon honestly. college starts next week too.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

for @ultrakatua (she's to blame) Yurgir/Raphael ass eating lol

-

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am. Perfectly serious.”

“You’re telling me to lick your asshole. Don’t you have a damn incubus for that?”

“Your lack of decorum, quite frankly, is a large part of why you’re being re-educated this way, Yurgir.”

“Re-educated. Right. Teach me then, where’s the decorum in eating your ass, Raphael?”

“Watch your tone. I can make amendments to your contract at any moment I choose, lest you forget.”

“As if I could fucking forget.”

“And for your information, this is your first lesson in humility. You may have ruled your fetid roost in Shar’s temple, but you are in my house now. It is time you learned exactly what that means.”

That was how the mighty Yurgir, once a feared hunter and powerful fiend, found himself on his knees in Raphael’s boudoir, the master of the house naked – every inch of ribbed cherry-red skin on display – as he bent over the arm of a chaise, hideously amused, waiting for Yurgir’s humiliation to begin.

The first tentative, reluctant lick of Yurgir’s huge, hot and rough and leathery tongue between Raphael’s fatty cheeks had the pampered cambion prince groaning. It wasn’t enough. Not enough pressure, not enough force. That big fiend really and clearly did not want to do this, and Raphael relished the thought (enough to chub up his cock even on a bad day) but he needed more. He shifted his feet, shifted his weight and position over the chaise, and pushed his ass firmly into Yurgir’s face. He smirked when the orthorn sputtered, grunted in surprise, but didn’t let his sadistic amusement carry in his voice.

“Is that truly the best you’ve got, captain? Maybe I’ll still send you to the pits as a lemure after all.”

“Shut. Up.” Growled Yurgir. He grabbed big handfuls of Raphael’s backside, digging his claws into the flesh. He spread those soft red cheeks, exposing Raphael’s puckered, twitching little crimson hole and his fat balls hanging below it. Raphael exhaled when his asshole touched cool air. Gasped when Yurgir leaned in and took a deep breath through his snout. “Perfumed even down here…but I can still smell your taint, trickster. Your musk. As much as you pretend this is for my punishment, I can taste how desperate you are to have your shithole tongue-fucked.”

“Get on with it,” Raphael hissed. He didn’t deny the accusation. Couldn’t. His cock was almost full-mast already. Yurgir rumbled a deep chuckle. His next lick was harder, broader. The curl of his tongue cupped and caressed the tight skin of Raphael’s scrotum, trailed up his perineum, flattened on the velvet of his asshole and stayed there for a moment. Raphael squirmed irritably, looking for friction. Yurgir did not give him any, instead sinking his claws deeper. Thin rivulets of scalding, fiendish blood trickled from the small wounds. The cambion seemed to like the pain. His tail, that he’d been keeping aloft, began to thump and sway. “Yes. Come on, beast. Give me more or I’ll have you vivisected and put on display in my foyer. You won’t be dead, either. Mmm…perhaps I’ll do that anyway…” The idea excited Raphael, if the throb of his cock and the bead of pearlescent precum peeking out from his glans was anything to judge.

“I’m sick of your voice,” snapped the orthorn. Squeezed harder, thinking about crushing Raphael’s pelvis to dust within his huge paws. Cambions were sturdy fuckers. It would take a lot of strength to turn them into pulp. A lot of violence. Yurgir’s massive, flaccid prick twitched with interest.

“Is that so?” Raphael turned his head to smile maliciously at Yurgir over his shoulder, alluringly obscured by the flutter of his wing, his cheeks flushed a darker red, eyes glittering with sadistic satisfaction. “Would you prefer a song instead?”

Never fucking mind. “Bastard,” snarled Yurgir, sharp and angry, but he went to work, because he couldn’t do anything else. If this poncy pissant put another song in his head, Yurgir would scoop his own brains out and stomp on them himself.

Fine, then. He’d done worse than lick a cambion’s asshole before.

Still holding Raphael’s cheeks, Yurgir licked the length of him again, leaving a trail of hot slobber. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of bursting Raphael’s balls between his tusks like overripe grapes, but the punishment wouldn’t be worth it – and there was always the chance the devil would enjoy that. Instead he focused on that wrinkled, pulsing hole, lapping at it like an oversized tiger licking flesh from the bone. He swirled the tip of his tongue around the wet rim of Raphael’s entrance, coaxing it to open. The devil exhaled shakily, spread his thighs apart a little further, pressed a hand into the cushion of the chaise to keep himself steady. Yet still, he did not stay quiet.

“That’s it. I had an inkling you were a dab hand at servicing, especially on your knees. It seems I was right. As I often am.”

