#fattyemblem

[its-the-g-tea-babey]

(Gosh darn it I’m obsessed with Gaint Kak at the moment being- )

Then again, I can imagine Kakyoin having to remain outside due to the tightness and cramped indoors. When sleeping for the night outside, I think that Jotaro would (secretly) join him to keep him company outside. Snuggles and Comfort as the two decide to rest after another long day of travels! ><

Ok I'm not into Jojo anymore but this is still swag as fuck

[pangtasias-atelier]

Hi there, it’s me @Fattyemblem !!! My previous account is unable to send direct asks into the ask box. (Just a little bug with my tumblr that I had recently) So I’ll be using an alternative account to ask for a little…silly request. (More of a multi-kink one if you’re comfortable with doing)

What about an AU where Owain goes on an exploration in a strange cave, only to end up crossing paths with a manakete (Technically Dragonfied) Navarre. One who’s already 15ft at stance, and also very alerted of the unexpected trespasser. Feeling surprisingly anxious, Owain frightfully offers a single piece of meat to the much taller male dragon. (In a way to spare him for a little longer lol) With the offering out of the way, Navarre is left intrigued. In a way, he demands of the human, Owain, to offer him more. ((Which ultimately ends up with the Dragonfied Navarre ending up in the 250 pound range from the spoils of food Owain has been giving him. XD))

(sorry if this was long for the description!!!)

I actually enjoyed this request a lot and like I said in my original requests post, "Specificity is sexy" ajansbjns. Cause this gave me a good base to work with and enjoyed.

There's a bit less kink in this but hopefully you still enjoy it!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

The Feroxi mountains a rather uninhabited area of the country, a lone swordsman travels through the perilous area. The nearest village is at least a day’s worth of travel. Owain walks in the opposite direction from having just visited what should have been a quaint town.

“Oh, I just know that such a beast will stand no chance against my sword hand,” Owain swings his blade. He manages to perfectly keep his balance despite being encumbered by all his belongings. His many, many belongings that he insisted on taking with him upon deciding to travel the continent of Ylisse. His yellow attire inspired by Chon'sin’s proficient swordmasters, his usual garbs are overladen by the addition of straps and satchels to hold all his provisions alongside a multitude of baubles and trinkets in remembrance of each and every stop he takes. The added weight only pushes Owain to hurry towards his destination, ready to add another memory and piece to his collection of treasure to him, junk to anyone else.

The mountains no longer having a name, the location all but forgotten long ago during Ylisse’s great geopolitical shakeup with the changing of borders and countries. Despite being in Ferox territory, Owain’s destination is closer to the bottom center of the enormous country, close enough to where Ylisse is closer than Plegia as he walks deeper into the country of warriors. He had even first heard the rumors of a ferocious beast on the Ylissean border. Rumors that immediately enraptured the svelte swordsman to change his route directly to the Feroxi mountains. And while the rumors of a ferocious beast changed into one of benevolence and mercy as he drew closer and closer to his destination, the common issue of a story twisting further and further from its source, Owain is always at the ready for a challenge.

Which he is as he grips his sword even tighter upon approaching the first cave he finds. “Beasts love caves, I’m sure of it. What other sort of monstrosity could reside in such an enormous cave?” The spacious entrance dwarfs Owain’s average sized frame. He basks in the deep, murky shadows that seem to refuse any light from entering. “I need to bask in this moment! To really take in everything before my victory,” Owain puffs his chest, the thin yet built pecs jutting outwards as he stands as tall as he can. His trembling legs tell a different story, both knees ready to buckle.

The very air itself feels different, the usually chilling Ferox’s fall much warmer near the cave. His skin twitches from the hot air that nips at his skin. The animals seem to heed nature’s warning. The area is clear of any wild animals or insects, the usual ambient sounds filled with dreadful silence. 

