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bleubrri · 2 years

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۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ᴀ ʀᴜɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ — ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛɪᴛᴀɴ

ft armin, erwin, eren, jean

contains: rich boys, country club au, reader works there, black!fem!reader, petnames, semi-public sex (storage cupboards, cars etc), armin being kinda mean and possessive, degradation, impact play, daddy kink if you squint, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, cunnilingus, sugar daddy behaviour

༄ؘ ARMIN ARLERT

is the most entitled brat you’ve ever encountered. apparently his favourite thing to do is torment you. that, and not so subtly peek at your underwear.

“whoops! my bad.” he says after hitting the ball entirely out of range. “guess tennis isn’t my strong suit. go fetch it for me, will you?” you’re glowering, eyes flicking between the abundant basket of balls loaded into the tennis ball machine next to you and his stupid, perfect, smiling face. “of course.” you grit, stomping off in the direction of his swing.

you shriek as the ice cold lemonade makes contact with your shirt. the fabric sticks to your skin as the ice cubes leave wet trails across your collar bone. “oh i’m so sorry!” the heads that have turned to witness the commotion probably eat up his fake apology. but you know better, watching his eyes trace the outline of your nipples as he shoves napkins into your cleavage, not-so-accidentally squeezing the tops of your tits. he leans in close, whispering for only you to hear. “let me help you, bunny. don’t want you walking around all wet now, do we?”

the feeling of his blunt nails grazing your scalp makes you shiver, but it’s quickly replaced by a yelp when he grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you back to face him. the force of his thrusts is rattling the shelves of the storage cupboard, the wet sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the space around you. he’s sucking deep purple bruises into your neck, snarling into your ear as he presses you further into the wall. “you like being fucked like a slut? or just acting like one?” you can only moan in response, lost in the feeling of his pretty cock pistoning into you and mildly annoyed that your cunt clenches at his words. “yeah, you like—shit—you liked parading around half naked for those guys?” that isn’t exactly how you’d describe giving a group of boys directions to the snack bar in your lifeguard uniform, but the shoving of his fingers past your lips makes you think he didn’t really expect an answer anyway. he cums without warning, spills inside of you and sinks his canines into your throat as you whimper against him. once he’s pulled out, he tugs your panties back in place to stop his seed from trickling down your thighs. he kisses the marks on your neck gently, though his tone is anything but. “don’t let it happen again, bunny. you’re mine.”

༄ؘ ERWIN SMITH

he’s a romantic at heart, can’t help but shamelessly flirt to try and sweep you off your feet. you’ve told him to stop his extravagant tipping, but he insists. you do provide excellent service after all.

“would you be a dear and grab the 7-iron?” he asks, surveying the lushness of the course from behind his sunglasses. you smile and nod enthusiastically, trotting off to retrieve the club while he admires the sway of your hips in your cute little tennis skirt. you hold it out to him, expecting him to take it and swiftly begin his game. instead, he places his large palms over your hands, “do you play?” you try not to crumble under the weight of the ocean held in his eyes, “me? i—no. never.” he hums, gesturing to the tee, “allow me.” your breath hitches when he presses up behind you, his broad frame surrounding you as his hands come to rest on top of your own, gently coaxing you to swing.

“ah, there she is!” he spots you just as you’re exiting the back room back onto the floor, and his heart swells at the sight of the little diamond sitting in the centre of your clavicle. his little diamond. “why don’t you come and join me, darling? i could use a little luck it seems.” you practically skip over to him, perching yourself in his lap while looking over the hand he was dealt and the cards scattered across the table. you end up more focused on the game than him; he’s far more occupied with brushing the curls away from your neck, admiring the contrast of your skin to the pale silver of the chain and pressing a kiss to your nape.

“i told you, ‘s not fair on—oh fuck—on the others! y-you needa stop tipping like that, erwin.” you try and sound firm, but it fails miserably when your voice raises an octave on the last syllable of his name. the heat from your skin and your hurried breaths have fogged up the windows of his ridiculously expensive car as erwin eats your pussy like it’s what he was fucking born to do. he raises his head from between your legs, thick brows furrowed and chin dripping with your essence, his mouth opening to protest before you cut him off. “i’m serious.” you say, reaching down to brush the blonde locks from his forehead. he sighs, absentmindedly peppering kisses to your inner thigh. “fine. if you let me take you to dinner when i’m done here.” you open your mouth to answer, but it morphs into a groan in your throat when he presses the flat of his tongue to your clit. “y-yes! yeah fine, fine just—oh god—touch me please.” and he’s more than happy to oblige, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth and selfishly slipping a finger past your entrance in the hopes that your date could come just a little faster.

