#and crushing me under his big fat sausage body

[intriga-hounds]

yo whoever setting off fireworks at 2am is my enemy. not bc of the noise (bc i would’ve slept thru them tbh) but bc ur scaring bazzy and now he’s crushing me.

[pangtasias-atelier]

A Day In The Life

Title is based off of the comic for FEH.

Really wanted and was craving something soft and fluffy. Plus I recently got F!M!Corrin to +10 so I was extra motivated to do this. 

This isn’t really WG based, it’s just a soft scene of relaxing but with them being fat lol. But did make sure to include a lot of descriptions about their size.

So here’s the first actual story (at 4.3k words) involving fat Tibarn and Grima after a year of saying I would and it also involves fat Corrin cause I love them all so much,,,

Glad how it came out and probably/hopefully do something else with them later

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“Kiran...,” Taking short, shallow breaths, Corrin huffs as he rests his head on the soft large dome of Kiran’s belly. 

The summoner known as Kiran past the stages of chunky, or even portly, their sizable, prodigious figure is easily shown despite their rather large and loose robes. Currently resting his back against a tree, Kiran gently yet firmly grasps Corrin’s left hand, his sausage fingers woven with Corrin’s. Eyes closed, small bags reside underneath them. Corrin residing in between the comforting spot in between Kiran’s hefty thighs, the warm sanctity of Kiran’s embrace reigns in his draconic blood. Kiran’s large gut tucked inside his cool, vibrant blue shirt, the hefty mass of fat slots itself comfortably in between Kiran’s girthy thighs. The fat from his thighs already necessitating the need for him to spread his legs, Corrin had taken up Kiran’s offer of resting in his lap. 

Kiran staggeringly tall, a feat shocking to several of the heroes just as much as Kiran’s weight, Corrin’s averagely unremarkable height only accentuates Kiran’s tall figure. However, Corrin’s remarkable weight, even more remarkable than Kiran’s weight, downplays Kiran’s fat figure. 

Originally trim and slim, as all the heroes from the World of Fates knew Corrin to be, Kiran’s eating habits had rubbed off on Corrin. Once used to rather barebone meals, the extra portions offered in Askr had been too tantalizing for the pampered yet neglected dragon. Even more extra portions offered due to being one of Kiran’s favorites, Corrin’s beastly state had been unable to remove all traits that his normal self contains, Corrin’s naive nature still residing inside him. 

A limber yet toned, athletic figure epitomic of Corrin, the trait easily vanished as the meals began adding on the pounds. Form-fitting interlocked armor adorning his frame at all times, the extra pudge made putting on such a thing a struggle before, soon enough, the piece of metal had been scrapped all together. Transforming into his dragon state Corrin’s method of fighting, the loss of his armor was unfelt by Corrin. Especially as Kiran consoled Corrin, offering him kind words about his plump body, the extra weight a sign of his own caring for his body. Or jokes instead about how Corrin still weighed less than Kiran’s prodigious weight. The ease on his conscious made the ‘just one last plate’ or ‘a third desert’ weigh less and less heavily on Corrin’s mind, his gluttony soon growing unabashed. Soon left in nothing but the tight black spandex meant to go under his armor, the tight, stretchy fabric revealed all of Corrin’s many extra curves. His large rolling hill of a gut tucked tightly in the highly elastic waistband of his pants, his meaty, door-crushing thighs firmly wedged inside his spandex, his girthy flour bag for arms squished inside his sleeve, his cushiony pillows for breasts crammed inside the fabric of his shirt, each single body part of Corrin was visible to every hero. The extra weight easier to deny his body the draconic urges welling inside him, Corrin’s own excuse sufficiently placated him even as his body swelled up to Kiran’s size. And even further as he ate and gained even more. Even the shockingly high elasticity of his clothes stood no chance as Corrin swiftly and easily crammed increasingly higher amounts of food down his greedy maw. Kiran had taken his time getting an outfit for Corrin made, the outfit barely completed by the time Corrin’s shirt was nothing more than an ill-fitting makeshift bra. 

Corrin lying down on the floor, his ridiculously round roll riddled gut rises high above him like eager yeast. His gut also blankets his body, the tucked in mound of fat going halfway down his thighs. His thighs unwilling to be left in the large doughy shadows of his gut, the girthy tubes of dough for thighs remain wider than his massive gut. The malleable flabby fat of his thighs smoosh down on the forest floor. Requiring a wide stance due to only being able to waddle, Corrin’s own legs are spread wide apart, even wider than Kiran, as a reflection of his massive cushions of fat needing copious amounts of room. His tail resting in between them, the appendage seemed to grow wider as Corrin did, the large tail resting in between Corrin’s own legs, his tail crammed inside the limited space. Corrin taking habitance in between Kiran’s thighs, Corrin’s rolls of fat overlap onto Kiran’s legs, the harsh color of Corrin’s black shirt and pants a stark contrast against Kiran’s bright white pants. Corrin’s soft jiggly stomach splays onto Kiran’s thighs, the doughy fat close to blanketing them. And it would if not for his large pants keeping his stomach and thighs contained. His ass also firmly contained inside his pants, the two cushiony mounds press up against Kiran’s spread out legs. Corrin’s breasts splay to the side similarly, the two large jugs also falling down the hill of his stomach and resting against the tire of fat known as Corrin’s neck. The neckline of Corrin’s shirt rather low, his fair creamy skin peeks out, his collarbone invisible with so much fat. The upper slivers of fat from Corrin’s sizable breasts show. Corrin rests both of his doughy, fat arms over Kiran’s lap, happily holding Kiran’s left hand with his own. Though the act is a bit more difficult than should be, Corrin’s chorizo-like fingers wedged firmly in between Kiran's sausage fingers. 

“Kiran,” Corrin repeats, his face a bit strained as he grits his teeth. His chipmunk cheeks tighten up ever so slightly from the motion, but not before jiggling.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Kiran coos as he gazes down at Corrin’s closed eyes. Ruffling the soft silvery strands of Corrin’s hair with his free hand, Kiran runs his hands playfully through it. “You’re getting a lot better; trust yourself like I trust you,” Kiran removes his hand from Corrin’s hair; he grabs Corrin’s portly cheek, giving it a playful pinch. 

“You shouldn’t trust me,” Corrin whines, letting out a gasp as a shiver runs down his spine. His dilated piercing red eyes opening wide, his back arches. Corrin’s dome of a belly rises before he falls back down, Corrin unable to get up as easily as he used to. Huffing, Corrin pants as he regains his breath. 

Kiran’s hand never once leaving his own, the other reassuring hand rubs whatever part of Corrin's big body it can reach. 

Corrin eye’s slowly undilate, his horns and wings no longer begging to form themselves, his breath slowly regains its normal composure. “I…” Corrin shifts his head to the side, Kiran’s warm belly conforming to it. “am nothing but a beast,” 

Kiran wastes no time in responding. “You’re you,” Kiran bends slightly over, the upper flab of his stomach crinkling over Corrin’s face, Kiran’s stomach and moobs making more contact with Corrin’s vision than his face. “There are plenty of other heroes here with non-human traits. Some with draconic blood as well,” Kiran brushes Corrin’s bangs away, a warm smile offered his way. "And you try so hard, and that's what matters,"

Corrin lets out a sigh. “Thank you,” Corrin opens his mouth ever slightly but closes it before he can speak more. 

"I'm glad you joined us at the castle; you're worthy of trust and care," Kiran continues strumming his fingers through Corrin's hair.

Corrin responds with a quiet hum, his free arm resting on his gut.

Kiran simply squeezes Corrin’s hand tightly in his.

The large flaps of wings sounding throughout the forest, Kiran instinctively glances up. Bringing a sizable hand to cover his eyes, a round tan mass of fat comes creeping through the trees. 

Tibarn summoned quite some time ago, the rugged muscular hawk king was of a height and size comparable to that of Kiran’s. Only a few inches shorter than Kiran, Tibarn’s width had been accompanied with a heaping helping of muscle unlike Kiran’s fat frame. Prideful yet honorable, Tibarn’s outgoing nature helped facilitate bonds with other heroes, even those not hailing from the World of Radiance. Tibarn’s main method of doing so involved one of two methods: sparring or eating. Pheonicis’ mountains and cliffs not well suited for the progress of cuisine, Askr’s overflowing abundance of variety had Tibarn trying as much as he could. A grand meal often accompanied with every overwhelming victory of his, of which Tibarn’s stellar prowess in battle meant that said occurrence happened every battle, meant Tibarn’s hefty meals eventually began to add up despite his high activity. Glistening washboard abs washed away as a trickle of fat began to slowly soften them up. Once firm athletics tape unraveled and bulged from the unexpected extra pounds before Tibarn simply got rid of the tape altogether. Never shy about showing his body, Tibarn’s open green coat and unbuttoned shirt offering the perfect display of his body, soon even his shirt was tossed to the wayside. His jacket only split further down the side as the little onset of a tummy blossomed into a round dome of a gut. Able to shift into his hawk form unimpeded by his weight, the extra flab was irrelevant to him. The great conversations and the even greater meals worth the pounds. Kiran’s constant praise and side glances at Tibarn’s body only emboldened the prideful king. Tight beige pants that once illustrated his musculature instead began to illustrate his widening form, Tibarn’s pants often needing an upsizing to withstand his flabby ass. Relatively uncaring about others opinion on him, the only worthwhile opinion being on his character, Tibarn’s swelling size was unimportant to him even as he grew to Kiran’s size and even further.