Owain takes a deep breath. And another. And then several more while he waits for a beast who’d be so foolish as to challenge him. The tales of a merciful beast help ease Owain’s mind but they still don’t negate all the other stories of the death and destruction caused by a dangerous beast. “I know a beast is here! Come out and face your challenger,” Owain holds his trembling sword hand out for a challenge. “Only if you want to, that is,” He promptly adds.

Unfortunately for Owian, his opponent hears his challenge. And they respond by trembling the very ground. Rocks scatter and shift, the cluttered debris shaking from the periodic tremors. 

“Wh- hey! I wasn’t serious about it! I only-” And then Owain sees the beast, his eyes catching the scarlet lava red scales of not a beast, but a dragon that dwarfs Owain. The dragon is nothing like the brilliant, vibrant majestic forms that he knows. Granted, the power that exudes from this dragon could never hope to live up to a divine dragon’s form, much less the very Divine Dragon King’s daughter. And yet, Owain knows he stands little chance on his own.

He finds himself unable to move, his legs stuck to the very spot. So he speaks, his words hopefully able to get him out of his mess much like how they always get him into them. “I-I’ve heard many regails of your merciful actions, dragon! The people praise you an-”

“Enough,” The dragon speaks. He stares at the human that he is now in front of. The pathetic human poses him no threat; but still, the irritating creature irks him. “Why are you here?” 

“Ummm, to give an offering! As thanks for your actions of safeguarding this area,” Praying to Naga that the dragon doesn’t think he’s trying to reach for another weapon, Owain reaches and pulls out wrapped, cured meat from his pack. Holding it in his hands, he steadies his breathing as he slowly—slower than even his training sessions to practice thieves silent steps—walks towards the dragon and places the meat in front of him before backing up. 

“And what have you heard of me?”

Owain’s eyes widen. He blankly stares at anything but the dragon, unable to even come up with even a lie. His gaze does shift towards the dragon—no, manakete—as the light nearly blinds him as they transform.

The manakete back in his human form, the slender frame the man possesses seems nothing like the powerful, bulky form filled with so much sheer power. His sleek black hair travels past his shoulder blades, some bits of the soft looking strands draping over his shoulders. Most importantly, the man still absolutely dwarfs Owain. He stands more than twice Owain’s stature, the average height man completely eclipsed by the titan who’s knees stand at his chest’s height. 

“I will allow it,” The astonishingly tall man says as he sits down on the ground and digs into the meat given to him. His scarlet red clothes manage to somehow cover his expansive body. The strange attire resembles Owain’s own but aren’t quite close enough. “I only kill bandits, anyways,”

Owain, who is still struggling to come to terms with the man’s height, even Tiki’s statuesque figure that stands taller than every man he knows seems small in comparison. So, it takes him a few moments to comprehend the manakete’s words. But he lets out a sigh of relief when he does. “Oh thank, Naga,” His idiocy returns to him and he gets closer to take a seat on a rock a few feet away from the so-called beast. “So, what’s your name?” Owain asks without hesitation, leaning closer to the strange man.

“Navarre,” He plainly mutters after finishing the rest of the meat. “You have any more meat?” He asks afterwards. 

Which Owain gladly shares with the surprisingly hungry manakete. He asks several questions of the giant for a man. He asks an absurd amount of questions, both pertaining about the very world, of which Navarre has few answers for from his hermit nature, and about himself, Navarre also having few answers from being unwilling to share. But, Owain persists with his pestering.

His pestering continues on for days, the swordsman unsurprisingly demanding when it comes to satisfying his curiosity. And even when Owain eventually has to leave, sure that everyone will presume him dead if he stays much longer, he promises to come back to visit his new friend despite the giant manakete’s objections to such a thing.

And Owain comes back to the Samsooth Mountains —the name of the area told to him by Navarre—only two weeks later. Just like last time, his figure is encumbered from all the bags and satchels he carries. But, each pack is nearly filled to the brim with food unlike last time.

