#fat running journey

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Walking In Two Worlds & The Everlasting Road

YA sff set in the near future where an opensource augmented reality is commonly used like social media, and there’s also a completely virtual fantasy game version

follows an Anishinaabe girl who who’s the top player in the VR game, and is constantly fighting to keep her place against the misogynist neo-nazi group in second place

as well as her real life, dealing with being a shy and self-conscious teen growing up on the Rez, and her brother having cancer

and a Uyghur boy who’s moved to her community from China after finding acceptance in an online community (even when he doesn’t agree with their more extreme views) - but when he gets to know Bugz, he has to decide who truly deserves his loyalty

great mix of sff and culture, the future while also very real community traumas of the past (and present)

[weightlosstransformationhub]

"From Flab to Fab: My Weight Loss Transformation Journey 🌟"

🏋️‍♀️ Fitness Enthusiast | Health Advocate | Transformation Storyteller 🌈 Embarking on a journey to a healthier, happier me! Follow along as I share my triumphs, struggles, and the secrets to my weight loss transformation. 💪 Let's inspire and support each other on the path to wellness! 🍏✨ #WeightLossJourney #HealthyLiving

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[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[shan-yee]

𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲

𝘑𝘶𝘯-𝘏𝘰 𝘹 𝘝𝘐𝘗!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

๏𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 = 1393

๏𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 = oral, noncon, imagine that Jun-Ho wasn’t taken away by the old man, reader is a VIP and the wife of one of the guys, the reader wears a bathrobe and underwear, blackmail, the reader always keeps her promises.

๏𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 = Jun-Ho wants informations, she has them. But nothing is free in this word.

๏𝘼/𝙉 = When « fine, i’ll do it myself » hits a little to hard. And i think that i’m getting better at writing smut-

๏𝘼/𝙉 2 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

[̲̅t̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅g̲̅][̲̅l̲̅][̲̅i̲̅][̲̅s̲̅][̲̅t̲̅] : @zeizeisjy @fnl9zer @missroro @skywalker0809

𝘪´𝘮 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘣 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺

—I will tell you everything you want, but first, i want you.

Her words resonated in the young policeman's head, he glanced at the remote control she held in a firm grip in her right hand and considered his options.

He could refuse and try to run away but she would set off the alarm which will let everyone know of his presence, or he could accept and she would give him everything he wants.

—Think fast pretty boy.

Jun-Ho took a deep breath and raised his arms in submission before placing his weapon on the oak desk to his right. The young woman smiled at him with a satisfied air and crossed her arms under her chest, she slowly ran her thumb over the big red button on the remote control before slipping it into one of the pockets of her bathrobe.

—Good choice, but just to be sure I'll keep that there.

She sat at the end of her bed and, silently, beckoned him to come closer, her mischievous smile reaching her ears, taunting him. Jun-Ho approached with wary and slow steps, his dark shoes clattering on the floor, near her, he placed a single knee on the ground and stared straight into her eyes. It was a kind of rebellion, a way for him to show her that even if she had him on his knee, he was not her slave and sooner or later he would regain his freedom.

[Y/N] seemed to appreciate his defiance and with her right hand she caressed his face, almost affectionately. She ran her fingertips over his jaw, delicately tracing it down to his chin, then touched his dry, pink lips before finishing her little journey on his eyebrows.

—You’re so pretty. She whispered after a few moments of intense silence.

While she had fun tracing each feature of his face, the young man had wondered how he had found himself in this situation. He had managed to slip away from the room where some VIPs were watching the fifth game take place but had to quickly hide before being noticed by a guard, which led him to enter the young woman's room.

In other circumstances he would surely have turned around when passing her in the street, in a bar, he might even have offered her a drink, if he wasn't too busy hatching a plan to find his brother.

Finally, with the tip of her thumb, she pressed on his chin, making him part his lips and slipped her tongue between them. Jun-Ho seemed surprised but feeling the young woman's nails on his neck, urging him to react, he closed his eyes and reciprocated the kiss.

He felt her breath intertwined with his, just like their tongues, and in a seconds he got caught up in this game of sensuality and his left hand slowly went up the leg of the [H/C] haired woman, from the ankle to the thigh passing through the knee. Once he reached her thigh he planted his fingers in its fat, making his partner smirk in their kiss.

Meanwhile, her fingers gripping his neck slipped through his sweat-damp hair and she passed them through his black locks with a certain tenderness.

Jun-Ho was the first to pull away to catch his breath, a light stream of saliva connecting them before it broke. The young woman smiled at him, a spark of desire shining and flickering in her [E/C] eyes.

—You’re good at kissing, let’s see if you’re good at something else.

The young man watched the VIP's fingers undo the knot that held her [F/C] bathrobe, he stared, breathless, as the fabric slid down her shoulders then spread out on the satin sheets of the bed. His eyes slowly moved up to her stomach and little by little to her chest, he admired it rising then falling with each of her inhalations, her [S/C] skin covered with a very light trickle of sweat.

Jun-Ho slightly straightened up to be face to face with her, he gave her one last disdainful look, which secretly hid another emotion, before placing light kisses on her collarbones. Little by little they descended on her chest and his tongue left a light trail of saliva mixed with her perspiration up to her sternum.

He took a moment to get used to the salty taste that came to prick his tongue before he resumed his kisses on her breasts while his hands, placed on her thighs, slided to the edges of her panties.

He took the underwear, after she lifted her butt off the bed, down her legs and let it fall to the floor. The young woman spread her thighs and he ventured between them without a word.

Their breathing quickened in unison and he felt her burning gaze on the top of his head as well as the skin on the underside of her thighs, which he held apart to have more room, heat up under his palms.

He heard the slats creak as she leaned back, her weight supported by her arms, she looked at him intently, her lips parted and impatient. Suddenly, feeling his hot, ragged, breath against her sex, she squeezed the black satin sheets before closing her eyes, her respiration hitched with apprehension since she hadn't been satisfied by a man in months.

Jun-Ho let go of one of her thighs and came to spread her intimate lips using his thumb, he observed for a few seconds before attacking her clitoris. He kissed it first before taking it between his lips and sucking gently. His black orbs observed her, admiring her face tense with pleasure.

Her reactions gave him a certain pleasure and he felt his breathing speed up as well as his hands becoming sweaty. He wanted to make her pay for this humiliation but a part of him found her sensual and seductive, perhaps without realizing it, he was enjoying it much more than he would like to admit.

Using the tip of his tongue, he made small, quick and precise circles. It didn't take long for Jun-Ho to understand what she liked, the leg of the young woman he held in his left hand beginning to tremble under his movements.

[Y/N] fell back, which surprised the police officer between her legs who followed the movement of her body and brought her pelvis closer to the edge of the bed, while letting out a small chuckle which quickly turned into moans. The back of her head sank into the covers as she bit her lower lip, trying to suppress her noises of pleasure, and quickly the fingers of her hand stretched to get lost in her partner's black locks.

She pulled lightly on it as the muscles in her lower abdomen contracted as she felt her orgasm coming. Jun-Ho seemed to understand this and his long movements became faster while two of his fingers came to venture inside her.

It only took a few movements of scissors and tongue for the knot that had formed in her stomach to explode and a long moan to echo through the room. The woman felt her eyes roll back and her thighs suddenly lock and cramp from the pleasure.

She had had many partners in her life, without her husband knowing it of course, but rare were the times when she had felt such ecstasy, not only was he handsome but his tongue was one of the best.

Jun-Ho slowly stood up, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and retrieved his gun without taking his eyes off her. The [H/C] haired woman, after regaining her senses, stood up and gave him a confused look.

—You said you wanted me, you had me, now give me what i want.

There was a slight pregnant pause where she could observe his beautiful glistening skin under the dimly light of the room as well as a slight bulge in the chic black pants that he had stolen, finally the young rich woman started to laugh, her breathing still irregular, numb legs and wet forehead—like her inner thighs—.

—Alright pretty boy, give me your number and I will send you every proof I have.

[dandp]

Update: we may never get the true answer but I do think, as @fictitiousponies and @frumdyke both suggested, Dan's item is likely some sort of oversized blunt or the like. That does seem to generally make sense both visually and for why they would comment on it the way they did.

Phil's object has been guessed to be a potato or a painted rock? Rock makes more sense to me visually but without more context I honestly have no idea about that one (and I'm also stuck on what seems to be a little nub on top in the middle? what's this thing's deal) Would love to hear if anyone else has any guesses for it!

Am I dumb what are either of the things they're holding here

[grimesbunny]

when you sleep

cw dubcon. somnophelia. unprotected piv. dirty talk. prison era. secret relationship. not proofread idc.

the exhaustion festering inside rick’s bones takes the form of something more heady once his eyes adjust enough in the darkness to make out your sleeping form. clad in just his shirt and your cotton panties, rounded, plump flesh peeking out just enough to feel purposely teasing. it takes everything in him to constrain his groan, cock quickly filling the front of his blood stained pants. you’re none the wiser— turned away from him on your stomach as slow breaths cause your chest to rise and fall rhythmically.

gently, he reaches over your figure, brushing your wild hair behind your ear to get a better look at your pretty face. the lack of ponytail or braid leads him to presume you fell asleep on accident, probably succumbing to restlessness after having been waiting for him all night. that thought is what has him reaching down to palm at his bulge.