Yurgir ignored him. He was beginning to understand how this cambion worked. Saying anything would only feed into his megalomania – the same way stuffing his face into Raphael’s taint was feeding his ego, his sexual sadism, but Yurgir knew you had to pick your battles. Much as it burned like sour acid in his throat, he had to give Raphael a modicum of respect. The man certainly knew how to get what he wanted. That didn’t mean Yurgir would give in gently, however. Gentle wasn’t in his nature. Without preamble, the moment he felt Raphael’s sphincter loosen, Yurgir forced the entire length and girth of his enormous tongue into the tight, hot cavern of the devil’s ass. The way it clenched around him, the earthy musky taste, wasn’t unpleasant at all, in truth.

“By the Hells!” Raphael cursed, his composure momentarily faltering as his body shuddered and stiffened, grappled with the sudden large intrusion. Yurgir grinned at the small victory, spit painting his fiendish lips. He felt Raphael’s asshole stretching to its limit around his tongue.

Good. He hoped it hurt.

He tongue-fucked Raphael ruthlessly, barely giving the cambion any time to breathe. In, out, lathing the rough texture of his slippery muscle all over the devil’s warm and spongey inner walls. He knew every time he licked over Raphael’s prostate because the devil would hiss, mutter in Infernal, rock his hips. He knew Raphael was desperately fisting his drooling cock because he could hear the slide of skin on skin over the obscene sounds of messy ass-to-mouth.

He knew he wanted to pull the devil’s fucking tail clean off his body because it kept whipping him as it thrashed. The next time it coiled by his ear, a serpent ready to strike, Yurgir snatched it in one paw and yanked. The sinewy tail stayed attached, but Raphael moaned, a husky, throaty sound belying the truth of his Hellish nature. Who’d have thought this prissy bastard liked receiving pain as much as he liked inflicting it. And he just kept fucking talking. As aroused by the sound of his own voice as the tongue in his ass.

“Truly you were the mightiest of your brood. A brutal, unflinching armageddon upon all you came across. And here you are, utterly at my mercy. Ah…and it is mercy, I assure you, for the things I could have done to you would put Asmodeus’ Inquisitors to shame. You should be thanking me for my boundless compassion, but we’ll work on that in the future. The only future you will ever know. Me. Raphael. I am your future.”

Yurgir knew these nonsensical words weren’t being spoke to him, but at him. In a final effort to shut him up, Yurgir pressed his face flush with Raphael’s dimpled backside and sucked hard on his quivering rim. The devil choked on his words, pulled in a harsh breath through his nose, grunting as he climaxed. His insides tightened on Yurgir’s tongue. The hand on his shaft pumped erratically. His wings flexed with pleasure. Ropes of cum splattered out of his cock, stained the chaise, dripped onto the floor. He didn’t seem to care. Yurgir pulled away the second he figured out that Raphael was cumming; dragged his tongue free as horribly as possible. He rose to his full height and sneered. Rubbed his aching jaw.

“Good enough for you?”

Raphael took his time collecting himself. Making Yurgir wait. The orthorn watched in mild disdain as Raphael suckled his own spend off his fingers, stretched luxuriously like a satisfied house cat. Blinked lazily, that damned tail swaying mockingly.

“Adequate, I suppose,” he said. Clicked his fingers and he was fully dressed again, immaculate, not a hair out of place. He glanced at Yurgir like he was a smear of dirt beneath his boot. “But your worshipping techniques and lack of fervor leave a lot to be desired. We’ll convene again tomorrow for another lesson. And I expect you to clean up this mess, by the way.”

[slippinninque]

🍷Girl Time🎀

AU SCENE DROP

just some girls hanging out and having fun!

(in which John gets to be happy thus everyone is allowed to as well)

feat: Koji Shimazu x BlackFemReader, John Wick x Helen Wick, mentions of Sofia x Caine

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 +, cursing, drinking, sexual themes, just-playing-around fic, long fic, author smoked a fattie pls forgive

"Helen!"

"I"m sorry--I needed the points!"

"Wha'd you meean? You're winning! I was an innocent bystander," You shouted after Sofia and Helen's twin screeches, "I didn't want to think of good brother John like that...damn..."

You watched as Sofia held her head in her hands after the assault of Helen's admission. The other woman, red to her ears, snorted and chortled into the game card in her hand.

"I mean, honestly....ya'll went to a class to learn that or something?"

Sofia yelled your name and you broke as you held up your hands as you cried out. Was it in defense? Was it surrender? You didn't know but you were having a grand time.