Grunting, Tibarn’s face is flushed. The soft jowls offer a cuddlier depiction of Tibarn, his wide scar the only visual depiction of his rugged nature. Each massive flap of his wings creates a gust of wind, the leaves scattering all around from the gusts of air. His sizable frame a few inches from the ground, Tibarn simply lets himself down with a resounding thud. Resting a hand on his voluminous stomach, Tibarn catches his breath. 

Accustomed to eating as he is to fighting, Tibarn’s great gut freely sags down. His coat uselessly flutters to the sides of his elliptical stomach. His inundated enjoyment of food visible, his stomach neatly partitions itself, a generously portioned love handle separating his two rolls for a stomach. His wave of a stomach uninhibited by fabric, the large lardy underside of his gut flows freely all the way down to his knees. The sides of his rolling gut spread out far, the blanket of fat as wide as his thighs. His overly generously sized moobs tiredly flop down on Tibarn’s shelf of a gut. Both splaying to the side, Tibarn’s saucer sized nipples jiggle freely. Another roll of fat forms under them, accentuating their bulk. The two melons for tits press up against each other, the upper curvature of them exaggerated even further. Tibarn’s sleeve once roomy, his gigantic bingo-wingo arms use up the entire expanse, Tibarn’s green coat seemingly painted onto his arm. His other arm free of the confines of a sleeve, the massive mound of fat rests down, the bunch of fat bundled up around his elbow and wrist. Tibarn’s arms alone are wider than his head. His thighs not as large as the top-heavy Tibarn, the restrictive fabric of his pants cling to his thighs, each of Tibarn’s jutting rolls of fat easily visible. The waistband of his pants no longer visible with melted icecream for a stomach covering it, the non button elastic band is invisible to all. Tibarn’s doughy hill of a back is covered by his coat, the abundant rolls hidden. His massive wings nearly touch the ground, Tibarn’s wings still far wider than his expansive frame. Though even with his strong wings, they struggle to carry his bulk for long while untransformed.

“I figured you’d be here,” Grinning at Kiran, Tibarn waddles his way over to the two. His heaping stomach in the way, his cushions for legs rub past one another. Stopping in his tracks, Tibarn hits his chest for a second before emitting a small belch, obviously having eaten before coming to find the two. “The wind tells me a lot of things. And my ears help fill me in on the rest,” Slowly waddling his way to Kiran and Corrin, Tibarn’s voluminous jet black hair bounces just as the rest of his corpulent frame does. “If you ever do lose yourself,” Tibarn offers a grin at Corrin, resting a meaty hand on his sizable love handle. “Then I’ll be there to stop you,”

“Thank you,” Corrin plainfully responds, no ill will taken from the threat. 

Both of them ignore Kiran's tsk of disapproval.

Tibarn reaching the large tree, he lazily plops his ass down, resting all his weight on the tree with a heavy sigh. Resting a hand on his gut, Tibarn drapes his other arm around Kiran’s shoulder. “Though, I’d rather tie you to a bed and call it a day than kill you,” Grinning, Tibarn lets out a chuckle as Kiran scoffs. 

Tibarn pressed up against Kiran, his beefy stomach digs into Kiran’s arms. Adjusting himself, wobbling and grunting accompanying it, Tibarn sighs as he rests against Kiran’s left side.  

“Didn’t peg you as much of a nature person,” Tibarn lazily comments, his eyes watching the slow breezy winds flutter by.

“I have my moments,” Kiran keeps his left hand fixed to Corrin’s, his free right hand ruffling Corrin’s hair as Corrin lackadaisically remains in his lap. Both Tibarn and Corrin absolutely large, the cool evening weather offers a bit of a cooling down for Kiran with so much body heat produced from their weights. “Besides, it’s nice to get away from all the business once in a while,” Yawning, Kiran’s body tenses before unclenching as he shifts around a bit. 

“I’m the opposite, I need some chaos every now and then,” Tibarn presses Kiran a bit more to himself, Corrin grumbling from the movement.

“Some? You certainly get enough for the both of us,” Removing his right hand from Corrin’s hair, he reaches around his own belly, patting the sides of Tibarn’s gut. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself before joining us,”

“Heh, I gotta show those heroes 

 I can still take 'em. I need to defend your honor and all that,” 

Kiran scoffs once more, finding himself doing the act so often with Tibarn’s jovial nature. “I can defend my own honor. Besides, to me it looked like you did more eating than sparring,” 

“You don’t mind it,” 

“You’ve found me out so easily?” Kiran mockingly raises his right hand to his plump chest. 

“It’s obvious,” Corrin mumbles, his eyes still closed as his fatigue continues to creep up on him. He fidgets for a moment before his breathing calms down, his chipmunk cheeks rising with each breath.

Tibarn lets out a roarous laughter. His body reverberates from the motion, his rolls for a stomach jiggling to and fro. Kiran chokes on his own words from the surprise interruption, Kiran having forgotten about Corrin’s presence despite being in his lap, so used to him being around. Kiran slowly regains his words; he clears his throat yet Tibarn is the first to speak.

“When are we heading back? The order would collapse without you,” Tibarn’s arms still draped over Kiran’s shoulders, he squeezes Kiran’s doughy arm.

“I find that personally hard to believe,” Kiran lowers his head as Tibarn’s shrewd gaze directs itself towards him, Tibarn’s piercing amber eyes no less harsh despite his rounded face. Kiran's retort of Phoenicis doing fine without it's king dies in his throat.  “But, thank you,” Kiran pauses for a moment. “And I wanna enjoy the calm atmosphere a bit more,”

“You’re just waiting for him,” Corrin whines, his eyes opening.  “He’s almost here,” Corrin lazily flicks his tail in between his legs.

“There goes the atmosphere,” Tibarn shrugs off the playful jab from Kiran with a grin, his gut absorbing the blow.

“You cursed worm,” Wheezing promptly following the sentence, Grima lumbers his way past a clearing of bushes.

Grima summoned long before Corrin and even quite some time before Tibarn, Grima’s brutish, rude nature had left him rather unpopular with several heroes. Most of all, those from the World  of Awakening. Still, his arbitrary, at times, nature left somewhat of a nice taste in Kiran’s mouth. All humans far beneath him, the only heroes Grima could be considered on working terms was his fellow dragons. And even the term is rather loose, Grima’s biting tongue keeping a sizable distance between himself and them. The only true decent companionship Grima found in was Kiran, the summoner able to leverage his contract to reign him in. Kiran obedient, Grima went along with it, finding him to be a serviceable minion. 

Food unnecessary for Grima’s vessel, Kiran’s innocuous offer of food had the Fell Dragon’s hunger spiraling downward. A simple snack a day soon turned into a bundle of snacks throughout the day. Soon, said snacks were often accompanied by full blown meals before those became a requirement too, Grima unwilling to accept any less. Said demands made of Kiran, Grima’s incessant tasks were met everyday, his hedonistic gluttony unchecked, everyone too afraid to mention anything. Everyone besides Kiran, Kiran lavishing praise upon the copious, wanton bubbling of fat caked upon Grima’s short stature. His twig of a body ballooned out further and further, Grima’s once thin limbs widening and filling his clothes. Grima uncaring about his appearance, the tears and rips littering his outfit was deemed unnecessary, Grima only upgrading his duds whenever Kiran gave him another offering of clothes. 

His clothes still the same appearance, the massively upsized clothes caress and fondle his soft pale blubber. Grima’s massively fattened state is impossible to ignore; his prodigious, girthy thighs are much harder to ignore. Grima immensely bottom-heavy, his gelatinous thighs appear affixed to one another, the soft undulating rivulets of fat pressed up against one another despite his constantly wide stance. Two column-like thighs crammed inside the soft fabric, the material contours to his shape, the flabby overlapping fat jiggling for all to see. His fat pad melds in between his blubbery thighs, the outline of it evident. Thick engorged calves help fill out the bottom of Grima’s cramped pants, his calves bouncing and wobbling about as well as Grima tiredly lifts one encumbered leg over the other. His ass his defining feature, the massive chairs for cheeks jut out behind him like his stomach. Each alone larger than Grima’s torso once was, the bulbous yet squarish mounds of fat sag down as gravity tugs it closer to the earth. The shelf for an ass ridiculously wobbles behind him. The waistband of his pants gradually falls down on the rare occasion of Grima walking. His stomach still large, the soft jiggling mass remains tucked inside his shirt, his gut reaching past his crotch. His shirt and coat are just as small on Grima’s big body as his pants. The outline of Grima’s curvaceous stomach presses against the fabric, Grima’s plump breasts defined and visible as they rest on top of his gut. His face round as a ball, the extra chins and doughy cheeks helps diminish the outward appearance of Grima’s wrathful nature. But the extra eyes on his face negate said jovial look. Though the summoner’s presence reduces Grima’s nature to that of a petulant yet dangerous beast. 