“my sweet girl.” he coos lowly. his voice sounds gravelly to his own ears after having spent the majority of the journey back to the prison in silence. “so beautiful, aren’t you?”

it’s as if a magnetic force brings his lips to your cheek, his calloused hand to your hip. cant help himself.

the bed dips under the weight of his knee, sliding it where one of your legs is perched off to the side. his warm hands feel you up innocently at first, sculpting the dips and crevices of your pliant body. reveling in how soft. . . how alive you feel. “missed you so much. missed touchin you.”

his inhibitions falter the longer he sits there, hovering over you. breathing you in. he lets his hips fall slightly to catch the friction of your ass against his hard on.

“god.” he laughs out in disbelief at himself. “feel that baby? feel me throbbin for you in your sleep?”

he looks up for a reaction, any indication that you’re somehow consenting and enjoying this, because he doesn’t know if he can just stop here. he pins his hands on either side of you for leverage as he bucks into you. the side of his brain nagging at him for how perverted he’s being is overtaken by the part that’s chanting desperately for more.

“drive me crazy. make me need you so bad, don’t even have to try.” he grits out the misplaced blame, his thrusts becoming more deliberate. he’s chasing his own high, using your unconscious body to get off. humping you like a dog in heat.

one particularly rough thrust jostles you slightly, making you shift in your sleep. rick doesn’t stop, not even when a soft groan slips out of your mouth. not even when you blink awake.

“rick? is that you?” the mixture of confusion and innocence in your voice only spurs him on, his breathing growing heavier by the second.

“shhh, it’s me, baby.” he places another kiss onto your cheek, soothing your hair out of the way in attempt to comfort you. maybe coax you back to sleep. his lips trail down to your shoulder, the snap of his hips never faltering. “so soft, honey. how’s it that in a world like this, you still feel so fuckin soft?”

your next words sound more clear, more awake. you turn to look at him in the dark. his hair falling over his forehead, still fully clothed and unshowered from the run. the lustful glint that has turned his eyes almost completely black. “what’re you doing, rick?”

“i know, i know. fuck.” he’s sympathetic, even as his hand travels up your shirt. as it trails along your stomach, as it gropes the fat of your breast. you gasp, your own hand coming to weakly circle around his bulging bicep. as if you could ever fight him off. “can you feel how hard you made me?”

you don’t respond verbally, because rick doesn’t count whimpering into your pillow as a response, but you push your ass back to meet his thrusts, still meek from sleep. he groans out, long and throatily and low, a proud grin etched onto his lips.

“there’s my girl. d’you miss me too?” his breath tickles the shell of your ear, followed by a rougher kiss to your jaw. “waiting for me to get home and take you?”

you nod as best you can in your position, letting yourself bask in the pleasure of having him pressed against you. you’re leaking, soaking the spot where your groins connect. rick has to reach down and feel it.

“sure feels like you missed me.” he chuckles, cocky. the rough pads of his fingers dip into your panties from behind, sliding along your slippery folds. “fuckin’ say it.”

“missed you s’much, rick.” you whine through delirium and pleasure, bucking down into his hand involuntarily. “was getting worried.”

“poor thing. gonna make it up to you.” he hums absently. too lost in the feeling of you. your puffy mound, the scent of your hair. he dips a thick finger into your spongy entrance. “look at that, always open up nice and easy for me, huh? could slide right in.”

you instinctively clench around him at that. your thighs threaten to close— they would if it weren’t for the way his knee has rooted in between them. “yeah? want me to stuff this little pussy?”

you manage to squeak out your confirmation and he removes his hand, but the sound of his belt unraveling behind you is enough to make you whimper in anticipation.

“yeah, you need it just as bad as i do.” he states. he takes a pillow from beside your head, lifts your hips with one hand and slides it under you in one swift motion. it’s a position he’s taken you in several times, but neither of you have gotten used to just how deep it sends him. and it’s one of those nights where he needs to be as deep as possible, breach uncharted parts of you. “don’t you?”

you feel his spongy, thick tip press against your entrance in the dark and squeeze your eyes shut. he’s painfully hard at this point, and it takes every last bit of resilience from rick not to shove himself inside and pound your cervix until it’s bruised. of course, you would take whatever he gives you without complaint. but he’s not a barbarian.

“oh— mhm. need you, rick.” you confirm, though it feels like you’re speaking through cotton with how exhaustion and pleasure are playing tug of war inside you. it’s far from a lie. you need him in more ways than one, much like how the rest of the group needs him.

only this part of it, the one saved for when the two of you are alone, spoken through silent glances and subtle touches throughout the day— this is sacred. just between you.

“you’re gonna get me, honey.” he knees your thighs farther apart to make room and eases his way in. his ego soaks up your gasp at the intrusion, the stretch.

it winds him too, sends him toppling forward and landing with his hands pinned on either side of you for stability. he’ll never not marvel at how warm and tight you are inside, sucking him in like you never want him to pull out. it’s almost gotten you pregnant more than a few times.

“yeah, that’s it.” he groans, careful not to wake anyone in your cell block. the heavy weight of him envelopes you from behind, pressing you uncomfortably into the prison mattress. your bones are sure to be sore and bruised from it tomorrow, but all you can focus on is his voice, his breathing, his scent— his cock. filling and stretching you so nicely. curving enough to slot inside your stomach.

he’s grunting out strings of praises into your ear — “so fuckin’ perfect. takin’ care of me…” — and all you can manage out are mindless mewls, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. he doesn’t warn you before he cums inside, just fucks into you rapidly until you feel the warmth blossoming in your abdomen. it momentarily snaps you out of your entranced state, and you attempt blink back at him.

“rick, did you—”

“couldn’t find condoms, baby. i tried.” he sounds completely unfazed. he kisses your cheek one more time before he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. “go back to sleep.”

and with that, he rolls over next to you. it’s not seconds later that you hear snores falling from his mouth. you try your best to ignore the feeling of his come leaking out of you and close your eyes as you snuggle up next to him, knowing he’ll be out of your bed long before anyone else wakes up in the morning.

[msbigredmachine]

Cheat Meal (Roman Reigns)

The OTC is hungry for a whole lot more than just good food.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Based off Roman's TikTok where he complains about his diet😂

Enjoy!

----------------

gif by @romanreigns

He shoves the last tiny piece of broccoli in his mouth and dumps the plate in the sink with a resigned sigh. The ‘breakfast’ will barely register inside his stomach but it’s the price he must pay to be in the shape he’s currently in, the best he’s ever been in. Even if it makes him miserable and slightly cranky until it’s time for his next bland meal in another couple of hours. 

Retreating to his bed at the back of the bus, Roman checks the time as he waits patiently for his wife to return from the diner across the road so they can head on to their next destination. They’re already running behind schedule with a near two-hour drive still to go. More excruciatingly, he’ll have to deal with the smell of greasy, albeit delicious food that he can’t even look at, let alone eat.

Minutes later, the sound of her perennially cheery voice floats through the air, followed by the driver thanking her for her generosity, having bought him his own breakfast. As the bus restarts its journey, the bedroom door slides open, and Roman does a double take. The yoga pants and tank top he swore he saw her exit the bus in has been replaced with one of his old t-shirts. Nothing else. The outline of her nipples betray her lack of brassiere and that fat, juicy ass of hers jiggles with every step she takes as she places a tray full of food on the dressing table, the small bedroom instantly filling with the aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

“Sorry babe, I had to wait a little bit for my milkshake,” Elise explains, piling pancakes onto a porcelain plate. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Baby, this is not how you were dressed when you left,” he points out, soaking her in as he sits up against the headboard. 

Elise giggles and settles down on the edge of the bed next to him. One glance at the contents of her plate - buttermilk pancakes smothered in butter and honey, a couple of sausage links and two thick strips of bacon - has Roman salivating. “That diet is really fucking with your head, babe,” she jokes, as he rolls his eyes. “I’ve changed into something comfier. All the better to eat my comfort food with.”

“Why you ain’t eating in the kitchen, then? You just gotta fucking tempt me, huh?” He’s not sure which one he’s talking about anymore; the food or her appearance. She looks good enough to eat every time, but she looks amazing either dressed down or in next to nothing. Like now.

Of course, nothing at all is his absolute favorite.

“Cuz I wanna share it with you. Sorry but I don’t have your discipline. Just a day on that dry ass, rabbit food ass diet of yours would fuck me up,” Elise gripes. “And don’t get me wrong. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve done with your body. You look carved from damn marble. But you’ve lost hella weight and it’s making your big ears stick out." She pouts. "I kinda miss my thick neck Daddy. There was more of him to climb.”

“You still climb me with zero problems. And I can’t eat this stuff. You know that,” he laments.

“You say that while you eye-fuck my bacon.” She picks up her fork, cuts into a pancake and daintily takes a bite before moaning in delight. The warm fluffiness of the pancake, the rich, sweet honey, the smoothness of the butter, all come together in her mouth, textures and flavors melding together as she chews and swallows. "Mmm, this is soooo good," she gushes.

Roman grits his teeth and growls sullenly, “I hate your ass right now.” 

“You’re making me feel bad.” Carefully balancing the plate in her grasp, she shifts around and straddles him, and he hisses at the way her ample backside seats flush on his crotch. Sure enough, she has no underwear on. “Daddy, have breakfast with me. You need to eat more. A couple of bites won’t hurt.”