You don't know what possessed Sofia to get an erotic card drinking game to play for an impromptu girl's night in, ("Hey, it was all the Dollar Tree had! All I needed was to break a $50!") but it was proving to be more entertaining than you thought.

Slapping on a point system definitely heated things up. With every question you refuse to answer, meant taking a shot. A question quickly enough answered meant the other two ladies took a shot.

You spoke on Koji's behalf and Helen spoke on John's. Sofia answered from her experience and a few dalliances you weren't aware of before. Hell, if anyone blew your brows up--it wasn't just Helen.

Eventually, everyone just started taking shots and pulling cards in semi-consistent order. Cabinets were raided for snacks and chasers as liquor and wine was poured. It got to everyone answering the question or everyone seeming it too "boring". It was more of a...communal scaring of the minds. Good stuff.

Abs aching, cheeks hurting and eyes tearing--you looked at the meager pile of cards in your pile. You could not afford another double-shot. Not if you wanted to lose control of your laugh and have Koji think you were in danger if he and the men returned early from their own 'fun night'.

While you aren't sure of how much Helen knew, you didn't want to blow John's spot when you both were invited to spend girl time with Helen while the men caught up amongst themselves.

You and Sofia introduced yourselves as old friends who were in the entertainment industry. You were a party planner while Sophia was a beast in catering--the type of ladies who didn't spend their time selling their blades and bullets for favors and money.

"--irl, are you listening?" Sofia wiped her face with the edge of her shirt, "Pull a damn card!"

Helen fanned herself with her cards, still laughing and you felt yourself starting up again. You hurried to pull a card, you read it aloud.

"Costumes , lingerie, or nothing at all?"

The two other women visibly lost a bit of interest at one of the tamer questions of the evening.

"Oh, that's not so bad..."

"Yeah, I mean men--what?" Sofia caught the wander of your eye and the sudden itch that came to your elbow, "Spill it! What does Mr. Honor like? He's tied you up, at least."

"No! Well, yeah--but wait!" You shook your hands to level your own attention more than theirs, "That don't matter right now--

"Is it the costumes?" Helen picked up when Sofia reached to pour a shot of tequila, "What is it? Policewoman? Femme Fetal? Oh, a sexy pierrot clown--"

"Neither!"

"Neither?"

Helen narrowed her eyes at you and took a very talk to me type of sip of her wine-whisky and Sofia doubling back to mouth, pierrot? to herself.

"You might have to walk with me a bit with this one, Helen--Sofia, you should know. Remember that part in Fresh Prince of Bel-Air when Aunt Viv--

Sofia squinted her features and you corrected, "Erm, the first Aunt Viv. Remembered when The First Aunt Viv told Uncle Phil that she had something to knock his socks off?"

You deepened your voice and straightened your spine as you mimicked your man, "'I'm not wearing any socks, just come out naked' --and I love my man down, but he just don't be caring for that too much. My sweet Kojiji..."

"Oh wow...."

"Are you serious?"

"Mhm! Honestly but Koji still surprises me to this day. I'd be minding my own business and--

Helen slapped her hands together, "Pounce!"

You snapped and pointed at her, "Indeed! I could be in in a shower cap and Crocs and Koji's all over me!"

"Caine's ass is like that too, I wonder if it's a thing from their little wolf-pack thing they have going on." Sophia hummed thoughtfully

Your eyes wandered as you laminated out loud, "I still can't believe that this is how I found that out that y'all be... touchin'."

Sofia only licked her teeth and you faked gagged.

It was very much like finding out your best friend kissed your other best friend and neither told you about it. The high-school of it all made it more hilarious and you intended to milk this betrayal up until Sophia gifts you with a dish of her famous kefta mkaouara .

You refocused when Helen's giggle descended into a cackle. It was a contagious sound and soon the trio of you were set off again, going up an octave when Sofia ended up knocking over the pile of playing cards.

You were delighted that Helen found John. She would keep him good company, keep him grounded. Helen was firecracker when fucked up, and she was a good woman through and through when sober. They were a perfect match.

A stray memory darted across your mind as you reached for the bottle Sofia offered and you snorted quietly yourself.

Helen waved a finger as she took another swig of her wine-whisky mix, "What was that? Spill!"

"Its not even my turn, it's--

"Spill! Spill! Spill!"

You couldn't handle the pressure, you squealed into your hands as your secret pressed up against your teeth. Alcohol loosened your tongue and it was ready to tell your business. You matched Helen's crisscross and clapped your hands to gather your thoughts.

"Weeell....there was this job, in the Poconos of all places, that Koji did not want me to plan for. He didn't like the customer. Met him once before or something like that."

