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beardysuits · 2 months ago

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Closer to Dad pt 2

Part 1 found here

I can’t believe it, I’m uncle Rob! I was still getting used to being a solid 50 pounds heavier, probably even more to be honest. When I dressed up as Rob, I had chosen one of his older football jerseys to feel his stomach pressed against his beefy belly. Each step I took I could feel the fabric stretch to accommodate my new form. I patted it, feeling the jiggle ripple through the rest of my abdomen. This was going to be a fun day.

Normally it would have taken me about 15 minutes to get from Rob’s house back to mine, but with my new longer legs, and the amount of excitement built in, I made it in half the time. Stepping up to the front door, my heart was racing in anticipation. I haven’t spent real quality time with my dad in what felt likes years. To go from being the scrawny son he essentially ignored, to becoming his best friend and brother, was a dramatic shift. However, I let out a long breath of air and pounded on the door with my strong fist.

Dad, I guess I should refer to him by his first name now, Mike, opened the door and looked at me inquisitively. He wasn’t even wearing his usual jersey, just a green t shirt and jeans, his hair messy, with the locks shining in the golden sunlight.

“Rob? What are you doing knocking on the door? You haven’t done anything but stroll in like a bastard for years”. Shit, of course I should have just walked in. Rob’s been coming over to our place for years now to hang out with my dad. I chuckled to try and cover.

“What and not take you up on opening the door for me? Fat chance,” I told him with my best uncle Rob impersonation. He rolled his eyes and ushered me in. I think I can still play this off. Coming into my home as Rob made it feel like a brand new experience, like I was stepping foot for the first time. Though that may just be because I’m about a foot taller and my perception has greatly shifted at this new height.

“You want a beer?” Mike asked, closing the door behind me.

“It can’t even be 8 am,” I told him without a second thought. His eyebrow raised again.

“What took you so long to ask?” I asked him back. He scoffed and wandered off to the kitchen. My heart would not slow down. I can make a couple of recoveries, but what am I supposed to do when he actually starts talking about football? Mike came back, and tossed me an unopened can. I popped the tab and took a swing, almost spitting it right back out. Fuck me, that’s what beer tastes like? At the tender age of 20, I was just shy of getting myself any alcohol of my own. Though also, at the tender heart, I was too chicken to sneak one of my dad’s to try before today.

Thankfully Mike had his back turned to me, otherwise he surely would have seen me grimace from the taste.

“So, game’s not for another hour,” he said, coming back from the kitchen again, this time holding the entire box full of beers. Oh god do I have to drink all of those? I can’t even stomach one.

“How about you make your lazy ass of some use and help me stock the fridge? Especially since you didn’t bring any of your own,” he continued. Was I supposed to bring something? I’m clearly an awful guest. I followed him downstairs to his man cave, one which I rarely stepped foot in.

It was what one would expect of a middle aged man who was obsessed with football. A once plush couch now worn out from years of ass being met with it, a small beer fridge along the side, massive flat screen tv along the back wall. If you pick up a copy of “Man Caves for Dummies”, you’d find this on chapter one. Mike shoved the box of beers at me and I waddled off to the fridge to stock up. Not like there was much space anyways, he always kept it pretty filled.

As I was finishing up the bottom level of the fridge, I felt a hard smack against my ass, almost causing me to shove my whole head into the fridge.

“Hurry up slowpoke, I wanna get these chilled before the game starts,” Mike said, pulling another beer out of the top shelf. He already finished the first one? I was too distracted to even drink mine, now so aroused at my ass getting smacked, and being ordered around by my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was used to him ordering me around before, but this time it was playful. It didn’t help that my new cock was pressed against the silky material of my jockstrap, hidden under Rob’s set of Wranglers. I was chubbed up since I came in his body earlier today, but the touch of Mike, and the material sliding against it, made me rock hard.

I adjusted my pants to help try and mitigate how much of my cock showed and closed the fridge door behind me.

“Just giving you time to remember how I got the good ass genes from dad,” I told him. I turned and shook my ass at him, smacking it myself. Fuck Rob’s butt really kept up some perk since his old military days.

“Please, the only thing you got from dad was a bad back and a receding hairline,” he said, chuckling to himself. He took a swig out of his beer and I decided to mirror him. This time, I knew what to expect and choked down the ale with less effort. This actually wasn’t too bad after a while. He reclined back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the corner L of the sofa. He was wearing his basketball shorts and his calves were showing. I never looked at my father in a suggestive way from the implication alone, but I wasn’t me right now. Even as his brother it felt like I was somebody entirely different.

I could admire how strong his legs looked, especially when he stretched one of them out to pop his knee. The shorts rode up and a brief glimpse of his thigh bared itself to me. This didn’t help my need to hide my raging boner at all. He turned his attention from the TV and looked at me.

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” He asked. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. We had an hour until the game, and I immensely regretted not doing more research before I took over Rob. Mike tried to engage with me about the team, sports, players, and I did my best to rebut against them with jokes and more general comments. He definitely knew something was up though. I drank through the whole thing, feeling my new belly slosh as it contained nothing but beer. The jersey I was wearing started to feel even tighter as I felt my stomach expand to accommodate.

“Jeez Rob are you okay?” He asked me, minutes before the game began. My consciousness was starting to fade some, the alcohol finally starting to kick in. I had to have been 6 beers in by this point, only taking so long due to Rob’s large build.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, blinking slowly to orient myself. He finished his last bit of his drink and threw it into the closest trash can.

“You aren’t yourself. No idea what I’m talking about, stumbling through any conversation, it’s like I’m talking to…” he shrugged, “well, Timmy”. That made me snap into focus. The original plan when I took over Rob was to talk to my dad about anything but football, and hopefully, make him actually like the real me.

“What about Tim?” I asked him. He cracked open a new beer.

“Well you know, he’s a good kid, but I just don’t get him. Always up in his room all day, toying around with those little figures of his.” My figures I paint as a hobby. Something about bringing those little guys to life brought me a lot of calm. I didn’t even think my dad knew they existed.

“Have you tried connecting with him about what he likes?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear him admit it.

“Yeah,” he said. Liar. “I mean, kind of. I just don’t get it. You known when we were growing up we were outside, running around the woods, getting dirty. Tim he just, I don’t know, is just a shut in. We didn’t grow up like that, he actually did things. Like when we kidnapped the Connors’ dog and posted a ransom to buy snacks in the summer. I mean you know, we did a LOT together. Tried new things, grew closer. He doesn’t do anything, just toys away and plays on that damn computer”.

Ouch. Can’t say I’m surprised though, it’s about what I expected him to feel.

“But I wanna connect with him, you know. I want to be his dad, not just his father. I taught him to ride a bike, hit a baseball, how football works. Then he became a teenager and just dropped all of it and became a different kid.” I was about to open another beer, but wanted to be as much of myself as possible.

“You know Mike, I think he may have always been like this,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow in response. “I think, he just wanted to be the person you wanted him to be so you’d love him. But, he found out that he wasn’t happy doing those things, so he just decided to be himself, and hope you’d love him anyway.”

Mike was silent for a long time, not even taking another drink.

“That is, at least my theory,” I said. He shrugged and pondered.

“I mean I do love him, no matter what he does,” he finally said. “He’s my son. He can be a pro athlete or build and sell a computer for a living. I just figured since we had so much fun together and have great memories, that’s how he should do it too. But, maybe I should try and see how we can do what he likes more.”

I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Fuck Dad, why couldn’t you just tell me that.

“Thanks Rob for just letting me- are you crying?” He asked. I wiped the tears away and hid my face from him.

“No no, just, fuck it,” I said, looking for a new beer.

“You fucking softie,” he said, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Here, for you listening to my bitching.” He leaned over the armrest of the sofa for a little while and finally pulled out a new can. He tossed it to me. Raising his own, he opened the tab. I did the same, only to be met with a flare of foam dousing me. He cackled and slapped his knee.

“Fucker!” I yelled at him, already becoming inhibited from all the drinks. “Gotta change this fucking shirt now,” I told him. I could feel the words slurring as the alcohol came on harder. I stood up, stepping back to try and regain my balance. I grabbed the bottom of my jersey with both hands and yanked it up, my head stuck in the hole before finally tugging it off and slamming it to he ground.

I looked down, once again admiring Rob’s hairy chest and beautiful pecs. The years of service he did performed wonders on his body, which he didn’t give up on as he reached middle age.

“Give me a shirt,” I told him, trying to make it to the staircase.

“Rob fucking sit down, you’re fine,” he called out to me. “Let that shit dry and just be half naked for a bit you puss.” I walked back and fell back on the sofa. My cheeks were flaring up and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion. I put my hand on my chest to feel the heart rate, and couldn’t help but squeeze a little, feeling the pec succumb to my own touch. I chuckled and looked over to my father, who was looking at me intently. I chuckled to him.

“What?” I asked, losing sight in trying to pretend to be Rob at this point. He smirked.

“Nothing, just, all this talk about our childhoods is making me just remember the good old times. You know know, the Connors dog, the woods, the…. late night talks. Ones about girls, and who was hot in my grade, who was hot in yours. How we’d-“ he pulled his own shirt off and threw it on top of mine. “Try to figure out what would make them feel good”.

I admired Mike’s body, not as toned as mine, but certainly he took care of himself as he aged. He own chest displayed a gorgeous set of fur. How did I miss out on just how beautiful he was? How did I not get these genes and looked more like my mother? How is he looking at me so… sexually? He slid down the L of the sofa, laying his head against the back cushion, throwing an arm behind his head to rest it. His armpit was shadowed in a dark bush, which I can only imagine smelled of a strong musk.

Wait what the fuck? This is my dad, or my brother? He’s family, but I did jerk off my own uncle just hours before. He’s my dad, but he’s also not making this weird. He’s.. he’s.. fuck he’s sexy!

“Game’s about to start,” I told him finally, not taking my eyes off his physique.

“They’re playing the Buccaneers, I know how it’ll go,” he said. He got on all fours and crawled to me. Judging from the look in his eyes, the beers had taken their toll on him as well. We were now face to face, mere inches from one another. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I pushed back a bit, but he wouldn’t let me break away. His tongue slithered forward and traced it along my new one. I gave in and wrestled his with my own, my lips moving in sync with his. He placed a hand on my chest and squeezed at my pec, the warm touch juxtaposing with the shivers which shot through me.

I took my hand and placed it on the back of his head, brushing my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. As I gripped at it, he became more aggressive and reached for my throat. He wasn’t rough with it, but placed his thumb just below my Adams apple, pressing firmly. My breath was ragged from his force, and my pants had grown so incredibly tight in futile attempts to restrain my cock. My other hand went on the lower end of his back, guiding him to press into me, the fur on our chests entangling.

He slipped his mouth away from my lips, running them down my neck, kissing me as he lowered himself further down this stolen body. When he got to my belly, he took extra time to take both hands and rub them across it. He worshipped my stomach, kissing at it, gripping, and without a single word, making me know it was his. His hands ran down my stomach to zipper off my hands, toying with it. I spoke back to him with my dick, flexing it to tell him it needed to be released.

He looked up at me and smirked, lowering his head down again to lick at my bulge. It was torture, I needed to produce it to him and have it slide down his throat. I reached my hand down to get to my pants, but he immediately snapped and grasped my wrists.

“Uh uh,” he hushed. “Remember, I’m making you the girl here. And a good girl, lets the man do what he wants.” He released my wrists and finally got his hands back on my zipper. He zipped it down, before finally finishing with a flourish and pulling the Wranglers down to my ankles. He worked to get them kicked off my feet, before being met a silky pink jockstrap, which could snap at a moments notice. It was absolutely soaked in precum, and my dick had pushed it to its limits.

“What the fuck Rob? You sporting these now?” He asked me. I smirked at him.

“Was just remembering the good times,” I told him with a wink. He seemed to hesitate, almost snapping back to reality. However, the lust must have taken over, as he proceeded to take his tongue and lick up the precum which topped off the jock. Just feeling the tip of his tongue hit my cock made me groan involuntarily.

“Shut up, Tim might be home,” he told me. I wouldn’t worry about that, I wanted to tell him, but no words could form at this point. He proceeded to lap at my bulge, seeming to suck off any of the pre which had accumulated. Just as it seemed he was about to pull my jock off, he backed away. Fuck, was something wrong? I looked up and saw him working on getting his own pants off. He was struggling, barely able to move at all.

I assisted him, leaning forward and not taking the same slow care he had given me. I yanked the pants off and discovered two thing about my dad. One, he liked to go commando. Two, he had an impressive cock. Veiny, hard as a rock, and long enough that I knew he could rub out a prostate without even going halfway in. If he was the surprisingly soft and sultry type, I was the ravenous one. I had never actually sucked a dick before, but had watched plenty of films to emulate what others had done. I gripped the base of his shaft, which despite how large my new hands were, still was an intimidating beast.

I licked at the head of his cock, tasing the musky aroma come to life as the sensation of manhood trickled down my throat. He tasted amazing, his own precum starting to mix with the sweat he had built through the day. I licked my lips, lubing them up as I began to take his entire cock into my mouth. The years of study had prepared me somewhat for what it took to take him, but practice made perfect. At first I almost gagged and vomited the half dozen beers which still waved in my stomach, but as I got into a rhythm, it became easier. He leaned his head back and didn’t say a word, but moans were suppressed from his closed mouth.

He raised both arms up, showing off his pits. The smell permeated through the air, filling my nostrils. He must have not showered in the past couple of days, as I could smell the usual scent of my father embody the room. It motivated me to work harder, pushing my lips to the base of his balls and holding them in place. He grabbed the sides of my head and thrust his cock back and forth, skull fucking me as a growls began to erupt from him.

I thought he was about to coat my throat with his cum, but just as he was about to finish, he threw my head back and pushed me to the other side of the sofa. I looked up to find him jerking himself off and staring at me seductively.

“Turn around and show your big brother that hole of yours,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees. I did as he was told, getting on all fours and facing away from him. I felt the couch move below him as he crawled to me. He spit, and the sensation of his saliva against my hole made me shake. With one hand, he spread my ass cheek to the side, and with the other, I felt him guide the tip of his cock. Pressing against my hole, I gripped at the fabric in the couch, my knuckles turning white.

“Easy,” he told me. “Remember, just like we used to practice.” He pushed the tip and my hole reluctantly allowed him in. It was a shock of pain which made me scream. His hand quickly shot to my mouth and covered it, muffling my howls.

“I told you to shut up,” He said. He kept pushing his cock further in, still holding my mouth closed. He inch which slid its way in made me try to yell louder in and louder, but his calloused hand pressed harder against my lips. There was a sensation, a pop. Immediately I stopped yelling and groaned again, this time in ecstasy.