Roman sighs heavily, smoothing his hands along her thick thighs that complement the rest of her thick body. “You know damn well I can’t say no to you when you call me Daddy.” It’s not a lie either. Three kids in three years and a closet full of Birkins, Louboutins and many other luxuries are proof of this.

Elise muses over her plate and selects one of the large strawberries topping the pancakes. “Let’s start with something sweet.” She offers it to him, seeing him relax upon realizing it’s something relatively healthy. “Eat,” she instructs.

Roman opens his mouth obediently, closing his eyes as the juice bursts on his tongue, some of it dribbling down his bearded chin. Elise grins as he moans in satisfaction, and she makes him eat the rest, his full lips streaked red from the fruit. Cheekily, she places her own lips on his, tasting the flavor for herself, and smiles triumphantly as he makes a surprised sound but deepens the kiss anyway, cupping the back of her neck to hold her against him.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he asks when she pulls away, light panting punctuating the air between them. His eyes sparkle with lust. “Thought you were only feeding me.”

“I’m multitasking.” Kissing him again, she stabs the fork into another piece of pancake, dipping it in honey and feeding it to him. She loves to do this. It’s her favorite form of intimacy. Her love language, if you will. Taking care of him, pampering him. Her gestures never fail to stir his heart, as well as other parts of his anatomy. “My sweet baby. Feel better? You’re not hungry anymore?” she teases him several bites after.

“Nope. Not for pancakes anyway,” he says. The words are cryptic and shrouded in mystery, that’s until his hand slips between her thighs. At her sharp, indrawn breath, he smiles darkly, flattening his palm so that he firmly cups her sex. “There’s another…delicacy…I wanna feast on.” 

Her husband is insatiable for her. Always has been, and she loves it. Feeling desired and wanted by such a beautiful, high-value man like him does wonders for her self-esteem and their marriage. But after one passionate, bed-rocking round earlier this morning and little food fueling him, she would think his energy is depleted. “Baby, you should rest,” she tries to reason, but he’s adjusting her already, forcing her to put her food away on the nightstand.

“I’ll rest after you come in my mouth,” is his curt, yet loaded answer. And just like that, her resolve is reduced to ashes.

He scoots his big self down the bed until she is seated on his face. Elise barely has time to collect herself when his calloused hands scrape her thighs and clutch her hips to hold her in place. Her body jerks as his tongue finds her folds in record time, lapping greedily. Heat instantly washes over her with a wave of nerves and lust as he works her with that unmatched skill that brings her to surrender. In mere seconds, she is lost in the pleasure, her pussy dripping from a mix of her juices and his saliva, all of it slurped up by his talented tongue.

"Fuck, Roman…” she moans, squirming on his face, her body ablaze. He’s so damn good at this shit, it’s damn near unfair. It feels like her whole pussy is in his mouth as he licks and sucks to his heart's desire. He tightens his arms around her thighs, his massive hands prying her open for further onslaught. The warmth of his breath, the prickle of his beard, his moans against her sensitive flesh has her mind spinning, prompting her to rock her hips in rhythm with his circling tongue, grabbing her breasts through her t-shirt for added stimulation. Her entire being hums with anticipation as her orgasm builds and builds. “Ro, I'm...I…oh fuck, Daddy,” she gasps, unable to string a simple sentence together in the state of bliss she’s in.

But of course, her husband knows exactly what she wants. What she needs. To give it to her, he works harder, incorporating his nose and chin, gliding them back and forth along her wetness, buoyed by the quiver of her thighs as he sends her over the edge. The explosion of her body is of seismic proportions, and Elise slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, bucking, writhing, whining as pleasure consumes her whole.

She’s still reeling as Roman carefully lifts her off his face and drags her back down. His mouth captures hers with a dizzying urgency, exchanging the sweet tanginess of her arousal. They lick and suck hungrily on each other’s tongues, his hand reaching up to curl around her throat making her pussy spasm with need, so much so that her essence begins to smear the center of his gray sweatpants. Roman looks down at her mess with a proud, arrogant smile, and he lifts his hips just enough to pull the stained pants down his legs and kick them off. He strokes his dick, long, thick and hard, for a few seconds before guiding it inside her.

“Get this dick, baby, c'mon,” he orders, his low, gruff command sending yet another tremble through Elise that he both hears and feels as her breath catches. They moan together as she sinks lower onto him, balancing herself with her hands on his bare, muscular chest. Her hips roll back and forth, grinding on him, keeping him pinned to the sheets while she chases down their collective pleasure. 

He fucking loves it when she’s on top. It allows him a holistic view of the body he's been obsessed with since the day they first met. His big hands roam her front, relieving her of her t-shirt so he can properly idolize her breasts, so plump and pillow-soft as he massages them, gleeful at the way her nipples harden from his touch. He then travels south to grab her ass, enjoying the round, supple cheeks flexing against his palms as she rides him. He grips each one possessively and proceeds to lift her up and down on him, bouncing her on his throbbing erection. 

“Fuuuuck...”

“Nah, you can take it. And not too loud now, we don’t need the driver hearin’ us again, hmm?” Roman taunts, squeezing her left cheek and spanking it hard, earning a yelp from her. His eyes are blown as he studies the expressions on her beautiful face. “My fine ass, sexy ass wife. Climb me like only you can, baby,” he encourages her with soft moans of his own.

Falling forwards, Elise tucks her face into her man’s neck, her breathy kisses warming his skin as she manages to maintain the pace he’s set for her. He’s so deep inside her, nearing her cervix it feels like, the sweet sensations amplified by their chests pressed together, his large hands caressing her with so much love and care and reverence while talking her through it with his deep, husky voice and dirty words. Years together and their lovemaking is still as earth-shattering as their first time, and she appreciates it more than he’ll ever know.

Roman kisses every part of her his mouth can reach, reveling in her increasing moans as he angles his hips, keeping his dick buried in the ocean of her cunt. “Leese, you feel so fuckin’ good…” he groans on her shoulder, licking the butterfly tattoo etched on her skin, “Damn, baby, I could stay inside you like this all day…”

Elise tries to agree with him, but her jaw drops when he bucks up into her without warning, his hands planted on her ass holding her down to take every inch of him. The depth, the intensity and precision of his strokes render her speechless. Her eyes roll back as his lips find her nipples, suckling the swells of her heavy breasts, the wet smacking sounds of his hungry mouth and her gushy pussy sounding around the bedroom. The shit is so good that neither wants it to end, more than content to just remain on the bus and fuck all day long.

"Daddy," she whines, her fingers sliding over the back of his hair, tangling in the long, soft locks as she locks hazy gazes with him. His brows are furrowed, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth; telltale signs that he’s close, just like she is. "Oh baby, I'm gonna come again..." she whimpers.

"Yeah? Is my girl about to nut?" Roman asks, grasping her chin and brushing their lips together. "Gimme that nut, beautiful. Soak Daddy’s dick with your wet ass pussy," he goads her with another kiss, another smack on her backside that makes her ride him harder. Her pupils are dark and dilated with desire, reflecting the passion he’s feeling. He wraps his huge arms around her middle, and pushing up on his heels, he accelerates, fucking her faster, thrusting deeper, until her moans dissolve to broken, breathless cries as she trembles on top of him. Her walls milk his dick greedily and trigger his own release. Roman’s groans and curses fill the room, his body shuddering too as he empties his load, filling her to the brim. 

With a soft whine, Elise melts on her husband’s heaving body, both parties spent but immensely sated. An eternity passes before either move, Elise reaching over Roman’s prone frame to grab a piece of bacon and pop it into his mouth.

“Good? There's more if you want,” she asks, watching him chew on it.

Roman sighs contentedly and rests his head on the pillow. “Mm-hmm. That's another couple added minutes on the treadmill though.”

Elise giggles and snuggles up against her action figure of a husband. “You’ll be fine. And you’re perfect to me already, by the way,” she assures him.

THE END

---------------

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[bellyyearner]

Office life at 550+ lbs

Word count: 1061

Extreme obesity, mobility issues, work environment, feedee perspective

No gender mentioned POV

Being a working feedee is hard sometimes, especially when your gain slows down to a snails pace despite how much you've been eating. In the last 3 years you've only put on another 40lbs, but you have an easy job that pays the bills and allows you to live comfortably so you can't complain too much. The only part of this job you hate though, is the journey inside.

As you exit your car you can already feel the sweat forming between your rolls, it's been taking a few tries lately to stand up after swinging your hefty left leg out onto the concrete. You've even questioned if you should bring your car to the shop to check the suspension just in case your fat ass crashing back down onto the driver seat a half dozen times a day might be causing issues. At the very least you were thankful for your personal parking spot only being about 250ft from the elevator up to the office floor. Only 100ft from the buildings entrance and the cold AC running throughout the building.

And so you begin your slow pendulous waddle, thighs scraping against each other with every step, causing so much friction your jeans always have a distinct wear pattern only a couple weeks after buying them. One foot infront the other you waddle, repeating the laboured motion as your breath grows heavy and your belly slaps against the tops of your thighs. Halfway to the door now you hear the clicking of heels against the concrete, 2 interns whizzing by you without a word. You can't even imagine moving as fast as they do, or why they'd even want to move that fast in the first place. Your sense of urgency left you a couple hundred pounds ago.