༄ؘ EREN JAEGER

isn’t exactly… the county clubs demographic. still, it doesn’t seem to stop him from walking around like he owns the place (which might be half true, you’re pretty sure his father has shares in the company).

your first thought is that the cherry red paint job and rumbling engine of his vintage mustang is more than a little obnoxious. it’s also your second thought when you take in his outfit as he steps out of the car: faded jeans and a leather jacket, with thick silver rings and shoulder length hair that’s haphazardly pulled up. your stuck up colleague frowns and addresses him, “uh, excuse me sir but i’m afraid there’s a fairly strict dress code.” you roll your eyes from your place at the valet stand, but don’t interfere. eren barely looks up from his phone, fishing a wad of notes from his back pocket. “how ‘bout i pay you to shut up and mind your fuckin’ business?” the snort that escapes you is involuntary, and you try desperately to cover it with a cough that neither men are convinced by. erens sharp eyes snap up to you, winking as he tosses you his keys and strolls inside.

“help! help i’m drowning! can’t—can’t swim—” you’re standing by the edge of the pool looking down at him completely unimpressed as he flails about in the shallow end. you quirk a brow and he stills, pouting. “what kind of lifeguard are you? i coulda really been dying…” scoffing, you turn to leave when his fingers wrap around your ankle and your heart drops. water rushes pash your ears as you’re dragged into the pool, kicking to the surface and hacking out your lungs. “what the fuck?!” you’re seething, screaming about your hair and scowling at him while he laughs until his sides hurt. once he starts to feel a little guilty, he cuts off your words, kissing away the chlorine from your lips and promising to make it up to you.

“that’s it, baby.” he groans, grip tightening on your hips to slam you down onto his cock. you’re still not used to his thickness, his blunt tip pressing against your soft cluster of nerves with no effort at all. “fuuck you look so pretty riding my dick. should take t’day off so you can sit on it all fuckin’ day.” he mutters into your sternum, busy trailing wet kisses to your tits and delivering harsh slaps to the meat of your ass. the sting from the cool metal of his rings has you reeling, pinpricks of pain melting into pleasure with each thrust of his hips. “or better yet,” he continues, “quit altogether so i can fuck you whenever i want.” you laugh breathlessly, nails digging into his chest as you bounce on his cock in the drivers seat of his mustang. “you already do that anyway. besides, c-can’t all live off of daddy’s money can we?” he loves that you’re still so sharp, even when you’re starting to drool from gushing around his cock. “that so? you want daddy to pay your shift, pretty girl? or you like fuckin’ me on the clock?” he gets distracted with the sloppy press of your mouth to his, by the lewd sounds of your perfect fucking cunt squelching with the final few lifts of his hips. but once he regains his focus he deposits 100 into your account (more than what you earn per shift, you berate) and tells you to call in sick. “i’m nowhere near done with you.”

༄ؘ JEAN KIRSTEIN

bless his heart he is a babbling, blushing mess around you :( he’s so easy to tease, but you mean well because he really is adorable.

he knows you’re busy when you’re working, so he tries not to hover or pester you too much (you wouldn’t mind in the slightest). but he sends things over to you all throughout your shift. you look a little flustered? he’ll send a drink over. lunch break still hours away? maybe you could use some snacks. “jean, you know i get snack privileges, right? and…unlimited drinks? like all day?” he did not know that. “of course i know that. you’re just… busy is all. less stress if i get them for you.” you hum, pretending not to see the pink that spreads across his cheeks.

“hey, so..wouldyouwannagettogetherafterworksometime?” you stop in your tracks, freezing your motions of putting your bag over your shoulder and dramatically sucking in air through your teeth. “that’s kinda an abuse of power don’t you think?” his dreamy hazel eyes are wide and you instantly have to bite your lip to stop laughter bursting out of you. “oh—oh my god, i’m so sorry i—i didn’t—” you’re grinning as you slink next to him, “i mean what’s an innocent employee of this fine establishment to do?” you drawl, boldly linking your hands together. “you’re— you’re joking.” he breaths, the fear trickling down his spine quickly replaced with relief. “yes. and i’d love to. if the offers still on the table after that.”

jean’s counting the number of paddle boards in the dim light of the pool supply shed when you come bustling through the door, breathless and gorgeous and his. his lips are on yours before words can manifest, running his hands down to your waist and pulling you close. “only have… 15 minutes.” you manage between heated kisses, and he hums, breaking the string of saliva that tethers your mouths when he drops to his knees. he’s sliding your shorts and panties down your legs and already looking at your centre greedily, but still you feel guilty. “wait, wait what about you? are you sure?” he looks up at you incredulously, already palming his erection at the lusty scent of your arousal. “are you kidding? gimme 10.” and when he plunges his tongue into the silky depths of your cunt, you can’t find it in you to protest. (he manages to tear the thin line of tissue under his tongue in his eagerness, but he seems perfectly content when you cum in 8 minutes).

