#happy cat. squishy happy little catboy

[karamell-sweetz]

in-class scribbles except its all just rui because. read my blog description

[starlightnavis]

meowy christmas and happy nyalidays!~ santa minyato is here to deliver your gift :3

[secretsecretbunny]

Just friends: stray kids smau.

Get to know the characters/story set up.

pairing: lee minho x f!reader - roommate!skz.

genre: fluff, angst, smau, (maybe smut in the future idk yet, may have written parts as well) roommates au.

notes/set up: boys are non idols, but some still do music/dance + other jobs. they all live together in a big ass house that's owned by richboy!felix's family. chan, minho, changbin, and y/n were college friends. chan and felix are cousins. felix, hyunjin, han, seungmin, and innie were college friends. literally all college dropouts which is what they all bonded over. ended up living together by association basically. chan, bin, and han are still 3racha, and are known, just not famous.

↓about them↓

chan: nicknames- channie, dad, pops, paparacha, sometimes gets called chris but usually only when someone's mad/serious. producer for social media musicians/small time musicians, and 3racha. almost always at the studio. group dad. supportive, sweet, helpful, responsible, overworker, protective, peace keeper. loves his friends more than anything, also loves music, romcoms, running/jogging, working out with changbin. well off but not super rich.

minho: nicknames- min, catboy, grumpy, twinkle toes, dancing queen, loverboy, hoe. choreographer/dance instructor. cold on the outside, squishy in the middle. doesn't express his feelings well, but tends to be softer around y/n. loves cats, movie nights, night walks/drives, and true crime podcasts. social weed smoker and drinker. hardworker, sarcastic, flirty, funny, makes inappropriate jokes. he likes to pretend he doesn't care, but secretly does.

changbin: nicknames- binnie, bin, binbo, crybaby, muscle man, beefcake. personal trainer, duh. loud. straight up himbo. his appearance scares people but he's protective, kind, caring, and will cry at cute things/when he's happy. absolutely loves cute things, y/n's cooking, cheesy TV dramas, rapping, working out, and affection. all around soft boy until you piss him off.

hyunjin: nicknames- hyune, hyunnie bun, jinnie, gorgeous, rapunzel, punzie, bob ross. he's rich. also sells his art. sarcastic, blunt, artistic, boujie, addicted to shopping. also likes to pretend he doesn't care, but probably cares too much. loves painting, drawing, and being lazy with his friends. a little in love with felix, no one can tell if he's serious or not. will absolutely start painting on the walls, floors, or ceilings just because he can. everyone loves it though.

jisung: nicknames- hanji, ji, hannie, babygirl, smokeshow, bud, han yolo. does random odd jobs and makes a suspicious amount of money from it + sometimes streams with felix. stoner, great friend, supportive, anxious, hyper, has mad adhd, loves anime, rapping, and sweets. he's a little weird but in a good and cute way. loves sharing his weed with his friends. also loud.

felix: nicknames- lixie, lix, pixie, sunshine, golden boy, richy rich, brownie boy, angel. also just rich, part time streamer. literally sunshine ofc. social butterfly. always trying to drag y/n or one of the boys somewhere. sweet, generous, kind, happy, excitable, loves cute things, baking, video games, and also anime. him and ji bond over it.

seungmin: nicknames- seungminnie, minnie, puppy, bitch, dickhead, devil. luxury dog walker (started his own dog walking business). sarcastic, sometimes rude, easily annoyed, but overall a great friend. likes dogs more than people. protective af but tries to hide it. will 100% shut off his rude and sarcastic comments if his friends really need him. loves pranks, coffee, singing, writing, and scary movies.

jeongin: nicknames- innie, in, babyboy, coffee boy, bigmouth. barista at a fancy coffee shop. wants to make his own money and not live off of his wealthy parents. sweet, kind, generous, can be sarcastic when he wants to be. loves animals, coffee, video games, asmr, and singing. can't keep a secret to save his life. plays innocent but is definitely not. once smoked weed and and cried because he couldn't remember how to make a latte. never smoked again. he's the only one of the boys who calls y/n noona.

y/n: nicknames- bug, bubs, princess, tiny, sweetheart, pretty, feisty, attitude, noona. has lots of secrets and trauma. no one knows what she does for work. she refuses to tell the boys and any time they have tried to find out she catches on and puts a stop to it. they just know she's getting paid well. sweet, kind, funny, people pleaser, messy. has an attitude sometimes and can hold a grudge. when in a fight or flight situation it's 50/50. she'll either punch you in the face or run so far her legs turn to jelly. acts confident and bold: isn't. just a great actress. gets sad often but pretends she's not. loves cooking, ghibli movies, plants/flowers, cuddling, fire, and her friends. hates her family. smokes with ji a lot but is a social drinker. she grew up really poor so she tends to get anxious about spending money/people spending money on her. 100% gets princess treatment regardless.