Another 20 heavy steps later you reach the door, a mailman on the other side who was about to leave opens it for you, clearly staring at your mammoth size and brow covered in sweat. You make it inside and can barely catch your breath to say thank you before he's gone. The AC graces your hot sweaty skin and you feel relief, you spot your double wide chair HR had fought to get installed for you last year, and plop down on it with a huff. All there's left to do is catch your breath for a couple minutes, walk 60 steps through the lobby, turn right, walk 10 steps to the elevator, a minute of standing, and another 30 steps to your cubicle. Where you will then chow down on a couple snacks you brought and rehydrate before looking at spreadsheets and grazing on more food for 8 hours. A routine you had grown so accustomed to that it became second nature.

You look at the handle bar bolted into the wall and remember when you found it insulting, but now it was a necessity. Gripping the bar you start to stand hoping a second try isn't needed because of how many people were in the lobby. You can feel your heart quake and your knees whine but thankfully you hauled your lard laden ass off the seat in one attempt.

The second journey begins and the heavy waddle ensues, gut bouncing, thighs scraping, mouth open and breathing loudly enough that you're attracting attention. You try to ignore their stares but it's only fueling your appetite, already making a mental list of what you're going to grab from the vending machine once you get off the elevator. A few minutes later you round the corner and take the final few steps only to notice a sign on the elevator. You can't read it yet but you can feel your heart sinking already. It can't be right? They would've told you. They would've sent an email or a text. "Out of order".

Panic sets in, you can't climb 4 flights of stairs, you bought a one story house for good reason, you haven't had to climb more than a curb in years at this point. Your mind is growing frantic as you feel the burden your legs are under grow stronger, anticipating if you're really gonna be expected to climb the stairs.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Susy in HR

"Hey! I'm so sorry 'your name', this just happened like an hour ago and I totally forgot to tell you. The elevator is having some major issues and we don't know when it'll be fixed. I dug up that old paper work you filed 6 months ago about work from home and I'm gonna push it through asap! I've sent Lucy downstairs with a work laptop for you to bring home, just take a couple days off while we get all the paperwork in order."

Relief washes over you as you hear the distinct clicking of heels coming down the stairs. You steady your breath and try to seem unfazed, almost certain you look ridiculous.

Lucy: "Hey 'your name', here's your laptop and a cherry cola, figured you would need it before heading back to your car ;). You know I'm gonna miss seeing you around here, less stuff to talk about and no one to gawk at. You have my number so just let me know if you need me to come over to help you adjust"

A quick farewell and her heels were clicking back up the stairs, but all you could think about was how you're never gonna see the inside of that office again. With no where to go and no decency to be upheld there was no reason you wouldn't finally break 600lbs. You chug the Cola, wanting to make one final show for the coworkers and acquaintances you've made over the years, and start the final journey, one to immobility.

With a gassy belly swaying from side to side, your humongous thighs atop fattened lard laden calves carry you through the lobby one last time. Not even trying to hide your burps and groans you walk out of the building, skipping the chair by the door you once saw as a refuge. Thoughts of what takeout you're gonna get delivered and a quickly growing Walmart order forming in your mind as you slowly waddle through the parking lot one last time. All fueled by the dream of being an immobile work from home piggy

Part 2

[werecreature-addicted]

I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.

Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.

The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.

Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.

These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.

The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.

Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)

This year, it is reader's turn.

Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.

There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.

Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.

Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.

your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.

Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.

It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.

The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.

It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.

The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly

"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,

"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.

[diwatopia]

★ kisses as payment ; remus lupin.

info: fluff, remus lupin x gn!reader, less than 1k.

two mugs sit atop the coffee table, completely forgotten as the last bits of steam roll off the lip's edge. the window is up, air fluttering past lace curtains and chilling you along with your tea.

"how's your book, dove?" remus asks, hand gliding along your shoulder as he allows himself to bask in not only your presence, but the soft texture of your (his) band tee that has him keening like a kitten.

"'s good, rem. want me to read to you?" voice soft, barely above a whisper as you run a gentle hand through his coffee hued curls with an absentminded touch. he hums in response, crawling between your legs before lifting the hem of your shirt up slightly to press a small kiss to your hip, a silent agreement as he plops all his weight atop you.

it was almost impressive how easily remus melts into you. his body nestled between your thighs with lanky arms wrapped around your hips to keep you pinned under his weight. now he definitely knows that you can't leave, not like you would ever choose to.

you giggle, reading the next three chapters with an honeyed tone, so full of life that it makes remus feel as if he's genuinely tagging along with the protagonist and their journey when his eyes close.

"love your voice, dovey..." he drawls sleepily.

it doesn't take long for a bookmark to find its way between the pages of your book, the paperback tossed to the side on the coffee table to match with the cups of tea you totally hadn't forgotten about as his voice slurs so sweetly in your ears.

"how about a nap?" you whisper, giggling as a ditzy grin graces his scarred lips. remus lifts up the bottom of your oversized shirt, tossing the fabric over his head before peppering kisses that start from your navel and past your belly button.

"hey!" you snicker, nails gently scratching at his bare back. "where'd you go?" you play along, head tilting back in hysterics as he blows a raspberry to the curve of your waist.

"stop, tha-that tickles!" voice a soft squeak as you choke on your laughter. remus attempts to lift his head and look at you but manages to get stuck between your shirt making a soft guffawing noise that gets intertwined with your own.

his nimble fingers rush to remove the shirt from his head, but not before delivering a fleeting kiss to any random patches of skin.

"you get all cute when you're sleepy," you whisper.

"i do not," he slurs softly, as if offended.

your eyes roll in response, "you never answered my question. you fancy a nap, hun?" you repeat. he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers before he plants a peck to your wrist.

"what are you doing?" you sigh out once his lips meets the nook of your elbow, kisses littering up your bicep without a single word to exchange. there's a moment of silence that lays over the two of you like a thick duvet, remus hums with another trail of wet kisses up your shoulder and neck.

"i think you deserve kisses for reading to me..." he smoothly replies before planting a fat kiss to your lips.

you snort out, hands tossed around in his curls. "you think you're so smooth..." you whisper softly.

"i am smooth, dove."

★ diwa's notes. hiii tysm for all the love you've shown my drabbles too <3

© hobietopia 2024.

[queermccoy]

I was thinking about a prompt where Buck edges Tommy til he’s a drooling, whimpering mess 👀 he’s so pent up that he briefly looses consciousness when Evan finally lets him cum which scares Buck a little but Tommy is SO into it he swears his brain chemistry was just rewired…

it's what he deserves

this one got away from me so it's under a cut :)

(i wish you'd write a fic where...)

----

Buck pushing his fingers languidly in and out of Tommy, dragging the pads of them across his prostrate on each stroke. It was a struggle to keep pace when all he wanted to do was work him until his arms ached. But that wasn't the journey, it wasn't the right move. Instead, he kept up that slow, steady build; fingers in and then out just far enough to kiss Tommy's puffy pink rim before creeping back inside.

With his other hand, Buck stroked Tommy's cock.

It was beet red, flushed painfully with blood and hot to the touch. Buck knew that if he leaned forward and stuck it in his mouth, he'd taste like copper and desperation. But he didn't, and he wouldn't, even though he wanted to. He worked Tommy's fat dick the same way he fucked Tommy's hole. Methodically. Carefully.

A fierce confidence welled up in Buck's chest with each pained whimper that escaped Tommy's splotchy throat. He sounded like each stroke would be the thing that killed him, and it made Buck hard in his briefs.

They were in Buck's bed, sunshine spilling through his curtains and Tommy's labored breathing echoing in the open walls of the loft. Buck had brought Tommy to the brink five times already, watching his balls tighten and contract close to his body. Buck stopped him every time, taking his hand away abruptly and letting Tommy's cock bob. Listen to it slap his belly, leaving behind lube and precome on his trembling stomach muscles.

"Fuck, god, please," Tommy begged. "Come on, please!"

"Please, what?" Buck asked, just to be a dick. He smirked when Tommy slammed his head back into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. He kicked his foot out against the bed, heel driving into the sheets. Buck could feel both of his thighs shaking around his body. More of that slick confidence burst in his chest.

Tommy cried out, halfway to a sob and so miserable. There were tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, matting up his lashes and falling down his cheeks. He tried to swipe at them with his fingers, but his hands were clumsy with how bad he needed.

"Please, what?" Buck prompted again. He slowed down even more, the push pull drag of him in and around Tommy's body going at a glacial pace. Hardly moving at all. He loosened his grip on Tommy's dick.

"Please, baby, I need to come. Please," Tommy breathed, huffing and puffing and whimpering. He was squirming, big body writhing under Buck's touch. Fuck, yeah.

Buck made a noise like he was thinking about it and then tightened his fingers around Tommy's cock. He started thrusting into his body, dragging over his prostate with quick, short strokes. Buck watched hungrily as Tommy's whole body went taught, eyes flying open and shoulders half up off the bed. Hot satisfaction was curling sweetly in the pit of Buck's stomach.

Feeling great, proud and accomplished and good, Buck leaned forward and touched the flat of his tongue to the underside of Tommy's cock.