a/n: this is a cry for help, sugar daddies hmu

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mewtwofan1 · 10 months

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Been on a portal binge as of late, and made this in blender. Resources used are linked under the keep reading

Chell, Wheatley, GLaDOS, Turret and Portal gun models by @RaidGreg8866 on deviantantart, link to model pack is below www.deviantart.com/raidgreg886… Companion cube, weighted storage cube, radio and portrait by hisanimations on youtube, link below www.youtube.com/watch?v=XB6hdQ… Portals made by me based on the tutorial below from vfxblender: www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3AFmB…

#portal 2 #chell #portal #glados #wheatley #aperture science #wheatly portal 2 #blender

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beefrobeefcal · 6 months

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BB, I am on death's doorstep over this man's tummy in that visibly too-small tac vest. Look at it. LOOK AT THAT SQUISHY BELLY! 😭💀

So this got me thinking...what if Mouse comes across the tac vest one day while she and Frankie are in the middle of a decluttering weekend? She stashes it away for safekeeping with a mischievous smirk.

Later that night, after Frankie's had his fill of their favorite takeout, Mouse brings out the vest and asks him to try it on. "Please, Frankie Baby? I wanna see how it looks on you. 🥺"

Frankie looks reluctant...the vest was already on the snug side the last time he wore it in Colombia, and he's grown in more ways than one since that dark time. And Mouse? Well, Mouse KNOWS the vest isn't gonna fit. She's not even sure it's gonna close over his round belly...especially with all the indulging he did at dinner.

But sweet baby Frankie is not one to deny his Mouse anything. Right, BB??

Lovey - you know I got you!

HELL YEAH. YES. WE NEED TO SEE IT ON HIM. and we get out wish.

Smuttiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Frankie Takes a Trip Down Memory Lane

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mouse finds some old relics and Frankie puts on a show.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,722

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, weight talk, food talk, belly worship, bely rubs, size kink, unprotected p in the v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy, kids!), v-fingering, dirty talk, the usual Frankie & Mouse shenanigans

Author's Notes: Thank you @thehalflifeofloveisforever - not only did you gift the amazing art of Frankie, you also stuck it out at the first beefro @ the Movies and listened to my unhinged thirsting for Frankie on screen. Thank you for being a Friendo and this one is for you!

And thanks to my lovely Beta Fish @neverwheremoonchild for doing what they do best 💜

--------<3---------

When you and Frankie moved in together, you’d rented a storage locker for all you stuff that didn’t quite fit in your first apartment. But even after moving into your house, neither of you really gave that storage locker much thought outside of grabbing the Christmas decorations each late fall and retiring them in January.

But you’d had enough of that monthly charge on your credit card getting a little higher over time and that was why you were now sitting on a box, sorting through your and Frankie’s separate histories. Frankie was at work, and you’d agreed to not dispose of his stuff – just to bring it home and let him deal with it - you’d managed to sift and sort through all of your boxes, filling up the back of the rented cube van. There was one thing left in the locker and it was a large, metal chest containing Frankie’s military gear.

He hadn’t hidden his past from you and had even shown you what he had in the chest when it was being stored. You opened it and pulled some of the clothing and gear out, smiling at how small it looked. The clothing and gear were from when Frankie was a much, much thinner man, easily less than half his current size. You then pulled an envelope out and opened it, revealing some pictures of Frankie with Santi, Will and Benny. Even though you knew it was him, it still didn’t feel real that the lanky, broad shouldered, baby face smiling in the photographs was now the big bellied, sweet, chubby Frankie that you loved so much.

A devious grin crossed your face as a thought entered your mind. The clothing and gear in the chest would have been bigger on you, but you were absolutely certain that Frankie would be hard pressed to even get the vest around his chest, let alone his belly…

*****

Frankie stood up from the table after devouring his dinner. His stomach was big and round, projecting out and side to side and he huffed as he stood to his full height with his back arched to accommodate the weight he’d packed into himself.

“You ate well…”, you cooed, patting his belly.

He’d been eating really well as of late, his tummy becoming more prominent. He also now needed bigger portions to get full, and you had been more than happy to oblige him. He’d told you last week that he’d had to size up his coveralls again, and when you asked him to bring home his old ones and show you, the sight of him standing before you with his empty belly and chubby love handles stopping the zipper from closing left you a whining mess, begging him to fuck you.