You refilled your cup and continued, carefully editing the bloodier parts of the true story for Helen's sake. Sofia watched you with knowing eyes but eager for the part of the story she wasn't already familiar with.

"I got it done, wasn't a big party but some of my best work. Everyone was taken care of and I ended up getting recommended to plan a few others." You grinned when Sofia who applauded you in snaps, "Put the client in his place on the way out and I got paid. He got what he asked for, another one bites the dust right? Good job, right? Wrong."

That sent Helen into crisscrossing in her seat, "But why?"

"Girl, guess who came to pick me up?"

"Anything but that..." Sofia's words were tucked into a laugh.

"Koji Thee Shimauzallion himself. And guess who else? Mhmm! Your hubby! That man was the only one who knew about it 'cause he was my damn ride!"

Sofia shuffled the deck of playing cards as she thought out loud, "I think I remember this, Caine felt caught in the middle or some other Brotherhood of the Travelling Henley or something..."

Helen gestured for you to handle her the bottle you obliged as she fussed, "How dare he? You're his bro too and women wear Henleys He can't just rat you out like that!"

"Damn fucking right we do and thank you for saying so! Ah... right! I pack all my equipment up and have my little walk of shame to the car. John's driving and Koji is in the front seat, he never sat apart from me, so I'm thinking shit he's really pissed."

"Mind you this was before we were serious-serious, I just liked him a lot at this point. That's important to the story."

Sofia nods, "Of course! 'course."

"Right, right." Helen hummed.

"So. Here we are. John giving me a sorry buddy-ass stare in the rearview, Koji looking out the window and shit lookin' like he 'bout to tell me pack my denman brush and go and I'm low-key pissed because I was having a good night..."

You had to take a breath from your ramble to laugh. You don't know why you did it, but you took a pour from Helen when she forgot to put the bottle back onto the table.

"He tells me how disappointed he was that I would so such a thing and put myself at risk and dootdootdoot," Sofia chuckled at casual your skipping through dirty details, "I tell him I'm grown and I can ki--handle, handle anybody who needs it, he aint' trying to listen..."

You took a breath and scratched your eyebrow, "We're actually starting to have our first argument at this point! We tell we both tell the other didn't like it, but it was new and it was angry and..."

A dramatic pause for effect had Helen leaning in her seat and Sofia posing to throw a peanut at you.

"Kojitoremyassouttheframe," You let it rush out of you in a sigh as you remembered the only fight you were glad to lose, "Yes, baby girls. Yes, he did. He may have not known it then, but he used that good dick for evil that night."

Sofia was folded over and Helen was recovering from nearly snorting wine-magic out her nose. You carried on through your own building hysterics.

"Listen y'all! This is what happened after! This man gonna look at me and tell me if I ever feel like acting out again to come and find him, he'll give it to me again. Girl, I was through. I rolled him a cigarette, too..."

The sound of laughter felt so good to hear, laughing felt so freeing to do. You needed this time more than you realized and was already planning for future gatherings.

Helen sighed, turning her face up to the ceiling to try and get air. She took a supportive sip of liquor as Sofia wobblily searched for her glass.

"Don't let them quiet ones fool you, right Hel'? It's a real mutherfucker up under them puppy dog eyes..."

Helen rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, breathing in wetly.

"To be comply honest ladies, something similar happened to me with John."

"Oh my God!!"

"Spilly-spill-spill~!"

"Okay, okay! Spill I shall..."

Turns out that John had the audacity to hint that Helen wasn't capable of talking care of herself within the short distance it took to get to her car from her workplace doors.

Helen had the brilliant idea to go out with some girlfriends and not tell John. Fully intending to have a cool story when she returned home about how she was a 'big girl' and could do as she pleased. You gasped and nearly choked while Sofia went off like a low, wide eyed police siren,

"Yyyoooou can't be doing no shit like that, Helen! You ain't scared of shit?"

"Pfft, well yeah... just not Johnny."

Of course you rose you glass to that, "Go off, Helen..."

Helen snorted but gave a little tilt to her head that had you pointing accusingly. Spill.

Sofia caught on and her eyes narrowed, "Yeah, how'd stand of yours end?"

Helen suddenly found her nails very interesting, "Well...."

Helen described the dark look in John's eyes as he stalked into the bar. Helen remembered aloud how he scanned the crowd, finding her as easily as if she were the only one in the room.

"I-I froze! It was so weird and my girlfriends took the blame but he knows me, it was totally my idea!"

"Then what after that? I know good brother John didn't let that fly..." You giggled with Sofia's, knowing how John could get when he felt wronged.

Helen picked up her drink and muttered something into the rim before taking a hearty sip. You squinted as what Helen said fell short of your ears.