“There you go lil bro,” he told me. “Just like riding a bike”. He pulled out some and pushed his way back in. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck he was so god damn big! He pumped, his cock rubbing against my prostate. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through my body and out the tip of my cock. I hadn’t touched it in ages and wanted to pump in unison with him, but too much of me was just holding on to the couch for dear life. His thrust began to increase in speed, with no room in between for rest.

“Fuck daddy’s gonna cum!” He yelled out, clearly not worried about the noise anymore. He put a hand on each of my shoulder to steady himself.

“Cum in me dad, cum in me!” I yelled out, my lips free from his grasp.

“FUCK!” He yelled out, pushing his balls deep against my bare ass. I felt his cock twitch with his pulse as wave after wave of his cum shot deep into my colon. I counted it out, each pulse getting weaker and weaker, before finally all I could feel was my dad’s stomach resting on my back as he caught his breath. He slid out and fell back on the couch, his legs spread, and while now limp, he cock rested beautifully on his thigh.

I laid on my own back and marveled at him, so gorgeous even just lit by the TV glow. For a second I was worried in his post nut clarity, he would realize what had happened. Instead, I could hear him snoring, somehow already passed out from the exertion. I took the opportunity to finally whip off the jock strap and pump my cock, which had been lathered up in a concoction of my precum and dad’s saliva.

I felt his cum begin to leak out of my hole, running into the couch. I grabbed a small handful and rubbed it between my fingers. It was thick and a stark white, prime for breeding. Prime for lathering up my cock further and… lathering… That, gave me an idea. Releasing my cock, I stepped to my pants he had discarded on the floor. I fumbled with the pockets until I found it, another vial.

Inside was the lotion I had made to slip myself into Rob. I was worried it would wear off while I was here, making me be ejected. So, I brought an extra container in case I had to sip back inside. But, what if I went a step further? Both of us were already naked, so I took the opportunity to pour the contents all over Rob’s body, just as I had done in my real body.

It was a miracle there was enough, as Rob was twice the size as my original body. However, I finally stood in front of my father, silk, lathered up, and ready to experiment. I was just as careful as I was when I took over Rob’s body. Fingering my dad’s hole and enlarging it. Making it able to take one finger, then two, three, until finally my whole hand was inside of him. I think all of the drinking had sedated him, as he wasn’t moving a muscle from all of the activity.

I pushed further, finding the process to be much more difficult than last time. Previously, I was going from a short, lanky form, barely 150 pounds into a man twice my size. This time, while my father was hardly a small man, had less room available to take in Rob’s body. I worked carefully, pushing both arms inside, before taking a deep breath and plunging my head inside. This sensation was the same at least. Pitch darkness, a tight sensation, the beating of his heart echoing around me. The issue was, Rob’s chest was so fucking massive, I had to really push to get inside.

I could still feel my feet outside, so I used them to prop myself up and force myself in further. I could only imagine what it looked like out there. The towering form of Rob, chest deep inside of my dad’s hole as he tried to slam his entire body into him. However, with each thrust, I could feel my body being encapsulated by my father. Eventually I found my whole upper body inside, and I worked to stretch myself out. It was like I was trying to slide into a latex suit that was two sizes too small. Every crevice of mine was suppressed and pushed inward.

It was constricting, my father’s form could barely contain the man who had at least 40 pounds of muscle on him. But surely, I found a way to get both legs inside and curl my feet in too. I felt the hole close and Rob’s body completely be closed in. Having done this once already, I had an idea of what to do next, but the size difference made it all too difficult. I did learn however from last time to adjust my cock first and not cause a panic. With both arms still not in position with my dad’s, I took my cock and slide it into his like a sheath.

Before I aligned them though, I experimented and pulled back and pushed in again. I did this a few times, feeling like I was fucking the inside of my father. It was too good, but I had to push on, the constriction was getting to me. I aligned both feet and legs, arms, hands, and finally head. I slithered my tongue into my father, and pushed the top of my head into his. With one final force, I pushed my cock into the tip of his and felt the transformation complete.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room, my head groggy as I felt the alcohol trying to hold me still. The glow of the TV still reflected off the walls, but more noticeable than that was the smell of my father’s musk right next to me. I looked to my left and found his armpit right next to my face. I inhaled deeply, now aware that I was my dad! I liked at his bicep, knowing all the while this tongue just moments ago was worshipping me. I sat up, trying to orientate myself.

Everything was the exact same, though now I could see just under me was a pool of the lotion and cum which soaked into the seats. I rubbed my dad’s hole, and found that some of his cum was still leaking out from me. I brought it to my face and lapped it up. It was salty, tinged with the potency worthy of breeding.

I took another scoopful of his, I guess, MY own cum and lathered up my new dick. As I never did actually finish while I was just Rob, I still had a sizable load to get out. I pumped my dad’s cock which had sprung to life once more. I smelled at this pits as I did so, lapping at his biceps and worshipping my new body.

NSFW version found here

From the excitement of today, it didn’t take long before I could feel the eruption coming.

“Fuck I”m gonna cum!!” I yelled in my dad’s voice, before finally letting out the build up of cum spray all over me. Despite getting off just earlier today, it was a cascade as I coated chest. The fur absorbing every drop and sinking into my chest. My cock was bright red, pulsing as each drip soared into the air. But it was over all too soon, and I was left with just myself, the smell of cum, musk, and the football announcers quietly speaking.

I looked down at myself, proud of the mess I had made. Though, I did wonder what this meant. Was I stuck as my father, with Rob gone forever? Would I get ejected as Rob? As myself? The lotion had lasted this long already, I wonder how much longer I had. If it wasn’t long, I wanted to make the most of it. Slowly, I raised myself up and stood, looking to dress myself up. There I found the jockstrap I had Rob wear, still damp. I stepped in and shimmied it up my legs.

It was cool at this point, and made me shiver, but it was so good to be reunited with it. I rubbed my hands over my body, coaxing the cum further into my hair and admired the nice bulge my dad gave the jockstrap. Maybe if I can keep this up for a bit, I’ll have to have dad pick up some new clothes…Something with leather perhaps.

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A bit of a longer story, but hopefully that makes you all enjoy it even further! Would love to hear from all of you as to what you'd like to see more of as I try to get back more into my writing.

Thank you all!

#male bodypossession #male possession #body possession #male takeover #father and son #dad takeover #male transformation #possesion #male bodysuit #uncle and dad

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romanarose · 2 months ago

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Worship

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Summary: Worshiping Logan's cock through his jeans.

Warnings: Cock worship, premature cumming in pants, belt worship (?????), d/s stuff, daddy kink, ruining make up, little bit of a musk kink?

A/n: just a short little blurb bc I'm horny. but its sweet tbh

Logan stood at the doorway, looking down at the sight before him. He didn't require you to be kneeling when he came home, but god was it a treat when you did.

"Such a good girl..." He mutters, shutting the door behind him before any of the neighbors saw such a pretty sight. It's even better when you hand him a cold beer from beside you. "God damn, how did I get so lucky?" It's not a twist off, so Logan cracks it open on his teeth, spitting to bottle cap to the side as he took you in.

Technically, the correct form was for you to be head down until he told you too look at him, but right now? You were just so fucking cute. The way you grinned up at him with the big eyes and bright smile made his heart swell... but the cute teddy and panties you wore had the same effect on his cock. Logan really didn't understand how he got so luck, and as he sipped on the cold beer after a long day of logging, all his stressed washed away when he saw his pretty little girl's mouth watching staring at his pants.

"You wanna taste, princess?" When you nod eagerly, Logan beckons you forward with with fingers, smirking at the excited way you crawl to him.

"Can I touch you, daddy?"

"Go ahead, bub."

Giggling and giddy, you reach out for his cock beginning to tent in his jeans, but he stops you. His hand holds up as a stop sign and the other holds a beer, his face quirking up at your display. "Slow, babydoll."

You obey, pawing at the bulge in his jeans. Logan groans as you bring him to full aching hardness. You loved his cock, loved watching the reaction it had to you. Your sweet lips plant a little kiss on the fly, then you nuzzle against the fabric, sighing contently while you remain steady by holding his thick thighs.

"I love you." You whisper directly to his pants, and Logan chuckles as he downs the last of his beer. Yeah, you were talking to his dick, not him, but he knew you loved him too. The beer bottle gets tossed into the couch, and Logan cards his fingers into your hair as you continue to nuzzle again his clothed cock, mouthing over it and breathing the hot air onto him. Logan could propose right here, honestly, make his precious girl his forever...

But he had fun plans for you right now.

His cock was aching, straining at the view before him. What more could a man ask for? A cold beer and the prettiest girl in the world worshiping his throbbing member with the biggest smile on her face. A wet spot was growing on his jeans, both from you slobbering on him and from the pre-cum leaking.

You sit up a little, stretching your legs, yes, but also a particular goal in mind. His belt. You kiss that big belt buckle, still palming his erection and his balls, but licking at metal object.

"Fucking love you." You take a big wiff, smelling the sweat from a hard days work and eyes rolling back in your head. "Always taking care of me, providing for me..." You lick a stripe up that belt buckle, getting a little bit of his shirt and a taste of his belly.

Logan fists your hair into his hands, rubbing your sweet, pretty face on him. You don't protest to being shoved into his stomach, feeling the hard muscles under a little bit of stomach, licking and smelling as he brought you down, careful not to hurt your face, back to his crotch. Your makeup was smearing, blotches of red and black and pink, and all the coloring you used for your face, swirling around his jeans and your skin. He loved it. Logan secretly hoping the lipstick would stain, that he could walk to the lumber yard with evidence of your lips on him... but that might embarrass you, and he didn't want to embarrass you.

As he controlled the pace, Logan groans above you, forcing stimulation on his throbbing dick. Logan, as always, showings your with praise.

"My good little slut, always willing to do what I say, to make me happy."

"Just letting me -oh fuck- letting me use your face, not even fucking it just, just rutting into it like a pillow."

He humps your face even as he controls the movements, using you like you were a lifeless fuck toy but loving you like you were the most precious gem.

His moans turned into whimpers, and as Logan began stuttering his degrading praises, you knew what was happening.

"P-pretty girl, my pretty... girl.... shits, shit, shit, fuuuuuuccckkk!" he continued to rub you on his cock, cumming inside his jeans and dragging out his pleasure as long as possible

Logan lets go, and you fall back on your butt, giggling. Your lover drops to the ground on his knees, exhausted but smiling, so you wrap your arms around him and pull him down. The carpet is decent but the pillow you were kneeling on barely fits the two of you, so you opt to lay on his chest while you rest.

"I've never once cum in my pants. Gotta be a special kind of slut to make me do that shit."

You smile up at him, your face a complete mess but so, so happy and pretty. "Yeah, but I'm your special slut."

He tips your face up to get a little kiss onto those sweet lips.

"Yeah, you are. My special slut."

***********

Thank you friends!!!!!!

I'm gonna tag some people i thought might enjoy but please dont feel pressure!!! if you wanna be tagged going forward, check out the tag list linked above!!!

Logan Howlett dark series

Logan Howlett x reader x wade wilson

Dark Logan and dark Scott Summers x reader

@miraclesabound @missdictatorme @princessanglophile @poeedameronn @del-ightfulling @fandxmslxt69

#wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett/reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #logan james howlett #the wolverine #x men #logan x men #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic

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chubbycelebs · 8 months ago

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Unlocking Inner Pig

Louis was your average 28 year old man, to an extent. He had a pretty normal office job that got him enough money to live a comfortable but simple life. He lived in a mid rise flat nothing too special. He still occasionally slept around with men he’d see at clubs. However Louis still looked very young for his age. As he was approaching 30 the skinny guy still looked fresh into university. His body had not changed at all since he was 18. He would look at his friends and see them all with hairy chests bigger arms, even a few of them with big bloated bellies that pushed at the old shirts they wore. Louis would go home and look at his skinny frame. Yes he could still see his abs but his arms were so small. His legs and ass so tiny. He longed to be bigger.

One hot summer evening, Louis and his friends were all relaxing in the park. They laid on their shirts catching a tan on their bodies. Louis stood out as the skinniest one there. He looked over at his friends. The odd one or two of them were quite in shape, still sporting faint abs and some muscle in their chest but the rest all had rounded soft hairy guts that guttered up to the sky as they lay back soaking in the sun. Louis looked at his own body, feeling his ribs and bones instead of muscle. One of Louis friends turned over to him and saw him rubbing his body. “You alright mate?” His friend Liam said. Louis took a long sigh and looked at Liam. “Not really. I just feel so small and skinny all the time. Especially laying next to all you guys.” Louis said gesturing to the rest of the group. “You should count your self lucky mate. We all getting fat” Liam said slapping his belly “and you look like you never left uni.” “Well that’s the issue. I’m nearly 30 and still look 18. I just wanna be bigger.”

Liam took a long hard look at his mate. He looked him up and down and then down again really taking in his skinny body. “Well I could always try and help you out if you want. Try and put on some weight if that’s what you want.” Louis face lit up. “Really you’d help me out?” “Of course. If that’s what you want.”

“YES YES PLEASE”

After the boys had finished laying out in the sun all afternoon, they decided to walk back home and settle down for the evening. On the walk back, Louis and Liam decided to split from the group and go into a small fast food place. Louis looked up at the menu then looked at Liam waiting for his input. “You sure you want this mate? We are getting old enough now where a second on the lips is a lifetime on the hips” Liam said with a slight worrying glance at his slim friend. Louis nodded and the two boys stepped forward to order. “Two portions of chips please and a triple cheese burger please” Liam said handing over a tenner and a fiver to the man at the counter. After about 5 minutes a small bag was placed on the counter and then two men carried on their walk back to Louis house. Once they got in Liam placed the food on the table and then went to get a drink from the fridge. He saw that Louis had a pack of beers and decided to grab them. He placed them on the table too. Louis sat down and unpacked his food order. He started picking at the chips as Liam grabbed a beer and opened it up, taking a large swig from it. “Make sure you have these bud” Liam said patting the pack of beer. “Good for building you up.” Louis reached over and grabbed a beer, cracking it open and taking a sip. Liam sat down and the two boys were just chatting about everyday stuff as Louis made his way through the food. Louis didn’t show any sign of being full until he got most the way though his triple burger. As he reached the last few bites he really started to feel it. He stretched and groaned and started to rub his extended gut. He tried to ignore it but the mounting pressure in his stomach was distracting him from his conversation. Just as he was about to give up, Louis felt a rumble in his stomach. He placed a hand on the top of his gut as it trembled. He felt something rise up making his way back to his mouth. His lips parted and a huge belch interrupted conversation. Louis went slightly red in the face. “Better out then in mate” Liam sniggered “you’ll have a bit more room to finish off your food now.” Liam was right. Louis belly felt much more at ease and he finished off the rest of food and chugged back the rest of his beer. The two boys spent the rest of the night getting slowly more drunk as they got through the whole pack of beers. By 2am Louis was passed out on the sofa. Liam looked over at his skinny friend. His thin torso was stretched out pushing against his shirt. Liam knew that his mates skinny body would never last now. Once a man gets a taste for going to bed bloated and full they always will. It won’t be long till Louis joins the ranks of other 30 year olds with a belly.

