Trigger warning(s)/Tags: angst, hurt(?)/comfort, fluff, comfort, mentions of insecurities, body image issues, body type descriptions
Word count: 1469 words
Date posted: Feb. 2 2022
•~•
• First of all, this has been on my mind for months so I have to share it
• Second, Itto would be WEAK for a chubby s/o
• Like, you cannot tell me this man wouldn’t be over the fucking moon for any type of s/o
• Regardless of your body type, Itto would give you the utmost respect, love, and support
• It’s already known that this loving himbo would go out of his way for anyone he loves and cares about, even if he doesn’t know them that well
• So him loving all types of appearances is completely within the realm of reality
• He also just gives off that vibe
• But back to the main topic here: our beloved himbo absolutely adoring his chubby!s/o
• He loves to cuddle into your chest or stomach and just be surrounded by your warmth
• His love language is 1000% physical affection
• If you gently pull his head down into your chest when cuddling, he will fucking DIE
• This man is down bad, please take care of him
• He prides himself on protecting you and making sure you’re okay
• He gets into a lot of trouble on his adventures, so he has to make sure you’re okay over everything else
• You’re precious to him, so he’d do absolutely anything to keep you safe and healthy
• Insecurities? Not on his watch
• He tells you how much he loves you every moment of the day
• One day he finds you looking in the mirror, poking and prodding at fat
• It doesn’t click in his mind at first
• He honestly just thinks you’re admiring yourself the way he usually does
• Then you suck your stomach in, sighing out in frustration when you don’t achieve your desired outcome
• He’s still a little confused to be honest
• Confused as to why you’re frustrated
• What’s there to be annoyed with? It’s skin, beautiful skin that he loves to squeeze and kiss and admire as of it was a shining star placed into his hands by a god
• It isn’t until you avert your own gaze, looking away at the mocking reflection, and grab your previously discarded shirt from the counter, that it clicks
• Are you unhappy with your look?
• He doesn’t quite understand this struggle personally, but he empathizes with you still
• He’s far from immune to insecurity, having his fair share of the wretched feeling
• Itto understands what it feels like to have those plaguing thoughts ringing in the back of your mind, screaming at you
• He fears not being able to protect you, thinking he’s not good enough for you or that he’s only going to bring you down with him. The list goes on
• So when he sees you in such a vulnerable state, it breaks his heart
• Especially since you’re fretting over a part of yourself that he loves so much
• Nuzzling his face into your stomach is probably one of his favorite pastimes
• The chub on your arms makes you one of the best huggers he’s ever met
• Your chubby cheeks? The best place to plaster sweet kisses over and over so he can hear your melodious voice giggling while you tell him to stop
• Your thighs are heavenly pillows which he thanks the archons for every morning and night
• Itto understands the feeling of insecurity, but he can’t quite understand this insecurity
• But that doesn’t make it invalid!
• He knows that it’ll be a nagging little voice regardless of what he says
• But if he can help reduce it to just an annoying nagging voice that you can flick away, then he’ll do just that
• Making his way to the bathroom, he steps behind you, looking at the reflection of you both in the mirror
• His arms snake around your waist and he bends slightly to rest his head at the base of your neck and shoulder
• He wordlessly gazes at your reflection, a soft smile taking over his lips at your image
• The words he had quickly planned out seemed to float from his mind, lost in the lovesick grin he adorns
• “You’re so gorgeous.” is all he’s able to muster up
• Realizing he must have seen you, your face heats up, eyes widening and trying to hold back the embarrassment rising in your throat
• Itto sends a silent, understanding smile, before kissing the base of your neck and nuzzling his nose into the warm skin
• “I love you, you know that right?”
• His words never fail to make your heart flutter, but you can’t help but wonder if your heartbeat speeding up is from the sentiment or the anxiety
• “Yeah,” you choke out with a stiff chuckle, “ you tell me everyday.”
• “That also means every part of you.” His voice is muffled with his face planted comfortably in your neck
• He looks back up into the mirror, the gentle, loving smile never having left his face
• “What do you mean?”
• “I mean,” he takes in a deep breath, standing up to his full height, pulling you closer against his chest. “it’s time for us to cuddle and for me to show you how much I love you’re pudge!”
• The words don’t seem to hit as well as he would have hoped, you tiny smile still holding an edge of resentment
• “Why do you like it?”
• “Like what?”
• “My fat. You’re always holding or squeezing it, doesn’t it gross you out?” You sneer at the reflection which seems to mocks you
• “Gross me out? Why would it do that?”