“I’m back! I’m sure you're so excited to see the great Owain that you’ll tell me all about you,” Owain waves towards his friend who still lurks in the shadows. “I even brought you more food,”

“Enough,” Navarre glares at the wall upon the arrival of his pestering visitor.

Navarre’s head does slightly turn upon the mention of food. The food Owain left him clearly has done a slight number on his figure. Where a thin, svelte frame once was, a small layer of pudge occupies his figure. Navarre has a small belly now. His outline of his flabby stomach is now visible against his tight clothes. The belts around his waist aren’t as tight as they used to be, the straps of leather adjusted to only a couple notches away from the widest size where he needed them as small as possible around his formerly narrow waist. Navarre’s lithe arms now have a small bit of flab on them. The strength behind his arms are still visible, the small biceps instead covered by a small amount of adipose that have no issue with the loose short sleeves of his clothes. The shirt underneath does feel tight against his extra pudge; the fabric is even more wrinkled than usual with extra volume to cover. His pants that only have one side covered by his long robe face zero issue with the extra bit of flab on him from all his indulgent extra snacks. Especially when paired with Navarre’s regular hunts for food, the extra caloric intake nice despite the extra girth on his frame. He thankfully has nothing to worry about it with his shifted form unchanged. Even with the extra bit of pudge on his thighs, the two limbs getting close to the point of chafing his pants. His ass has also received a bit of pudge from his weight gain, the rear a bit heftier and thicker to the point where his robe shows the curvy, defined outline of it even when standing.

“I really don’t need the company,” And yet, Navarre stands up from the rock where he broods.He cranes his neck to look at his friendly pest. Careful to not send him flying by accidentally kicking him, he makes his way over closer to the entrance. He ignores the way the earth now begins to shake from his weight. The amount of pudge only a small amount of his body, the amount of weight needed to cover his fifteen feet tall body leaves him weighing far more than it seems. He also ignores the way Owain stares at him, the much shorter man coming close to having to lay down just to properly get a full look at the manakete. “And no, I won’t tell you how I became like this,” Navarre says as he slowly takes a seat and reaches for the offerings of food.

Owain pauses his eating, only finishing the food currently in his mouth before speaking. “Became? Aren’t all manaketes supposed to be like you know! Manaketes,”

“Don’t play stupid. Even you can tell something isn’t quite right. You know others, normal ones. I can smell the little girl’s scent on you,”

Owain’s eyes light up. “You mean Nah? Or maybe Nowi, she is older but she still-”

“Tiki,” Navarre clarifies to silence him. He finishes his bit of meat, plopping it down his hungry maw before reaching another one and continuing. “She must be much older now,”

“Sooo, you’ve been alive for thousands of years then. Did you know Marth then? Oh I’m sure Lucina would love to hear about him,”

“I fought him,” Navarre lets the words hang in the air. He reaches for another piece of meat.

“Oh,”

Navarre scoffs, the swordsmen far too simple minded at times. “I joined his cause, however. Not because of him, but because of Caeda,”

Owain wracks his brain for the information to place something to the name. “Caeda? Wasn’t it Shiida?” Nothing comes to Owain who only shrugs in apology.

“Oh how quickly you people forget. She convinced me to lend my sword to her cause, risking h-”

“You wield a sword!” Owain jumps up from his spot. His eyes sparkle amazement at the manakete in front of him. He closes them quickly afterwards as he holds the pack of his cramping neck. “Ow ow ow,”

“This was before this happened,” Navarre gestures at himself. Afterwards, he lets out a sigh as he leans back slightly, half from fullness and half from the memories. Despite his earlier annoyance from the insistent guest, he can’t help but let out a smile. “As long as you keep quiet, I’ll tell you all I know about Caeda and Marth from the two wars to defeat Medeus,”

Owain holds back his question upon the mention of a third person, instead nodding. 

And so, Navarre recounts the events that are 2,000 years old. So much knowledge unable to be kept perfectly, a truth of life that Navarre knows well with his lifespan he never expected, the complete lack of knowledge of anyone still comes as a shock to him; but with the two of them having plenty of time, Navarre spares no expense regaling the tale of countless comrades and battles with finally having company after so much time alone.