The next morning, Louis woke feeling groggy from all the food and beer he’d eaten. He stretched upwards and collapsed back on the sofa. His hands moved to his stomach which still felt kind of bloated. He rubbed it slowly as he started to wake up more. He couldn’t see Liam in the sun filled living room and assumed he’d gone home when he had passed out. Louis kept rubbing his belly. Thoughts raced through his mind. Thoughts of his gut getting bloated again. Getting more full than ever before. Then thoughts of the bloat turning to soft squishy fat. Rubbing his belly and watching his fingers squish deep into his fattening gut. As these thoughts raced he moved his hand further down, pushing it through the waist band of his boxers to touch his morning wood. The thought of his dick slowly disappearing from sight as his belly grows bigger and bigger. He starts to rub his cock slowly as more thoughts of his chest swelling up, his ass blowing through his jeans, his thighs shredding his boxers all filled his mind. For some reason after last night he became obsessed with the idea of getting fat instead of big and muscly. One night of stuffing his face and he was took with the idea of growing jiggly all over. He started to pump his dick harder and faster, letting out a few moans as the idea of him becoming overweight filled his mind. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was moaning so loud as he got closer to climax. His cock was ready to blow. The door the living room started to be pushed open. Louis looked over but it was too late. His cock exploded all over his belly and he moaned loudly as Liam stepped through the doorway with a large plate of food. Louis quickly tried to cover his belly with his shirt only for the cum to soak it and show through. “Omg I’m so sorry you saw that. I thought you’d gone and I was just letting off some steam and-“

“Louis it’s fine lol. We all get like that don’t worry bout it. Just wished you’d given me a bit more warning before I walked in haha” Liam laughed as he sat down on the sofa and placed the large McDonald’s breakfast order in front of Louis. Louis felt so embarrassed, rubbing his shirt to try and distract from the cum that had soaked through it. “Bloody hell Louis just take your top off I don’t care. I’ve seen worse. Bloody Niall looks like a hairy baby elephant every time he gets shirtless you look fine.” Louis was still apprehensive to take his top off but decided to do so, rubbing the rest of the cum off his stomach as he did. “Now dig into this. Thought you’d be hungry this morning and you wanted big so here. Enjoy.” On the plate were two bacon egg and sausage McMuffins, 3 hash browns, 2 breakfast wraps and a large milk shake. “I don’t think I’m that hungry to be honest.” Louis said still covering his bloat in shame. “I think I’ll eat later on toda-“ he was interrupted by the sound of his own stomach rumbling loudly to the smell of the breakfast food. “I think your stomach thinks different eh big guy? Just tuck in.” Liam said standing up. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll be surprised if any of that is left when I get back” he said under his breath as he left the room, pulling off his shirt which displayed his own figure. His soft stomach slightly jiggled as he walked, covered on thick hair, going from the top of his jiggly chest to the waist band of his boxers. Louis looked at his hairless, fatless body and a pang of jealously coursed through his veins. He grabbed the McMuffin and stuffed it into his mouth. The routine of Louis stuffing his mouth full of fast food continued for many weeks. Liam would usually come round once a week after a whole group gathering and check up on Louis’ progress, just with asking simple questions making sure he was eating big. The first evening of stuffing his belly had awoken something in Louis. He now couldn’t stop eating. If he was doing anything he was doing it eating food. His inner pig was out for good now and he couldn’t contain it. His body now started to show signs of change happening. His once toned skinny stomach had melted away. He now had a soft lower belly, a spate tire that wrapped around his lower body. It pushed out over the waist band of his boxers and was obviously seen through any shirt. His chest started to soften too, his nipples are pushed outwards growing in size and softness. Slowly they began to droop onto his growing gut. The rest of his body saw changes too. His arms thicker up, his ass had doubled and his legs also began to touch as he walked. By the end of summer he had transformed his summer bod already into a dad bod so quickly. By the end of summer, the group of lads thought it be best to go shopping for some winter clothes as the weather started to drop quickly. Louis showed up with a hoody over his body, hiding the changes. After looking around the shop for a bit they needed to try on their new clothes. In the changing rooms they all went and all got changed. One of the more in shape boys left his changing room first and all the boys looked at his new outfit, all poking their heads out of their changing rooms, or even standing out just in their boxers to get a look. Here is when one of the boys called out about Liams body.

Liam had been getting softer for a while now so that wasn’t news to anyone, but since spending so much time with Louis and his fattening routine, Liam had also packed on the weight. His belly now poked out to the point it sagged slightly over his boxers, his chest looking more like tits and his back was lined with rolls leading the eye to the dump truck of an ass he had grown. As the attention went onto Liam one of the boys went up to him and shook its belly telling him how fat he’d gotten. “Age has gotten to you now huh fat boy?” ”Your not young forever look at that belly” “I remember when you had a six pack on school.” “You fat fuck what have you done to your self!?” The boys hurled jokingly abuse at Liam. Liam took it lightly only going slightly red, and even joining in on the mocking, shaking his belly and taking handfuls of his hairy fat gut. However Liam got a glimpse of Louis body. He still had his jeans on but his tank top was sitting tight across his bloated gut. Usually he can get away with his gain not being noticed but the fact he’d stripped down to his tank top and also just ate a family sized meal before coming out made his soft belly look much bigger. Liam locked eyes with Louis and grinned menacingly.

“Omg look at Louis. He’s finally a fat fuck.” Liam pointed at Louis as he shouted that. Louis was in shock. He never thought he’d point it out to the group his weight gain. The boys all wiped their heads around to see if what Liam was saying truth. To their surprise, the once skinny man had in fact developed a fully fledged belly. “Omg what happened to you?” “You FINALLY got fat? Fuck” “Holy shit dude you let your self go FAST.” Liam had successfully turned the abuse off of him and onto Louis. As Louis stood there getting poked and slapped and jiggled he put on a brave face, for deep inside he was absolutely livid at Liam. Liam just stood there grinning watching as Louis was played with and mocked.

That evening when Louis and Liam started walking back to Louis house, they walked in silence. Louis was so mad at Liam for exposing his weight gain and telling the whole group about it just because he was insecure that he got fat too. They both walked into Louis house and sat on the sofa. Louis visibly displayed his anger on his face. Liam didn’t understand what was wrong. “So you wanna order some food then?” Liam pipped up after an uncomfortable silence.

“Oh you just wanna fatten me up some more so ya?” Louis spat back at him. Liam looked confused and made a confused noise at him. “Oh don’t act all incident. You’ve been coming doing here every week buying me fattening foods and telling to stuff my gut full. It’s your fault I’ve got tits for pecs now. It’s your fault my hips don’t fit into jeans. It’s your fault I’m carrying around this FAT FUCKING BELLY!” Louis ripped off his tank top and grabbed his gut shaking it. He was red in the face he got so angry. After shacking his belly in Liams face, Louis collapsed back into his sofa seat. “I never even wanted to get fat. I wanted to get bigger. You’re just fucked in the head and fattened me up for your own sick and twisted fantasy.”

Liam had enough of this. He stood up. “You didn’t want this huh? So it wasn’t you I caught wanking off to your own full fat stomach. It isn’t you that stuffs your face six out of seven nights a week. It isn’t you that looks in the mirror every morning grinning as you realise you’re getting closer and closer to finally busting your fat ass through your old underwear. It’s not my fault you regret exchanging your twink body for some fat hogs.” Louis looked at Liam with his mouth slightly agape. Liam now pulls off his shirt too and grabs a handful of his huge gut. “Do you think I want this too? Huh? Do you think I wanted to get fucking obese just cos you wanted to get fat. No but it’s my fault cos I’m greedy and could resist eating big like you do. At least I admit when I’m a fucking pig instead of pinning the blame on some other hog like you.” Liam grabbed his top and started to walk out the room. “I hope you find peace being a fat fuck. I’m leaving. Gonna get a maccies to release the stress now.” Liam mumbled as he stomped out the house and slammed the door. Louis sat there in shock. What had just happened.

It took Louis about a week to process what happened that evening. Him and Liam hadn’t spoken since and the other boys made no effort in getting the two to hang out together. Louis was thinking about what Liam had said about him wanted to get fat. Louis was confused. He enjoyed getting fat but was that want he wanted? He felt such same when everyone noticed his fattened body. Surely he would be proud of it if he truly wanted to be fat. Louis came to the conclusion that he wanted to give the gym a go. See if being muscly was the craving he desired.

For the autumn months, Louis spent a lot of time alone. He’d still eat pretty big but mostly focused on hitting the gym hard everyday. He needed to work off that fat Liam had forced onto him. It took time but eventually the spare tire was eventually shaved down to a slight gut, hardly noticeable compared to his bigger arms and tighter chest. After all this time he had started to achieve what he wanted to achieve. He was bigger finally and even his body hair started to come through. But he still felt unsatisfied with this transformation. He caught him self longingly staring at fat hogs in the gym that desperately tried to get rid of their bulk. He craved the evenings where he’d be in a food coma and his distended belly was sticking out. He missed the feeling of getting bigger and feeling his clothes hug tight to his body. Was Liam right? Had he always really desired becoming fat and joining the ranks of other men his age. Louis thought of Liam and how he has transformed over the summer and gone from overweight to obese. Louis struggled to contain him self at the thought that maybe he could follow suit. Louis left the gym immediately, still shirtless and in his shorts running to his car. He raced round to the nearest fast food place and ordered a jumbo family sized portion of food. That night he ate like he was the king. As he ate his final chip and came all over his belly he knew this was the life he wanted. He knew he couldn’t rest till he was huge.

Oh how Louis missed this. He missed the feeling of his fat gut pushing his clothes to their limits. He missed rubbing his soft gut to release an earth shattering belch. He missed stepping on the scales and seeing that number rise every single day. Being fat was his calling. He was destined to be a hog and that he would do. Evening after evening he would spend stuffing his face with food. As Christmas came and went he made sure to fill his belly with as much sweet fattening food he could get his hands on. His family were shocked by his weight gain to start with but by the end of his stay were happy that he had finally filled out. One of his uncles had a long conversation to him one evening when everyone had gone to bed. It was just Louis and his uncle sat in the living room sipping on the last few drops of their beers, both men having swollen guts that guttered out in front of them. His uncle told him the story of how when he was in his 20s he was sooooo skinny and nothing he could do would make him out on weight. But just one day the weight started piling on and how it’s never stopped since. Louis looked at his uncle, a very large fella. He always made fun of him self for how fat he’d gotten but it wasn’t till this evening that Louis saw himself in him. He looked down at his softening body and was proud to say he was following in his uncles footsteps.

Soon after Christmas Louis was trying on some clothes when it suddenly hit him that he had grown too fat for them now. He looked at him self in the mirror with his gut pressed so tightly against his shirt he’s surprised he hasn’t ripped through it yet. His belly was empty and already looked soo big. Louis felt the pressure build in his underwear. He couldn’t contain it anymore he needed someone to fatten him up.

Louis had dabbled in some gaining content online and he had heard of “grommr” a gaining dating site of sort. He knew in this moment that he may as well give it a go and see if he could get someone over quick to help bust out of his clothes. As his account finished setting up and started searching for feeders in the area. He found a very handsome chap called Harry. His profile was filled with photos of his hard muscly body pressed against fat hogs soft piggy body. He decided to shoot him a quick DM and almost got an instant message back.

-Louis: hey Harry! You look insane and love what you’ve done to those men. Mind filling me up like that?

-Harry: lemme see what I’m working with and I’ll be over in 5.

Louis takes his too off and trousers and lays on the bed in just his size small boxers. They were stretched so tight across his thighs and ass that they were basically see through. Louis snaps a photo of his belly resting on his lap, his chest dropping slightly onto the gut and his love handles pushing his body wider.

-Louis: This enough to work with?

-Harry: Damn. You’re already a fat piggy huh? Well prepare to become a fucking hog when I’m down with you.

No longer than 5 minutes later Louis heard a knock on the door. Louis, still on his underwear, jiggled his way to the door to unlock it. As he opened the door, the man that stood before him was not the one he expected. Harry on his profile had rippling abs, thick strong chest and moved into his big arms. His body was always contrasting the fat ones in the photos so why did the man in front of Louis also look like a fat hog. Harry looked to be around 250lbs of pure fat. His belly pressed tight to his band tshirt that was far too small for him, his love handles peaking out the bottom of the hem. His skinny jeans were skin tight to his thick thighs and fat ass. His double chin was pretty prominent.

Harry could sense the stares he got from Louis. “It’s me Harry! I know I look different than my profile. I did used to be very ripped and in shape but one feeding session the feedee turned into the feeder and I just couldn’t stop going back. Sorry I’m not who you thought I was but I hope you don’t mind this piggy feeding you up?” Louis was overwhelmed with how horny he was now. He pulled Harry in and immediately ripped his clothes off. The two hogs went at each other all day. Harry filling Louis up with as much fattening food as he could get his hands on. Louis was exploring Harry’s insanely sexy large body. They spent all day eating, drinking, touching, and fucking. Louis had never felt anything like this before. The feeling of being so full and having someone else’s full gut pressed against your back as they thrusted deeper into your fattened asshole. He had never felt something so erotic then being stuffed with muffins as he moaned loudly with every thrust into his ass cheeks. Louis thought he couldn’t get more full but once Harry released his load into him, he felt his belly surge forward even more. Louis was left sweating, panting and groaning as he lay on his bed naked and fattened up. Why did he ever wait this long to have sex with a fatty.

Once Harry left Louis did some thinking. He missed Liam. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year. Louis imagined Harry being Liam, having his huge hairy body pressed against his. He didn’t even know if Liam was fat anymore. He knew the rest of the boys all kept steadily gaining weight, even the ones that kept in shape started to soften up as we all approached 30. He could only imagine how big Liam could be. Did he ever think of how large Louis could be by now. Even thought Liam was living rent free in Louis mind, he could never reach out after everything he said to him that evening. After all that and for Louis to just get fatter and fatter still, there’s no way Liam would ever forgive him. He had to move on.