“You…” Face flushed, Grima attempts a growl, his sharp teeth barred. But his smushed cheeks make it difficult for him to accomplish the sound. Eyes darting between Tibarn and Corrin, Grima squints his eyes at them. Not as keen on sharing the summoner as the two of them, Grima accustomed to occupying Kiran all to himself, he bites his tongue as Kiran smiles at him. Letting out a grunt, Grima waddles his way to the fatty pile, Kiran patting the empty spot beside him on his right. 

No care in the world, Grima lets himself fall with a deafening thud, his couch for an ass cushioning the blow for him, resting his back against the tree, Grima immediately latches onto Kiran’s free hand with his own. Still catching his breath, the labored sounds of his gulps of air fill the silence for a moment.

“Tired?” Kiran jokingly asks.

“I tire of your idiocy,” Grima bites back, his head leaning back against the tree. 

“You do have a short temper. It matches your cute height” Kiran sagely nods, choicely ignoring Grima’s insult. 

Turning to face Kiran, Grima glares at him. 

“I’m kidding,” Kiran chuckles, his soft body jiggling as a consequence. The edge of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. Kiran’s eyes follow the path of Grima’s, Grima glaring at Tibarn’s meaty arm wrapped over Kiran’s shoulder instead. “You’re getting better,” Kiran’s mind replays numerous instances of Grima snapping upon anyone touching him. Grima’s eyes gaze back as Kiran beams at him, Grima holding back a grumble in the depths of his throat. He tightens his grip on Kiran’s hand further, refusing to let go. 

"How was your day?" Kiran asks. Corrin still peacefully in his lap, the feral prince's eyes remain closed. His breath slowing down, the dome of his stomach rises high in the air with each breath. Tibarn rests his head against Kiran's, the long soft black hair as pleasant to the touch as his fat. His eyes closed as well, he basks in the soft gentle winds and Kiran's presence. 

"It was fine," Grima grumbles, still unused to any sort of actual respect or care for his well-being, so often needed for his strength and strength alone. A frown still eternally plastered on his face, the ends of his mouth squish from the fat, his harsh expression softer than before. Mentally aware of just how close Tibarn and Corrin are to his summoner, Grima scoots a bit closer to him, still keeping a small gap. "This damn tree is too small," Grima lies. Kiran's own chunky form pressing up against his, Grima refrains from holding back his smile, glad to dwarf the summoner in one aspect besides strength.

"Glad to see you enjoying yourself," Kiran closes his eyes, leaning his head against the tree. He yawns, his entire body suddenly wracked with exhaustion. Squished by Tibarn from the left and Corrin from the front, the gap of space still in between him and Grima feels unpleasant, too strange. "Come closer,"

Tibarn adjusts his arm a bit, the meaty appendage shifting from resting across the entirety of Kiran's shoulder to instead slink it around Kiran's head, Tibarn's hand on Kiran's doughy collarbone.

"There's no point,"

"The point is, I want you closer to me," 

"If it'll cease your grovelling," 

Kiran hums in the back of the throat as Grima struggles to shift himself closer, small grunts and complaints uttered at his usual quick, annoyed pace. Kiran expectantly bumps his arm against Grima's. 

Eyes darting around the forest, Grima's tense body loosens. No worm around, Grima closes his eyes as he rests against Kiran.

"So warm…" Kiran purrs, a whine in the back of his throat. 

Corrin tucked in the safety of Kiran's husky thighs, he tightly keeps his left hand interwoven with Kiran's. His right hand free, he rests it along the length of Kiran's wide leg, Corrin's head nestled on top of Kiran's gut. Corrin's gut spreads over Kiran's legs, the small little dam unable to withhold all of Corrin's fat.

Tibarn to the left of Kiran, Tibarn uses all his willpower to refrain from enveloping Kiran with all his might. His large wings tucked in, the top of Tibarn's head presses against Kiran's face, both leaning upon each other. Tibarn's gut digs into Kiran's side, smothering him as his portly ass presses up against Kiran's.

Grima to the right of Kiran, he steals Kiran's right hand, their hands fiercely interlocked. Much shorter, Grima's head rests against the soft surface of Kiran's arms. Unable to muster up a grumble, Grima's face retains a slight smile to it. His large ass envelops Kiran's side, his girthy stomach pressing up against Kiran as well. 

Kiran smothered in between all three, his usual busily racing mind slows down. The cool refreshing air grazing against the bit of his flab that isn't smothered under his three favorite heroes offers a nice relaxing and cooling sensation, his body absolutely absorbed in warmth all around. So absorbed in ensuring the smooth daily ongoings of the Order of Heroes oftentimes, any time to himself is a rarity. Kiran slowly begins to doze off. He remains oblivious to the three men's alertness, all of them keeping an ear out for any hero dare intruding in on them.

All four quiet, nature's little sounds fill the ambience. The small trickle of water sounds out in the distance. The leaves rustle every so often, a random gust of wind taking a few  with it each time. The small hurried footsteps of the local fauna occasionally occur, a few extra noises from their shouts or the ground stomped underneath them. The sporadic yet strong flurries of wind echo in their ears, the fabric of their coats swishing to and fro along with their hair. 

Nestled up in a big bundle of fat, Kiran's breath slowly lightens up, Kiran's body growing a bit more limp as the land of dreams begin to envelop him. 

Three eager men to keep watch, the entire area is clear. Kiran dozes off in between them. No one daring to approach, the three of them remain still, none of them willing to disturb Kiran or lose any time with him.

[eyebeastposts]

The Lardy Luka Timeline

Commission Info 

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WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: BHM Luka (Steins;Gate)

After sending a message to Luka's mother to eat tons of meat, Okabe finds himself in a new timeline where the once slender Luka has taken a much heftier appearance.

This is a commission for goodandnice on DA: https://www.deviantart.com/goodandnice

  Head shivering with unnatural tremors. A splitting pain going through his cranium. The world a smear of different colors. Wading through these familiar sensations, Okabe found himself sitting on the couch in the future gadget lab. Slumping back to let his lab coat envelop him, he rubbed his forehead in an attempt to make sense of the new timeline he had jumped into. Gradually his fingers slid down to scratch at the stubble around his chin, recalling the events leading to this moment.

  In an effort to combat SERN, their lab needed to procure an IBN 5100 computer to crack their code and gain access to their global monitoring system. To do this, they had reached out to a friend who claimed to have one in his family’s possession. He was more than willing to lend the computer to the lab, but under the condition that he would get to send a single message to his mother in the past. The message was simple: “Eat tons of meat to ensure a strong, healthy baby.” Letting their friend believe that the wayward message would give him a more muscular body, Okabe let him send the text under the assumption that it would do little to nothing to alter the timeline. Considering his lingering headache, Okabe was starting to regret his own ignorance.

  “Super hack!” Okabe announced through the voice of his obnoxious persona, Hououin Kyouma.

  Letting out an annoyed grunt, Daru swiveled his barrel-like body around his chair and tilted up his yellow hat. “It’s ‘hacker’. What do you want now?”

  “Do you recall sending a D-mail earlier today for Luka?”

  Daru scratched his chin. “No haven’t seen him and it’s not like he could sneak by unnoticed.”

  Okabe’s attitude was brought down by his recollection that he was the only one who remembered shifting timelines. “Um, right. Of course.”

  Daru sighed and turned back to his computer. “If you’re that worried about him, why don’t you give him a call? You have his number.”

  “Aha, an excellent idea,” Okabe replied, flourishing his flip phone despite Daru’s insistence on ignoring him. Dialing in the number he held it up to his face only for his bravado to falter upon hearing the voice on the other side of the line.

  “Hello?” asked an unmistakably husky voice.

  “Umm, hello. I’m looking for Luka.”

  “Okabe, don’t you recognize me?”

  “Er, yes. It’s just been a while since we last spoke on the phone. Would you be willing to meet today at the lab?”

  “I’m free, but…”

  “But…?”

  “Would it be alright if we met up at the MayQueen? I’m starving and haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

  Okabe glanced at his watch to see that it was barely past 10am. “Sure, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “Alright see you then.”

  Hanging up the phone, Okabe stepped towards the door only stop upon hearing a series of heavy footsteps approaching him. Moments later, he felt a familiar hand grasp his shoulder. “I take it you want to come too?”

  “Of course,” Daru said with a smile. “It’s been a while since I last got to see Faris-chan. Besides, you owe me a couple of meals.”

  Okabe shrugged. “Very well. Just try not to order too much. I’d rather not treat a pig.”

  “I make no promises,” Daru replied with a smug smile, leading the way out with Okabe following close behind.