The sound Tommy made was...wild. He sounded like a wounded animal. It was the quietest he'd been in almost an hour. Buck looked up through his eyelashes, past the ropes of come, and immediately panicked.

Fuck fuck fuck!

Tommy's eyes were closed and he'd stopped moving. He was still in a way that made Buck's blood run cold. All that confidence he felt squeezed itself into a heavy rock that sat in his stomach, crushing the satisfaction he was feeling and replacing it with worryguildpanicworrypanicguilt.

Tommy was passed out.

Buck pulled his fingers out of his hole and off of his dick. He scrambled up the bed, come dripping off his face, and shook Tommy's shoulders. "H-hey! Hey, Tommy!" he exclaimed. He was trying to remember where he left his phone. Did he need to call 9-1-1?

Finally, ten years off his life later, Tommy blinked open his eyes.

"That was amazing," he said, dazed. "I've never come that hard in my life."

Buck laughed wetly. He swiped at his eyes with the backs of his wrists. They came back wet with tears and jizz. "Don't do that!"

"What? What happened?"

"You! T-tommy, you blacked out or something! I th-thought something was wrong," Buck told him, pushing on his shoulder.

Tommy furrowed his brow and held his arms out weakly, pulling Buck in and down against his sweaty chest. Buck nosed into Tommy's damp chest hair. Having Tommy's arms around him was already making him feel better.

"I'm okay," Tommy promised. He ruffled Buck's equally sweaty hair. "You reset my brain. I was rebooting."

Buck pressed his face into Tommy's chest harder, inhaling the smell of him. "Old," he mumbled against his skin. Rebooting. God.

"Yeah, rebooting. It feels like I have a brand new operating system. Can I suck you off?"

"No," Buck said. His erection had flagged from the stress of thinking he killed his boyfriend. Then he shifted his hips and his cock dragged against the hard muscle of Tommy's thigh. He corrected himself. "Yes."

Tommy smirked at him and moved down his body, lips pressing biting kisses to his skin.

And when Tommy took him into his mouth, Buck wondered what it felt like to come so hard he'd pass out. He was curious, intellectually. And hornily.

Maybe next time.

[harlotistic]

journey to salvation

cw. fem pov, dad!Leon, nsfw, dead dove, physical abuse, non con, mild piss, incest, blasphemous themes, cult, forced intoxication, violence, mild choking, misogyny, alcoholism, depression, suicidal ideation, major daddy issues, breeding threats, not proofread, bad writing towards the end, tba

the alcoholism to finding god pipeline was not exactly uncommon. it's happened a million times before and it happened to him. Leon S Kennedy. the same Leon who has open tabs in every alcohol serving place across the globe. in a way, it makes him feel whole. a semblance of a calm and picket fence like life that he'd dream up back before the whole thing in raccoon. and whatever he got dragged into after.

shit, he tried everything really. sleeping around with anyone who looks for a good face value fuck (he wasn't really the most silver tongued...at least when it came to words). getting hitched to some girl who sorta resembled a trauma bonded situationship he never fully got over.

hell he even had a kid! a whole daughter for fucks' sake. but nothing fucking worked. nothing at all. until he lost himself in the bottle. god that worked like a charm. the routine of sharp burns down his throat, the haze that took all the edge off, and the part where he forgets. brain and liver going through simultaneous cirrhosis.

but much like the shit that was his life, it's gotta flush out somehow. blocking out these...thoughts and memories made the anger stretch and taut the way a rubber band would. stretching and stretching each time his wife picked a fight about him missing appointments, missing milestones in his daughter's life, and just being missing most of the goddamn time. and then in a particularly escalated screaming match, he had slapped her.

the sharp sting in his palm feeling like a pail of ice had been poured down the back of his dso assigned t-shirt, fresh after a mission. the guilt made his own hazy unfocused eyes water and the sight of his young daughter by the door just standing there, watching with fat droplets of tears running down her cheeks, increased it tenfold.

so he stopped. went cold turkey and stopped even looking at those bottles. hell, he even threw away his favourite hip flask. and then he enrolled in a religious alcohol group therapy. not by choice. some pal of his told him that the group helped. he wasn't the biggest fan of god and his works. he's seen em all, really and they were anything but fluffy pink unicorns shitting rainbows out of their asses. it was...hell. not that he believed in that either.

but something about being around people again. the feeling of togetherness without anybody knowing the weight of the blood and lives he dredged around with him in every step. no judgement, no pity, nothing. he remembered his first day, stepping into church after last having stared into the cold pale stone eyes of christ just hanging in front of everyone and getting a nightmare when he was 10. he had thought to himself, has it really been 20 years?

he took a seat on one of the chairs in the circle. it was the cushioned kind. the ones that made the aches from one too many falls lighten just a little. he flicked his hair out of his eyes. a habit from making sure dust and whatever weird gunk didn't blind him on missions. he was too early. he felt a prickle of self consciousness. he looked too eager and damn it if it's not the most sissy thing to do.

and then the people started streaming in, all bright smiles with light in their eyes — he had to be in the wrong fucking meeting. he was supposed to attend alcoholics' recovery not some supposedly enlightening bible study group. but against the discomfort that began to settle in the lower pits of his stomach, he stayed.

fast forward to now and it has been 10 years. who knew Leon S Kennedy had it in him to attend church alcoholics' recovery and Sunday masses and even prayed on a regular basis now? it sure as hell wasn't him. sure nightmares still kept him up and the urge to just down a whole bottle and complete the process of cirrhosis to give a merciful death to his liver never weakened, but he was a better man now. the church says good men have to be righteous. avoid sin. ask god to forgive and have mercy on their souls. in due time, things would ease up. now Leon knew these words were just words of empty hope. none of it was true. he used to repeat that with conviction in his heart.

until he didn't.

maybe it was the way the leader spoke with unwavering conviction or the way it was more of a sermon instead of an anonymous confession or the words that all seemed to blur into a comforting haze of light after a while. he felt lighter. life had meaning again he'd begin to say, a smile on his lips as he chugged the rest of the cooler water that everyone was given a cup off. each time he goes to the church, all of his desires began to melt away. he was at peace. so much so that he began going to church as soon as he was off missions, sharing cups of cooler water with his peers and the leader who seemed to know just what to say to soothe the troubles in his mind. he never wanted to leave. and sometimes, be didn't.

except, his stupid ex-wife started calling again. saying how he was starting to be late on child support. that she couldn't manage to fund you all on her own with her current earnings. that college was becoming too expensive and that the least he could do was house you for abit to make up for lost time and so that you wouldn't be too lonely at home. at least until she sorted things out with her company and the 6 month long overseas exchange that would guarantee her salary increment.

god gives his most arduous trials to his best of men. Leon just mumbled out a quick sure and ended it. her babbling was going to make him late for church. he had to hand the suitcase full of cash to the leader as a sincere donation so that he can stay for all of their sermons and eventual programme to become one of the higher ranking members.

truth be told, for a second there, he damn near forgot he even had a daughter. church had become his entire life. his purpose. his...people. blood ties weren't enough to keep him going. only church was enough. he ignored the multiple other texts from work asking him where he was. they could find someone else to deal with humanity's work. he was a man of god now, blessed with the opportunity to spread the word of truth. to be back as they were in the olden days. where everything was perfect. where everybody had roles and purposes.

so he gritted his teeth and bared a grimace like smile when you came.

"hey kid. long time no see, huh?"

he says, hands in the pocket of his worn denim jeans. you were practically a stranger. more height than he remembered. when you met his gaze with those really really blank ones, he felt himself a little unnerved. it brought up an image of you crying when he first slapped his ex-wife. how long has it really been? well doesn't really matter. you were no longer a little girl anyway.

it was a long pause. a very awkward one. he shifted a little from one foot to the other as your eyes studied him. it has been a long time. his hair was a little longer, face a little scruffier, but that was your old man alright. the very same eyes you sometimes have nightmares about. the gunmetal blue, cold and filled with a bottomless rage. and you were...taller. softer in places and your hair's...different. he found himself feeling like he was looking at a stranger, unaware that both of you were frowning just like the other.

you were one of many regrets he had. but after church and his enlightenment, his only regret was not being able to put you in church school. maybe then you wouldn't be standing around as soon as you arrive and actually get to doing something around his house. women's roles were in the house. caretakers. while he went out to spread god's word. he stepped aside to let you walk inside, not missing the way your reaction to a dusty seemingly long unused house was a mere flicker of disdain that flitted as soon as it appeared.

"you can take the guest room. settle everything down and get ready. we're going to church."

he says, adjusting the cuffs of his button up as he sat on the couch. he tapped his loafered foot impatienly against the tiles, eyes constantly glancing at the time. 20 minutes passed and he was growing restless. his hair was beginning to fall all wrong from the amount of times he's ran his fingers through them. what was taking you so fucking long anyway? did you not understand the importance of church? how dare you a pathetic girl make god wait? make the leader wait on his important sincere donation? you were gonna regret it when he finally stands up and — the door of the guest room creaked open.

"i'm not going to church, dad. i'm still tired from the trip."

he found his jaw twitching at your brazen nature. walking around as if making the leader wait wasn't going to backfire in his face. but god says patience is virtue so he won't give you shit for it. he was a merciful man after all.