"Huh? What was that?" Sofia apparently heard judging from the Cheshire smile on her face, hand cupped to her ear.

Helen's answer was to go from flushed pink to raging red up to her ears, "I said we never made it out the parking lot!"

You pointed and laughed but hoped Helen saw the comradery in it. You got some popcorn and blame thrown your way but couldn't stop laughing. It may have been the liquor or the overload of endorphins--but you were so happy.

You can finally say you had friends.

Smiling dopily at the two women across from you and relaxing into the plush seat, you reached for another card to start more shit.

---------------

✨ending notes✨: This was sooooo much fun to write and a good release!🫣 this idea of an unhinged girl night would not leave me alone, forgive me for any foolishness as i was smoking on my day off 🤣t. i may do a prt2, what do ya'll think?

💜taglist💜: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @harmshake @blowmymbackout @miyuhpapayuh @ellethespaceunicorn

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[sugarplums-atnite]

Reporting for fat aegon!

Alright let’s do it I’m rusty😩bulletpointed!

Rating: SFW

Tags: Fat Aegon II, Mentions of stuffing, weight gain, body worship, servant reader, daydreams, open ending, belly rubs, belly worship, mention of MOOBS (woo!), very soft very sweet

You’re a mere servant. Pretty, horribly common, you try not to talk or be seen. Especially with the rumors about the prince- no, king. Aegon is king now.

He’s always been inclined to gluttony, but the weight of the crown has taken a toll. You’re bringing in roast pig at midnight, trays of lemon cakes mid morning before small council. It appears the king has grown insatiable.

It doesn’t take long for Aegon to gain weight, it seems your king only has eyes for food, wine, and doing the little duties he is required— the hand is a cold, controlling man you have learned.

Aegon finally notices you under your drab clothes and hidden hair. He’s usually out of it by the time you come to gather the leftovers with another servant, rubbing his stomach and yelling at the Kingsguard outside to get him some ‘entertainment’.

Tonight he’s more subdued, telling you to wait. You turn around, glancing at his swollen frame. Sometimes it felt that he was bigger by the week— cheeks red and chubby, his belly inching out over his lap, wide hips and soft thighs.

“Come here,” he beckons with a thick finger, violet eyes drawing down the length of you. You felt like another meal waiting to be devoured. The king shifts with a grunt, tugging at his doublet with a frown. He looks down, chin doubling. You feel heat on your cheeks— something about his excess made you feel…strange.

“I need out of this damned thing, it’s killing me,” he grunts, panting. You kneel between his round thighs, splayed for his belly. Your fingers work at the buttons— drawn tight from bloat. One pops off, the King laughs, remarking, “Can’t seem to stay on these days.”

He takes a deep breath once he’s free, bossing you around to get his tunic off his puffy arms, then assistance with his undershirt. It was just as tight. Aegon looks at you again, scrutinizing. You blink, caught staring at his pale belly, round and wide. Stretchmarks slither up his fatty lower stomach and his wide hips. You swallow, eyes flitting over his fleshy and swollen chest.

“You like what you see?” He asks with a grin, full cheeks dimpling. You get down on your knees again, unsure of what to do. He rubs his full belly, stifling a burp, thickly murmuring, “You’ve got good, strong hands, your king needs some help. And take off that bonnet.”

You murmur lowly, eyes glued to his plush, huge form, “Yes, your grace.”

Down comes your hair, Aegon reaching out to feel it. He hums, “Pretty. Now get your fill, I know you’re aching to touch it, pretty little thing.”

You nod, hands finally coming to rest on the warm, taut flesh. Yet he’d grown so much, his lower belly remained butter soft, even if his belly crested up top with all that food. You stifled a soft noise, listening to his groan as your hands roamed, pressing gently on his tender gut.

Aegon stretched out, untying his breeches, eyes heavy lidded as he watched you marvel over his fat. He laughed lowly, “I suppose it’s lovely to a little peasant like you, all this fat. You love it, don’t you? Something to hold onto at night.” He was enamored by your desperate whimper and nods, hands gripping at his hips. Gods- he felt heavy.

He can see you want to speak, giving permission. You plead, “Your grace, I’ll make sure you are comfortable every meal, I can massage you and oil your marks, they must itch.”

Aegon likes the cute little furrow between your brows. You’d look more adorable in his lap, smothered by his excess, massaging his bloated frame. The king decides you’ll be his favorite, sighing as you soothe where the buttons were sticking in.

He’s lazy and you’re more than willing to do every little thing. He can see it now, belly up in his comfortable bed, you tending to his needs. Ah, how good it is to be king. He pets your hair, smirking.