So the next 6 months Louis spent with Harry. The two would hook up every week, ensuring that Louis was gaining an appropriate amount of weight every time they met. Their sex was incredible and the results on Louis body, well they spoke for them selves.

Louis had fully transformed into a huge obese man. He never thought this could be possible. He remember back when he was skinny and how desperately he wanted to put on even ten pounds and now he was well known his way to three hundred pounds.

As Christmas came and went and winter final started to turn to spring, the group of lads decided it would be a good time to meet up for a shopping trip, to start their summer wardrobe. When Louis got the text about this meet up, he was skeptical if he was going to go or not. This time a year and a half ago was the last time he had seen most of the boys. He was made fun of last time for sporting a dad bod but now Louis looked like he’s non stop stuffed him self for the past year and a half (which he basically had done). He also thought about Liam and how if he was to show up they might end up fighting again. He didn’t wanna lose his friend again. But even though he was scared to go, Louis agreed. Plus he actually needed more summer clothes, he’s grown out of all of last years ones by nearly one hundred pounds.

The boys all met at the fast food place next to the shops. Liam was one of the last ones to show up. He opened the door to the restaurant and saw that Liam wasn’t there. He was slightly disappointed about this but he didn’t let it get him down. As he approached the table however he did notice how all the other guys around the table seemed to have suffered the same fate as himself. Not one of them resembled the fit toned jocks from their uni days. Every single one was most definitely overweight if not obese. As Louis approached the boys turned around and started shouting. “Look even this skinny thing couldn’t escape obesity.” “Haha Louis look at ya! You’re huge!” “Think he’s the biggest one here hahaha” The boys hadn’t changed. They still poked fun at him for his weight. But Louis didn’t mind it this time. Maybe it was due to the fact that yes he was the biggest one there but they weren’t far behind him. They all were big fat fellas now.

They all sat down and started to order food when the sound of the door to the restaurant sounded. The boys all turned around and Louis heard the yelling of “Liam omg haha look at you!” “Shit dude you let your self go!” “You’ve gotta be nearly 400lbs mate what happened?” Louis turned around and his mouth hit the floor. Liam was huge, beyond huge. Louis couldn’t even imagine how he got that big over that period of time. Louis looked longingly at Liam as Liam locked eyes with him before scanning Louis body up and down. Louis looked down and thought about what Liam would be thinking looking at him. He begged to know what he’d say. Liam sat down and after a few more jokingly jabs at Liams extreme gain, the boys decided to order food.

Louis had never seen so much food get devoured so quickly before in his life. All these fat hungry men polished off their plates in minutes leaving not a crumb. They spent the meal chatting and catching up with each other. Louis and Liam hadn’t interacted once. After the meal was over the fat man group decided to waddle over to the clothes shop. They spent ages joking about the old shirts they used to wear and how their new big bodies would destroy them in seconds now.

The time came for the boys to try on their clothes. They all filed into the changing rooms. Louis had taken off his too and started to put on a button up when he heard the door to his room be opened. He turned around and saw Liam stood there in his underwear. Louis heard began to race at the sight of him. Liams body has just exploded with lard. His belly hung down with his chest sitting on top his big gut. His legs and ass were so thick they couldn’t avoided touching. He truly had transformed into a huge hog of a man he used to be. “I wanna talk Louis” Liam said with a slightly saddened look on his face. Louis just nodded not having the strength to muster up words. “I’ve missed you. I regret how I spoke to you that evening but you had to listen to what I was saying. It wasn’t my fault but I felt so guilty after that night. As you can see I’ve put on a few” with this comment Louis giggled slightly “well maybe more than a few. But I just couldn’t stop eating cos I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I worried that after what I said you’d lose the weight and stop gaining but I’m so happy to see that isn’t true. You look good.”

Louis finally found the words to respond. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You were right. I wanted to get fat. And I enjoy being fat. But I also enjoyed you getting fat with me. I’ve missed you making sure I was eating everything, drinking every last beer. But I miss you stuffing your face as well and we’d touch bellies every so often. I missed when we had our little secret to get fat. Obviously now everyone’s fucking huge so no need for the secret part but I’d like to do that again with you. Feel our bodies change together again.” Louis stepped closer to Liam just close enough so their hairs on their bellies brushed slightly. Liam didn’t even think twice before pushing him self onto Louis and passionately making out with him.

After that day Liam and Louis became inseparable. They spent every day together feeding each other pleasing each other making sure they both were loved and fed. Liam gained so much weight he could hardly move and Louis blew up massively. He’d always imagined being big but the size of him now was unimaginable. Now sitting at around 600lbs Louis had become the huge big fat guy he had longed to be in his late twenties. Now on his early thirties he had finally found peace in his life and in his new body and he couldn’t be happier with his morbidly obese partner Liam. After years of confusion and gaining the two finally lived fattening ever after.

Thank you so much if you read this story! It has taken me a long time to write it and I really loved how it turned out. I hope you guys enjoyed it too. For any more story ideas pls let me know. I’m happy to do them if they strike my interests! Thank you again!

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lesbianoms · 1 year ago

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I want to give a girl a bellyache.

I want to be hungrily devoured along with some beer or other fizzy drinks, some of the greasiest foods known to man, and a whole bunch of candy that’ll definitely make her insides bubble like firecrackers.

I want her tummy to be firm and bloated beyond belief as she sits back and rubs over it, hoping she can get things in her system moving. That fat, rumbling tum demands attention. And because of me, it’s incredibly tight and rock hard… <3

I want those heavenly, sultry gurgles and burbling gasses from within her belly to be mixed with my muffled whimpers as I try so desperately to find wiggle room in that slimy sac full of half-digested food and warm, warm acids…

Eventually I'd probably get comfortable enough to sit still and digest, but it would definitely take awhile. My struggles from inside would be like sharp pangs of overindulgence to her, and I'd hear her cute little moans and groans echo all around me...

As I’d curl up in her belly, my goal would be to try and get her to burp ❤️ she’s already squeaking out some soft, muffled *urraps* because of all the sloshy foam and trapped gas that’s in there with me… but I wanna hear her belch 🫧🫧

Squirming desperately inside a woman’s painfully tight tum and eventually stewing away sounds like a dream right now… I love being feisty prey sometimes

And besides, when I do eventually churn into soft sludge… I can only imagine how euphoric it must feel for my pred, as she feels the pressure loosen inside her. Now her powerful gut can finally get to work digesting everything else…

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milkman-zahhak · 5 months ago

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Shane's overindulgence at the desert festival

(WARNING. KINK CONTENT AHEAD. READ TAGS FOR SPECIFICS. PLEASE JUST IGNORE IF THIS ISNT YOUR THING)

A quick, messy drawing. It took me all day (lightning fast speeds compared to my usual..) but whatever, it's for me and I like it enough. I decided not to stress myself out about the parts I couldn't draw, like the one hand or the feet. Lol.

I also wrote a short shitty fanfic to go along with it. Maybe help the immersion. Idk. Fanfic below the cut. Sorry for the abrupt ending, I don't wanna make it too long.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆

As the warm wind blew across the desert horizon, Shane stood proudly amidst the bustling crowd of his fellow villagers at the Desert Festival. His eyes sparkled with delight and determination as he made a beeline for the concessions stands. He turned to the farmer, his husband, and let him know about his plan before his lover inevitably wandered off to go explore those freaky skull caves until midnight, as usual. "Heh, remind me to brush my teeth tonight..." Shane chuckled to himself, "...there's 12 unique soda flavors, and I'm on track to try them all." He bought his drinks and sat at the table right next to the food stand. He took a deep breath and raised the first bottlr to his lips, savoring the sweet, fizzy sensation as the liquid danced across his tongue. It tasted pretty damn good. Truthfully, Shane didn't really have that great of a concept for the amount of food/drink intake that can be considered a "sample", after all, he's not some pompous fancy jerk who samples things on the regular. And soda isn't nearly as bad as alcohol, so if anything, indulging in stuff like this was beneficial to his recovery! (<- what he tells himself) With enthusiasm radiating from his every pore, Shane approached the colorful soda stack in front of him on the table with excitement, each bottle promising a new taste adventure. He eyed the rainbow array of liquids, the anticipation making his mouth water. One by one, he carefully selected each flavor, evaluating the flavors, making sure he gave every drink an equal and fair judgement by making sure to taste the whole thing.

As the day wore on, Shane's sips became slower, more deliberate, as he spent his day at the desert festival in a quiet corner chugging soda instead of participating in the main activities. The small crowd around the food vendors seemed to fade away as the hours passed, everyone either competing in the various challenges and games, or heading home. The annoying chatter of people was replaced by a symphony of fizzes and gulps as he swallowed. About halfway through the soda selection, Shane was starting to feel the effects stack up. Each flavor was unique and tantalizing, from the tangy zest of lemon to the exotic allure of starfruit– some flavors were of foods, which he didnt even know how they managed to make into sodas, but they tasted interesting enough that he didn't really care to dwell on it. The first signs of discomfort (or discomfort that interupted his activities, at least) appeared after the seventh sample, a faint rumbling in his stomach accompanied by a bloated feeling. Shane chuckled nervously, rubbing his distended belly as he continued on his quest. The laughter petered out into silence as he realized just how full he was getting. Years of near-deadly alcoholism had cursed him with a bit of a beer gut, but nothing unusual by any means. Shane's physique was far from his highschool gridball days, his flesh now squishy to the touch, but he was healthy enough, he thought. What is unusual right now is that his usually soft belly is starting to feel kinda.. firm. And more-than-kinda loud.

By the ninth flavor, his once doughy abdomen had inflated like a balloon, straining against his shirt. Bubbles of gas formed from all the carbonation, and started to escape from the confines of his stomach, causing him to emit small, embarrassed burps. Despite the discomfort, Shane remained resolute, determined to taste all twelve flavors. His hand moved mechanically to cover his mouth when he felt the signs of an oncoming burp, muffling the sounds as best he could. The few people around him cast curious glances, but he paid them no mind, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He could already feel the pressure building, the gas fighting for release. "*urp... uurp.. * Oh boy..." he mumbled, eying the last few samples with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Reassuring himself that this is childs-play, it's fucking soda for crying out loud, he's gotta drink something. And this is like the tamest kind of drink besides plain water, right? Shane reached for the tenth flavor - a bright blue concoction that promised a taste of ancient fruit. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of fizziness. As the cool liquid hit his tongue, his stomach rebelled, sending ripples of gas upwards. "*uuurgh*" Shane groaned, his hand flying to his mouth to suppress a much larger belch. *urp.. bhu-uORP* "oof, nnf.." he grunted, before being interupted by a deep, wet, belch.

*bluuuu-UUuurppp* Eyes watering, he forced himself to swallow, the pressure inside him growing exponentially. His cheeks puffed out as he held in a second belch, and he could feel the soda sloshing around in his overfilled stomach. His fellow townsfolk werent anywhere nearby, thankfully. The few people left seemed to all be across the street on the other side, chatting idly amongst themselves. Either due to the late hour or perhaps the sketchyness of street food. He didn't care; he was so close to achieving his goal.

The final two flavors were a blur of sweetness and bubbles. He barely even noticed the flavor anymore. As he brought the bottle to his lips one last time, Shane's stomach lurched violently. He swallowed hard, the sensation of his belly straining against his shorts waa almost unbearable. "*burp* There... *huff* ...we...go..." He managed to choke out between sips, each swallow more difficult than the last. Finally, with a triumphant cry, he downed the final drops and tossed the empty bottle aside and away from his hands, as they instead flew to his stomach, massaging the taut surface as it churned and gurgled. "*uuorlp* Ugh..." He groaned, feeling the full weight of his accomplishment settling heavily in his gut. His stomach was a swollen, gassy mess, but the thrill of victory surged through him, pushing aside the discomfort - at least for a moment. Then, as the reality of his situation set in, Shane couldn't help but wijce with every deep breath. "*hurp* Well, I did it... I sampled every flavor... ugh... All 12! But my poor stomach..." Another burp escaped him, preceeded by a sickly churning in his stomach. He winced at every deep breath he took, rubbing his distended belly tenderly. He couldn't even help it as air was forced up his throat with nowhere else to go inside of his straining stomach. Shane swallowed reflexively after this burp, as if he was afraid of how it would end. It tasted like a sour amalgamation of all the sodas he's drank that day. He grimaced and clutched a handful of fabric from the less-tight parts of his shirt before loosening his grip and resuming the gentle rubbing of his taut belly. "M-my poor stomach... isn't letting me forget the taste of any of them... "*hic-ouurlp* ugh... bleck"

Every shift in movement would cause an audible slosh, The (literal) weight of his soda taste testing was hitting him full force. Anxiety crept into his mind as he realized he has to go home at some point. He has to stand up, get out of this chair, and get on the bus back to stardew valley, and somehow waddle back to the farm. It was getting late. Almost 9pm, and here he is, focusing on his breathing so that he doesn't spew a rainbow waterfall. He takes off his jacket, one he regrets wearing to the desert, leans back and groans. This is going to be a long, long night.

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billthedrake · 1 year ago

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I was inspired by the latest hot story by @maturedadsandmen. He gave me the blessing to write a riff on the premise. It started out as a prequel but became something else. Thanks to him for the inspiration and for the permission to let me adapt his idea.

WHAT HAPPENS IN FRANKFURT

"So, Trent..." I said as we settled into the business-class seats on the transatlantic leg of our flight. "Whadya have to promise Becky to get to come for a week?"

My friend and golf buddy shrugged. He's a big guy, 6'5", real muscular with a good deal of middle aged padding on his thick, ex-jock beef. Good thing I had scored the plush seats with my miles, because I couldn't imagine the poor guy squeezing into economy. Even now in his jeans and button-down shirt, the sight of him got me going. From the twinkle in his eyes, I could tell he was maybe feeling the same about me.

"It's not a week," he corrected.

"Pretty close," I smiled. We were flying to Frankfurt for the Chiefs-Dolphins game, but tacking on a few days in Bavaria for the typical guy-trip stuff. Beer halls and outdoors time. Stuff our wives had no interest in.

"I didn't have to promise Becky anything... what, is that something Heather expects?" he asked with genuine surprise.

I nodded. "Fuck yeah, that's something she expects," I said. "She's already planning the Napa wine trip."

Trent smiled. He had a personality that was laid back almost to the point of being taciturn, so I always found him especially handsome when he smiled.