"you better not be saying that just to skip out on church, young lady."

he says with restrained annoyance, jaw tightening as he grabbed his briefcase and headed out. you don't remember dad being religious. but then again, you barely knew the man. most of your childhood was buried under lock and key in the back of your mind. but being around him made you uneasy. even more so now. but this was a temporary arrangement. maybe you should see to doing something more relaxing like giving yourself a breather since it was the summer holidays. maybe just rot away in this room until it was time to leave again.

he came home from church late into the night. gunmetal blue eyes hardening as he watched you eat late night cereal at the kitchen table. you looked up mid chew, meeting his gaze. he tched and walk away. you swore he mumbled something like lazy under his breath. your appetite began to fizzle. what was this man's deal anyway?

he was barely home and honestly the only complaint you had was the lack of any food around. so you decided to take matters into your own hand and headed out to get some. like a good responsible grown adult would. and when you got home he was sitting at the table, eyes narrowed as he scanned you up and down.

"where were you?"

it sounded so accusatory. as if he already had a preconceived notion of where you went. maybe it really didn't help that you went to the store in your usual ripped jeans and tanktop.

"i went to the store, dad. helping you restock the-"

he scoffed, leaning back in his chair and flicking his hair out of his eyes as he crossed his arms.

"dressed like that? like a slut? is this how your mom raised you?"

your grip on the grocery paperbag nearly loosened entirely. you found yourself staring at him with parted lips. a slut? seriously?

"i really should have taken custody of you and put you in church school. that way you wouldn't have grown up to be such a whore."

his words were dripping with venom as his eyes hardened even more.

"from now on until the day you leave, you're not allowed to leave this house. and you will pull your weight by performing your role as a grown woman."

you felt your skin prickle at his words. the way he said it. it all sounded so brazenly prejudiced...like he was reciting it straight off a conservative cultish script embedded in his mind. now you knew he was no saint. an ex alcoholic, an absent father, and the occasional wife beating on special occasions. but a misogynistic bastard? now that...that was something too new.

"you can't just lock me up like- like some hostage! i'm gonna be here for half a year!"

the speed at which he stood up with his hands raised just shy of your cheek made you sputter to a stop, flinching instantly. your eyes held a fear he recognised from that very night he had backhanded your mom. in hindsight, that woman deserved it. she forgot her place when talking to her husband. him. the breadwinner who worked tirelessly day after day to play his role as man of the house. the least she could have done after that was offer him a drink for being such a stupid useless bitch.

"stop backtalking me you ungrateful-"

you swore you heard his teeth crack from how hard he was clenching his teeth. his eyes were hollow and filled with such an intense rage that it made you cower away. oh he knew what a sheltered girl you were how your mom was a doting parent who cared about your wellbeing. so much so that she made you stay with him instead of living in a house all by yourself. no wonder you turned out this way. spoiled, ungrateful, and unreligious. a woman with no piety is no woman at all. that's what the leader had said.

and that was one week ago. you had been holed up in the house, the dim lighting and his constant disappearances to either work or the church was beginning to eat at your brain. him being at home wasn't much better. you had to cook for him, clean for him, iron his church clothes, and shine his shoes. in return all he did was criticise you. the food too salty, the shoes not shiny enough, the house still dusty, everything was never right.

you were beginning to see yourself from outside your body, throwing yourself into one task after another. his constant bullying was eroding your mind. and the fact that you weren't allowed to open the curtains, or watch tv in the living room, or had anybody to talk to really didn't help. and then you landed upon a gold mine. the lower left cupboard in his toilet that stored untouched bottles of liquour. just sitting and waiting. a trap of temptation he had been keeping in his house for god knew what.

as you sat on the toilet just holding the cold bottle, staring at it. you found yourself feeling an eerie sense of connection with your distant almost estranged father. you wondered how many nights he spent all by himself seated in the exact same way you were. just looking at the cold bottle of liquid sin in his hands.

you did what he stopped. broke that last barrier of restraint and spiralled down the way he just climbed up from. you uncorked the bottle and tipped it back, letting the liquid slosh down your throat and dribble down your chin. it burned. it burned so bad. you coughed and sputtered, eyes growing teary. it tasted like an internal chemical burn. a bitter tang that stung the insides of your throat. but the haze that settled over your mind after. the lightness that seemed to anchor your soul back into your body even for just a minute. you were instantly hooked.

like father, like daughter.

it was no wonder that old sod was hooked to this thing. it was liquid gold! i mean for the small price of a bad headache and the worst case of dry mouth the next day, you could just...melt into nothing. the world spins and you're in the middle just watching as everything blurs together into one meaningless nothing.

before you knew it, a week had passed with you passing out evrryday to make time go by quicker. the whiskey bottle was down to it's last dredges and you were laying on the cool tiled floors of the toilet again. shivering from the contrast of it against your liquor warmed skin. your eyes fluttered close and open and close and —

the loud sound of the front door slamming shut had you jolted to a sitting position. you'd recognise the dull thuds of his footsteps anywhere. except they were louder and way angrier than you had ever heard it. and then you stood on swaying legs, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. glassy red eyes, jaw slack with a little bit of drool and hair flat on the side where you had laid on the ground. your heart was beating so fast you could almost feel it on your tongue as panic washed over you. shit. shit.

you splashed cold water onto your face, rubbing it firmly to bring back a sense of sobriety. you swished the water aggressively in your mouth, narrowly avoiding choking on it. your drunken mind too panicked to realise that the smell of it was too deeply marinated in every crevice of your teeth and tongue.

your hands trembled as you plopped to the ground unceremoniously, grasping at the bottle to cap it and hide it back in the cupboard. your shaky fingers loosened and the cap was sent flying near the tub. fuck. he was going to hit you. you just knew it. just like he did mom. and like he does in your nightmares that leave you in cold sweat. please god, if you're real. please please please let him go to bed and never find out — clang

the clatter of the rhick glass bottle tipping over onto the ceramic tiles sent shockwaves of deafening echoes that made your ears ring in your tunnel visioned panic. you heard his footsteps freeze before they stormed towards where you were. you felt your breath hitch as you hurriedly pressed the bottle against your back and leaned against the side of the tub. as if it would just dissolve into your skin and never be found. the doorknob rattled as he pounded on the door.

"what the hell are you doing in there, kid?"

then as you stayed quiet like a rabbit frozen in fear, it became more insistent. more agitated.

"answer me or i'll break this damned door!"

you finally found your voice in a small squeak that escaped your throat.

"j-just a stomach ache dad! i-i'll be out in a bit i promise!"

the banging stopped and it was so silent you could hear your heartbeat reverberate against the smooth white of the tub behind you. it was bullshit and if drunk you could smell it, so could your retired military agent dad.

"you lying bitch. do you think i'm stupid?"

you could practically hear the snarl in his voice and after a beat, hr said something. something that you should have listened to. something that to this day you wondered if it would have changed anything has you heeded his words.

"open this fucking door now or you're gonna regret it."

he yelled. and then it was quiet. so quiet. and then he kicked the door so loud you heard the hinges creak.

"oh you're going to be fucking sorry, kid."

he said in an eerily calm voice and then his footsteps faded as he yelled a loud 'fuck'. followed by the clatter of something being kicked to the ground. you pinched yourself. so hard you felt the sting shoot down your spine. this had to be a nightmare. you had to wake up. you had to get out.

before your panic and alcohol scrambled brain could figure out the next course of action the footsteps returned and in a blink of an eye the door was sent splintering to the floor, revealing a man with crazed bloodshot eyes and a heaving chest beneath his sweat stained button up. his sharp features that brought you praise for winning genetically was now shadowed by his overgrown hair. he held a bag of clinking bottles in one hand. bottles of...liquor.

one look at you and he knew. he could recognise that dazed look anywhere even beneath the thickest layers of fear. and that smell. the sharp sweet and sour of an impending drymouth after drinking alot. for a moment the humid silence in the bathroom was filled with nothing but heavy breaths. father and daughter looking at each other. two mirrors reflecting the very demons they feared.

"you disgust me."

his low raspy voice was pointed as he stepped closer, larger hands yanking your hair just shy of smacking the back against the edge of the tub. sounding like he was talking to the him that was trapped like a wet dog. one that was clinging onto the bottle like a solace teddy a child would have in their bed.

"you think you can lie to me? and commit this disgusting sin without me ever finding out, huh?!"

he grabbed one of the bottles from the plastic bag, unscrewing the lid with the same hand.

"now drink. drink as much. as. you. fucking. want."

he says through gritted teeth, squeezing your jaw open as he poured the liquid down your throat. your yelp turned into spluttering gasps as the liquid went everywhere. some even up your nose and stinging at your eyes. your fingers desperately push at him. wherever you could land on but he stood firm. years of training and muscle despite the recent years of slack and armed with a rage so deep held him rock steady.

one whole entire bottle. your vision began to fuzz as you choked and cough. your head was spinning, barely registering anything at all besides the blue of his eyes that seemed to float before you.