Socials:

part one || part 1.5 || part two || part three

[debu-neko-kun]

Annual, Part 7

A continuation of the male weight gain/stuffing/slime expansion story I did for Doom7951 over on DA. This chapter, Dorian finds out what’s behind door number one... 

July 27th, Summer’s Peak Dorian heaved himself out of the tub, pulling himself up using the marble handrails he never imagined using. He leaned on the wall for a moment, certain that it was just the hot water tiring him out. That certainty was dashed with a glance to the mirror, forcing him to face the true culprit: the fat. Nearly every inch of his body bulged just out of the proper natural proportions, from his chubby toes to his soft cheeks. His once relatively flat belly (that he thought was rather average at the time) now seemed like a snapshot from a swimsuit catalog compared to the good three inches of fat that drooped and wobbled in front of him. With a little frown, he turned to give himself a better look at his rump, which was certainly not left unscathed. His near-daily jogging trips had done him no good; he sported a pair of smooth cheeks the size of frozen turkeys, only ten times as squishy. It was no wonder even his tailored underwear felt tight. Dorian’s brown eyes drifted down to his creamy thighs, their pudgy bulging conjuring thoughts of water balloons in summer, and up to the silhouette of the prominent breasts that sat like cherry-topped dollops of smooth whipped cream above the fat round scoop of melting ice cream that was his belly. He reached up and patted his cheeks; the silky flesh squished far more than he’d ever felt before. “It’s… nothing permanent…” he thought. “I still have time… I’ve just been slacking a little is all. I just have to get serious.” With renewed vigor, he picked up the underwear resting on the shelf by the door and slipped them over his legs. His resolution was tempered with embarrassment as he found his underwear covered only half of his rump, leaving a fair bit of butt fat spilling over the top like a pair of overripe peaches. With a little huff, he quickly covered it with his extra-large swimming trunks, grabbed his shirt, and a pair of pants and left for the pool. Down in the lounge, Dorian hovered near the doors to the pool. As much as he wanted to swim laps in the warm glass room, it just didn’t feel right. Not on a rainy day like this, he reasoned. There’s always tomorrow… Regardless, he needed something to do, and relegated himself to wandering the house. He might burn a few calories that way, and with Delta at the market, he’d have free reign and wouldn’t have a chance of being ambushed with more tempting treats. Although, now that he thought about it, he was a bit peckish… After tossing on his shirt, Dorian wandered to the kitchen to find a small snack.  He rummaged through the cabinets and found a bag of trail mix, which was better than the dozens of pastries stored everywhere else. Snack in tow, he turned to leave, but stopped as soon as he saw the curious blue door. He’d almost forgotten about it, he’d been in here so little. And, curiously, there on the counter lay a snake-like key. His key, or at the very least a copy. Dorian slowly walked to the counter, gripping the bag tightly. ‘Should I?’ he asked himself, even as his fingers slowly grasped the key. ‘It’s his private room, after all… but it’s just a room, right? What could be so secret?’ He turned the key over in his hand once, twice. Anxiously, he brought it to the keyhole. It slipped in quietly, and clicked loudly when he turned it. Hugging the bag to his chest, the curious boy turned the knob and pushed, the door opening to a lavishly furnished study. His heart thumped: why had he done that? Delta specifically asked him not to, yet here he was, delving into his secret affairs. It felt so wrong, but the mixture of curiosity and mental boredom made his mind do flips. ‘Here goes.’ he remarked, venturing in to look around. At the back of the room sat a desk covered in writing materials. Two bookshelves stood on either side. The floor was carpeted in dark red velvet to match the couch in the corner and the lining of the cabinet. ‘No crazy dungeons in here…’ he chuckled to himself. ‘Just a regular, private study for reading and writing. Probably business stuff.’ He leaning over to read the spines of the books. Each one held a label as mundane as the rest of the study. “Sales, volume I-IX. Orders, volumes I-XLIX.” he read off, quietly. He was just about to turn away and leave when his eyes fell upon a thick dyed-leather volume sandwiched between the other receipt-crammed portfolios, simply titled “Guests”. Carefully, he slipped the book out and set it on the desk, next to the trail mix. He scooted the chair up and flopped down to a resounding *creak* from the polished wood, but he was too captivated in his little mystery to be embarrassed about it. He slowly peeled back the cover to find a photo of a slender rabbit-boy, likely not much older than himself, clad in ripped jeans and a striped shirt. He was holding a shirt that said “winner”, looking as amused as a moody goth guy could.   ‘A scrapbook of people who won the challenge. That’s sort of cute…’ Dorian thought, and peeled back the page. His breath caught in his throat. There, on the second page, was the same goth guy, only with a slightly different dyed hairstyle. The source of Dorian’s surprise, however, lay in his body, or rather, what his body had become. His plump thighs bulged through the rips in his pants that not only seemed to have gone up ten sizes, but were now decorated in fashionable little chains that seemed to keep the pants from blowing off at this point. His belly hung low beneath his skull-patterned sweater, caramel-colored flab that looked creamier and more malleable than actual caramel. The expression on his face was one of exhausted victory; a stack of pie tins surrounded his chair, his lips stained red with cherry filling. Dorian touched the photo, to make sure he wasn’t just imagining the image on the page, or having a food related dream again. Fingertips touched laminate, but he refused to believe. Was this real, or was it a friendly in-joke? He quickly flipped to the next page. A cat-girl this time, slightly chubby and with a look of cocky bravado on her face. The next page, a rounded mountain of blubber even larger than the boy, laying on a couch with a cake balanced on her belly, plump lips parted between forkfuls. The next page, another woman. The next, another mountain. He randomly opened it the middle to find a photo of a white-haired catboy who looked like he was made of more fat than boy. He stood in what Dorian recognized as the entrance hall, his figure comparable to the paintings of the blobs behind him: absolutely immense in all ways. His belly dipped to the floor in a waterfall of flabby flesh, inches from the marble. Dorian flushed red thinking his immense form was naked, but after some close squinting, the thin outline of a waistband could be seen stretching hard against his rolly hips. A wolf girl was hugged against his side, her hand grasping a blubbery moob in apparent elation. “H-How…” Dorian breathed, sweat beading on his brow. “How does somebody get so fat?” “With lots of delicious food, of course.” Dorian spun in the chair, book in hand. Unused to his new size, his hip slammed into the arm rest, tipping him like a soft cow. The chair crashed to the floor and sent him sprawling onto the carpet with a surprised yelp. The book slid to Delta’s feet, still open to the picture of the half-ton catboy. “I see you’ve found my guestbook,” he sighed. “You know, I would’ve shown you if you’d only asked.” Dorian struggled to a sitting position, face red as his hands. “I-I just, I didn’t-” he stuttered, but fell silent as Delta bent down to pick up the book. “I’m very sorry if I ever appeared a monster to you, Dorian. I just keep rooms like these to preserve a meager private life,” he spoke, and slid back to the bookshelf to deposit the volume in its proper place. “I keep no dangerous secrets here. Goodness, I must’ve been appalling this whole time...” Dorian wilted. “I didn’t mean it like that…” “An utter monster!” Delta lamented, putting a hand to his forehead. “I spend so much time trying to make the food perfect, I forget about the guest…” “W-Wait, really! I’m really sorry…” Dorian tried again, down on his knees. Delta just headed back to the door. “I had such a special dinner planned for today, but I suppose you’ll just want to leave now. I’ll just shred the contract and you can be on your way.” Dorian scrambled forward to stop him, only succeeding in flopping his fat body onto Delta’s tail. Before he knew it, he was spilling out his very heart, on the verge of panic. “Please, d-don’t! I won’t go in here or any other room if you don’t want me to. I really like it here. I really like you. Please Delta, I’m sorry.” For a moment, Delta said nothing. Then, the tail curled around Dorian and gently lifted him to his feet. “Do you… really mean that?” Delta asked, fingers poised on his chin. “W-Well, yeah.” he replied bashfully. Delta’s frown quickly changed to a wide smile, and without another word, he leapt toward him and wrapped his arms around his back. Dorian felt as if he were being squeezed by a warm coil of strawberry jelly, only far less sticky and much more sweet. “Oh, wonderful! I’m so glad you’ll be staying, I’ll make these next few months twice as delicious as the last!” As relieved as Dorian was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d agreed to something more. ‘At least he’s not mad.’ he thought. ‘And that’s the most important part.’ “Come; we celebrate with sundaes!” Deep growls emanated from Dorian’s belly as he was swept into Delta’s arms. “Double sundaes!” Lost in Delta’s renewed happiness, Dorian agreed, and the two headed for the lounge. September 5th The water rippled around Dorian’s legs as he swished them gently in the waters of the pool, listening to the whoosh of the wind that sent leaves swirling around outside while he caught his breath. He’d completed half of his massive exercise regiment for today, and it was time for a rest and a snack. Delta had left a large bowl of his favorite ice cream by the pool for when he’d gotten out, and he’d finished all ten scoops in record time. It staved off the sweats for the most part, and lately he didn’t feel like he could go half an hour without a bite to eat. ‘It’s only natural.’ he thought. ‘Mountain climbers eat tons to regain their strength. With all the moving I’ve been doing, I have to do the same.” He tugged up on his swim trunks, getting them halfway across the expanse of the two great orbs of flesh under the drooping shelf of back fat before they would go no further. He’d have to ask Delta if the tailor could come measure him again after lunch, and to give him non-cotton clothing this time. After all, why else wouldn’t they fit? The tailor hadn’t even been gone five days after giving him his last estimate—some 350 pounds, give or take, with no scale in the house to confirm it— and already they left him half exposed. It was the heat of the dryer, of course. He was getting thinner with all of his exercising, so obviously it’s the dryer! Happy with the answer in his head, he slipped— rather, dunked— back into the water, sending waves slapping across the surface of the pool. He rested on his back, belly resting against his thighs and his arms at his sides like flabby water wings. Two laps down, two to go.