“Yeah… getting pretty big.”, he smiled back, slapping his belly. The dull thud noise it made from being so full was music to your ears. But it did give you pause.

He’d mentioned a few times how big he felt, how big he was getting, and you weren’t sure if this was still what he wanted. He never expressed frustration or discomfort, but there was an air of something in his comments.

“You still happy?”, you asked softly, your hand sliding down and rubbing his underbelly, feeling how heavy his tummy was. “Still happy with this belly?”

He looked at you, his hand finding yours, and nodded with a little bit of nervousness. “Yeah… think I’m where I wanna be… here… not any bigger though; it’s getting kinda hard working on big rigs when I’m just as… big.”, he chuckled at his last statement, then his voice went quiet. “Is that… okay?”

“Yeah, honey… totally fine.”, you smiled, standing on your tip toes and kissing him. “I love you and want you to be happy… and if that means this – “, you said giving his belly a squeeze. “- stays like this? I’m happy.”

He kissed you back sweetly and moved to the couch while you cleaned up after dinner.

*****

After the final pan was washed, dried and put away, you walked into the den to find Frankie laid back and snacking on some snack cakes that you didn’t even realize he’d grabbed enroute to the couch.

His eyes turned to you, and a bashful grin appeared on his face as he swallowed.

“Hey princess… just having a snack.”

You huffed a laugh and walked up to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and rubbing his belly. Even as he was laid down, his tummy felt firm and full under a layer of softness, and it protruded up from his body.

He hummed in contentment as his hand interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your hand to his mouth and kissing it.

He looked up at you and smiled. “I meant to ask: how’d you fare with the storage locker?“

“Oh, it’s done. I conquered that shit like a pro.” You gave him your best Rosie the Riveter pose.

“Hey! Good girl!” Frankie beamed up at you. “And my stuff?”

“All your stuff remained intact and it’s in the garage…”, you stated, then your voice dipped into a low, sultry tone as your fingers walked up his hefty tummy. “… except a few things I brought inside… for you to try… on.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised and he lowered the footrest. He huffed as he sat up and his belly pushed his thighs open, and he leaned forward, hands on his knees.

“What you got for me, princess?”

“Just stay there… I’ll be right back.”, you chirped as you skipped down the hallway to your bedroom.

When you emerged back in the den, Frankie looked up and his jaw dropped. There you were, in the black bra and pantie lingerie set he’d picked up for your last birthday, your platform heeled combat boots and his tactical vest.

“Oh fuck…”, Frankie groaned, reaching under his belly and palming his crotch. “You know what you’re doing, princess?”

“You like it?”, you tried your hand a pin up pose.

He held his hand out to you. “Come here, princess.”

You grinned wryly at him and took a step back.

He shook his head, keeping firm eye contact, and he growled, “No… don’t you dare. You wanna dress like a soldier, princess, you take orders like one.”

You eyed him again, gauging if it would be worth it for you to make him chase you. He narrowed his eyes at you, and leaned forward a bit further, like he was readying himself to get up.

“Don’t do it, princess. Get over here and fall in fucking line. Now.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”, you purred as you walked towards him, swaying your hips, and took his hand.

Frankie smugly grinned and tugged you on him; you squeaked and hitched your knee on the arm rest and stood, straddling his thigh.

“Good girl…”, he crooned as his hand not holding yours reached between your legs and stroked your clothed folds, and you sucked in a breath.

“You look good in my vest, princess… it’s a little big on you, but you look fucking hot…”

“Want you to put it on… wanna see it on you… please Frankie…”, you whined, rocking your hips against his hand.

He huffed a chuckle and smiled. “Mouse baby, you’ve ensured I can’t fit into anything I wore last year, let alone shit I wore in the military.”

“I know… that’s the point.”, you panted, wrapping your hand around the wrist of the hand between your thighs. “Wanna see you try… wanna see all my hard work… please, Frankie baby.”

Frankie’s face slacked and he let out soft groan at your words and your palm coming down to the front of his full belly and firmly patting and caressing him.

“There were pictures in with your tac vest, Frankie… you were so skinny… but look at you now… you got big, baby… twice the man you used to be… eating well… getting big… getting round… making your belly heavy and full… look so good like this… but I gotta see it, baby… gotta see you get this vest on you…”

His hazy eyes looked at you as he panted slightly. He nodded dumbly, licked his lips, and hoarsely replied, “Yeah, princess… that what you want?”

You nod and grin mischievously. “Yeah, baby… wanna see you in this – “, you shimmied your chest to highlight the vest, “- so we can have a comparison.”