"da...ddy...cough...m'sorry...m'so sorry..."

you sputtered pathetically between coughs as your throat tried to scramble back to normalcy. and for a moment he saw the same you. the reason behind his journey to seek god. his heart clenched as you blinked up at him with red teary eyes and snot dribbling down to your upper lip.

and then he sees you. the current you. the one that had costed him his place in church. next to the leader. next to god's best man.

his mind replayed the events from earlier today. how the sermon moved him as always. talks of how women were made for men and how everyone has their place in front of god. how addiction was sin. how god forgives. and then again on how women are nurturing creatures with big hearts and that they should realise their place is at home. especially not with a bottle because it was way worse to be an alcoholic mother than to be a deadbeat alcoholic father.

the old Leon would have thought this to be crazy. that the words were nothing more than prejudiced nonsense lumped together and stamped with a label of 'from god.' but the Leon now? the one who craves the cooler water gatherings and a feeling of belonging and to do nothing more than pour his entire wages as means of baring his soul and sincerity before the leader, he was nodding almost feverishly. because if god said so. if the leader, said so. it has to be true. truer than anything and everything that has ever been true.

if it weren't, his ex-wife wouldn't have left. his life wouldn't have been so dark and awful and devoid of the enlightening he had now. his legs bounced almost impatiently as he thought about the cooler water and standing next to the leader. how the leader always knew what to say to make everything better. how cool and refreshing the water was. the slight bitter tang to it that seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

he had rushed to the leader's side as soon as everything was over, holding his briefcase full of donation cash with a smile equivalent of a dog with its tongue our. waiting to be petted for a job well done.

"ah, brother kennedy. this must be this month's donation to the cause."

the leader spoke. his beady eyes turning into slits as he grinned with his perfect white teeth. he was a broad man with thinning hair and a shorter stature than Leon. but his presence, it made it so clear why god had chosen him to lead. Leon's fingers tightened on the handle of the suitcase. waiting for the leader's blessing words and for the briefcase to be taken. freeing him from worldly sin and cleansing his soul with the money given. but his hopes were kept afloat in the oddly tense air.

"i heard from the churchgoers that your daughter is back in town. is that true?"

his words sent a chill down his spine. well, not really the words but rather how...it was said. as if he had done something wrong and the leader was baiting him into a confession. Leon swallowed his nerves.

"yes, leader. she's staying over for a while. is there something wrong?"

please say no. please say no. please —

"why have we not seen our new sister here?"

the leader asks in a way that sounded annoyed. impatient. Leon blinked.

"she's been taking care of the house."

she's not religious. she wouldn't get what we have here. too stupid and corrupted by modern day ideations to grasp true enlightenment. the leader smiles. a smile that felt hollow.

"our brothers and sisters here have seen her in clothing that was...inappropriate for brethren of the church."

Leon missed the way the leader's eyes glinted as he spoke. as if he knew more than he let on. and wanted more than he let on. the leader shifted where he stood, adjusting the crotch of his slacks.

"bring her here, will you? i'm sure spreading god's grace is in your best interest unless...of course...you don't think so. and that you want to return to the dark life you lead and turn that disgusting glass bottle into your place of belief?"

Leon felt his heart sink to his bowels. maybe even fall straight out of his ass onto the cold church floor from the way he froze. one of the other churchgoers was about to hand Leon a cup of the cooler water when the leader stopped him by simply holding up his stubby hand.

"no need, brother. brother Kennedy here will not be joining us for our social gathering."

the churchgoer bowed and scurried off like a rat caught in the daytime. Leon felt his heart pound in his chest. a sense of hurt and isolation that ate and prickled at his skin. he had fucked up. big time. and the leader was angry. god help him.

"i'll bring her over as soon as i can, leader. please...you don't have to do this-"

the leader's smile vanished and he stepped closer.

"you will bring her tomorrow."

he declared with a finality in his voice. Leon nodded fervently, desperate for his approval. for his forgiveness. the leader turned away and began to walk off. he paused and turned to face Leon with a barely stifled smirk.

"oh and kennedy? don't bother coming if she's not with you."

don't bother coming...fuck. fuck. what was that supposed to mean? after everything he's done for the church? all the money he's given? all the times he helped stand in front of the leader's door to guard it and make sure the incident of a church sister running out crying wold for help and rejecting the leader's blessing ever happened again. all of it was for nothing. his blood ran cold. even colder at the thought of never socialising with the others again. never tasting that bitter tang of the cooler water that always seemed to make his nightmares go away when he slept.

he was distraught.

he came home slamming the front door behind him. he ran his fingers through his hair, flicking it out of his eyes as he panted. cold swsat began to soak through the front and back of his shirt as the reality of it began to sink in. no more god. no more church. no more leader. no more cooler water. oh no. no no no. this cannot be happening. not when he had been doing so good.

he marched straight to his room without another word, shoes and coat flung haphazardly for you to clean up after. his throat felt dry and for the first time in a while, the urge to drink was no longer a lingering temptation at the back of his mind. his whole brain was set off like an alarm bell telling him to just give in. get a bottle and drink himself stupid. and then he heard it. the familiar clang of a glass bottle against the toilet floor. one he had heard years back when he was drinking himself to death in the very same place after a mission went sideways. and then he remembered you. and everything fell into place.

you bitch. you were drinking, weren't you?

and now he stared into the face of his key to the church. the key to his redemption and acceptance back by the leader. a face so pathetic and sticky with tears and drying cheap alcohol. god he was so made he wanted to just bash your fucking head into the side of the tub. stupid fucking bitch. stupid like your mother. how dare you sit here like a bum, drinking and sinning while he was out there fighting to be enlightened? to be a man of god? he found his fingers curling around the column of your throat, hissing as your nails dug into the skin of his scarred hands as you tried to breathe. the stench of liquour and your existence covered everything in a red haze.

you are out of control. a wild thing that needs to be disciplined before you could join as brethren of the church. and who else better to discipline you than your own enlightened churchgoing father?

"you shouldn't be apologising to me. you should be apologising to god. start praying or i'll make you regret each drop of that damned thing you so stupidly poured down your fucking throat."

he spat, hauling you up and bending you over the side of the tub. the cold hard edge dug into the flesh of your stomach, making the nausea worse. and prayed you did, hands clasped together with your voice trembling and barely coherent. slurring out prayers for for forgiveness. your tears and drool dripped and splattered in unsynchronised rhythms into the inner surface of the tub, your auditory field tunneled so much to the point of missing the metal clink of a buckle being undone.

"i'm sorry god. please i'm so sorry. i swear i'll never drink again. i- ack-!"

your voice splintered into a choked gasp as a sharp sting hit the curve of your ass. you unclasped your hands instinctively trying to defend your sore skin when your hair was yanked back firmly.

"did i say you could stop?"

he whispered, breath hot against your ears. you hurriedly scrambled to keep praying, jolting each time the leather hit. you could barely breathe. breaths coming in short gasps as the pain and dizziness and crying began to overwhelm you. your vision began to darken around the edges.

and then it stopped. not your prayers but the beatings. your heart was pounding so hard you thought you were going to die. hiccupping and gasping for breath as you tried to pray through it all. your desperate and hoarse voice mixed with his panting were the only sounds in that bathroom. the silence made you tremble even more, clasping your hands tighter as you prayed feverishly like a woman possessed.

Leon stared at you. his drunk beat up daughter who's skin was beginning to welt. he was panting, calloused fingers raised to trace the ones visible and gliding over the ones beneath your clothes. the power of beating you into submission. cleansing you of sin. it was...a high. one comparable to drinking or feeling that cooler water slide down his throat and left his brain at peace. as if he was walking on clouds. your curves wiggled and swayed as you prayed desperately. begging for salvation. begging for god to save you from the monster he had become.

but god had enlightened him. and that gave him every right to fix you. make you ready for the leader to bless. his jaw ticked and his finger trembled. a withdrawal of some kind. this was what being away from church did to him. he needed to be called brother kennedy again. needed the approval from the leader. he needed whatever was in that cooler water.

he needed...you.

so he finds himself lifting you, bending you in half as your body clipped the side of the tub's edge. he bunched up the hem of your dress. an old one your mom had given you. one that she had worn before. your marred skin was soft beneath his touch, you whimpered and squirmed. you really did take after your mother. maybe you could be a fillial daughter and play the role of wife too. it's the least you could do to atone for everything you've done.

the rough fabric of his slacks against your bare ass, stung. you could feel the stiffness of his cock as he rubbed it awkwardly against your panties. your legs were split like a foal learning to walk for the first time.

"do you feel that, kid? feel what sin does to an enlightened man like your dad?"

you were too tired to care. too focused on taking your next breath without feeling like a million nerves were combusting beneath your skin. he held you down, edge of the tub digging much deeper, you could've sworn it made your ribcage creak.

"promise...i won't tell anyone...please dad...just stop..."

you slurred weakly (or at least you thought you did because all Leon heard was a bunch of groans and the word dad) eyelashes fluttering as your face smushed into the cold tub floor. bent in half as you were trying to breathe was the worst experience you ever had. you tried to push yourself up. to push against him and stumble free. but even as your knuckles whitened with effort, he was too strong. his palms pressed your head into the ceramic as his other tugged at his slacks. all you did was keep pressing the tub's edge harder against

"don't worry. i'll make sure you're ready for church, hm? perfect vessel to receive the leader's blessings. you'll learn to thank me."

he muttered under his breath as he struggled to shimmy down his boxers.