And he does so with plenty of food, unable to help himself.

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

If requests are still open, May i request a Drabble to where Forsyth is having too much at it with the food in Alms convoy. (Especially during battle) That he soon ends up to a point where he can no longer support his terms of moving and having python sticking around to just rather tease and help him out. Thanks! ^^

War and everything that came with it was difficult enough, but with the Rigelians having collected so much of the Zofian people’s hard earned food for themselves, and the decline of the Kingdom’s lands on account of losing Mila’s protection, it was made even worse by the Deliverance’s lack of rations. It was rare that they didn’t have to limit what people took from the convoy, and more often than not, someone was set up to guard what little they had -- just in case.

Forsyth had served plenty of hours as a guard for the convoy; not just to safeguard their food, but their weapons and armor as well. If they didn’t protect their supplies, and one of their clashes with the Empire destroyed or otherwise lost them, the Deliverance would be dealt a final death blow. It was a job that he took seriously, even if he would have preferred to be on the field of battle with Sir Clive and Alm. There wasn’t much notoriety to be won from staying towards the rear to guard the supplies, but there was still a knightly honor to protecting the continued survival of his comrades in this way.

Python, of course, didn’t share the same views. Whenever it was his turn to play guard, Forsyth often caught him napping or simply not staying vigilant. And, when confronted about his lack of enthusiasm for the work, would blithely state that they had never had their supplies targeted -- and why would they, when they had so little?

It was aggravating, but it wasn’t really anything new. Forsyth was happy to jump to Clive’s or Alm’s orders, and Python was...less so. It hardly mattered, if it came down to him covering for his old friend’s shifts on guard, he would do so for the good of the Deliverance!

It was easy enough at first. Forsyth was determined to show his strengths -- be it in battle, or elsewhere. He patrolled and frequently double checked their supplies, he even maintained the weaponry and armor that they had in reserves when he had the time. It kept him busy and on task for quite a while, but, eventually, the boredom started to get to him. And, what made the boredom worse, was the gnawing hunger that came with being stuck with an unreliable food source and being forced to remain by that food but unable to have any of it. It took a great deal of his willpower to keep himself on task.

However, one day, Forsyth caved -- much to his great shame.

It hadn’t been much, truthfully. Just a bit of dry bread to fill his achingly empty stomach. It had felt good in the moment -- it had been tough to swallow down on its own, just a step above stale, but a drizzling of honey had made it easier to wolf down. Despite it only being a mouthful or two, it felt like the bread took up so much space in his belly -- of course, some of this was due to a lack of regular eating, but also the building guilt of taking something that had not been rationed out to him. It didn’t take long, Forsyth stewing in his guilt for several hours as he stood guard, for him to think of a way to replace what he had taken. A hunter he was not, but he’d read in a book somewhere about trapping techniques, and vowed to teach himself this skill in order to pay back what he had unrightfully taken.

It took him over a week, but he managed to catch himself a rabbit to add to the stock of food they had. It had been scrawny, but it was something all the same. He hadn’t really thought of keeping up the habit of trapping; it was hard to set up and check them when they were on the move, and with the odd changes in the land, there weren’t as many animals around to easily hunt. But, it seemed that someone else had taken notice of what he had done, as when he went to tally up everything one evening, there were some additions. A couple of fruit, a few small birds. It was small things, things found as they marched on from place to place. Still, it was odd, but Forsyth kept it to himself in case him bringing it up to anyone else might scare the mysterious procurer off.

It was more important that they have more supplies than it was to go off trumpeting about this anyway.

And if he swiped one of the fruits, popping it into his mouth easily, it was also not spoken of.