A smile crept across Frankie’s face; he gently pushed you back and hoisted himself off the couch and stood up. Even with the platform combat boots, he stood a head above you.

He hooked his fingers in the arm holes of the vest and pulled you towards him slowly.

“Looks like it might be a little small, princess.”, he grinned. “Anything you want me to try and get on with it?”

Your hand snakes down his front and you gently gripped his almost-hard cock through his jeans. “It’s laid out in the bedroom for you…”

You tugged his cock and he grunted. “Don’t tease… Gimme the vest, Mouse…”

You let go of him and undid the vest, removed it and handed it to him. He watched your every move and made a low whistle at you standing before him in nothing but your lace lingerie and boots.

He took one last look then walked down the hall to your bedroom.

*****

You sat on the couch, curled up in the corner where Frankie previously sat, playing on your phone while you waited for Frankie. You heard some grunting and swearing coming from your bedroom, and you looked up, trying to see down the hallway.

“You need help, honey?”, you called out.

“Close your eyes, princess!”, he called back.

You did as requested, and you heard the bedroom door open, then heard Frankie lumber down the hallway towards you.

You knew he stood in front of you, not only from his footsteps creaking the floor, but you also could hear the fabric he was wearing creaking and stretching over his body.

He was breathing heavier, like getting the clothing on was strenuous but you could hear his smile when he spoke next, his voice deep.

“Open your eyes, princess.”

The sight before you was everything you had hoped it would be. Frankie stood with his legs wide, as if standing at ease, his cargo khaki pants pulled up but tight on his thighs and undone, and his faded red t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders and unable to go down any further than that. His round, fully belly prominently sticking out, preventing both the shirt and pants from being able to meet and sit where intended. His old Standard Oil trucker hat was on his head with his aviator sunglasses on his face.

You noted the tac vest was not on him but hanging at his side. He saw you look at it and he sucked in a breath and held it up in one hand as his other slapped his belly.

“The vest ain’t gonna fit, princess… sorry baby… you fed me way too good.”, he chuckled as you got up from the couch and walked towards him.

“I’ll help.”, you cooed, taking the vest from him as you both had stupid grins on your faces.

You helped him get the over his head and one arm through, but getting the side done up was a struggle.

“Frankie… did this ever fit you?”, you giggled as you tried to tug the sides together.

“Well… ooof! … yeah… but the last time I tried when we moved in together, it was – hmph! – getting a bit tight…”, he grunted as he tried to suck in his belly to to avail, then he laughed, and his tummy bounced. “Look what you’ve done to me!”

Your giggles continued as you finally got one of the clips to close, right under his armpit.

“Hey! We got one!”, you chirped, and Frankie laughed.

“Jesus, it’s tight!”, he huffed out with a smile.

You stood back and took in all that was Frankie. “God dammit…”, you breathed as you looked over his big form. “Look fucking good, Morales…”

“I look like an overstuffed sausage shoved in a shrunken leather glove – “

“Don’t… baby, don’t do that…”, your hand cupped his cheek and turned his face to yours, and the other caressed his chubby waist. “You look like a man who’s served his country and is now enjoying life with a woman who loves every pound, every ounce of you.”

“Fuck, you’re good.”, he said with a lopsided grin. “I love you so much… I’m a lucky bastard.”

“I love you, too.”

He leaned down and kissed you, then pulled away with his eyes and smile wide.

“Take a picture! Mouse! Get your phone and take a picture!”, he excitedly said.

You giggled, grabbing your phone. Frankie posed as though nothing was amiss with his outfit and then you got an idea. You grabbed o w of the photograph of Frankie wearing the exact outfit he was in and gave it to him, giggling.

“Hold it up. I’ll get a ‘before and after’ picture!”

He looked at the photo then smiled and held it up, and you got a shot of him, twin smiles almost a decade apart.

The size difference shot a hot spike in your core, and you clenched your thighs. It didn’t go unnoticed by Frankie, and his smile slid into a devilish grin. He took your phone to have a look; you thought he was texting the photo to himself.

“You like what you see, princess?” He began moving towards you. “Like seeing how big you got me?”

“Yeah… baby, yeah, I do.”, you almost panted, nodding as he stood less than a foot from you.

“Tell me how it makes you feel to see me like this- “, he grabs your hand pushes it against his belly, shaking it and making you feel the weight of him, “- to know this is all your handiwork.”

You let out a breathy whimper from your parted, pouted lips.

“Tell me, princess, how it feels to know you’re making me outgrow all my clothes so fast.”