  Walking down several blocks brought the two of them into the heart of Akihabara. Waiting for them there was the unmistakable storefront of the MayQueen Nyan Nyan maid café. Opening up the door to the sound of a pleasant chime, it was only a matter of seconds before the two of them were greeted by a familiar face.

  “Welcome home nya-masters,” Faris said, her pink, twin drill hair bouncing in sync with the fake cat ears perched atop her head.

  “Thank you Faris-chan,” Daru replied, his cherubic smile conveying how he felt about returning to his paradise on Earth. “It always brightens my day when I get to see your face.”

  “Same to you, nya-master,” Faris replied, striking a pose that perfectly showed off her maid outfit. “Right this way. I already have your table made up for you-nya.”

  Walking between customers and employees dressed similarly to Faris, Okabe and Daru made their way to a table in the back. Taking their seats, Okabe scanned over the menus to pick from the plethora of teas and sweets offered. His observations on the increased variety and calorie count of the items in this timeline were put on hold as he noticed a pair of seats opposite of him and Daru.

  “Excuse me, I think you gave us one too many chairs,” Okabe spoke to Faris. “There’s only three of us.”

  Faris tilted her head. “You’re meeting with Luka, right-nya? I’m just making sure he has the right space to be comfortable-nya.”

  “Speaking of,” Daru began, “can you go ahead and give us the usual order? Looks like Luka is running late again.”

  “Coming right up nya-masters,” Faris said, bowing to them before walking away.

  “Take your time. I’m sure with the crowd and heat outside, he’s bound to be-oh, there he is.”

  Okabe turned away from Daru just as he heard another chime of the door. His eyes went wide as he watched the maids at the entrance step aside to greet a customer wedging themselves through the doorway. At first, Okabe didn’t recognize the hefty figure as they barely passed the threshold. However, one glance at the patron’s lavender eyes and feminine face confirmed that it was Luka.

  The glacial speed of Luka’s movements as he waddled towards the table gave plenty of time for Okabe to come to terms with his drastic weight gain. Luka’s standard white kimono and red hakama he wore at the shrine were several sizes larger, but still a tight fit for his body. Each heavy step forward threatened to release Luka’s bulging belly from his clothes, its size leading Okabe to believe that he was over 500 pounds in weight. A cursory glance brought the odd realization that Luka’s sagging moobs outsized any of the maids in the restaurant, their girth on par with a pair of half-inflated beach balls.

  Upon reaching the table, Luka showed why he needed the two chairs as he sat down on his plump rear. Having part of his chunky butt cheeks still hanging off the sides of the chairs didn’t seem to bother him. Shuffling about to make himself comfortable, Luka brushed away a few errant strands of his silky smooth hair from his chubby face. Looking up to Okabe and giving a perfect view of his three chins, he greeted his friends with the small, warm smile he always had back in the original timeline.

  “Hello,” Luka said with a gentle wave of his pudgy hand. “Sorry for taking so long. It takes quite a bit of time to get around town this time of day. Especially when you’re someone my size.”

  “Hey, don’t have to remind me,” Daru commented, his barrel-like body eclipsed twice over by Luka’s blubber. “Already went ahead and ordered your food.”

  “Thank you very much,” Luka said, a polite bow letting parts of his fat rolls rest against the table. “Not just for the food,” he added, turning his attention to Okabe, “but for inviting me here.”

  Okabe shook his head and straightened his posture. “Think nothing of it,” he replied in as dignified a voice he could muster considering the circumstances. “Anything for a fellow lab member. However, I did have an ulterior motive for calling you here today.”

  Luka’s eyes glimmered. “Oh?”

  “I have a few questions to ask you. The first of which: do you recall seeing an old computer in your shrine?” Okabe asked, forcing himself to abstain from the more obvious questions for the time being. “It should be marked with the name, IBN 5100.”

  Luka paused for a moment to drag his sausage-like fingers down his chins. The surprise upon reaching a moment of clarity was immediately shot down as he slumped forward to have his moobs sag lower against his stomach. “I do remember seeing something like that a few years ago, but…but…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but last I saw it was when I was cleaning out a shed at the shrine. Unfortunately, I…ended up slipping and crushing it beneath my…you know. I’m sorry,” he added, clenching his fingers together.

  Okabe let out an exasperated sigh upon realizing he had lost the main reason they had sent Luka’s D-mail. “It’s alright. I’m sure it was just an accident. The lab will find a way to move on without it.”

  “It may have been an accident,” Luka continued, “but it’s still my fault that I destroyed it with my body.”

  “Stop beating yourself up about it,” Daru said. “Sure, there are some disadvantages to being big guys, but there are just as many, if not more, advantages. For instance…”

  Daru smiled and pointed a finger behind Luka to get him to turn around. The despair on Luka’s face was replaced with elation as a group of maids approached the table, each with a platter of sweet treats in hand. Setting down the meager slices of cake and cups of tea in front of Okabe and Daru, the servers got to work setting up the feast of a meal known as Luka’s regular order in this timeline. Everything from frosted cupcakes, ice cream, crepes, and an entire cake were laid out with the utmost care. Thanking the maids for their speedy service, Luka glanced across his variety to dishes. Stopping a lone drop of drool from leaving his lips, he turned back to look at his dining companions.

  “You don’t mind if I…”

  “Go right ahead,” Daru answered, helping to ease Luka’s nerves as he dug his fork into his comparatively small meal.

  Luka turned towards Okabe. “Are you sure this is okay? I know they give me a discount considering who I am, but it’s still a lot to pay for.”

  Okabe looked back and forth between the plethora of expensive looking food and Luka’s expectant face. “Please, go ahead,” Okabe said, encouraging Luka by cutting off a piece of his cake. “Besides, if there’s anything leftover, we can always bring it back to the lab to share with the others.”

  Biting down on his piece of cake, the sweetness that graced Okabe’s tongue was further amplified by the look of elation on Luka’s face. However, his pleased mood only lasted until he watched Luka effortlessly devour a slice in a matter of seconds. Okabe could only watch in sheer awe as the once petite and gentle Luka attacked his sweet feast like a rabid beast. Nothing was left untouched by the overweight young man’s fork, nary a crumb or drop of icing escaping his hungry maw. Despite the gluttonous display, Luka ensured that each bite was met with a pleased hum to convey how grateful he was for Okabe treating him.

  Before the other two had finished their slices of cake, Luka had left a swath of empty plates in the wake of his appetite. Leaning back in his seat, he dabbed at the icing around his face with a napkin. Massaging his taut belly, he once again glanced towards Okabe. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Not really,” Okabe replied, having a hard time believing someone could eat so much so fast. “I’m just in the mood for sweets right now.”

  “You have to at least try it. The frosting is so delectable. Not to mention the richness of the chocolate on the eclairs mixed with the cream makes it absolutely-“

  Luka paused as a loud creak was heard. The sound drew the attention of not only Okabe and Daru, but also from the rest of the patrons in the restaurant. The moment Luka dared to move an inch, the chairs beneath him broke under his weight. Fortunately for him, his fall was cushioned by his blubber. Unfortunately for Faris, she had been standing right behind him with a platter of food.

  Getting up from their chairs, Okabe and Daru approached the mess of blubber and destroyed pastries. The impact further desecrated Luka’s food stained outfit by leaving ample rips for part of his doughy flesh to peek out. Face a bright shade of red from his humiliation, Luka tried in vain to roll himself back to his feet. His efforts merely spread about various icings across his outfit and further sunk Faris between his back flab Combining their strength, Daru and Okabe worked together to help Luka into a standing position and give Faris a chance to free herself.

  “I’m so sorry!” Luka said, giving the deepest bow his obese form would allow towards Faris.

  “It’s alright-nya,” Faris said, keeping herself in character as the other maids helped her up. “I know it wasn’t your fault-nya.”

  “At least let me help you clean up. Where’s the nearest broom and-“

  Luka was once against stopped by a loud noise, this time a loud ripping sound coming from the back of his pants. Upon realizing that everyone in the café could see his butt crack, his eyes began to well up with tears. It was only once Okabe grasped his hand and started pulling him along did he begin to calm down.

  “Come on, the lab isn’t far from here,” Okabe explained as he helped Luka through the crowd of onlookers. “Daru, you handle the bill.”

  “What!?” Daru exclaimed, his tirade of insults thrown at Okabe becoming muted as Okabe and Luka made their way onto the street and headed towards the lab.

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

  “I still don’t quite understand what you’re saying,” Makise Kurisu commented as she flipped about her scarlet red hair. “You’re saying Luka is the way he is because of a D-mail?”

  “It’s true,” Okabe replied, only feeling comfortable breaching the subject with Makise while Luka was busy getting changed upstairs in their lab. “The Luka I know, er, knew from my timeline was as skinny as a twig.”

  Makise put a finger to her chin. “While it isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, I do find it hard to believe that a single message could change a person’s life so drastically.”

  “Well, it did and unfortunately we lost the only reason for doing it in the first place.”