Yeah, me and Trent have a thing. A sexual connection, an affair, whatever you want to call it. Sometimes we talk about it, sometimes we sweep the complications under the rug. But it had been a solid six months since our last time having sex and with the prospect of this trip together for six days, there was just this unspoken sexual tension between us. SOMETHING was gonna happen, all right.

"Didn't she just do that for one of her girls trips?" my friend chuckled.

Our wives got along OK but weren't close friends outside of my and Trent's bond. I was always surprised that Trent was able to keep up with my wife's doings.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Only she wants to go back with just me. You know, do something romantic. I don't even wanna know how much the cases of wine are gonna set me back."

That got a belly laugh out of my buddy. It was a running joke between us. He was the hunky ex-football player who ran his own construction company. I was the number-crunching corporate exec who admittedly had the MUCH deeper bisexual streak, to the point I carried around a lot of what-ifs in my middle age. But I was the one who was more bro-ish. Maybe I wasn't quite the sexist asshole I played up, but Trent gave me some real eye rolls from time to time.

"You can afford it, buddy," he chastised me. "And a lot fucking more."

I started to reply but he held up a finger in warning. "Don't you even pull that 'happy wife, happy life' BS." He was smirking.

"Dude... you gonna bust my balls this whole trip?"

I saw a naughty look sweep across my buddys masculine, handsome face as he leaned. "Whaddya think, Josh?"

I bit my lip and did as casual a crotch adjustment as I could. Trent had given me a full-on boner.

I knew Trent was chubbed too. It had been THAT long since we'd fooled around. Sometimes it was lack of opportunity, but my buddy likes to put the breaks on a lot. Probably for the best, since I had zero self-control, around him or in general. When I was 35 I had to vow never to go to Vegas again. This affair had a different kind of high stakes, but it felt like an extension of my addictive personality.

But my hunky buddy was pulling back now, putting in his earbud and pulling up his iPad to watch some shows he'd downloaded.

I had a book. Some stupid spy novel that let me get my mind off of work. Trent teased me for bringing the office with me, and on the first leg I'd caught up on a bunch of emails. I'd have more stuff to do in Germany, but I'd worry about that later. Trent told me I should set boundaries with my company, but hell it was my work travel that was getting us these business class seats and the hotel rooms on points and I'd probably cover the majority of our meals, too...

I took a breath and paused. I had this dickish thing where I'd enjoy treating people in my life - spoiling my wife or picking up the tab with my buddies - then I'd get resentful or controlling. I was lucky to have a travel buddy like Trent. Even if we didn't suck or fuck at all this next week. Though God knows I hope we did.

I put on my noise-canceling headphones and picked up my book.

****

"You gentlemen here for the game?" the concierge asked.

I'd booked us at a chain hotel in the old city. The guy at the desk was in the typical hotel uniform - vest and tie - and I was immediately attracted to him. Early 30s I'd guess, light brown hair, almost boyish in his handsome looks, though he had the kind of athletic build that comes with doing sports, maybe soccer, or rock climbing or something. I had a soft spot for German guys, I'll admit. They always seemed to have that boy next door thing going on, with a naughty side beneath.

Or maybe it was just the slightly clipped, more formal accent.

"Yes, sir," Trent said. "You got a lot of folks in town for it, I suppose." It was a trip to see my not-so-chatty buddy get all Midwest now that he was abroad.

I couldn't tell if the desk man was trying to humor us, but he replied back to Trent's small talk with a smile. "It seems so, yes."

I felt like I had to pull Trent away. He was asking for restaurant and bar recommendations, asking for the guy's first name, the whole works.

"What?" he asked, not quite annoyed as I shook my head in the elevator.

"Dude, you don't know how much I'm looking forward to a hot shower. Wash some of that jet lag off."

He seemed contrite. "You should have told me buddy. I honestly didn't think we'd get into the room early." It was nearly noon, but we were ahead of check-in time a little.

"I guess it'll be good to stretch the legs some this afternoon, get in some sun and fresh air?"

He nodded. "Looks like a nice day."

We rolled our luggage down to our rooms and entered the clean but soulless business hotel room.

"You go first," he said. "I'm gonna call Becky and let her know we're here." I knew from Trent's account that his wife was an early riser, a yoga devotee who got an early start on her day. I'd text Heather in a bit and call her later.

"Yep," I said, already pulling off my sweatshirt and kicking off my sneakers.

The shower felt good. No, it felt great. I could have stood under for much longer, but I didn't want to hold things up. I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and turned off the water. I was just as quick drying off and putting product in my hair. I took one look in the mirror. Not so bad for 46, I thought. I'd gotten into Crossfit lately and tried to eat clean, saving beer and junk food for game days or the nineteenth hole with the guys. I was shorter than Trent, 5'9" and some, even if I rounded up to 5'10" when I told people my height. Everything was looking pretty sculpted and hard and compact, and the thick blond fur on my torso was groomed and trimmed.

"You fucking narcissist," I thought. I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the door, letting the steam out.

"Damn, that felt nice," I said to Trent. He was waiting for me, stripped down to his boxer briefs. It took me a second to realize what was in his hand, but it was a portable enema kit.

"I know you wanna hit the sights, buddy... but maybe I can clean out for you, first?" he asked. An excited glint in his eye but also some embarrassment. It had taken some convincing to get my hunky friend to bottom for me and even more sweet talking to get him to do a deeper prep. But it turns out Trent loved getting his ass eaten out, and he knew I'd go at it more freely and fervently if he was squeaky clean.

"God yes," I said. "I guess vacation starts for real, huh?" I said. Already I was chubbing beneath the towel.

He nodded with a grin, clearly excited by how easily I got turned on.

I let him do his thing while I texted Heather and answered a couple of work emails. I set down my phone and took off my towel, hanging it up in the closet. I pulled down the sheets on one of the double beds. My dick wasn't hard at first but as I lay down naked, I thought of Trent's hunky ass and meaty body. I thought of the reception guy and what it would be like to watch him and Trent go at it before I came in and fucked that German stud hard and fast from behind.

I was rock hard now. I thought of picking my phone back up and scrolling through some porn but decided I'd enjoy the more purely mental excitement I was filling. Just enjoy the moment of being in a hotel room with my good buddy and sometimes fuck buddy. For a whole week. I shut my eyes and let my sexual fantasies visualize themselves.

"Dang," I heard, snapping my eyes open. Maybe I'd been dozing some, but apparently my prick wasn't. "I never get sick of seeing that cock of yours."

I'm not huge, but I'm big, and my endowment looks bigger on my frame. I smiled and spread my legs, showing my meat off to Trent.

"OK if I suck it first?" he said, stepping up. In the big mitt of his right hand he had a small bottle of lube, which he set on the night stand.

"When have I ever said no to that?" I asked.

"Bro," Trent retorted, "You're such an ass-man... you can have a one-track mind sometimes." I felt defensive and I was gonna say something, but Trent got on all fours and crawled toward me. He was such a big guy, tall and beefy, that it was never anything short of mind-blowing to see him in such a posture. Already his hand was on my quad muscle, rubbing it in a way that sent electricity right to my boner. "It's OK bud. It's a good look on you," he said in a hushed, sexy voice.

Then he leaned forward to get a closer look at my crotch. Inches away close, and I could feel his breath on my dong. Trent's brown eyes were on my dick, only flitting up to my face occasionally.

"What happens in Frankfurt, right?" he growled.

"Fuck yeah," I hissed. When I started up with my buddy, I just thought I was scratching that bisexual itch. And yeah it was naughty fun. Clearly I fantasized about other men, too. But I was coming face to face with the reality that no one turned me on so much or so effortlessly like my 52 year old friend.

His first licks were a get-reacquainted approach. It had been a while since he'd taken care of me. I sucked him too, and on a blue moon bottomed for the stud. But this is what we did the first time we fooled around, and it felt like our own private anniversary ritual.

"That's it, buddy," I hissed. Trent had that combo of not-quite-skilled and very enthusiastic that appealed to me more than I realized. Outside of my times with Trent, I'd only had dude sex a couple times behind Heather's back, and those guys were better cocksuckers. But not better, you know? They weren't Trent Grayson.

My buddy coughed some on my dick as he swallowed more. Not a gag, but a grunt that said he was fighting back that initial reflex. Instantly my fingers went to the back of his neck. "Easy, bro... you got this."

He did, too. After that initial shock, he was working more of me into his gullet, over and over, faster and faster.

"FUCK!" I gasped, my eyes wide as I watched my best bud deep throat me with silky steady mouth strokes. "Buddy... if you don't let up," I warned, my breath ragged. I normally wasn't this quick at the draw, but I hadn't gotten off the last couple of days. My balls were drawn up tight.

Trent spit me out, a satisfied smile on his face. He knew he'd done a great job.

"You been practicing?" I asked. "You haven't done THAT before," I said.

"I may have gotten a toy to work on," he admitted with a wink.

"Yeah?" I asked, my chest heaving in excitement. My dick was twitching in time with my heartbeat. "When was that, bud?"

Those brown eyes were hungry and playful and sexy as fuck. "When we booked this trip."

"And here I was worried I was gonna push up against some boundaries with you this week," I said.

Trent nodded and leaned up. He was excited all right, his medium-sized tool rock hard and wet at the tip. My buddy had a beefy build that was something shy of a dad bod, but he was real and muscled head to toe, and his size meant he carried the mid-section girth well. "You probably will," he answered honestly. "Hell, I know you well, Josh," he added.

"Yeah," I admitted. Chastised some. I was the one of us who got carried away. But this man was so incredible, body and soul.

Trent didn't seem too fazed. Or maybe the sexual heat was winning out. He turned to face away from me so I could see that broad back, that short hair cut with the gray fringe and the balding spot on top, that round daddy ass fitting a tall, athletic man.

That ass was backing up toward, the buns getting closer. Trent didn't shave down there, he somehow naturally had a smooth ass, except for deep in the crack.

"You gonna...?" I asked. Or started to ask. Already the big guy was leaning forward and spreading his legs, opening that crevice right up for my gaze. Softly furry with that neglected crinkled pucker in the center, freshly cleaned for me.

My hands were already on his butt doing the rest of the work to part the cheeks as I dove in.

"Oh god yes," Trent hissed. "I've been thinking about this... so much."

I licked softly at first. Giving some gentle kisses beween a more exploratory approach to his hole and trench. Then I gripped his ass more tightly and started drilling in. I couldn't even say I was an expert at rimming. I just loved it and went at it, hard. Slurping and sucking. Munching and tonguing. Alternating my moves in part because I just fricking loved it all.

Trent loved it too. I still think he had hang ups when it came to anal. I know I did. We were two men unwilling to relinquish what we considered the more masculine role. I'd probably put up with his misgivings this week, and he might try to break down my hesitation to bottom. We'd see. For now, though, it was clear that I was even more into eating out a male cunt than actual pussy, and Trent enjoyed the oral treatment to his hole.

Finally, I pulled back, practically growling into his spit wet trench. "Dude, I gotta be in you. Now."

I expected some pushback, but instead Trent was scrambling his big body. Moving forward and pivoting around. His prick was outright dripping now, a thin strand of clear sap swayed from his tip. I wondered how many days he'd held off from sex or jerking off.

Hurriedly he reached over and got some lube in his palm, eagerly reaching back behind. "Let me ride," he said. "It's been a while."

I nodded and rode out a deep couple of breaths while he lined my prick up to his wet buns and settled back on me.

The initial penetration stung some for him, but quickly he relaxed.

"That's nice," he muttered as he sank down a couple more inches. He got a grin on his face. "I love how hard you get, Josh."

"Jesus buddy," I hissed. I'd had to sweet talk him into barebacking a little over a year ago. Now, every time I entered him was pure bliss. Silky, warm, and drum-tight. "I'm like that everytime I'm with you."

"I know," Trent replied. "I fucking love it." He settled further back and my cock popped past the last bit of tightness. Suddenly, Trent was sitting all the way in my lap and his guts were gripping my boner in spasms.

"You good?" I asked with concern. But a little hesitant to ask, because this was all VERY good for me.

"Yep," he said. He reached down and wrapped his lubey fist around his hard on, smearing this own sap to add to the slickness. His initial strokes made his ass clench down tighter on me, then the self pleasuring helped his body relax into it.

Within a minute of settling down on me, Trent began to lift his burly body up off my dick a couple of inches, only to swivel back down.

This was the almost feminine part of our mating that Trent felt self conscious about. Working my bone with a slutty hip motion. But I'd told him that starting slower is much better for me, and it turned out to be better for Trent, letting him build up the stimulation of his prostate as we locked eyes.

Our fuck was silent now, other than the sloshy slick sounds where his ass connected to my dick and the soft bounce of the bed. Trent's a heavy man, in the mid 200s on the scale, and my dense muscle added to it, too.

I watched him get into it, watch the pleasure grow on his face. This is what surprised me with Trent. I thought sex with dudes was simply about getting my rocks off, but I loved giving this man pleasure. Giving him an orgasm. I was about to give him one now.

"You're getting close," he said in his deep gravely voice. Not a question. Trent could read it on my face, register my impending cum before I did.

"Oh yeah," I hissed. It was arriving fast now, that crest of pleasure, like an ocean swell that breaks right in front of you. My fingers gripped his hard quads, maybe a little too hard, just seconds before I felt his hot spray of semen jet onto my bare chest muscle. Then another, then another. All heavy wads of bleachy-floral seed raining onto me. I was pounding out a mammoth load from this beautiful man.

My own cock was firing now, matching Trent's in its heaviness. "Fuck!" I whimpered. Trent sometimes teased me for the way my voice would get higher pitched when I came. But our nearly simultaneous O meant we were synched in our lust and deep connection.

Finally Trent's hips slowed and he eased off. Some semen came out on the dismount but he clenched up to stop the rest as he plopped down on the spare side of the bed. The double mattress didn't hold out two big bodies easily, Trent's especially but he kind of snuggled up to me in an uncharacteristic intimacy and rested his face on my shoulder. Lazily his hands ran along my torso, smearing his own cum into my chest fur.

"You have an incredible body, Josh," he said.

My dick hadn't gone down. I was drained and not ready to fuck again or anything, but I was still pretty keyed up. I kissed his forehead. I didn't want to push the guy too far but figured he'd initiated this closeness. "Yeah?" I asked. I knew we enjoyed a physical chemistry, but Trent had never complimented me like this, even though I sometimes gushed over his body.

He ran his hand down my ripped abs. I didn't have the body of a 26 year old, but I kept my core tight and knotted.

"I've been afraid to tell you," he said.

"Really?" I asked. Trent didn't seem to be afraid of things.

"You can get a little conceited," he said, brusquely.