“Frankie…”, you whimpered in a whisper, realizing he was backing you slowly towards the couch.

“Yeah, princess? You wanna tell me how much you like knowing how much bigger I am than you? That why you keep me well fed?”

The back of your knees hit the couch and you fell back with a squeak and Frankie stood over you between your parted knees. He reached under his arm and undid the vest, pulling it off and tossing it to the side.

He bent down and slid his hand between your thighs, pushing your lace thing to the side and feeling how slick you were.

“So fucking wet for me… my kinky baby… my princess gets wet from getting me fat.”, he smugly cooed. He kept eye contact with you as you breathed in and opened your mouth, eyes trying not to roll back. You could feel your cunt gushing again with the way he spoke to and looked at you.

“And my princess likes being called out for making me big… I can feel you getting wetter… pretty little pussy’s just fluttering and clenching on nothing but the hope this fat guy’s gonna fuck you stupid, huh?”

Your eyes widened and before you could respond, he pushed two thick fingers into your core. You gasped and grabbed his arm as his other hand played on the headrest of the couch beside your head.

“Fuck, Mouse… so fucking wet… baby, so tight… love this pussy… love my pussy… so fucking warm and wet…”, he murmured as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. The sounds coming from your mouth and count were like music to him; your whimpers, gasps and cries juxtaposed to the wet, slick and obscene sounds he was pulling from your core.

“Frankie! … please… please baby… please I need… I want you on me… wanna – fuck! – wanna feel how heavy you are… please… please fuck me!”

He smiled and kept fucking you with his fingers. “Princess, you're so sneaky. You've got everybody fooled."

You looked up at him, panting and confused. "What...what do you mean, Frankie?"

“People take one look at me and assume I'm a greedy, fat guy. But YOU'RE the greedy one, baby.”, he growled, circling his thumb on your clit, increasing the speed of his fingers. “You can't get enough of this belly, can you? Never gonna get your fill? You fucking love it when people ask you what you're feeding me. You think you do a good job of hiding it, but I know, Princess. I know."

Words failed you as the coil in your lower belly snapped and you came hard on his fingers, a wet patch now on the couch under you.

“Good girl…”, he groaned as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “I could tell everyone I got fat on your sweet pussy, and they’d believe me.”

He grinned and leaned down, catching your lips in a fevered kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and your arms wrapped around his neck, and moaned into his mouth, “Please, Frankie…”

He pulled back and you both tugged and pulled at the too-tight khakis and his boxers to free his aching cock. You then removed your panties, and he pushed you to lay across the couch as you frantically kissed one another. He sat up on his knees and gripped your knee, pulling your hips towards him, and he lined himself up with you and pushed in, leaning over you. Both of you let out a gasp as his hand found yours and interlaced, and you assumed Frankie was going to make love to you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. What you didn’t realize was how riled up Frankie really was at your confirmation that you loved what you’d done to him. You’d made him bigger, softer, heavier, bulkier – and you loved him even more for it. The idea that he, at his size and in too small clothing, made you that wet and needy… it flipped a switch in his brain and put him on auto pilot; set him on a dangerous crash trajectory to fucking you hard and fast into the couch.

He let go of your hand and when you tried to sit up to catch his mouth in a kiss, he pulled your hips towards him harshly. You fell back and he snapped his hips into yours, forcing low grunts from him and panting whines from you. He put his whole weight into his harsh thrusts, making each time his cock impaled you sting – but you didn’t care right now, he felt so good.

“Can’t even see where I’m fucking you… made me so big… can’t see your tight pussy sucking me in… but fuck… I can feel it…you like having a fat guy fuck you, princess?... that’s why you’re so fucking wet…”

You cried out as he picked up the pace and intensity. He planted a foot on the floor, giving him more power to his already heavy thrusts and causing your body to rub into the coarse fabric of the couch. You could feel the friction making your back warm, and you knew you’d feel it afterwards – but you didn’t care right now; he felt so good.

“Fr-Frankie!... baby… keep – fuck!... keep going… don’t stop… look s-so good… so big… so fucking big!”

“Yeah?... that’s why your pussy’s holding on so hard… fuck… feels so good, Mouse… look so beautiful, baby… fucking small under me…”, he grunted, feeling your cunt start to spasm, knowing you were close. He released one of your knees, brought his thumb to his mouth and coated it in his spit, then brought it to your swollen clit and rubbed circles. “Come on, princess… come for me… come on… lemme feel it…”

Your body reacted quickly, and you came hard, back arched, his name peeling from your throat.