• “Well it’s just.. there. Wouldn’t you want to be with someone that’s more fit like you?”
• Now that genuinely confuses him
• Man is the embodiment of the meme where the woman’s confused with math equations around her head
• “What makes them any different from you?” His hands, still tightly wound around your waist, start subconsciously rubbing and kneading at your stomach. A comforting action he’d picked up fairly early on in your relationship
• “They’re skinny, I’m not. Wouldn’t you want someone prettier? Like with a flat stomach?”
• Your words hit him like a punch in the gut, but the tears starting to form in your eyes only make the feeling worse
• “But you’re gorgeous, I couldn’t dream of being with someone else.”
• Itto’s hands move to your shoulders, turning you away from the mirror to look at him
• His hands move to your cheeks, caressing the skin with a gentle thumb
• “Being skinny doesn’t make you beautiful and having extra fat doesn’t make you ugly.”
• His eyes flit back and forth between yours, holding back the urge to pull you into a kiss that very moment
• “I love you and every part of you. Your chub just makes you all the more better to love and cuddle with and kiss and hug and everything else!”
• He planted scattered kisses along forehead, cheeks, and nose. Muttering “I love you”s between each
• Describing and explaining things may not be his strongest suit but the sincerity of his words is enough to get the message across
• Again, his love language is physical affection, so showing how much he loves and adores you is the best way he knows how of assuring you
• “Thank you, I love you too, Itto”
• You’re still not feeling great, Itto can tell
• Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you have a tired and drowsy look in your eyes
• “So, about that cuddling part…”
• Itto looks at you hopefully, taking in the gentle smile which grows just a little bit wider at his suggestion
• “Okay,” you chuckle. “Come on, I could use a nap.”
• You take his hand to drag him over to the bed, now pulling a lovesick man who seems to be floating on cloud nine
• Crawling under the covers, you lay on your back, opening your arms to your boyfriend invitingly
• Itto’s eyes light up like a kid being given some fresh and sweet dango
• He cuddles up to your chest, placing tiny kisses along your stomach and chest, whispering sweet nothings after each
• Finally, he settles when you gently pull his head down to your chest, running your hands through his hair and humming a small tune
• Hearing your contented sigh, he watches as you slowly drift off to sleep, comforted by the warmth he was giving
• If he was standing he might have just fallen over
• He swears that whenever he’s with you, it feels like he’s died and gone to Celestia
• He’s not fully sure how to help but he’ll do whatever he can to make sure you know that you are cherished and loved. Chubbiness and all
Nine months, nine months! Miss Lorna couldn’t help but giggle as she saw the date on the calendar: January 15, 1957. It wouldn’t be long until her perfect little triplets would be born. The London housewife let out a childish giggle as she patted the engorged swell of her pregnant belly, squishing the ample layer of gelatinous fat that sheathed her womb. It was only natural to gain a little weight, she had told herself; her sagging, parted breasts strained against her bra, her flabby lower belly jiggled as she walked, and her cellulite-ridden thighs ballooned outwards to further exaggerate her plumpness. To Lorna, the new, voluptuous figure was a welcome addition – nothing to worry about for a woman in her mid 40s so bountifully heavy with child. There was more to grab, more to squeeze, and more for passers-by to stare at as she waddled and bounced.
“Oh golly!” She gasped, recalling what she’d planned to spend the day doing. “I was going to do some baking! Silly baby brain!” Lorna cooed, shaking her brown curls before pulling out an array of bowls.
She glanced over at the calendar, which had “Cinnamon rolls” written on it in thick red ink. Being a woman of strict daily routine, Lorna was certainly going to make some. She was craving them intensely the past week, and the infants inside her were constantly demanding all manner of foods – usually sugary and calorie dense – that were piling additional fat onto her already curvy body. As she began to measure out the flour for mixing, the thought of her belly growing heavier and softer caused her stomach to let out a ravenous gurgle, and she licked her lips in anticipation for the weight she was about to put on.
As she mixed the various ingredients together, the thought of stuffing her face full of sweets played to her arousal. In response, her raging pregnancy hormones started to churn into action, her engorged pussy quivering as a thick droplet of whitish fluid started to ooze into her girdle. It became increasingly normal for Lorna to become so easily turned on, but she fought the sensation and continued to cook. The first two batches of cinnamon rolls were ready, only requiring a simple mix with a healthy dose of sultanas and raisins. She shoved them into the oven, working up a bit on a sweat as she bent over. With some difficulty, she righted herself, arching her back to counteract the heft of her fleshy, full-term belly. She braced her hands against her bulging hips as her face flushed red with a sudden hot flash.