This was the Trent-and-Josh thing. Teasing each other. Humble guy and the corporate exec. But something about his words seemed to cut deeper. "I don't know what to say," I said softly.

He patted my stomach. "You're you, Josh. I understand ya, buddy. And I know I'm not easy to get along with." His hand drifted lower and wrapped around my cock, which was still rigid as just a minute earlier. "In all fairness, you have good reason to be conceited."

I wanted to kiss this guy, so bad, but that was against our bro code. "If I get to be too much, buddy..." I started. "Well, I just don't want this week to be weird."

Trent looked up. "It's not gonna be weird, Josh. Football... beer... hot steamy hotel sex... what more can you want?"

"Nothing, man," I growled. I enjoyed the soft touch of his hand as he explored my dick. Finally with a sigh, I spoke up, "I will absolutely fall asleep if we keep lying here... maybe get out for a bit?"

Trent didn't answer but just scooted away from our tight embrace, edging his big tall body off the bed. I watched him walk to the bathroom to clean off.

Somehow, the spell had been broken.

#drakestories

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lilbluebastard · 6 months ago

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I’m sorry but here’s my headcannons for Leland because I’m bored 😭

- Leland is definitely a coffee and donuts man, he loves chocolates donuts with vanilla cream filling , he likes his coffee black because he’s a monster , no creamer no sugar 😔

- snores louder then the amber alerts

- he’s into woman of all sizes (he’s a raging bisexual but he’s mostly into woman in my opinion but he will fuck a man, he ain’t afraid 💙)

-he’s got a beer belly, that man may be strong but I can’t see him with a six pack that’s literally nightmare fuel for me 😭

- he stinks…….like burnt meat, burnt hair , alcohol 😭

-smokes a lot but takes his time with cigarettes, savers the taste and sometimes chokes on the smoke lol

- drinks beer, but only American brands

-has a hard time reading and can’t spell certain words

- cries sometimes but if he gets caught he’ll beat your ass

- will call gay men the f-slur knowing full well his ass is bisexual (but he don’t care, he’s Leland Coyle, the most racist and homophobic man you’ll ever meet)

- has limits which are children, he may be a horrible man but his limits are children, he will never ever in his entire life hurt a child ( from his experiences from his poor childhood he’d rather protect children then hurt them💙)

I like to think he’s still a good guy, he just needs to soften up a bit 💙

But yeah that’s about it for now lol, maybe I’ll do other characters

If you disagree tell me and if you wanna here more also tell me

#leland coyle #Coyle #officer coyle #my headcanons #just some silly stuff

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hungrykeaton · 2 years ago

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Ugh ordered way too much food tonight... my pants already feeling tight again around my swelling waist while I keep pushing food past my lips. My gut feels so fucking STUFFED right now. The double patty burger was 2/3 of a pound and then all those spicy wings on top, but I just kept eating it all like the good fat hog that I am.

God I just wanna eat all night and feel my gut swelling up underneath as I’m helpless to just keep on gorging on more and more bags of food. I want to feel my belly so tight that I can barely breath, and then be forced to eat more.

I had some beer during this one and not only did it bloat me up, but it made me feel like I could just keep eating and push past how full my gut felt. God I’m such a dumb stuffed fat hog who just can’t stop eating.

Need to eat more tonight I think too... need to eat until I literally am bellowing in pain and unable to get off my bed. I just can’t stop. Umf I just want to be stuffed out of my mind with a gut so full I can’t ignore. Need a goddess to keep telling me that I’m eating too much but also just keeps telling me to eat even MORE. 😩

#pics #keaton #stuffing

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joannasteez · 6 months ago

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tanks of blood (5) - the trouble was always here

pairings: biker!cody rhodes x black reader, biker!roman reigns x black reader (mentioned) warnings: FLUFF! descriptions that imply stalking. explicit descriptions of blood and violence. dialogue and descriptions pertaining to guns. cody being kinda simpy (he’s so adorable) roman being a jerk still (he’ll come around) authors note: a present day chapter!!! w/ a full cody perspective because we haven't gotten that yet. finally a little cody and roman interaction. thanks for 1700 followers btw!!! word count: 8800 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @sortudademais @gg-trini @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce

...m'not tryin to cause trouble for you...

...you don't wanna cause trouble anymore...

cody had felt the premature slight of his own words then. those few weeks ago, amongst the wordless overly cool diner air and lukewarm food. and then felt it again as he said it. your eyes tired and cautious—dim and slipping into sleep just after the end of a twelve hour shift—suddenly veering off into something less meek and weary. indignation a bright flare as it woke you up to be less inviting. and cody was still suffering the trickle down effects of that somewhat exhaustive empty diner reunion, along with the onslaught of a new torrential down pour of bullshit caused by his president's drunken tantrum. the diner situation was a mild disagreement. a brakeless drive of frustration that he meant, but did not mean to say. and he'd said the thing that you'd always hated. "don't be dense". a stupid fucking move on his part. it made maneuvering the funeral—God rest's richie's soul—a few days after, awkward and God awful. cody hoped it was something worth leaving to cool off. a dissipation that would make way for a fresh slate. and he'd made headway, little as it was but he was getting his footing again with you. but roman. oh his president and fearless fucking leader. he just had to muddy the water.

and all of that humble, earnest desire—despite the hesitancies—to return back into the fold that was the world of the bloodline, to go generally unscathed, had been destroyed. by whiskey-beer inspired words and the wrath of a bruised man. because yes, roman had performed so well in chilling over since their youth, that now he was bruised. marred and undone, that much cody knew. a spoiled over bitterness that sometimes made for thick and difficult to breathe in air. a siphoning of the room to please him self. to revitalize whatever'd been lost. and unfortunately, to your credit, you'd done well at stealing away such heavy grief, turning the funeral into a reunion. but roman couldn't just sit still in his shit. he had to spread and smear about his anger. a tantrum that sent you home quiet. a silence cody was made to suffer through because he'd taken it upon himself to be your ride to and from such an event of a funeral. made to suffer because he cared.

but that service and burial for richie, in the grand scheme of cody's long anxious waiting, had been just two weeks ago. two long weeks of silence. and yeah maybe it was partially on him. mostly roman's doing but maybe him too. 'you don't wanna cause trouble anymore', the overripe cherry on top of already stale cake.

in essence, you were doing his bidding. because avoidance of the bloodline meant free from trouble, as scathing as that thought feels to him. but cody isn't above admitting it. the forming of something harsh and sickly in his belly. a hollowness that drains his skin. not hearing from you is odd. something he hates.

-monday. the first week in june-

text message | incoming: need your help

text message | cody r: ?

text message | incoming: car is fucked

text message | cody r: glad to know i can hear from you if you need something

text message | incoming: 12 hour shifts are a bitch. so sorry for not checkin in every second of the day...was trying to keep away from all this trouble i'm apparently causing. my bad.

text message | cody r: where are you?

text message | incoming: the house

text message | cody r: be there soon.

and maybe it's the june heat getting to him, the bare down of the sun muddying his sensibilities till they roll over and form newer with these streaks of entitlement. an entitlement he'd never profess outwardly. never claim to outside of loose thoughts and the nagging linger of other truths kept unsaid. but cody—and God does this sound awful even as he thinks it—much prefers you away from pensacola. away from home. because in those times, his willingness to please you was nothing more than some shapeless desire. something he would do if he could. a possibility. the distance keeping the brunt of his feelings at bay. but having you here—as much as it makes him happy—seems to cause more issues than he'd like. because issues mean a loose fumbling grasp at things. a lack of control. because now he'll actually have to acknowledge the burn in his belly when you look at him. the prick of heat over his skin when you say his name. your anger influencing discomfort till he makes it right. he'd have to—amidst such a cryptic life—be honest about deeply buried thoughts. the hidden things he's always promised to himself to keep hidden.

and maybe thats why his words slipped out so loose and fast and inconsiderate. 'you don't wanna cause trouble anymore', because bits of that trouble include a deep unearthing of his own shit.

because roman isn't the only one troubled and undone about you.

cody's teeth suck. a quick, easy, manifestation of displeasure. because he doesn't stay put and he doesn't drag his feet either. he moves with purpose. present mechanic duties forgotten along with the old and janky BL AUTO sign behind him as he shifts his weight up and into a tow truck. displeasure because maybe his selflessness is more than just a base line compassion. but servile? no. cody isn't that. but as he backs out with a reverse and drives off to meet at your place, your parents old house, he feels his stomach coil up in a way that burdens him wholly. a feeling that has only performed well enough on rare occasions. a tight ball settled at the base of his belly, his chest going on with an irregular beating and cody thinks it's all so damn pitiful. years and years of a slow simmering, never quite getting to the rapid chaos of a boil but hot all the same. but if not for the tease of it than what else was there to have? what other possibility could there be for him besides the grand swarming performance of butterflies. his eyes rolling as he drives. twenty something again. with this particular thing, he still isn't ready to name, cody is in a perpetual state of being that twenty something guy.

the blare of a horn pulls him up and out of his harboring. the street light apparently green for sometime.

and he decides—because he's in control, he swears—to leave it be. to allow his body to process the sensations. an attempt at emotional extraction from the physicality of it. because it's not butterflies if you don't call it butterflies. because names give things meaning. a process he's done time and time again. evasion easy and efficient.

because he's towed plenty of cars. fixed plenty of cars. this would be the same as the others. no emotional weight and ancient histories involved. because cody has the control to will it so.

and the settling of this process gives him freedom. enough to slip back into the familiar. something that lacks such sentimental complexity. cody observes. the roads, the weather, the cars. taking a fine tooth comb through the details.

"the underestimations is what gets you son. don't let em get you".

dusty's voice curling about his left ear. riding just under the flow of a summer breeze. and cody never knew his father to be wrong about anything.

"always take note of the scene son".

the regularity of the day but a facade. sunny and warm and unsuspecting. but cody knows enough to know that the mere face of a thing is not the representation of the inward parts. that if you look well enough for a thing, it will appear with a clear exposure. and the drive to your fathers house is both familiar and burdening. the pensacola heat and the sentiments of faraway memory attempting with much fight to dull his senses. streetlights he's passed and roads he's turned down before. the only difference now being your presence. and there goes the curl in of his belly. his words refusing to form into truth even inwardly still, to spell out the feelings. feelings he thought quelled. it's something he so obviously needs to work on. his eyes flitting to his rearview mirror, breaking away from those too ardent thoughts.

a gray chevrolet ss maybe? the model he's unsure. but he's fixed many a chevy to know that its a chevy.

cody turns a corner, and with him turns the chevy. something he doesn't think much of. giving the wheels of the tow truck an easy ride for a few miles or so. but the chevy remains a comfortable distance behind him. cody takes a test turn. an abrupt right that veers him slightly off course.

but his truck isn't a pain to follow. the size of it easy to make out. losing the tail from such a spur of the moment turn before it appears again. behind him and steady. the windows tinted.

his ears burn warm. fingers itching.

cody rolls into the beginning of your block. double parking several doors down before quickly exiting the tow truck. his fingers slipping out his shades as his feet kick up loose gravel. the tint of them blocking the harsh beat down of daylight. the chevy rolling by at a slower pace, something done to very obviously piss him off, before it continues down the block and out of his sight. his eye looking to catch the plates.

C47-6BQ. repeating it to himself for good measure.

and something in cody jostles. a squick sinking in his belly as his nerves go on disturbed. twisting to perform well in his gut. a sickening swim of intuition. the weight of an impending viciousness. a feeling he knows all too intimately well. amidst the quiet breezy heat of the afternoon, the tips of his ears warm and his fists balling. thumbs working to skim his knuckles. always restless and ready. but the quiet is nothing if not the surface of a deepened well, endless in its depth and muddy. filled with slow to die creeping things. problems thought fixed rearing with an ugliness. but these are the worst of his worries. the what if thoughts that take over him. making him restless, but ready. cody is always ready. headaches persistent from an overworking. C47-6BQ. florida plates. a gray chevy ss that drives slow. to what? to taunt him? a warning maybe?

an acknowledgement.

he hadn't agreed that night to do what they did. feeling the inner parts of him growing soft and malleable. but messages need clear words. there was, is, never any room to mince words when so little of them were at their disposal in any useful way. actions more concrete than anything that could ever be said.

KG's house, your house now, closer to him. his feet growing slower. knuckles working still in tandem with the blooming of a familiar knocking in his skull.

he'd voted for something more diplomatic. a message that read like an advisory. some agreed. seth and jey and sami.

"this ain't the fucking UN. we ain't working to save face on foreign affairs".

roman had spat that out. riled up and the ball of his fists demanding. and he couldn't be persuaded otherwise.

and that particular tasting of whiskey was hell to swallow. these slivers of guilt nestling along the bite of it. the bottle passed from man to man and mouth to mouth. a partaking sip that was as vicious as it was fraternal. a dirty burn at the back of cody's throat, before the bottle was poured out over nico jeff's back. dean's fingers working to bring about the quick flick of a match before it'd been tossed hot. the soul crush of a scream and the sizzling singe of skin. and maybe this gray chevy SS is the beginning results of a lack in diplomatic flair. and maybe it isn't. maybe cody's restlessness has finally deadened his intuition, his edge. but cody is his fathers son. and cody has never seen his father be wrong. even beyond death and the grave.

it'd been reckless. an eager show of power where such theatrics need not exist. but cody's opinions have not had room for proper growth in sometime, especially not now.

and as cody twists the house key into your front door—a key he acquired sometime after KG's death—he feels that bursting in his belly. that pulling, nagging feeling. skin skittish and his eyes taking to the quiet of the block again. waiting for what? well he's not sure but he waits anyways. painstaking seconds where the dread feels most sure, amidst the stillness, just before the coming in of the storm.

he wants to be wrong about this. strong, tired fingers twisting the knob to step over the threshold. and he wants to be wrong about his preferences too. wants to feel the guilt of his entitlement, of not wanting you here. but even that wars with other desires. fingers itching to touch you. to hear your voice without the disruptive tone of radio waves.

his head ache taunting him. playing about his skull easy. your movements swift and urgent as you move about the living room. seemingly on a mission. heaps of moving boxes everywhere still. the house cluttered and undone by such abrupt use after years of loneliness.

cody knocks. stepping in fully.

your attention shifting just barely. a half of a half of an acknowledgment that plummets the ball in his belly. doing well with this little game of silence. a large box in your arms as you move it to the corner of the living room.

