Chubby Lover
Dafpork / VERY fluffy and non explicit it’s just a little suggestive in some spots / They are just in love / Daffy won’t take any nonsense about body image from his husband becuz he loves everything about him
This is a little thing I wrote to practice writing more. Thanks AP LIT 🔥
Summary: Daffy loves his husband’s body and knows the sentiment is a mutual one
*
Daffy knows it’s an odd preference to have.
Everywhere he looks the ideal male figure is one with a flat stomach and visible musculature- especially around the abdomen. But as much as he knows he likes men as he does women, it’s never been appealing to him despite being the golden ‘standard’ of men’s’ attractiveness. All he’s ever thought of it was,
‘Where’s the fun in that?’
Because Porky doesn’t look like that. Daffy is married to that chubby pig with a handsome smile and a charming stutter and he’s quite happy with that, thank you very much! That charming fella lies next to him in their shared bed right now, looking as lovely and round as always. And not once has he considered that round form to be undesirable. It’s very much the opposite. He loves to handle the soft folds of Porky’s stomach when they’re being intimate or otherwise standing in the same area as one another, a constant reassurance to Porky that he likes him as he is and wouldn’t want it like nothin’ else. Every time his Porkman even hints to a negative comment about his appearance he shuts it down with another loving squeeze around the middle- or, if he’s feeling particular frisky, the bum. Always coupled with sweet nothings and sultry compliments which he never runs out of for the other. Sometimes he even goes for his thighs, too. Porko has particularly nice legs, equally grab-able as the rest of his porcine self.
He’s getting sidetracked thinking about it, face flushing. He hopes Porky doesn’t notice, not now at least. There’s lot to think on still and he can’t switch gears just yet.
I mean, he doesn’t even.. doesn’t know what he’d do if Porky lost weight. Of course he’d still love ‘im to bits.. but he wouldn’t be able to grab his tummy as securely! He wouldn’t be as soft to hug or as easy to melt into when they cuddle, either. His arms wouldn’t have to stretch to reach all the way around Porky’s middle for every hug. And he loves to stretch! They’d also lose an unspoken ritual between them of ‘don’t ask don’t judge’ regarding his (and even Porky’s) many gropings. What would there be to grope on Daffy’s end?
It’s an unsettling thought. He shakes his head to get it out, eyes rolling around before surreptitiously peeking at Porky to his side. And his cute figure. Or handsome figure. Whichever one he preferred he would use- and neither had struck out just yet. Candsome? It didn’t have much of a ring to it. He has an appealing appearance. That was the consensus.
The belly was hopefully a permanent fixture of that appealing appearance, on that note. And he knows at the very least Porky knows he likes it. Doesn’t mind it, not at all. He told him as much, on one relaxing evening with their foreheads pressed together and his hands fondling around like they always did. Porky had said how much he loves Daffy’s affection in all the forms it came in, looney or not. What a fond memory, that one. (He snickers at the unintentional pun, as little as it fit, resisting the urge to repeat it aloud and kick his flippers under the blanket. A hard habit to break.)
He wonders if Porky feels the same way about Daffy’s own body type. He sure doesn’t mind Porky’s affections, which happen frequently enough he can make the call that the love of each other is a mutual one. The pig likes to grab him just as much as he does if you ask him! As often as he grabs Porky by the stomach does he manhandle him right back from place to place- by the tail or the arm or the beak or the chest he’s done it all. And his partner knows how much he likes to be caressed ‘round the neck, too, always taking the time to stroke and kiss the feathers there. Too many nights has he lost composure at the gentle, probing pressure of a snout under his bill, gentle nibbles just barely scratching the skin under his feathers and making his knees wobble.
It’s thinking about all of this that he turns around in bed to stare fondly at Porky, eyes twinkling mischievously with lowered lids. The pig is reading a book and notices his stare the next time he flips a page, breathing out a laugh. Daffy adores that sound. He so adores everything that is the man Porky Pig. It’s a fundamental fact of his existence.
“Eh- wh- we- wr- ebl- what’re you leh- lookin’ at me l-like that for D-D-Daffy?” He’s smiling and Daffy wants to kiss his face from top to bottom, drink in all of those grins and laughs like he’s a drunk on his last bottle. Instead he does what he always does and rolls over to Porky’s side, grabbing his belly and squeezing gently while his tail wags behind him. They’ll kiss soon enough anyway, if their track record is anything to go by.
Porky rolls his eyes and brings an arm around his shoulder, softly scratching the feathers on his head while at the same time bringing him closer to his side. It feels so nice he almost forgets to keep ahold of his hog’s belly, eyes blinking closed sleepily.
So what if he has an odd preference? He’s never been a normal mallard anyhow. He wouldn’t have it any other way, he knows, squeezing his fingers again into the soft flesh under his palms.
He jolts as lips find his neck, kicking a leg as a tiny shudder crawls down his back, tingling pleasantly.
“Hoo hoo! Porky!”
“C-c- ceh- b- can’t have you teh- takin’ all the fun.” Is the pig’s teasing answer.
His face warms and he responds with more rubs and pinches from Porky’s belly to his legs, which are matched with extra neck kisses and nibbles. A hand even sneaks its way to his tufted tail, fluffing it around until it has the backside equivalent of a bedhead. In the end they’re facing each other fully, Daffy draped over Porky’s lap with their hands roaming every which way on the other’s body.
They let out a series of snorts and laughs and hollers, each caress telling each other just how much they love what they’ve got until they’re too breathless and rosy-cheeked and teary-eyed to laugh any longer.