“Oooohhh” Lorna whimpered, watching as her belly trembled and heaved with the movements of her womb, “the babies must be excited for these rolls, but I better make some icing first!”
And so she began a customary check of the shelves, only to find them bare of the sweet sugar she craved. Her plush face showed signs of slight irritation as she realised how empty her pantry was.
“Oh darn” the housewife sighed, slapping her squishy thigh, “poor Lorna, what am I supposed to do now?”
The slap was followed by a loud squelch, then a splat: Lorna looked down to see a splatter of creamy goop upon the kitchen floor. She sighed, for this kind of vaginal discharge became increasingly commonplace as her hormones neared their peak. As her pregnancy progressed, cream always seemed to be leaking from her puffy genitals, soaking into her undergarments and oozing like thick custard down the curves of her legs.
“Not again,” she muttered, squatting down to scoop a dollop of her discharge off the insides of her thigh. It was thick, opaque, and chunky to the touch, quite different from the clear stringy substance it used to be. She brought it up to her face, and her nose wrinkled as she caught an unusual scent. Did it smell…. sweet?
With hesitation, Lorna pushed the gooey finger to her lips – “Oh…. oh my!” she squealed, her eyes widening with surprise. It tasted so creamy and rich, with the texture of warm, melted ice cream. The flavor was intoxicating, like honey with a hint of her own bodily scent. Letting her arousal take over, she dove her finger back down, and this time, pushed it into her dripping vaginal opening with a wet squelch. The action made her moan and her belly spasmed before she brought the sloppy finger out and licked it clean, swirling the cream in her mouth before swallowing it. “This would be perfect!” Lorna declared when the oven timer suddenly rang.
The smell of cinnamon wafted through the air, teasing the flustered housewife’s senses as she rushed to the oven. She bent over to take out the finished rolls, the flab of her belly squelching against her glistening, fluid-coated thighs. The movement caused a dainty puff to escape from her behind.
“Oh gosh! E-excuse me…” Lorna stammered, taken aback at her unladylike flatulence. Her moment of embarrassment was cut short when she felt another glob of cream running down her leg. Her cheeks reddened, and she set the tray of cinnamon rolls on the ground so she could give in to her body’s true desires. She slipped a finger inside herself, then two, then her entire hand. She began to thrust, the wet sounds of her loose pussy interrupted by whimpers and moans. Cream oozed out steadily, forming a white ring around her wrist as she worked her hand in and out. It didn’t take long before a powerful orgasm rippled through her body: “I-I’m cumming!” Lorna squealed. She withdrew her hand, and her soaked labia contracted with a wet smack. Then, the flood began.
With a sticky squelch, a large, gunky mass of thick discharge erupted from her engorged pussy, clinging onto her labia for a brief moment before dropping down like a bomb. It landed atop the pile of cinnamon rolls, plastering them in the sloppy goop and coating them in a layer of the glistening slime. A few drops splashed back, dotting her stockings with white cum.
“My, oh my!” gasped Miss Lorna. She squeezed the squishy mass of her full term pregnant gut with her cream-covered hands and trembled with surprise. “The icing!”
She grabbed a steaming hot roll, oozing chunky ropes of thick cream as she savored the dual flavor of cinnamon and her own gooey sweetness. With her free hand, Lorna plunged her fist into her pussy once again, dipping it in and out as she ate. Each time she pulled out, a massive clump of discharge churned out, piling onto the cinnamon rolls below. A sizable mountain of cream had built up under her as Lorna came again, unable to scream with her face stuffed full of sweets and cum. A final mass of cream plopped out, covering the last bit of cinnamon rolls that were still exposed.
Coming down from her orgasm, Lorna moaned softly as she massaged her fat, bulging mound, running her discharge-coated fingers through her bush and working the cream into the jiggly flesh like lotion. She nearly got carried away again, but she looked down and caught a full view of her messy, creamy creation.
“Dearie me!” Miss Lorna stuttered, her mouth gaped open in shock, “there’s so much… it’s so thick… my pussy… how did I–”
The mixture of equal parts awe and disgust sent her brood squirming with excitement, kicking inside her womb before a sudden hot surge coursed through her breast. Surprised, Miss Lorna glanced down, only to see that thick, porridge-like milk was starting to run from her engorged nipples, smearing her dark, bumpy areolas and pooling atop her sagging belly in a steady flow of off-white.