"forgot you have a key", your eyes not meeting. occupied. a finger throwing away a gesture toward your car keys on the coffee table. "the car is right out front. i think the alternator is bad, the battery keeps going-"

"it's fuck me i guess".

and cody can't help the uncomfortableness of this. the skating around and the avoidance. the way you maneuver about and refuse him. a first time of it all that makes him bristle. because when you were in new york, he never had to deal with such bouts of silence. never had to wade through the terrible water of your indignation. there was never anything tumultuous or gut wrenching about this, playing a part in the skull knock of a headache and the overwhelming process of sifting through untouched, un-talked about feelings. it was easy and nice and shapeless. a private little thing to call his own. and God was it good and selfish. and shit what a fuck load of entitlement its caused. so very obviously existing on both ends of whatever this is. because you'd just expected him to perform. and he'd gone about it up til now without a syllable of push back.

"what?"

and the way you say it. like a sudden cluelessness of it all has so suddenly taken you. makes his nerves itch. a scratch he can't reach. his arms folding instead. a little more solid and upright. "some courtesy would be nice", a slow stride up to where you move about. his path blocked by boxes. "y'know considering the state of fucked your car is in, a hi or how you doing would be good to hear". his nerves still itching, face warring with itself not to grimace. the shuffle of boxes nearly sending him over a wall. and God after years, you knew still just how to set him off. silence eating him whole. "i'm doing fine by the way if you're wondering".

you sigh deep. like you're being inconvenienced. "are you good now? got that off your chest?"

its an abrupt movement. something he's barely processing till he's halfway through it. snatching a stack of boxes from your hands and setting them recklessly over the couch. his eyes hard. irritated.

"is there something here? what am i missing?"

because the tension of it unsettles him whole.

you side step and he's following diligently. patience thinning. he gives you no where to go.

"cody i just want my car-"

"the car stays unfixed until you talk to me. none of this icy, boxin me out shit".

your eyes cut to him. "i can do without the hostility".

"be upfront".

making him live in silence again. amongst the clutter of boxes and bright near blinding daylight. because this part of you has always been a process. something surgical and proving to need a little bit of method. a little bit of time. but cody's patience wears on him. thins his resolve. and such tiredness in of itself can only come from the deep well of care he's got stored in himself for you. and at this present moment 'care' is the word he chooses to commit to. a silent agreement. a word that explains the tensity of headaches and borderline nausea. butterfly's corralling in his belly to sicken him. an uncomfortableness in his body that only wanes with the slipping off of that face of disinterests you've worn so well till this second.

your eyes softer. struck with bits of pain.

"i'm not gonna be in places where m'not wanted. i'm not here to be a punching bag".

"so then why are you here?"

you bristle. "cody what are you-"

"i'm being serious. why are you here?"

because his curiosity has never taken him so wholly as to ask. only ever to accept the circumstance. but the validity of his question is true, enough for it to unearth an answer that carries just as much sincerity.

"this is home cody", you give him.

simple and plain and affirming all of his little ardent unpleasantries. because if this is home, and he's always been here, does that mean he's home too? does the possibility of that answer extend to others? question's maybe not to be answered today. question's maybe never to be considered outside such shapeless thought for the sake of his own poorly crafted peace of mind. because he can live with possibilities. with formless what if's and maybe's.

"good". a word that falls quick. full in the way it exists against the air. as sure as all the ones after it. "so fuck him then. don't let him and his bullshit run you out of where you wanna be. don't give him that".

because roman could shift the temperature of a thing quite easily. rooms and situations and people. could siphon the air to a blue-gray-skinned suffocation if it pleased him. hell he'd done it weeks ago. a harsh ability. so very fitting for him, for his heavy leather and even heavier boots. for the little patch that sew itself across the right side of his kutte. cody's president. his oh so fearless fucking leader.

but it doesn't mean that other things, other people can't live and last amidst the width and hot take of such pride.

and you concede. "you're right". looking to him with that full acknowledgment he'd wanted for some days. soft brown eyes warm.

"i don't think i've ever really been wrong about anything".

"shut up", a small smile against pretty lips.

his eyes catching the curve of them more than they should.

"c'mere".

and the effects of such a slow, gradual, embrace warm him over better than any afternoon cast over of the sun. relief and then the inevitable fluttering swarm of butterflies. that control he so easily subscribed to having earlier done away with as your arms circle about him. a tight enough embrace that brings about the beginning breaths of a resolution. smelling of autumn inspired things that arrest his senses. and maybe this is where those entitled preferences grow sour in their wrongness. maybe his earlier afternoon selfishness was some petulant, tired, anxious reaction. the coming back to life of twenty something thoughts and ideas. maybe seconds old him was right. more right than that slightly older him. because the rightness of the matter was only ever contingent upon where ever you were and where ever you wanted to be. and that he can agree with, if it meant an embrace this good.

his hands slip. wide and spreading at your back comfortable and innocent. your hands just the same at his arms. your fingers softly testing the strength of them. a slight press in he's all too aware of.

"you try to silent treatment me again for two weeks and we're gonna have problems", he plays. smiling down on you.

your eyes play at a roll. "m'sorry", you give him. teeth stuck to pull over your lip. your eyes flitting to his mouth before they return. a quick slip of a movement that does nothing to quell the rise of warmth in his fingers. that he felt and saw. a sensation he'll mull over the validity of later.

his palms come up to hold your cheeks. a tender hold that leaves you unable to look away from him. gentle eyes delicate in their waiting. your fingers holding his forearms. and this to cody feels like an agreement of the moment. the silent reciprocation of a not so newly born intimacy. the shapeless thing now found to have an edge. a streak of definition. new york and pensacola. the everlasting length of text messages and lasting too long phone calls. strung together words that almost say "i miss you", which could've been said if not for the fear of actually meaning it. and the fear of what meaning it means.

his thumb runs a streak at your skin. sincerity blooming dangerously pure. "m'very happy you're here. okay?"

if nothing else, the surest affirmation. cody hopes you believe him.

"okay".

and when the tension is far too real to believe in, cody falls away graciously. pulls in his touch and the daze of his eyes enough to regain the lasting bits of his composure. hands feeling empty at his sides before he's crossing his arms up over his chest. stepping over boxes again and making a sluggish path towards the door.

"i should have your car back by wednesday latest".

you advance with him. "just let me know how much i owe you".

his eyes roll. "we just had a nice bit of resolution. don't ruin it".

"cody i'm being serious".

you both linger amidst the threshold of the door. his eyes slipping over your skin to remember the softness. "i'm unfortunately aware. i'll see you soon".

and he doesn't think. finds even that its better not to harp on the why of whatever he does. and its innocent enough. an easy lingering kiss to your forehead. something terribly gentle. an accumulation of all the unspoken things. and with that he leaves. never giving himself the courtesy of seeing whatever you've decided to express in the wake of something as affectionate as his mouth on you.

-tuesday. the first week in june-

kill them with kindness. it's a pride-less phrase. suffers the body to think and act against itself. against the primitivity of instinct. bloodline born instinct. brass knuckle rings and the broken neck of a beer bottle. the drawing up of wet crimson blood and splotchy bruises to deserved skin. killing with kindness isn't cody's forte, but neither is senseless violence. because things need purpose. they need a reasonable decline into bitterness before that shameless stain of iron can dress his tongue. there has to be proper earthen ground to stand on before the strong, old nature of his leather takes him wholly.

that childish little shoulder check had been accounted for the moment it happened. along with roman's tantrum that led to your teary eyed bout of silence. and you'd never mentioned what he said, but cody felt the possibility of a violation. a deep splitting open of the skin all for the sake of proving that he could do it. that too had been accounted for. and the more he thinks on it, richie's funeral—though no funeral begins or ends well—was only a few steps from a mess. an uneven state of affairs. touch and go as they say. everything too thinly spread, and the histories now existing with too much distance. which has been, was, and is never good. because unbridged gaps promote weakness in the foundation. and naturally, roman—stuck in whatever thoughts of his own—gives no effort in making it easier.

and cody can feel it, amongst the swelter of the summer sun. the heat talking, taunting through slim breezes. their time approaching soon. a clashing up one against the other, like the stressing violence of metal against metal. he just hopes time for it is sooner than later. before the foundation is too weak to be resolved.

it's interesting though, funny even, because cody isn't a grudge keeper. doesn't go all out in the meticulous process of such an angry keeping of the score. but that faithful swarming of butterflies, care and the need to please, they use him well as a champion to do their, his inner, bidding. posing and propping him up as this great defender.

and roman makes no qualms about going unheard. unnoticed. his body tall, blotting out the spread of one of many lights shinning above your car. lips spreading in that amused way that works to cover up the lesser delighted parts of him. "if i knew we did free work i'd put up a sign or two. let the people know how generous of a business we've become". roman's hands pressing into the car to lean inward. a proximity that performs well to make anybody with sense uncomfortable. "i'm a charitable man cody, but i got my limits".

cody hums. continues the process of switching out your alternator. because you were right, the alternator was fried, causing your battery to drain. an easy enough fix for him, but roman attempting his little show of dominance didn't do much to help.

"i guess i'm just a little more compassionate".

roman chuckles. turns to lean up against the car where cody works. arms crossed and relaxed. giving him enough space to perform the fix but not enough to do it comfortably. "being a doormat isn't compassion rhodes. it's just being a doormat. humor me though..." he begins. "what's the little deal you two got set up?" roman's faux interest running annoyingly under cody's skin. "you do a little fixin' here and there and then what? she pats you on the back? gives a little scratch behind the ear? tells you how good of a boy you are for her?"

a dog? really? the abuse of it cutting into one ear and refusing to leave out the other. a deep lodging that slots up and slips in against the warmth of his blood. and yes. it's accounted for. like the ticking scratch of a pencil to check through a box. "i don't know roman you tell me". alternator be damned. the heat of the day sticking to cody ungraciously. "you got it all figured out, maybe you know something i don't. six or seven years, cause honestly who knows or gives a shit, of prior experience on the resume and all. thats a long time for skill buildin, to be wrapped around her finger".

and cody sees roman falter. the slightest bit of a half step. a small little tell so often easily missed. can feel his chest burst wild and so damn delighted. that subtle jaw twitch beneath his president’s beard.

roman is close. eyes hard, narrowing over cody's face. "it's nothing you got that's better than shit she's already had. that i can promise you".

"you keep mistaking me for someone you're in competition with".

"competition ain't a word in my vocabulary, but i'll humor you", smiling mirthless. "if it were, we're still levels apart. it's actual comedy how uneven the paying field is here".

"and you're so right about that", cody fully amused. "considering just how much she avoids even saying your name, i think i like the level i'm at".

and this was it. the steady decline into bitterness, fixed only by that warlike clashing. an affair close enough, the phantom taste of something iron, wet and pungent on cody's tongue. because it'd happened before, history always finding a way to rhyme. to unearth already thought to be dead things that were not so lifeless after all.

"hey!", the far reach of deans voice, echoing over loud against the walls of the shop. "kiss and get a room or break it up!".

cody is right. killing with kindness is treason against the body. against words and instinct. an esteem-less, pride-less thing. and he quite likes his pride.

-wednesday. the first week in june-

text message | incoming: are you busy later in the evening?

text message | cody r: shouldn't be. whats up?

text message | incoming: making dinner. you should come by.

text message | cody r: absolutely. your car is all fixed up btw. need me to bring anything else?

text message | incoming: just you❤️

it means nothing. it means, nothing. it. means. nothing. and the feeling is juvenile. overly sentimental and spilling over. a losing fight as he urges himself not to break with a smile. because cody is old, or at least old enough not to fall into such thrills reminiscent of early twenty something wish and desire. but that doesn't stop the sickly sweet churn in his belly, nor does it keep his eyes from falling over the short exchange of texts. these little flits across the screen, a short comb over, as if with the third and fourth time the letters will reappear to read something different and new and less intimate. less domestic. because he fixed your car and now he's left with the silly assumption that you're making him dinner for it. not just for him but for him all the same. and its all stupid and oddly sitting under his skin. swarming tight in his belly so much so that he walks awkwardly amongst the cloudy chill of the afternoon air. it means something, but for the sake of his peace it will have to mean all of nothing.

his stomach growling on a dangerously annoying cue. body ready to make the trip back to pensacola. marianna, florida suddenly too far from home—a mere two hour drive—for proper comfort.

but his leather keeps him bound to club business. his shoes kicking up the loose dirt of the beginnings of a wide patch of land. a ranch spreading out over for some acres. grass reaching his ankles and the air crisp with the teasing smell of rain. seth and dean marching forward just in front of him, seemingly more focused. void of an ardently born frenzy about the nerves.

and in the distance, just at the entrance of a corned off shack, steve waves them over, before disappearing inside. the scuffling walk over to the shoddy wooden build of it giving cody enough time to steel over his expression and the manner of his disposition. because they were on a ranch after all, surrounded by the easy roam of an abundance of cattle being raised commercially. a job like that surely needing an expert level of perception. perception cody is sure steve austin has. what with the stoic manner of his eyes and the mirthless pull of his mouth. always watching and quietly discerning. even with the satisfaction of good business, cody has yet to see the rancher actually smile ever. cody figures he'll save his musings for another time.

"boys", steve greets. reaching his hand to greet them. firm shakes before he's uplifting duffle bags from off the shack floor and placing them atop a wooden table. unzipping them to reveal the disassembled parts of a variety of fire arms.

"how's business steve?" dean gives, as the three of them look over the contents of the bags. touching against cool, dangerous metal.

"sometimes good, sometimes not so great, but it goes either way", his voice coarse. "m'hopin we can facilitate business well enough without issue".

"a simple pick up now and drop off later", seth starts. "it's nothing we haven't done before".

and steve hums. the noise of it short lived and singing low as it considers seth's assurance. a hum so obviously filling itself with disbelief. steve austin unpersuaded as he makes to lean up against the dusty wooden wall of the shack. blue-grey eyes falling over the three of them. "well usually our business isn't accompanied by so much of a ...spectacle, which is never simple". something like mirth taking his expression, forming wryly. "i didn't know pyro-theatrics were in you all's arena of business".

something in cody winces. a flinching of his memory as it works with a tireless hand of remembrance. smelling now amidst the earthiness of the ranch that pungent burn of alcohol and nico's skin. his screams as the sizzling melt of his flesh sings hot and dirty. the heavy disappointment felt from that night, filling cody whole once more. his insides malleable and undone by discontent. a decision made he'll always hate.

but dean chuckles the silence off. a lazy, toothy smile along with it. "we're a uh...multi act group. a variety show if you will".