[rporsmth-blog]

A cat’s life

@happy-birthday-loomi

It was still dark outside when he woke up. A slim, pale ray of light had crawled through the arrays of red curtains, all the way over the floor just to hit his nose. A pair of shiny, golden eyes tore open, the slit in the middle taking just a second to adjust. Dozens of pillows and blankets had made of the fort the cat had built himself, and he struggled all so lazily to wiggle himself out. He was only allowed in the bed on special occassions, so much hair he shed just from his tiny blonde ears and tail he so eagerly had started to clean. At the other end of his castle, there laid the bed empty. Master was gone. Wiggling his butt, all fours together struggled - he had gotten a bit overweight recently, alright - but in the end, the cat had made his way up the bed. Proudly, he scanned his sorroundings, snuggling into the pillow that still carried Master's familiar scent. He was probably already at this work-thing. The one that earned him all his treats, he liked to say.  Aren loved the ones with chicken liver the best.

It didn't take long until the cat had started purring, hugging the pillow with all his legs, and the tail as well. Still, it was so boring when Master was gone. What could he do all day? It was much more funny to jump on his lap when he was working at home, after all. He stretched himself, licking his lips that were of a bright pink. Master should pay more attention to him, and work less. He was a Kätz.CHen after all - a german genetically engineered human-cat hybrid, and one of the most expensive with money to buy as well. And yet Master was always working!

The cat jumped down the bed, the idea the work earning more food for him was at least a little of a comfort to him. And the idea made him hungry. Awaiting in the kitchen was, like always, was his bowl filled to the brim. He was being spoiled, of course, every meal and his squishy belly made that quite obvious. Aren didn't care too much. He was happy.

Diving into his meal with whiskers first, the bowl was soon emptied. He scratched the bottom, meowing in agony as he did whenever Master was there to receive a second serving. Oh, right, he was not here. Frustrated, he kicked the empty bowl under the table, jumping on it just afterwards. Maybe there was more interesting things to find here. A newspaper laid on top, a picture of a man wearing a melon and a cigar laying on his lips. Aren couldn't read, but he decided he didn't like the shape of this guy's nose. So he peed on it. Lifting his dress with his paws, bellow dangled a small, white sock that had started to drench. Now he realized why Master had put it, but it didn't stop him from peeing all over the newspaper any less. Admiring his work with a mischevious grin, his hind legs put the drenched pages into a small pile. Still, the wet sock was annoying, itching and scratching all over his poor little thing. He tried to get it off, but his paws were no good. After all, Master had put sock glove thingies there too, after he had scratched up the curtains the other day.

Grunting, a very frustrated cat made his way to find the room in which Master relieved himself into. At the wall hanging was a roll of paper - the cat jumped on top. Roll, roll, roll, until the last piece had dropped to the tiled ground. Satisfied, the catboy took a paw full and rubbed it over his dirty crotch until he felt it drying up. Then he threw it back on the ground.

How much time had passed? The cat couldn't read the clock either, but a gaze outside showed the sun turning yellow. Just one nap from Master coming home, it is! He jumped on the sofa, rolling himself into a ball. Luckily, the pillow his carried his scent just as the bed's did, and so he snuggled close to them. He really loved Master. A yawn, the cat felt himself falling asleep....