  A sudden buzz had Okabe pull out his phone. He had received a text message asking, “What happened to the IBN 5100?” Turning his head to the side, he saw the bespectacled Moeka standing a few feet away from him with her eyes shifting back and forth between her phone and him.

  “He apparently crushed it while cleaning one day,” he commented, noticing the way Moeka’s shoulders slumped down. “In any case, I think we should acquire his mother’s number again to revert to the original timeline.”

  “Why?” Makise asked, stepping aside as Moeka ran out of the shop.

  “To retrieve the IBN 5100. Plus, it’s obvious from today’s events that Luka’s life isn’t the most ideal with all of that added weight.”

  In response, Makise stepped forward and flicked Okabe on the forehead. “And you’re coming up with conclusion without asking him how he feels, aren’t you?”

  “What possible benefit could there be to being so fat?” Okabe asked, rubbing his forehead.

  “You still shouldn’t make such drastic life changes for someone without their input,” Makise replied. “Now go upstairs and ask him yourself.”

  Okabe opened his mouth to argue but stopped as he recalled the stubborn nature of his lab partner. “Very well,” he said as he climbed the stairs, “but only to prove that I’m right.”

  Reaching the door at the top, Okave gave a swift knock. “Are you done getting changed in there?”

  “Y-yeah,” Luka replied from the other side. “It’s just a little outside my comfort zone.”

  Curiosity overriding what little common sense he had, Okabe pushed open the door. Stepping inside had the unintended effect of sending a shade of deep red over Luka’s chubby cheeks. The blush across Luka’s face was in stark contrast to the bright pink fabric of the Chinese style dress his body was squeezed into. Gold trimming adorned the short sleeves around his blubbery arms and the collar around his thick neck. A bright yellow bow was meticulously placed in the center of his chest to add a bit of flair to his meaty man boobs.

  While the outfit had been created by Mayuri on the off chance she could convince Luka to cosplay in it, she had failed to properly account for his size. Parts of the dress left little to the imagination with the way the fabric showed off the various fat rolls comprising his belly. Another problem came in the way the skirt of the dress was a few inches too short to prevent the underside of Luka’s chunky butt cheeks from peeking out every so often.

  Luka’s flustered expression mixed with his futile attempts to pull the skirt down over his backside stirred something strange in Okabe’s mind. A strange urge made itself known, bringing up sensations he didn’t think someone of Luka’s size, let alone another man, could bring up. Shaking his head to remind himself who Luka was, Okabe closed the door behind him and sat down on the couch. “Calm down,” he said, trying to break some of the tension. “You look fine.”

  “I-if you say so,” Luka said, trying to keep back his anxiety as he crossed his fingers. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m still a little hungry from the café.”

  “I think I had some leftover soup in the fridge.”

  “Thank you,” Luka said, carefully bowing under the threat of further showing off his plump body.

  Watching Luka waddle about to prepare his snack, Okabe sat down on the couch and tried to come up with a way to breach the sensitive topic of Luka’s D-mail. His thought process came to an abrupt halt as he was gently pushed aside by Luka’s hips. Left with only a few inches on the cushions, he turned back to watch Luka dive headfirst into a re-heated bucket of fried chicken.

  “You do realize that those are Mayuri’s, right?” Okabe asked.

  “Oh,” Luka said, pausing with meat still in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think the soup would be enough to fill me up.”

  “It’s fine,” Okabe replied with a hand wave. “I’m sure that once we tell Mayuri that you put on the dress she’ll be more than willing to overlook a misplaced meal.” Mere moments after the words left his lips, he watched as Luka effortlessly cleaned the plate. “How are you able to eat like that?”

  “I’ve always been like this,” Luka replied, brushing crumbs off of his cheeks. “My mother says its because she ate meat non-stop when she was pregnant with me.”

  “Do you resent her for it?” he asked, unable to think of a gentler way to ask.

  Luka paused for a moment. “No. I realize that my body comes with certain problems, but its not all bad. My appetite means I get to enjoy delicious food and I’ve even made some extra money through eating contests.”

  “Is that what you really want though?” Okabe asked.

  “It’s not like I have a say in the matter,” Luka said, heaving himself off the couch. “This is who I am. There’s no way to change it. If I had a say in the matter…I would…like to have a body more equipped to be a better swordfighter.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Luka put his hand against his chest. “I’m not sure. Just something inside of me brings up the idea every once in a while. It’s as if there’s another me who desperately wishes for it to become reality.”

  Hearing Luka’s earnest words, Okabe stood up and struck a pose. “What if I told you that I, the great Houoin Kyoma, had the power to do such a thing.”

  “Really?” Luka asked, his eyes gleaming with hope.

  “Indeed, just say the word and promise that you will follow my directions to the letter.”

  Luka paused for a moment, looking back and forth between his own body and Okabe. “Alright, I’ll do it. What do you need me to do?”

  Okabe smiled. “To start, I’m going to have to ask you for an old phone number. Specifically, your mother’s.”

[soufcakmistress]

Bon Anniversaire

A/N: I turned 26 on Friday, and in the midst of my birthday activities 🌚 I wanted to get out this fantasy too. Shoutout to all the Virgo queens! Again, as always thank you all for reading, and please let me know if you wanna be tagged!

Pairing: Erik x Thick Black Reader

Fragrant breeze flowing through the open window, the Egyptian cotton sheets surround your naked body, soft snores coming from you as dawn begins to crest. You stretch out in the king bed, fully rested from yesterday’s activities. It’s your birthday today and you’re grown grown. You’re finally at a place where you can play just as hard as you work and having a spouse who would do anything for you, the sky is the limit. Feeling around the king bed, something is missing. Your husband. Your hunk of a husband.

Erik coordinated a birthday getaway like you’ve never experienced before. Zip lining through the rain forest, jet skiing on the lake, private meals under the stars, courtesy of the finest chef the exotic locale had to offer. He was sooooo good at gift giving; nothing was too extravagant for his baby. He kept everything secret from you, not even revealing the destination to you until you stepped off the jet. Renting a mansion on the water, with so much space and the mind blowing view of the pier from the master room balcony, the possibilities were endless.

Your nose catches the scent of breakfast, getting closer to the room. In walks Erik, his locs free, wearing some white linen pants slung low carrying a silver platter of eggs, breakfast meats, fruits and flavored croissants. Placing it on the table set in your room, he goes back and gets the mimosas and water, to complete the smorgasbord. You’re fighting not to shed a tear at his thoughtfulness, and wrap the large bedsheet around your body and walk toward your lover man. “Now who made all this? You call yourself cooking?”

Erik throws his head back at your teasing and turns himself fully to you, pulling your pelvis to his. He definitely doesn’t have any underwear on, and the beginnings of a full blown erection is starting to poke through the thin material. “Daddy did this. It’s my baby’s birthday, I wanted this to be special for you. Now kiss me, with your mean ass so we can eat.”

You peck Erik and he always has to be extra holding your face and licking your lips and sucking them into his mouth, making you yelp and giggle. He plays so damn much. Both of you begin to dig in, heading straight for the bubbles to set your day off right.

Erik pulls you into his lap, your legs hanging over, your fat cheeks right on top of his cock. At this moment, the mimosas have been emptied and refilled several times; the bubbly has set in fully between you and him, and you were both getting handsy. Grabbing your chin, he leaps in with his tongue first opening your mouth, while pulling down the front of the bedsheet wrapped around your breasts. Your chest is exposed to the air and your nipples harden as he begins to tweak and pull at them, making you squirm.

His dick is so hard right now, fat and long, stiff between his strong thighs. The entire sheet falls from your body and you get up and straddle him, looking at him in his dark eyes. You look down at his pants and back at him, eyebrow raised. There was already a wet spot on the front of his pants from the precum seeping out of his mushroom tip, no need for them to stay on at this point.

You back away and let him stand, his 6 foot frame over your 5 feet and change body, and Erik pulls down his pants, big dick swinging and bobbing. It’s so engorged and beautiful and you’re still in awe every time you see him like this. Naked, vulnerable, open....and yours for the taking. He sits back down in the chair, legs wide, pulling you back down into his lap.

Erik’s lip is pulled under his perfect white teeth, making his dimples pop, breathing hard at your skin touching his. Your pussy is so wet right now, your mound and lips rubbing across his shaft, leaving traces of you behind. “How did the birthday girl like her meal? Looks like she’s feeling nice and energized..”

Smirking at his banter, you reply, “It really hit the spot, baby. But there’s another breakfast sausage that I’m in need of this morning...”

Riled up at your innuendo, Erik grabs you by your cheeks, tilting your body back, spreading your legs and lays his big slab of meat on top of your mound, the head of his dick passing your clit and landing right below your belly button. It was a definite power play; a subtle reminder of the power he possessed and the power you craved for him to unleash upon you. You gulp softly and look up at him, looking super mischievous and prepared to do his worst.