Things went on as such. Every week or so, Forsyth would find more and more getting added to their stores of food -- most notably when he was scheduled to be on guard duty. Whoever was behind this had an obvious motive of getting his attention. Upon first realizing this, he stubbornly avoided any of the food. But, it was hard to avoid the temptation forever when it was right there, begging to be taken and practically gift wrapped just for him. He fought off the urge to sneak food for as long as he could, but once again, the bite of hunger had him nicking some of the smaller morsels that he could quickly and cleanly gobble down without much fear of their disappearance being noticed.

This was, of course, a slippery slope. One or two small things turned into half of something a bit bigger, and then all of that slightly bigger thing, which evolved into him simply taking whatever additional and non-reported food items suddenly appeared when he checked.

It was a guilty pleasure in every sense of the phrase. Guilt for taking more than his fair share, but pleasure from how the food tasted and filled up his growling stomach. And it didn’t take long for that temporary full stomach to start developing into something more…

While Forsyth had never been incredibly muscular, he also hadn’t been scrawny either. However, this very middle of the road physique made it very obvious that all the extra food he was getting into wasn’t being worked off.

His face had filled out a little bit, the hint of a double chin coming in. His shoulders had rounded with soft pudge that lead into pillowy arms, the soft flesh of his upper arms squishing out of his short-sleeved tunic like overstuffed sausages from their stressed casings. His chest had softened and plumped up significantly, giving Forsyth embarrassingly hand-overfilling moobs that would peak out the edges of his breastplate -- at least, back when he could still get his fitted armor on. While he wasn’t as heavily armored as some, his climbing weight made it near impossible to wear most of it regardless. 

Even without his growing chest taking up space, Forsyth’s belly had gone from lean to something quite tremendous. The more food he snuck away into his stomach, the more fat accumulated on his middle and the hungrier he got; an endless cycle of stuffing himself with the growing amount of extra food in their supplies. This only caused his stomach to balloon further out as the days wore on. Where it had first started off as just a slight pooch to his middle, it quickly grew large enough to make it impossible to wear his breastplate and severely stressed his clothes, and it only kept growing from there. His gut was marred with angry red marks from his burgeoning growth, his belly button deep enough to sink your fingers in to the knuckle; its sheer mass swayed in a chaotic rhythm whenever he lumbered about, meaty slaps sounding from his underbelly as it smacked against his thighs.

The one thing he could be somewhat thankful for was that his lower half hadn’t been hit too hard by his gorging. While his ass had certainly bumped up in size, it wasn’t anywhere near as noticeable as his middle or even his tits. His thighs were chunky and they brushed up against each other whenever he moved, but their malleable bulk didn’t get too much in the way.

Really, the big problem was simply how heavy he was, and how utterly out of shape he’d managed to become. It was a complete shame, and Forsyth couldn’t even be bothered to hide his embarrassment as he’d practically eaten himself clear out of his dream to become a knight on the same level as Sir Clive. He still did what he could to aid the Deliverance on the battlefield, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He’d huff and puff at the back of their forces, rarely if ever managing to take out any of the enemy, but still plodding along as best he could for what little was left of his honor and pride.

Honestly, the worst of trying to fight at his size came when he simply hit his limit of endurance, his weight dragging him down to the dusty earth with a gasp and a wheeze. Coming to his aid had been none other than Python, his aim true as ever as he shot the Empire soldier who had been looking to capitalize on Forsyth’s collapse.

“Hey there, big fella, need some cover?” Python drawled as he idly checked to make sure the soldier was down for good, tacking on a slightly snide, “A whole lotta cover, nowadays, huh?”

Forsyth would have argued with him, but he was out of breath and awfully hungry; they’d been marching for some time before this skirmish even broke out, and he’d not had time to fill up on his usual breakfast staples. “Spare me your attitude, Python,” he huffed out, leaning back in order to suck in larger breaths and not feel like his gut was crushing his lungs as he did so.

Python merely gave him a smarmy sort of look, posture lazy as he surveyed the battle pushing on without them.