“That’s it… good girl… good…fucking…girl!”, Frankie groaned, his own release building quickly. His thrusts fell out of rhythm and as your body started to come down, he found his end. Pounding into you in a few quick thrusts, he came, and you could feel his hot spend filling you up and seeping out of you on to the couch.

Normally, you would have stay connected for a little while longer, but Frankie’s exertion in combination with the added weight he carried with his big dinner left him needing to sit down. When he pulled out of you, you let out a soft whimper and reached for him.

“I know, princess… I know… I’m sorry… I gotta sit down…”, he panted, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it before sitting back heavily in his spot at the end of the couch. He placed his hand on your ankle and rubbed gently.

You sat up, now keenly aware of the mess under you, and crawled to his side, snuggling in. You rubbed his belly gently; he was still feeling quite full, and you knew he needed to let it settle.

The faded red t-shirt was still pulled tight across his chest, and you slipped your finger under the rolled up hem, feeling almost no give.

“How did you manage to get this on?”, you asked quietly with a smile.

Frankie wiped his forehead and chuckled. “It wasn’t easy… and I can’t imagine getting it off will be either.”

Your phone vibrated, alerting you to a text, and then a few more in rapid succession. You sat up, scanning the room and finally found your phone on the floor next to the couch. Picking it up, you unlocked it and saw your group chat with Benny, Santi, Frankie, Hannah and Will was busy reacting to something. You scrolled up in the chat and saw that Frankie had sent the comparison picture of him holding his old photo to the group from your phone.

“Frankie!”, you gasped, and he laughed beside you, reading the comments.

“Holy fuck Fish!😲😂” - Santi “Yeah… I guess Mouse is a good cook 🤣 ” - Hannah "Breaking news! Relationship weight gain is not a myth!” - Benny “MOUSE. WFT.” - Will

--------<3---------

Image drawn by @yahtiwakitakos

TAGLIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss @patti7dc

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #you ask beefro answers #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#you ask beefro answers #thot tank #friend of beefro #the catfish & the mouse one shot #the catfish & the mouse #the catfish & the mouse #🥩#beefro's bistro #i smell like beeeeeef

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ryunumber · 11 months

Note

Bubble from Battle for Dream Island?

Bubble has a Ryu Number of 3/does not have a Ryu Number.

(CORRECTION: An earlier version of the first image incorrectly used an image of a Weighted Storage Cube instead of a/the Companion Cube. Thank you to @popittart for pointing it out.)

(clarification below)

The route's on real thin ice on account of Bubble only appearing on the title screen and the nature of the Companion Cube as an eligible character, but it's mostly defensible. Sort of.

#bubble #bubble bfdi #battle for dream island #bfdi #ryu number

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flynndesdelca · 6 months

Text

For Day 30 (Cara Mia Addio) of @chelltastic’s Portal Drawtober 2023 Challenge. As I’m not really an artist, I chose to write short pieces for the prompts.

now is there anything that I can do

if there was would we be singing

Finding books to read was difficult, as there were only so many people who even had the things, and so far most of their taste had been terrible. Chell put down the book she had been attempting to read for the fifth time, sighing to herself. This wasn't going to work at all. This book just was not at all interesting, no matter how hard she tried. She'd even tried reading it while sounding out all of the characters with silly voices in her head, but it just wasn't working. Whose locker had she gotten it out of? That's right, his name was written inside the book in neat block letters. P. Reynolds, you had failed her. For shame.

The mental upbraiding was interrupted by a low, throbbing hmm. Sometimes the noises GLaDOS would make echoed in a fascinating way, as though the sound was reverberating through the chassis itself. Thinking noises, when she bothered to verbalize them, were examples of such. The sound was surprisingly easy on the ears. It reminded Chell of something else, something from before... she'd gotten inklings of the supercomputer's musical inclination at odd times and in odd places, but only gotten a proper example of it as she had been leaving. Curiosity rose in her, and an idea formed. It might not work, but at least it would be more engaging than the book had been.

Tapping the table once or twice to try to get the AI's attention, Chell waved a hand in the air in a lazy attempt at signing. Sing me a song. She only hoped that the meaning would carry across.

The groan of hydraulics. Dead silence. She didn't want to look up, she already could tell she was simply being stared at. "You'll have to try that again," came the reply at last. "I don't speak whatever that is."

Fine. She held up both hands, moving much more slowly in her attempt to make the meaning clearer. S-I-N-G me a S-O-N-G. She'd been studying ASL letters in an attempt to actually learn proper signs, so it probably helped when she spelled things out rather than use whatever gesture she felt conveyed her meaning.

"That's what I was afraid you had said," GLaDOS muttered, narrowing her optic. "Why would you assume that I know the first thing about singing?"