With one big arm wrapped around your body, he raises you up slightly and penetrates your soft hole, your breath caught in your throat by the invasion. His mouth flush against your ear, “One breakfast sausage, coming right up, hot and ready..” Bouncing your body on his dick, juices starting to accumulate in his lap, Erik takes a nipple of yours into his mouth, thrusting up when you bounce down.

Your spirited moans cascade out of the open balcony doors, carried over the lake as you sing of you and your husband’s love. He’s all smiles as he gazes upon you overwhelmed and desperate, in shock and awe at how his cock plunges in and out of you. He’s so deep, and so skilled with his hips, your arms are wrapped tight around the back of his neck so you stay on this wild ride.

Nipping at your neck and ears, he stands up and carries you to the day bed on the balcony, covered by a massive awning to block the sun and keep it cool. Bouncing your body on him the whole way, your braids are splayed all over your face, eyes shut tight at the demon dick you’re receiving. Erik places you on the luxurious mattress, dick throbbing and dripping of your sweetness. “C’mere, open them legs.”

Spread eagle, Erik has both of his hands behind your knees damn near touching the bed behind you. Groans keep falling out of your mouth, dutifully holding your lips open as he inches inside of you, that fat phallus stuffed into your little slit. He shows no mercy, pushing your shit in, marking his territory in your cunt. Eight and a half inches of manhood tunneling through you, all you can do is lay there and take it. “Oh my fucking-oh my....Erik....what is wrong with you? What are you doing to me baby?”, you whine out, as Erik pounds you. Erik is all hard muscle and steel while you were soft, sweet, and round, the perfect balance to bring pleasure forth for the both of you.

He’s panting from giving you a good thrashing, not daring to stop. He gets the good idea to raise your head up and make you look at the intrusion and retreat of his dick inside you. One hand on the side of your head, the other behind your neck; he pulls your head forward so you can see the most erotic sight ever. His fat fucking penis nearly has you bursting at the seams and he can somehow fit every inch inside you. “You see that??? Shit! Dick all in your stomach! Happy birthday baby, I love you..” His hips gyrate forward and he gives you every inch down to his balls, laying heavy on your ass. The bottom of your stomach is protruding slightly from the bulge of his cock, and you’re in disbelief at this wild man between your legs.

Erik pulls out and flops it out on your mound again, coated in your juices, veins popping with the rush of blood through his magical organ. Both of you are breathing harshly, letting your legs fall back down, dick drunk and woozy.

“I love you wife. Turn over. This birthday dick is all yours, let me slice that cake.” He flips you on to your soft stomach, putting your braids to one side and slides inside you, bottoming out in a solitary stroke. Laying right on top of you, he stays right there, sighing softly in your ear at the smooth and light crush of your pussy around him. Your back to his chest, he’s able to really dig you out in this position, his lower back bowed completely to make sure he touched every part of you.

“You just can’t get enough huh? You just can’t stop fucking me into any mattress you see? Nasty ass nigga, keep fucking me just like that!” Your mouth just gets more filthier by the minute, thankful that you two were alone on this side of the lake. This lit a fire under his ass, and he moved to grip your shoulder to keep you in place and the other hand gripped under your chin, punishing you by bringing you back on to his stroke. “Oh, your birthday roll around and you start talking shit huh? All right, let’s see what you gotta say after I pound you out, nasty girl. Dig this good pussy out..”

Your eyes are permanently rolled back in your head at his onslaught, wishing you had just shut the fuck up. He turns your head to look at him, and you’re met with your husband’s beautiful face, masculine features tight and pinched, lone vein in his forehead. He’s trying to make you tap out. Erik’s tongue is resting on his top lip, concentrating on unraveling you totally; his dick is throbbing inside you alerting you to his orgasm. You finally clench on him so you can both cum together and he yells a curse out at that snapper in between your legs. “Fuck, I’m about to-I’m about to!”

Three punishing strokes more and you can’t hold it anymore and gush as he fills you up, his hot semen strengthening your climax, forcing tears from your eyes at the tidal wave of immense pleasure brought to you by your man. He’s leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, collar bone and chin while you gather yourself; everything is super sensitive and his very touch could have you tumbling down the rabbit hole at any moment.

Sitting up on his knees and straddling your body, he is laughing so hard internally at you right now trying to pull it together. Sneaking a slender box from under one of the pillows of the day bed, he caresses your face and kisses you softly to get you to open your eyes. “Baby, baby. I got you another gift. Open your eyes for me baby, please?”

Rubbing your eyes and pushing your braids out of your face, you crack open your eyes and see this gift in Erik’s hand. “Erik....what is this...”

“Something for my baby. Just a small token of my appreciation and part of your birthday gift. Open it, baby.” You pull yourself up and gather the sheets under your chin, opening the jewelry box. It was a iced out white gold herringbone bracelet, with the matching diamond studs. “Erik, this is is too much. What...how....this is too much!”

“Nothing is too much for my wife. Better act like you know! Happy birthday baby!” Out of nowhere, he rings a small bell and two attendants come out pushing a cart with a three tier cake with sparklers flying everywhere with your name written out in icing. You turn and kiss your beloved for this amazing birthday, Erik smooching your tears away, prideful that he could bring so much joy to your special day.

Both of you, covered in blankets from the day bed, get up so you can blow out the smaller candles and make a wish. Erik swipes a finger and catches some frosting, and you suck his finger into your mouth. Wearing his brand new jewelry gifted to you, you drop to your knees and pull the sheets from around the both of you. Slapping his big strong thighs, you come closer and rub your face all over his snake. “Lemme show my appreciation baby, you’ve done so much for me already. You deserve a reward...”

Holding it in your hand, you let it flop on your face, head of his dick on your forehead, balls resting against your chin. Erik grabs the cart for stability, knowing firsthand how voracious you are when it comes to sucking dick. You hold his dick up on his stomach, lacing his balls in saliva, taking them both into your mouth while you jack off his warm shaft. Erik’s toes are starting to curl and his head is rolling back, arousal on a steady incline. Popping his sack out and throating his cock, your nose is flush against his pelvis, smelling the remnants of you and his cum in his pubic hair. “Shit girl, you can have whatever you want! Don’t make no sense for you to be swallowing this whole thing..” His knees are buckling and you grab him by his tight little butt to hold him steady, beaming at his praise, blissed out at your wonderful ass birthday.

TAGS: @l-auteuse @chaneajoyyy @thadelightfulone @gdharpo @sparklemichele @bitchacho25 @nickidub718 @raysunshine78 @randomwordprompts @thornedviolet @loveeeeandaffection @mydemons-aremy-friends @uzumaki-rebellion @heykillmongerluhme @amirra88 @blackmissfrizzle @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @theogbadbitch @lostennyc @daughterofyeezus @ljs-writing @toniilaney @janelledarling @sweetestdream92

[impala-dreamer]

Lord Hardwick

SPN FanFic

~Sam is insatiable.~

Sam x Reader

1,820 Words

Warnings: NSFW or Anyone. Extremely terrible smut. Oral, doggy, missionary. Multiple orgasms, cliches up the ass, horrible terminology, just the worst thing ever written. But also the best thing ever written. ;)

A/N: This is for @stusbunker​‘s "Bad Smut" challenge. My prompt was “Sam’s Stamina”. It was painfully fun to write. I do hope you enjoy it, baby...

Feedback is GOLD ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon 

"What are you starin' at?" you giggle, bumps in the road shaking your perky tits and making them wiggle like jello.

Sam licked his pink lips and shifted behind the wheel, taking a better grip with his left hand. "These pretty boobs, baby," he teased, lifting a finger to dip between your cleavage.

You laughed again and squeezed your arms together, giving him a better view. "You like 'em?"

"I do," he said darkly, biting his lip. "Mmm." He gave each got a squeeze and a slap, watching your soft flesh jiggle. "Makes me nice and hard."

And it was true! Looking down, you could see a meaty tent pushing at his jeans; his massive shaft desperate to break free of its metal prison.

"Oh! Sam!" You blushed and batted your eyes at him, mouth water at the thought of his beefy cock.

Sam saw your drool and smirked. He reached up and around, clasping his giant hand around the nape of your neck and pulled you down to him.

"Go ahead, sexy," he growled, rocking his hips upwards. "Suck it."

With eager fingers you opened his jeans, deftly dropping his zipper. You freed his impressive trouser snake and your eyes went huge with awe. He was big! Every time you saw it you got worried that he wouldn't fit, but you did your best.

"That's it, baby. Give Lord Hardwick a kiss."

"Oh! Yes!" you cheered before lowering your plump lips to his meat scepter. He tasted so good that you forgot to go slow, and swallowed him down in one push, nearly choking yourself as his leaking head tickled your tonsils.

"Oh, so good, baby," Sam praised, one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your head, pushing you down. "Take it! Take His Majesty!"

The Impala swayed between lanes as Sam came, shooting hot ropes of white love seed down your throat. You swallowed it all down like a good girl and sat up, a ditzy smile on your swollen lips.

"How was that?" you asked expectedly.