"i can admire the severity of it, but also, i gotta say...", steve starts. leading them out of the shack and to their parked truck. duffle bags filling their hands as they all make way across the ranch. "...i don't like it much considering it hasn't done nothing for you all but draw some attention".

and if nothing else causes a failing in the security of cody's nerve, this does. a fast to plummet drop in his stomach and the quick maneuver of his memory once more. a swift to move flooding of curiosity filled with anxious debris. that grey chevy rolling by slowly and the horribly conspicuous tinted windows. not a warning but an acknowledgment. he breaks his silence. "how'd you hear about it?"

"got a call from a buddy of mine over in tallahassee askin about the bloodline and that boy yall burnt up. apparently he's connected. well enough for some trouble i'd assume".

which affirms the existence of the chevy. C47-6BQ, the plate number this echoing mantra about cody's thoughts. eager to remember it for use later. a beat of silence falling over them all as they load in the duffle bags. and what a coincidence it is, for the day to be overtaken by that edging smell of rain. not yet willing to unleash the brunt of it's power but settling to tease them all the same.

"he was trying to set up a base of sorts near pensacola beach, dealing off the boardwalk and out of some local bars, pushing laced shit", dean goes. his vice president's patch catching cody's eye. black fabric sewn against a gray silver to spell out his rank. his thoughts rolling into words, never straying too far from roman's way of thinking. "our city has been free of the hard stuff for as long as we’ve been around. askin nicely didn’t work for this guy. we're just tryna keep our side of the street clean".

seth nods, catching deans eye, though he's slow to do so. weary still, cody is sure. steve settling over cody, sharp eyes searching. a silent examination. looking for doubts, cody is sure of that too. but he gives nothing. says nothing.

"an admirable act for sure", steve nods. his eyes appearing more gray than blue as they live under the cloudiness of the afternoon sky. cody feeling the brunt of them still, sharp cuts into the skin of his face. steve looking for an agreement maybe, or the sign of a grievance. and though the discontentment remains sure, cody's loyalty reigns better than the softer parts of him that work to veer off into less agreeable thoughts and ideas. and it will always remain that way so long as his leather sticks to his body. fraternal codes and all that jazz. never letting the outsiders know of such disagreements and presenting a united front.

"im guessin we feel good about the merchandise?", steve asks.

dean reaches out for a handshake as he goes to speak. cody and seth gesturing the same. "absolutely. beautiful stuff as always".

"drop off is the same?'", steve making his way back slowly.

"yes sir".

"word of advice from an animal enthusiast", steve starts. slowly walking backwards to face them still. "no more of the fanfare theatrics. if you plan on puttin down an animal, a bullet between the eyes gets the job done quick and just fine".

a thing easier said than done. the free fall of those words—"gets the job done quick and just fine"—growing a torturous distance from the ability he had once upon a time, when such time was endless. because way back when, cody could feel that crunch of gravel beneath his feet everywhere he walked and thought himself untouchable. an inherited hubris for sure. leather over his shoulders like armor and the roar of his engine this endless war cry of invincibility. he took cuts and bruises and the slices of knives as easy as the road would the simple skid of a rubber wheel. but the days grow shorter here in this older age. the memory in his muscle though quick, not as quick to perform as it used to be. his head wild with the outburst of an aching almost always and his body tired.

and although the trip from pensacola to marianna and back was a usual one, the ride this time seemed to be quieter. those piled up duffle bags of violent metal heavier and the doom in his belly rolling over harsher than normal.

but that burden in cody never eases, only ever turning itself into something different. the cloudiness of the day rolling over into the evening. the sharp smell of rain resting in the air still. teasing him. your house porch light glowing a warm yellow as he steps up to it. keys in hand and that swarming flutter in his belly. hunger and a not yet spoken into the air passion forming this terrible marriage under his skin. leather draped over it all like a second skin.

he steps into the house, met with a savory warmth. something fragrant that eases the tension. his boots thudding softly over old hardwood floors. music low and melodic to fill in those pockets of dead silence. your maneuvers about the kitchen a little less than fluid. body still coming into a slow to perform remembrance after a great forgetting.

but you hear him. throwing words over your shoulder. "leather off at the door please". something your mothers used to say to your fathers. trying their best to grasp at control over a life bigger than them all.

and cody obliges. feels the domesticity of it running rife in him so much till it starts to smoothen out the ache in his head and the weight in his belly. "hey", speaking gentle. unable to help himself as a hand finds the hard work of your arm, a brief interruption where he squeezes tenderly to let you know he's there. "hey", you give back. similar in how warm and delicate it feels against the air. an arm curling his waist as you reach to kiss at that patch of skin thats too close to his mouth to be his cheek, but too far from his mouth to be anything more than what it is. that 'what it is', he has no damn clue. but it feels good. a little more than amazing maybe.

he stands off and away enough to let you finish what looks to be a dinner thats a little more abundant in nature than he was expecting. leaning up against the counter as you dip a spoon through the heat of a thick gravy. "smells good".

"i hope it taste good", a thread of nerve weaving through as you scoop the spoon. "i haven't made a roast in a while but here, try this", giving up the silverware. leaving cody to nearly melt in the richness of it. reminding him of old times even. bloodline sunday dinners and the simple inconvenience of wanting to be anywhere but with his parents and their friends. "missing anything?"

"a plate and a drink".

you smile. reaching above in the cabinets for a yet to be opened bottle. the cold of cody's blue eyes slipping easy as they lay over the skin that peaks as your top rises up with the reach of your arms. and then the quick awkward look away, warmth in his cheeks as he feels the childish guilt of it.

"is wine ok?"

"s'perfect".

and no he does not mean to stare so deeply. to emphasize the pronunciation of a word that implies such flawlessness, but it happens. makes that meeting of the eyes last a little longer. a lingering that works well enough with low playing melodies that it forces your tell. lip stuck between the pull of your teeth. turning back to the food that waits impatiently, seeking a reprieve.

you push at him playfull. in a fashion that begs for the air to be a little more breathable again. "ok go sit at the couch", turning back to your accomplishment of the night. "i'll be there".

a certain pride swelling in his chest as he makes way to get comfortable on the couch. effectively influencing your nerves enough to cause a little speechlessness was more than cody hoped for tonight. taking in the cleanliness of the living room as he waits. the space bursting with earth tones and splashes of green. the smaller details slightly different, but the feel of the house remains, even with the age of it. the glass of old framed photos clearer, having been cleaned. the boxes working to overtake the floor corners no longer there, the shelves decorated with what must be things collected from your time in new york. a small bowl of rings at the center of the coffee table catching his eye so much that cody reaches for it. carved silver rings he remembers your father wearing all the time. so much so that the impressions remained in his skin.

you bring the wine and glasses first. walking back for the plates. sitting a comfortable distance away from him on the couch. close but not too much. enough for the air not to be so thick and consuming.

"you never told me how much i owe you for the alternator".

the sincerity of that making cody's eyes roll, albeit a little more playful than serious. his fork working over the plate to dig into it. leaving you to hear him hum with delight at the taste. "dinner makes us even".

another smile riding through to stretch over your lips. a comfortable wordless air settling over. quiet enough aside from the low ride of the music for cody to notice the wane of his headache. never afforded the grace of a full reprieve from such a pain but here, now, it's the dullest it's been for sometime. and he doesn't necessarily want to do the work of thinking over exactly what that means but he can feel the beginnings of that truth. in the heat of his cheeks and the ride up of a tingling over his spine.

"i feel like fixin the car up for me is the latest thing in a long like of things you've done for me", your plate set aside on the coffee table. glass in hand and trying your best to meet his eyes. "i might be cooking for you for a while to pay you back".

"if it's anything like this, i'll be over here all the time". setting his plate down next to yours. turning to face you more. "for real though, whatever it is, i'm here. i got you".

and he isn't sure what of what he said does it, but something flashes through the brown of your eyes. like the quick burning soar of a celestial body. working hot to cover the space of your memory before it disappears. your mouth sipping at your glass again.

"how's your mom?"

a piece of his curiosity cody has held off on revealing for a while till now.

"she's good". a neutral expression. a less rigid disposition even. "spoke to her maybe three or four weeks ago".

"did you tell her about coming back home?"

"we spoke about it briefly", your thumb rubbing over the body of the wine glass. "she didn't have much to say about it".

"m'glad you both found some footing with each other".

"yeah", you nod. lost in thought. an arm bending to rest up on the couch. you head falling into your palm. "i think after everything with my dad, the door opened up some for us, but a lot of things for me just changed really quick". the music you have playing, a sweet addition to your voice. your eyes finally meeting him. sincerity blooming full but with a pace that notes the fragility of its unfurling. "we sorta, kinda, reconnected after dusty went, but i think after my pops died i understood you a lot more". eyes nearly nailing into him now. a quick difference from the timidity of them just moments prior. "being in new york, i was used to living alone but not feeling that way y'know? like in the back of my mind when he was alive i could eventually just come back home to him, to everything...", your voice dropping off.

a heavy sigh he can only imagine the weight of. sipping from your wine and resting the glass down before you finish your thoughts.

"...what i'm trying to say is...is that you understood me in a way that felt good. i didn't have to explain myself because you just knew what it meant to lose like that".

his hand reaching to hold over yours. body shuffling against the soft leather of the couch to get closer. a comfort he can't afford to deny either of you. thumb circling the skin delicately. a faint touch that waits for acceptance. and when it comes the embrace of your hands are full and nearly overwhelming. fingers tangling as they curl over one another sweetly.

"it goes both ways though", he gives. "thats why it's so easy to talk to you". a beat of silence. his words so far from a full admission of feeling but the affects of such a release tear through him all the same. heart stuttering and his belly twisting. his hand in yours still, playing aimlessly against the skin. eyes trailing over all the free space. "how you holdin up here on your own? is the house too big for you?"

and cody only forgets he's without his leather at the feel of your hand trailing up his arm. over the ways of old tattoos and muscle. a faint squeeze to test the strength of it that he can just barely make out. as if to examine a particular quality he has yet to figure out. your thumb pressing into the inner fold of his elbow. "i think i just need to get used to it again. my apartment in new york was small, so it was fine being by myself". your eyes fall over him. warm from the yellow glow of the living room lamps. feeling them drift to his mouth before they return quickly to his own eyes. "it's just a lot of stuff attached to this place. i just need to readjust, but m'pretty used to living alone".

"that doesn't mean you like it", he says. enjoying the soft touches to his arm still.

"very true".

"let me know though if that changes. we can always find something else for you".

you smile. "look at you being all worried about me". squeezing his arm playfully before getting up to take the plates back to the kitchen. giving him a much needed cut in such thick aired tension.

"ice cream?", you call out.

dishes and utensils clattering in the background.

he sighs. needing nothing else. "m'good thanks". waiting for your return to the couch.

a bowl and a spoon in your hand as you pad softly over back to him. legs pressing into the couch as you go to sit with your legs folded under. "can i ask something?" your eyes curious. slipping over him with some hesitancy.

"shoot".

your hand plays with the scoop of the spoon, dipping in before you go to taste it. a silence as you so obviously string together words. gears turning. "at the end of last year, you told me you were seeing someone. what happened to her?"

"why?"

"you talked about her quite a bit, was just wondering".

and never has the admission of anything been so burdensome till now. a weight atop his shoulders threatening to fall into his body till it flattened him. crushing bone and that faithful spirit of possibility. cody could live with what if's, could live in the terrible purgatory of maybe's and daydreams. he'd been doing so for sometime even. settling into a comfortability so stagnant that it left him statuesque. but the room is laden with a melodic tune still, the forever ache about his head nearly done away with and the memory of your easy touch playing over thought. maybe now is the time. as he's so terribly subdued by the moment. maybe now is the chance to tether together the words always left unsaid.

"you want the truth?"

your eyes flit to him. these little flecks of weariness. "why wouldn't i?"

he sighs. ignoring the twist in his belly. "at the top of this year you asked me to make copies of the keys to here because you were seriously considering coming back to florida for good".

"i hadn't fully decided yet though".

"the fact that you considered it was enough for me".

"i see".

your eyes on the coffee table. forsaking him. or thats what it feels like at least. an awfulness biting into him slowly. ripping into the skin where his stomach lives. his ears warm, the heat feeding into his face till it rises in his cheeks.

"listen", cody starts. looking to salvage what he can. "i didn't mean to-"

a sugary vanilla taste slipping over his mouth. your lips quite cold but sweet. the abrupt feel of them softer than imagined. the fulfillment of such imaginings only coming into a full registering once the thick heat of your thighs set over. an easy maneuver to straddle him. your palms at his cheeks and your lips firmer. his tongue licking in slow. savoring the milky taste. a moan breaking up quick, his fingers running beneath your shirt to curl lazily into supple skin. working as an extension of memory. using his touch as a tool to stain himself with everything of you. and God does it feel good. relief washing him whole. a good sort of creep in his spine as your nails run at the nape of his neck.

his arms embrace you more. the simple hold of your hips slipping into a hug of your body that fastens you to him. another moan filling up his chest before it leaves him, loving the little pick and tug your teeth give his lip.

a phone rings. stutters the momentum of passion.

you groan annoyed. hiding your face in the dip of his neck.

"i think that's you", cody says. palms feeling up on your skin still. working beneath your shirt. getting used to the tenderness.

you lift up from him. reaching for your phone to tug it out of your back pocket, answering quickly.

"hello", you give. "hello?" your eyes rolling as you end the call. "so damn annoying", you gripe. pulling away from him to sit back against the couch.

his curiosity piqued. "whats the number?"

"it's blocked". setting the phone down. mildly irritated. "thats the third time thats happened though".

it's hard, not to immediately think the worst. "when was the last time?"

"on my lunch break the other day-"

"what day?"

the sudden inquisition of it all gets to you, but it all feels too convenient not to question.

"i don't know cody", rubbing your hands over your eyes. "monday".

another ring. clashing terribly against the mellow drive of the music you have going. whatever residuals of intimacy that still lived in the air, now done away with. this time the call blaring from his phone. a shrill noise that brings back the throb of his head ache. he answers quickly, standing from the couch and making way to the living room windows. a peak between the blinds to scope out for anything oddly placed.

"dean", he gives into his phone.

"cody quick question". the noise of paper flipping in the background over dean's voice. "i just turned down service on a chevy malibu, the plates looked phony as hell and the girl was being a bit of a weirdo when i asked for the vin. you work on any red chevy's lately?"

"not that i can remember. you get the plate number by chance?"

"yeah, it was C47-6BQ".

we gonna stop it there but yeah, the drama is gearing up. some roman next chapter i promise!

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes fanfic #biker!cody rhodes #biker au #biker! roman reigns #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #tanks of blood #joannasteez #black reader #female reader #stone cold steve austin featured #dean ambrose featured #seth rollins featured #its a long read

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