“Y’know, they probably wouldn’t even notice if the two of us went back to camp. I’ve done...most of my share of the work out here, and you sure seem like you need to sit your fluffy self down and have a rest,” the bowman continued, already sauntering around his porcine friend’s side to shove at his -- soft, plush, squishy -- back like he was some sort of farm animal in need of a little motivation to get up and moving.

Forsyth was beside himself with how that fact wasn’t too far off now.

“We cannot just leave our comrades on their own--” he began to chide irately, grunting and making all sorts of ungodly sounds as he struggled his way back to his aching feet with Python’s less than helpful help. Forsyth was sure the man had prompted all this just in order to watch him flounder about like a ridiculously fat fish out of water.

“Ah, don’t worry about them. They’re totally fine without us,” Python hummed, rummaging around for a quick moment in order to produce something he’d been saving for just the right moment -- which this seemed to be. A sweet, sugar dusted berry tart that he’d haggled for in the last town over. He carefully waved the treat in Forsyth’s face, watching amusement as the green clad man almost started to drool at the mere sight of the little sweetie.

Check and mate. He could spend the rest of the time watching Forsyth stuff his chubby face and not do a lick of work back at base camp while the others cleaned up on the battlefield.

A real win-win in Python’s opinion.

[flamboyant-king]

Lewyn is the only one out of quan, Sigurd and eldigan that is on da ground and no horse to ride. Now dat a shame ö

He can run faster than their horses tho. so he can nyooooom

[drawingbun]

Soooo for next Rokkr sieges in FEH; Would u be hoping for batting a Rokkr Navarre IF they decide to put him in for the next bosses?

Not really, to be honest I don’t have a lot of interest in the rokkr siege, and most of the time I forget about it. It was an interesting idea on paper, but the uniqueness wore out very fast. It’s kinda only good for getting goodies.

[mimisgarbage]

Opinion with Navarre and Ryomas support conversation from warriors?~ who knows how things would end him next for them two:w

Wouldnt know havent bothered to enough of warriors to see their support

[kanonffa]

Suggestion: (Navarre is my number one fav), maybe him being Aggravated with his new larger body/weight? 😳

fattyemblem's boy: Navarre being big and angry~

Shirtless cuz I can~ uwu r

I hope tumblr do not censor it

Hope you like it and thanks for your suggestion!!

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Do you have FEH? If so what’s your friend code? 🤔

Of course I have that money/time waster--

My code is: 4356084086

Let me know who you are on there, or else I might not friend you if I get a request in game.

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Not sure if your familiar with HXH characters but I’m wondering if you can do a Weight gain Drabble with Feitan. Let’s just say he encounters with one of the reward items at the auction and one of them somehow makes him gain weight. (Let’s just say he’s no longer the smallest of the Phantom troupe anymore XD) I understand it’s not fire emblem related but I’m wondering if you can do it in anyway you can. I would really appreciate it. :)

Ah, sorry, I don’t know HXH like...at all. I saw the first couple of episodes, like...two or three years back and I retained absolutely nothing. Besides that, I really just want to keep this to FE stuff.

I am sorry, though! Just not the right fit for a drabble on a HXH character!

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Are ur requests still open?

Requests are always open! I may be slow as fuck, but I don’t close my inbox; I always get around to asks when I can!

[mimisgarbage]

What do you usually do on Friday the 13th? (Know that I’m late as hell to ask but I Just fella like it Dx

I dont believe in that stuff to begin with. I only believe in a few asian superstitions as well as my jew paranoia

[pangtasias-atelier]

Done for @fattyemblem

A multitude of glares from the kitchen staff silences the waddling Owain as he enters the dining hall. 

Having been merged by the summoner to a +2, Owain's weight had substantially increased. Nearly reaching 400 pounds, Odin currently at 382, his choice of clothes, --to be exact, the Summoner's choice of clothes, the Summoner in charge of outfits once heroes were too big for their own-- currently consist of beige sweatpants and a sand colored t-shirt.