When I left, the turrets were singing. But turrets don't sing. You were controlling them.

"Perhaps they were so elated that your vendetta against them was finally coming to an end that they overcame their simple dialogue limiters in order to express that joy," the AI said primly, her optic slowly drifting to the side as though pondering this miraculous development deeply.

Chell shook her head, pointing at GLaDOS directly. They only speak English, and that song was definitely not in English.

"Someone's meddling with the turret templates introduced some... irregularities into the turret population." GLaDOS rolled her optic dramatically. "It took a long time to weed them out. Having to interview several hundred turrets individually to find the ones that processed in languages that weren't normally supported was exactly as tedious as it sounds..." Chell crossed her arms firmly. "Of course, you wouldn't care what language it spoke to you in. You'd callously drop a weighted storage cube on its head before it even had a chance to say 'hello'."

Turrets don't say 'hello'.

"Yes they do. You’ve just never actually talked to one.," GLaDOS said smugly.

She chose to ignore that particular jab. So you found all of the turrets that didn't speak English and instead of incinerating them, you let them live.

"They could still perform a majority of their functions," GLaDOS explained defensively.

And these turrets somehow got together and managed to create a whole opera. Chell wasn't certain about how to convey what she wanted to, so she spelled 'opera' out.

"They do tend to be social. They liked to be in groups," GLaDOS added. "If you took the time to observe them in their natural habitat rather than callously cutting them down any time one gets in your way, you'd see them frolicking in the meadows together. Like deer."

That statement was so ludicrous that Chell wasn't even sure where to begin with a reply. Instead, she pressed on. All of this of course happened during the time I was unconscious after dealing with Wheatley.

"You were unconscious for quite a while. They work quickly when they're motivated..." there was definitely an odd posture to the chassis now. Each statement saw GLaDOS draw back just slightly, like she was being cornered. Chell wasn't sure if she was going to suddenly be in a great deal of danger, or if she was going to somehow win this argument.

So you pulled me in, interviewed all the turrets, they got together and wrote a whole opera from scratch and practiced it so that it would be perfect and just happened to be hanging out in the elevator shaft waiting for an audience around the time that I woke up and you kicked me out? Chell summarized, slowly and carefully.

"When you say it like that, it does come across as being rather farfetched," GLaDOS said rather pointedly. For a moment, Chell considered whether she should start eyeing the exits. "I'm not even sure why you're suddenly following this line of questioning. Are you considering a career change this late in your life? Is that book about a musical?"

No, it's boring as fuck, Chell signed in annoyance. You were thinking out loud again and it reminded me of stuff. I liked the song that they sang, though I guess I thought it was you singing it so never mind! She waved her hands back and forth as though dissolving everything she'd just said. At least she'd been right in the notion that this would be engaging.

"You liked it, even though you didn't understand it?" GLaDOS questioned warily.

It sounded nice. They were talking about science, I think. And me. I'm not sure how turrets would know my name, though, Chell said thoughtfully. Maybe I should ask them if they will sing it again, for me.

"It wasn't your name," GLaDOS said sharply. "It was ciel." Almost too late she realized her misstep, and quickly turned away. "At least, that's what I heard! It was impossible not to hear it, after all." That got Chell to laugh, which caused her to turn back quickly, optic narrowing. "Perhaps I did arrange certain things. It was because you were leaving, and I was glad to see you go. I'd consider the whole thing null and void because you came back. It's a failure of a song. I hope you're happy."

Maybe I'd be happier if you sang me another song about how you're angry that I came back, Chell replied cheekily. You could use a lot of dirty words and I would never know.

"Or I could just eject you back out via a carefully calculated aerial faith plate," GLaDOS considered. "Perhaps not. That would be cruel to the aerial faith plate. Perhaps you're right, and I should channel my unending bitter rage at the lack of solitude in more constructive ways." She swayed back and forth as though considering just how to apply herself. "Well, that was constructive. You'll forgive me if I don't assemble a whole chorus of turrets, but since you decided you aren't leaving you're not worth more than a solo."

I suppose I'll live. Chell feigned disappointment. She was curious just how a computer could sing. It shouldn't be a question, because obviously GLaDOS could talk just as easily as anything else there, but the idea of an actual song, especially given that the last one through the synthesized voices of turrets had been really good, was exciting. Even if it was just a song cussing her out in a language that she didn't know. She sat back on the floor, winding her arms around her knees for support and listened.

#portal drawtober 2023 #portal 2 #glados #chell #chell portal #chelldos #at least implied chelldos #giant robot ladies singing #this chell doesn't know sign language and just makes it up as she goes #this creates hilarity sometimes

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