Sam smirked and tucked his rattlesnake back in its house. "So good, baby." He reached over and grabbed a fist full of hair, dragging you in for a heavy kiss, his hot tongue slithering into the wet cave of your mouth, making you moan with desire.

He pushed you back as the motel exit came into view. "To be continued."

As soon as the door shut, he was on you like a wolf on his prey, grabbing you from behind and pulling you back against his firm, muscular chest.

“Oh, Sam!” you cried, shock and arousal flowing through your system. You could feel the heat pool in your core as his big hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and slipping between your thighs.

“Nice and wet for me, baby?” he asked, husky whiskery filling your ear. He pushed three fingers up against your clit, harshly rubbing you through your jeans.

“Yes! Always, Sammy!” your voice was high and happy; his hands instantly turning you into nothing more than a stupid sex kitten. All you could think about was his pulsing sausage pistol violating your lady garden.

“Good.” He bit down on your shoulder, sharp teeth grazing your skin, making you shiver against him. You wiggled your ass into his hips and you could feel him hard and ready again.

“Again?”

Sam growled. “Again.”

He shoved you down face first onto the creaky bed and yanked at your jeans. You helped him quickly, deftly popping the button on your pants and squirming out of your clothes.

“Look at this perfect ass,” he whistled, clapping a hard hand on the fat globe of your backside. “Perfect cushion for the pushin’.”  

“All yours,” you cooed, locking your knees and arching your back to give him better access.

Sam gave you one more slap before setting loose his love rod and fisting it roughly. He pumped it twice before nudging the crown against your sausage wallet, coating it in your ever ready slick.

“Here we go, baby.”

He slammed inside without hesitation, your love tunnel always ready to take him in. He went so deep you could feel his jewels slapping against your thighs, feel the top of him up in your belly. He stretched you perfectly and you gripped the bed sheets as he rode you like a cowboy.

“Fuck, Sam! So...good...fuck!” The heat swam in your belly, everything getting hot and wet. Your thighs began to quiver against him and he thrust even harder.

“Gonna wreck this pretty pussy,” he threatened, gripping your hips so tight he was sure to leave bruises.

The headboard slammed against the wall as he vanquished your castle, his flesh sword poking your sweet spot perfectly.

“Oh, Sammy, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” The orgasm hit you like a truck, slamming through your entire body and bursting through your veins like fireworks on a hot summer night. Lightning flared behind your closed eyes as the pleasure washed over you. It felt amazing.

“Feels so great when you orgasm on me, baby,” Sam hissed, his hips slowing, but showing no signs of stopping.

You lay on the bed, body numb from the explosive orgasm, arms dropping off the side of the bed, knees wobbling against the bottom. “Love...your...penis in me, Sam…” You could barely catch your breath before your arousal revved up again and your flower clenched around him.

Sam grabbed your upper arms and pulled, lifting you upwards to settle against his chest. His firehose never once leaving your sugar walls. He spun around elegantly and sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his athletic thighs beneath you.

“Ride me.”

You bounced on his pork stick, your dewy muffin milking him with each jump. Sam grabbed your tits, sliding his paws beneath your shirt and holding on as you worked him good.

His grunts turned you on so much you nearly came again, and fell forward as the fire crept in your belly once again.

Sam held on tight.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, making your shudder over him.

“Wanna cum again…” you murmured, breath almost gone as the sweet bliss clouded your mind.

“You love to cum, don’t you, baby?”

He pinched your nipples and you went, flooding his pole with your moisture.

“Yes!”

Sam wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. His stamina was great, often going until you couldn’t keep up any longer, knocked out by his man torpedo.

He flipped you around again, dropping you onto your back on the soft bed. The blanket curled around you and Sam shoved himself between your quivering thighs.

He moved slowly, inching his way through your swollen nether lips, every gentle push bringing you closer to another orgasm. By the time he was fully seated inside, your entire body was on fire, muscles tight and shaking,

"Please!" you begged, needing him to move. "Move!"

Sam smirked and pulled all the way out only to slam back in with such force your eyes rolled back.

"Fuck me, Sam!" you shrieked, voice penetrating the thin motel room walls. "Fuck me hard!"

"Hold on, baby," he warned and then got to work.

His penis felt so good inside, filling you up like no one else could. You locked your legs around his trim waist and tried to stay conscious as he plummeted your fortress walls with his manly lance.

Just as the pressure inside hit its peak, Sam pressed his thumb against your love button and you popped, cumming hard and fast once again. Your juices spilled out over him, leaking down his thighs onto the rented bed. It drained every last drop of energy from you, but Sam wasn't done. Not yet.

He fell down over you, his delicious heaviness crushing the air from your lungs. You moaned beneath him, tongue falling from your mouth, unable to speak or move any longer, wrecked by bliss.

“So pretty all blissed-out, baby,” he whispered, sticking two fingers into your gaping mouth. Immediately, your lips sealed around him and you sucked them hard, your sex kitten mind taking over where your hunter’s brain failed. “Just like that…” Sam rolled his hips, fucking into your second set of lips with his stiff pike as his fingers invaded your mouth.

Grunting, Sam pulled his fingers away and grabbed your ankle as he pushed up on his knees, hooking your leg around his shoulder. Spread open as wide as possible, he went to town, thrusting with abandon as he chased his end.

He was far from done.

Another wave of orgasm hit you out of nowhere; convulsions shaking your entire body as you squirted a waterfall of love juices from the apex of your thighs. It coated Sam in your slick, mixing with the gorgeous sheen of sweat all over his body. He ripped his shirt away and you stared longingly at his firm pecs, wanting to run your tongue all over him and taste his salty goodness.

“Love fucking this tight hole, baby,” Sam growled, tossing his head back as he thrust harder. His chestnut locks fell like a sweaty curtain behind him and you held your breath as his beauty forced another tight coil in your core to spring free.

“God, Sam! I’m cumming!”

He dropped his kaleidoscope hazel eyes to yours and smiled. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me again. Nobody makes you cum like I can. Nobody.”

“Nobody!” you screamed, limbs flaccid as the pleasure squeezed the breath from you.  

You lay limp and spent on the ugly green comforter and Sam jerked his hips against you harder and faster until his teeth clenched with a monsterous grunt. He came hard, squirting his hot baby goo into your canal, painting your pussy walls white.

“Fuckkk!” His deep voice echoed off the 70s wood paneled walls and your hot love muscles swelled around him, draining every last drop from his sack.

“I love you so much, Sam,” you whispered as he rolled away and set his hands under his head.

“You’re pretty swell, baby,” he said, sweaty chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Aching and happy, you tucked yourself against him, snuggling close, feeling his warmth. You sighed deeply and let your eyes fall closed, finally relaxing.

Not two minutes later, Sam startled you awake, yanking at your bra, trying to free your fleshy globes.

“Sam?” you mumbled, tongue rather slack with exhaustion. “Whatcha doin’?”

He unhooked your bra with a snap of his deft fingers and ripped it away, rolling over you and fitting his lips to your sensitive nipple. He sucked hard on the nub and you trembled beneath him, the heat pooling in your center again.

“Again?” you gasped, feeling him harden against your leg.

Sam pulled away from your breast with a wet pop and looked up with a wolfish grin. “Again.”

Sam was far from done…

2019 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @arses21434 @because-imma-lady-assface @burningcoffeetimetravel @colagirl5 @cosicas-cuquis @cosmicfire72 @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @dean-winchesters-bacon @deansenwackles @deansgirl215 @dubuforeveralone @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @eternal-elir @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @gayspacenerd @herbologystudent252 @hobby27 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus​ @katymacsupernatural @lastactiontricia @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @our-jensen-ackles-love  @peridot-rose @pisces-cutie @risingphoenix761 @roonyxx @roxyspearing @sandlee44 @shadowkat-83 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @supernaturaldean67 @supernatural-took-me-over @thehardcoveraddict @tmiships4life @wegoddessofhell @winchesterprincessbride

[pangtasias-atelier]

The Goddess's Judgement Part 4

I guess there is a somewhat defined story to this lol. Didn't necessarily plan it that way but it's working out to be like that.

There was around five times I fully wanted to use "contest" to mean respond because of "contestar" in Spanish.

Still have a decent more if not a lot more ideas for this lol so this ain't the last of this.

Also, Skrimir and Pelleas interacting in any form that's amicable just feel like crack but considering Part 4 has some choice dialogues that kinda disregard what Daein's done in part 3, I'm probably not far off from the writers lol

__________________

Back at the Daein camp, after delivering the news of the upcoming treaty with the Laguz Alliance, Pelleas sneaks his way out of the camp. Pelleas finds it best to not worry anyone, heading back for Skrimir himself.

A new set of clothes, these ones far less ornate, a purple tunic and white pants. Pelleas had at first shrugged them off upon seeing their size, the massive stretches of fabric far too big to fit him. Except they did fit him upon his subjects' insistence. And snugly too, his pale stomach peaking out underneath his shirt. Used to Daein's cold, his childhood as an impoverished orphan aiding him, Pelleas ignores it before tugging his shirt back down, embarrassed at anyone seeing him not at his finest.