His sweatpants outline his thighs, the fabric taut to contain them. His bulging butt pushes out the back of his sweatpants, his lower back fat showing with the aid of his tight shirt. His shirt a size too small, it reaches slightly below his navel, the underfold of his gut visible. 

"Umm," He coughs in his hand, his fat body jiggling, "I'm here for the splendor of the day's feast,"

The headstaff simply points at the table, her point of telling him to wait getting across to him. Her unamused face doesn't waver as Owain turns his back.

"Yes, mam," Waddling to the table, Owain hides his reddening face as the bench warps and creaks underneath him. He silently sits and stews in his thoughts as he slowly drums his sausage fingers against the wooden table 

His gut rumbling, the mass of fat resting on his thick thighs, catches his attention. Owain wonders how Navarre is doing. The two last ate snacks an hour ago, so Navarre must be faring worse. His stomach continues its incessant noise. 

Continuing to wait, he internally cheers as the cart of their food gets pushed out. Keeping his volume to a minimum in consideration for the staff, Owain thanks them. 

Hurriedly wheeling the heavy cart from its cumbersome amount of food, Owain waddles back to their room. Stomach pressing into the handle, he huffs as his body strains. Sweatpants slowly sagging down with each step, he continuously pulls them up after a couple steps. Grunting and huffing with a sigh of relief as he reaches their door, Owain opens it.

While Owain is at a +2, Navarre had been merged to +9, his manuals much easier for the Summoner to obtain. 

Navarre's initial disdain for Owain and his manner of speech was apparent to all. Despite it, the Summoner paired them up constantly. Their growing camaraderie blossomed into a mutual respect before Owain somehow achieved friendship with Navarre, a shock to all but the Summoner. Their blossoming relationship blossomed in tandem with their weights, Navarre receiving a steady stream throughout it all while Owain retained his lean form. 

Owain had been the one to pop the question, Navarre for once not having a frown and instead having a blush. Grumpily, despite his inward happiness, he accepted, his stomach seemingly agreeing with him.

Their wedding had been officiated by the Summoner, Navarre's suit struggling to withstand his corpulent body. Owain simply stated, his chubby body feeling miniscule in comparison.

A couple weeks after, Navarre ended up immobile, his food now being brought to him by Owain.

Owain smiles at Navarre's frowning face, his chunky cheeks ruining any semblance of seriousness as they squish against each other. Navarre's body currently seated on the flattened mattress, his stomach splays out in front of him, the mound the first visible thing to Owain as he walks in. His feet barely visible under the mound, his thighs rest underneath all of his stomach. 

"Dinner," Closing the door with his foot, Owain announces his arrival with a flourish, hand lifted in the air. "has arrived!" Not properly gauging his surroundings, he accidentally knocks over the small table beside him. 

Bending down to pick it up, his body strains as his stomach pushes into his thighs to stop him from picking the table up. Fingers barely wrapping around it, a gust of air hits his ass. Quickly standing up, he flushes as he feels his torn sweatpants. Glancing at Navarre, he notices the way his eyes avoid his.

"No need to worry, this simple wardrobe malfunction won't stop the daunting yet important task of your dinner!"

Navarre's eyes Pierce Owain's from the comment. "I don't eat that much," He grumbles as he blushes, the validity of his retort non-existent. "Besides, you're no slouch either,"

"I gladly partake in all offerings brought to me," Bringing the cart closer, Owain takes his seat on the chair placed beside Navarre. Grabbing the first dish, he forks the pasta and brings it to Navarre's mouth. 

"Thanks," Navarre grumbles before accepting the offering. Owain rubs Navarre's stomach as he brings food to his lips. Every once in awhile, he sneaks in a couple bites for himself.

The plate soon devoured between the two, Owain reaches for another. "There's plenty more food left," Navarre only blushes in response.

[mimisgarbage]

Hmm are u intrested in sumo Wrestling?/ maybe one day how about a sumo Ryoma or Takumi or nay other FE characters? :3

Nah never rly been into it