"huh would you look at that? you pissed yourself, kid."

the tub's edge had been pressing against your womb from the way he was holding you down with his sweat soaked front on your back, squishing it so firmly you were sure it would go concave. the numbing cold and firmness made your pussy drip. it was pressing on everything tender. your liquour filled bladder had surrendered to fear in your fevered repenting, a pool of warm acrid smelling liquid seeping into the soles of your feet. he laughed humourlessly at his deadpan, pressing his fingers into your sopping wet hole.

he tugged your soaked panties down, stroking the soft of your bruised cheeks before kneading them. fingers squeezing and pushing at the welts. the painful numbness made you groan. he began spreading it, spitting on his fingers before he harshly prodded at your slick hole.

"well makes this easier for the both of us, hm?"

he gave his cock a few strokes, eyebrows knitted as he rubbed the underside against the ridge of your ass. the warmth and slickness of your piss was making his head spin, soft schlick schlick sounds filling the humid bathroom. your head was beginning to hurt from being pushed down into the tub, hair pricking at your eyes. you let out more groans and whimpers. sounding even more urgent despite battling your consciousness.

"you lost the fight against the devil's evil temptations. but dad'll fix this. if he can fix his life, he can fix this. make you pure again so god will love you- mmf-"

he groaned as his leaky tip began to push into you. you barely put up a fight, just crying against the pool of your own tears that had gathered beneath your cheeks. he was going to fix you. fix this. fix everything like he had fixed his life up to this point. he gritted his teeth as he sank in deeper, the cool of your sweat glistened back against the buttoned front of his shirt. the plastic buttons dug into your skin, tugging it as he pushed in deeper. you had never felt so full and numbed at the same time.

he yanked your head up, licking the tears from your cheeks as he plowed into your piss slick hole. the wet thwapping noises seemed to make everything in your brain go blank. your body was sore, broken, and sensitive.

he grunted against your ear, stubble reddening your skin. he was breathing shakily as he buried himself deep. his dirty little girl needed his guidance. his help. his...blessing. it made his cock twitch at the thought of purifying the source of lust within you. your bare womb. filling it up to keep you from sinning again. fulfilling your purpose as a woman placed on earth by god. making you a sweet docile mommy wwith nurturing tendencies. just like god intended.

"you feel that, kid? your womb is begging to be filled. beging to fulfill god's written purpose for you."

he says as he yanked your head up with one hand while the other splsyed across your lower tummy. pushing you back onto his twitching dick in a relentless rhythm. you let out a pained grunt, hands scrambling to hold onto something for balance as he began to thrust faster.

his balls slapped against your sore ass with each thrust and all you could remember was slipping into a deep dark haze. your ears rung and everything around you faded. Leon tried tapping your face as your head hung limply from the hair clenched in his fingers but to no avail. he licked a stripe down the side of your neck and buried his teeth between your neck and shoulder as he came with a loud groan. his warm cum shot deep into you, swirling with your piss as he held you against his cock. he let go once he was done, watching as you fell to the ground and splashing up the piss from the puddle as you landed.

well...repenting was a messy business but now you were perfect. his perfect, church ready daughter. he ran his fingers through his hair to push back the strands stuck to his forehead from his sweat as a grin tugged at his lips. the front of his shirt was soaked in both your sweat and his heart was racing in his chest. you were ready.

—

"and leader, meet my daughter. she looks forward to receivinh your blessing. i made sure to prepare her myself."

his arm around your waist a tinge too tight, eyes eager for approval of a job well done. he searched the leader's beady eyes, watching as he studied you like fresh meat. the leader shifted his pants a little and licked his lips before acknowledging Leon again. barely.

"welcome back, brother kennedy."

the leader says, eyes glinting. Leon felt a wave of relief hit him full force, fingers trembling as he took the cup of cooler water from one of the brothers and chugged it down like a man parched in the desert seeing an oasis for the first time.

in his car, his phone dinged with a notification. one from the ame friend who recommended the alcoholic group therapy from all those years ago. a frantic jumble of words followed by a clipping of a document with the leader's face on it.

"Under investigation for bioterrorism involvement using slow acting newwater activated virus strain. Suspected intent of cult-forming and virus spreading."

[bloboffat]

Im an insatiable and gelatinous fat blob intent on destroying my body and health with extreme obesity. I’m a female (biological) and very much a pig 🐷 but this blubber has basically turned me into quite the shapeless pile of fat! All donations to my growing body are greatly appreciated as it helps continue my journey and it also helps me keep my blog running and enables me to continue to post free content

[gooseboy42]

*ding dong*

The doorbell rings. I look up from the TV, where I was focused on a video game. I have to focus very hard if I want to make any progress, otherwise my fat fingers or constantly intoxicated mind will mess me up. I look around expectantly, waiting for my feeder to run down the hallway and bring my food to me

*ding dong*

Where are they? I feel my stomach rumble from sudden hunger, despite the fact that I had finished a bag of chips and a 2 liter of soda minutes ago. Then suddenly, through my haze filled mind, a memory pokes out. My feeder leaving the house to pick up some more weed and booze. Shit. They’re not back yet.

*ding dong*

The delivery driver is getting impatient I’m sure. I guess I’ll just have to get the food. I can’t remember the last time I stood up without help, but I’m starting to get desperate. I shift my body forwards, pushing my belly forwards in hopes that it helps to counteract my fat ass. I brace against the arm of the couch and heave myself forwards. Somehow, miraculously, I’m able to stand up. I instantly want to sit back down. My body is so heavy and clumsy. My belly hangs 6 inches above my knees, not covering them yet, but getting there. I’m already wheezing and I haven’t even taken a single step.

*ding dong ding dong*

Fuck, they’re gonna leave soon with my food. My belly grumbles. I brace myself and start to waddle forward. My thighs force my legs apart so walking normally is absolutely out of the question. Each step makes my belly slap against my thighs, making it difficult to move my legs very much. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest, and I get a stitch in my side from how hard I’m breathing.

“COMING”

I manage to wheeze out, hoping it was loud enough for the delivery driver to hear. Fuck me, when did I get so out of shape? I start to realize how fat I’ve gotten, slightly sobering up for the first time in… days? Months? Years? I’m not sure. I realize how truly obese and unhealthy I am and start to panic, I’m getting huge, how did I let myself go so badly? Just then I hear voices outside the door and a key in the lock.

“I’m so sorry piggy!” My feeder says as they come through the door with the food from the delivery driver, as well as bags full of alcohol and weed. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone so long! I thought I would be back by the time the delivery driver got here, but there was an accident on the freeway and- what’s wrong Piggy?”

I realize I must look panicked. “Nothing!” I try to wheeze out but my feeder cuts me off.

“Oh, piggy must have run out of vodka and edibles while I was out. It’s a good thing I arrived when I did” they laugh as they pass me a shot. I down it without thinking, not even considering that maybe I shouldn’t have done that. They give me an edible that i don’t know the dosage of, which I eat before doing another shot.

“There you go piggy, get nice and relaxed for me” my feeder purrs to me. I feel the shots start to hit me as warmth floods through my body. I giggle and waddle my way back to the couch. Luckily i didn’t make it very far so the journey back was easy. I plop back on the couch, which whines underneath me, and without even waiting to catch my breath, rip into one of the takeout containers my feeder held. I moan as the food enters my mouth, it tastes so fucking good. What was I worried about? Eh, who cares. I dig into the greasy burger as my feeder praises me and plays with my gut, and makes sure to keep a constant stream of beers and bong hits going into me

[alphynix]

Spectember 2024 #02: Swimming Swine

An anonymous submitter asked for a "buoyant ungulate that runs atop the sea":

Pontoporcus plotus is a 1.5m long (~5') amphibious pig descended from a feral population of domestic pigs left on a small tropical island. After inadvertently wreaking havoc on much of the local ecosystem, its ancestors eventually turned to a more marine-based lifestyle foraging along beaches and in coastal waters.

Naturally highly buoyant, Pontoporcus actually floats so well that it's mostly limited to the water's surface, unable to dive to any significant degree. But despite this it's a fairly good swimmer, using broad hooves with wide fleshy pads to paddle itself along in an aquatic trotting- or running-like gait.

It forages both on land and in the water, mainly eating soft vegetation and marine plants, but much like its ancestors it will also opportunistically feed on whatever smaller animals it can catch or scavenge. Its semi-prehensile trunk-like snout is used to grasp at food items, to probe and root around in soft sediment, and as a snorkel.

Its hairless skin is very susceptible to sunburn, but it secretes a thick oily red-brown substance (similar to modern hippo "blood sweat") that acts as a natural protective sunscreen.

These pigs are accomplished island-hoppers, regularly traversing the relatively shallow seas all along their island chain – but their natural flotation and long fat bodies also make them prime targets for large aquatic predators attacking from below, so these journeys tend to involve groups of Pontoporcus "running" along the sea surface aiming for their next destination as fast as they possibly can.

[ssbbwxutjja]

Fitness is obsolete, a relic of a time when survival depended on speed and strength, but those days are long gone. There’s no need to run from predators or chase down prey when a feast is just a few taps away, delivered right to your doorstep within the hour. The only exertion required is the slow, heavy waddle to retrieve your order—a short, lumbering journey that only serves to make the next bite taste even better. Humanity wasn’t built for endless motion and struggle; we were meant to indulge, to expand, to revel in the softness that comes with true comfort. Fat is our natural state, the pinnacle of modern evolution, and you've embraced it beautifully.