Equipped with food, blankets, tomes and another set of clothes, these ones far bigger than his own upon Pelleas's request, Pelleas makes his way through the snow, one heavy foot after another as his weight taxes his once thin body, very little muscle to aid him.

Feet crunching into the light snow on the floor, Pelleas groans at the awful weather. His body keeps him extremely warm, the annoyance of sweating profusely causes the poor weather to not seem so poor. Despite his heavy mean back at camp, he finds ignoring the tempting bag of food in one hand difficult. Instead, Pelleas concentrates on waddling. His thighs constantly rubbing against each other becomes apparent. Trying to widen his walk, his thighs continue rubbing regardless. The only reward for his attempt is Pelleas nearly falling in the snow, Pelleas sighing in relief from recovering. Blushing, Pelleas continues the trek, grateful to not look like a turtle fallen on its shell. Hands busy carrying the supplies, Pelleas ignores the way his knees hit his stomach with each step, his stomach bouncing and swaying.

Along the way, Pelleas stops at finding a medium sized purple stone laying on top of the snow. Finding it precious, he picks it up, carrying it safely in his pocket.

A plentiful amount of breaks, Pelleas swearing he heard one of the younger trees crack when he rested his heavy frame upon it, he makes his way slowly but surely to Skrimir. Coming from a different spot, Pelleas looks down as he gets closer, Skrimir's numerous overlapping back rolls and fat rear in plain sight.

Still on the floor and alone, Skrimir can't see Pelleas, unable to turn around. The snow around him has already melt from his body heat, a small puddly forming. Skrimir sniffs the air. "You brought food,"

Pelleas keeps his face down as he walks around Skrimir. "I brought a lot of things," Pelleas places the bag full of food on Skrimir's stomach. Skrimir greedily grabs it, tearing into the common dried meats and fruits typical of Daein's winter. As Skrimir noisily chews into his food, specks of it ending up on his cheeks, Pelleas sifts through his tome. One to often experiment, Pelleas had become adept in manipulating magic from old language text, using them as conductors to get enough energy he needed. Access to the Daein royal library also had it's benefits, Pelleas finding some rather different books during his search for information on the blood pact. Pelleas wonders if he'd even fit in the chair of his private library. Shaking his head, the answer a definite no, Pelleas refocuses on the task at hand.

Finding a general chant to conduct magical energy, Pelleas recites it. The words lightly fading as they lose their magical latency, Pelleas covers his face with his hand as he directs the energy to Skrimir.

When only the sounds of Skrimir's chewing continue, Pelleas slowly opens his sausage fingers to get a view.

Exactly the same, Skrimir is unaware of Pelleas's spell, too preoccupied eating.

"Skrimir?" Meal interrupted, Skrimir shoves another piece of dried meat into his mouth before responding.

"What?"

"Can you try standing please?" Pelleas backs up upon Skrimir following his request.

With a new sense of strength and sense of lightness, Skrimir shifts back and forth on his ass. Entire body shaking, Skrimir groans as he falls to his side and then onto his stomach.

"Why-"

"Moving at this size isn't easy," Skrimir interjects before Pelleas can even question him.

Arms bent from the fat accumulating everywhere, and with his stomach blanketing the ground, Skrimir struggles to find any ground for support. Placing both hands on the ground, Skrimir grunts as he moves his legs, his cumbersome thighs and stomach resisting the movement.

"Push my stomach up," Skrimir commands.

Meekly nodding, Pelleas does as told, standing out the side and grabbing Skrimir's stomach.

Stomach out of the way, Skrimir lifts his legs, resting his knees on the floor no longer covered by his stomach. Successfully on his knees,. Skrimir takes a break.

"Where's the rest of the food?" Skrimir rubs his greedy stomach, the mass of it resting on the floor despite being on his knees.

Looking around for the bag, Pelleas picks it up. "It's empty," Pelleas simply remarks. Skrimir groans.

"Give me both your hands," Walking back to Skrimir, Pelleas outstretches his palms. Placing his left hand on Pelleas's two, Skrimir grunts as he brings his right foot on the ground. Digging his right hand under his stomach and on his right knee, Skrimir grunts again as he lifts up his other leg. Pelleas grins and bears it, closing his eyes shut.

A mountain of a stomach pressing into his is enough for Pelleas to open his eyes, taking a step back as he waves his poor crushed hands around.

Looking at Skrimir, Pelleas keeps his eyes averted, the other royal much larger. Pelleas the largest of those at Daein's camp, Skrimir puts Pelleas to shame.

Pelleas's equally massive sized features were overall the same for Skrimir, only made even more massive even with Skrimir's extra height. The only exaggerated feature amongst Skrimir's already exaggerated features was his ass, the piles of blubber sticking out and sagging down, still visible from the front.

"Whatever you did, do it again," Skrimir huffs as he catches his breath. A slight stumble only corrected by Pelleas grabbing Skrimir is the only proof he needs.

Scrambling for his book, Pelleas recites the spell again. And an extra two times, deciding to not waste anymore time with the sun slowly beginning its descent.

Skrimir roars, beating his chest twice, his fat shaking. "Finally! Let's head to the camp!" Skrimir cheers. Pelleas nods, glad to finally be on the move.

A few minutes into the walk, Pelleas looks back only to see Skrimir far behind him. Walking back, Pelleas sees the problem. Despite the added magical strength to move, Skrimir's body is far too fat to move easily, his fat rolls chafing and pushing against one another. His thighs far too restricted by their weight and his stomach.

"This will take longer than I thought," Skrimir wheezes, panting for breath.

"Do you have a Laguz stone or something?" Pelleas asks, recalling Skrimir's constant transformed state during the battle.

"Yes but I used it all. I also had a Laguz gem, but I lost it," Skrimir sighs, taking another slow step forward.

"Laguz gem?" Pelleas walks by Skrimir's side, keeping a slower pace to match Skrimir's.

"It's a rounded purple stone, much more potent than a Laguz stone. They're exceedingly rare and only used for important battles," Five steps done, Skrimir takes a break.

"Is this it?" Pelleas questions, holding out the gem he found towards Skrimir while hiding his excitement in the off chance he's wrong.

"It is!" Skrimir excitedly shouts, grabbing it from Pelleas. Transforming into his lion state, Skrimir roars again. His transformed unchanged by the weight gain, Skrimir runs a circle before regretting his decision. "We need to hurry, get on and cast your spell again,"

Ready to debate, Pelleas silences upon another roar from Skrimir. Struggling to get on, Pelleas apologizes at the grunt from Skrimir. Casting another spell, Pelleas holds on tight as he rests on his stomach.

Both now ready, Skrimir charges towards base. The snow or his weight no longer an obstacle to Skrimir he rushes forward. Hanging on for dear life, Pelleas closes his eyes, the sound of wind and Skrimir's footsteps in his ear. He tries to ignore the bouncing motion of his fat body, his everything shaking.

Thankfully not very far, they arrive much faster than by walking, the distance taking a few minutes.

Charging through the back portion of the base, Skrimir continues charging even once inside, rushing through the base with Pelleas on top. No one no longer in the halls, Skrimir roars as he rushes into the dining hall.

Pelleas happily gets off the instant Skrimir stops, glad to be safe. Pelleas covers his ears at Skrimir's final roar before reverting back, the Laguz gem wearing off already, the gem no longer able to transform its users for hours.

"I have returned!" Everyone cheers upon seeing Skrimir, though their gazes soon turn to Pelleas, everyone wary at their enemy.

"Daein is officially backing out of this war. Without their king, I would not have been able to return." Everyone mulls over the news, unsure how to feel considering Daein's past.

"With this step, I hope that Daein and Gallia can become great allies. Now, let us feast!" Glad to for that final sentence, everyone resumes digging into their food. Their attention is lost for a second as Skrimir heavily stomps to sit at a table, his stomach digging into the table. Skrimir sighs at no longer being on his tired feet. Cracking noises filling the room, the bench cracks under Skrimir's weight.

Pelleas sits across the table, careful not to move too much, the cracks and groans from his side causing a replay of Skrimir's incident to play in his mind.

"Thank you for your help Skrimir. I do hope that our countries-" Pelleas quiets down at the plethora of Laguz waddling their way. Trying to be respectful, he keeps eye contact despite the majority of them forgoing shirts and some of them forgoing pants as well.

Both Skrimir and Pelleas smile at the congratulations aimed at them. Most of the conversation aimed at Skrimir, Pelleas stands there simply glad to finally be finished with this war. Broken out of his train of thought, Pelleas smiles but denies the plates of food offered his way.

"Denying offered food in Gallian culture is viewed extremely poorly," Skrimir lies, everyone laughing at Pelleas who accepts the food, their table becoming overrun by full courses.

Pelleas grabs the porridge and blows on it. Skrimir digs in to the closest thing, his stomach and chest his own personal table.