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astonmartinii · 18 days

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the father who stepped up | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem gasly!reader

mr leclerc has been spotted with an all too familiar dog recently.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | BROTHER'S BFF MASTERLIST

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 1,094,523 others

yourusername: ceo of milf industries

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user1: i am NO better than a man

user2: i think enough time has passed... when do we get enzo's paddock debut

user3: i'm hearing monaco at least

pierregasly: this is false advertising

yourusername: enzo is my child, i am his mother

pierregasly: you're not cute enough to be a milf, sorry!

yourusername: just cause you've got the hairline of a grandpa is not mine or enzo's fault

pierregasly: MY HAIRLINE IS FINE

yourusername: PUSH BACK THE FRINGE

pierregasly: how dare you! this is a big insecurity of mine - you are NOT a girl's girl

yourusername: pierre why is mum calling me? PIERRE WHY IS MUM CALLING ME?

user4: i bet they have a get along shirt

yourusername: all i can say is that someone rocks it, and someone doesn't

pierregasly: are you still being mean while on the phone to mum????

yourusername: the hater grind never stops

estebanocon: enzo is getting so big 😭😭😭

yourusername: time flies, oh gosh i'm crying

estebanocon: motherhood does that to you

user5: i love how pierre and este are mortal enemies but y/n is besties with him regardless

yourusername: an opp of pierre is a friend of mine

charles_leclerc: cutest boy in the world

yourusername: i didn't know you had given up that title?

charles_leclerc: oh i-

pierregasly: STOP FLIRTING WITH HIM AND STOP BLUSHING IT'S JUST Y/N

user6: say it's just y/n as if it's NOT Y/N??

liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly: I SAW THAT

pierregasly

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 897,556 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: what's the point of having a sister if you can't steal her dog

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user7: this pooch has to be one of the most spoilt and pampered dogs in the world

user8: i wish i died and was reincarnated as enzo

yourusername: oh sure, i'm sure i'm great for plucking your eyebrows and helping you text back girls (@francisca.cgomes you're welcome)

pierregasly: do you mind?

yourusername: did you really ever think you'd pull kika with your charm alone?

pierregasly: yes?

yourusername: the delusion of men should be studied

pierregasly: do i have to call mum again?

yourusername: you call yourself tripod, if anything i should be calling the POLICE

user9: i know kika must have the patience of a saint to deal with their bickering

user10: i fear for any man who wants to get with y/n cause lord knows at his big age pierre will be wheeling out the overprotective brother act

pierregasly: that's my god given right

yukitsunoda0511: not in the photo dump... i see how it is

yourusername: every girl for themselves sorry yuki san

yukitsunoda0511: i think pierre is just jealous of our looks

yourusername: i think that is exactly it yuki

charles_leclerc: yuki not in the post but i wasn't even invited 🤨

pierregasly: you're literally in italy?

charles_leclerc: and?

pierregasly: god forbid a man doesn't want to be bullied by you and y/n

yourusername: (pussy)

user11: not to be a freak but charles and y/n would be so cute together

pierregasly: say anything like that again and you're getting blocked

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

pierregasly: excuse me?

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, joris_trouche and 2.784,566 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: no paternity test needed

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user15: okay.... like... they're slay

user16: i'm personally going to celebrate now before the pierre tantrum

yourusername: oh i've already blocked his number lol

pierregasly: knock knock

yourusername: HELP HE DROVE ALL THE WAY FROM PARIS

user17: is charles dead? can we have a sign of life?

charles_leclerc: they can't get rid of me bitch

pierregasly: you're hiding in the bathroom I CAN HEAR YOU GUYS GIGGLING

yourusername: you're BREAKING AND ENTERING

pierregasly: i have a key?

charles_leclerc: for emergencies?

pierregasly: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I NEED TO BEAT YOUR ASS

yourusername: not his ass!!!! it's so cute :(

pierregasly: not the time

user18: i can't - why are they having a conversation in the comment section when they're separated by a single door

pierregasly: WHY IS ESTEBAN HERE????????????

estebanocon: 1. i love drama and i love annoying you 2. y/n called me as back up

yourusername: you're being insane and i needed the lanky man to escort you out!

pierregasly: i just want to talk

yourusername: I CAN HEAR THE SOCK

charles_leclerc: THE SOCK?

estebanocon: i can confirm he has the sock

yukitsunoda0511: why don't i know what the sock is :(

yourusername: it's a sock full of loose change that you swing as a weapon @ MEN OF ITALY PLEASE MOBILISE YOUR GOD IS IN DANGER

charles_leclerc: tell enzo i love him :((((((

pierregasly: WHY IS MAX HERE AS WELL?

maxverstappen1: i am nosey

maxverstappen1: and esteban left the door open

danielricciardo: i am also here

alexalbon: me too, @yourusername can i have some of the dessert in the fridge?

yourusername: is the entire population of monaco in our house?

charles_leclerc: with that many witnesses he can't do anything

pierregasly: WHY DID YOU GUYS GIVE THEM ENOUGH TIME TO GET OUT AND LET Y/N GET HER SOCK

pierregasly: HELPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

user19: what the fuck have i just read?

user20: are alpine down a driver?

yourusername

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yourusername: did you guys know i recently became an only child?

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user23: now this could either mean that she has disowned pierre or that we did actually witness murder by sock

user24: enzo down an uncle

maxverstappen1: i am more than ready to take his spot

danielricciardo: me too

alexalbon: me three

pierregasly: i'm still alive?

yourusername: GHOST 🫵🏻

charles_leclerc: someone get the sage STAT

pierregasly; do not try and cleanse me away

yourusername: then stop STINKING UP THE GAFF WITH YOUR ATTITUDE

pierregasly: THEN STOP FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND

charles_leclerc: 🤓👆 she's actually in love with me

yourusername: that's true i am actually in love with him

pierregasly: there's a difference?

yourusername: your fuckboy is showing... kika i'm so sorry

user25: we got a 'LOVE' guys it's real

yourusername: we have a child, this is so real

charles_leclerc: locked in for life 🫰🏻

estebanocon: he just passed out in the sim

yourusername: good 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: he'll come around at some point, but for right now i love you too much to care

yourusername: i love you too charlie x

charles_leclerc: i love you more

yourusername: NOT POSSIBLE

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, arthurleclerc and 2,309,877 others

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charles_leclerc: two years strong, no pierre tantrum can stop that :P

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user26: this is my official countdown to another pierre meltdown.

pierregasly: TWO YEARS? TWO YEARS? 730 DAYS? I CAN'T BE BOTHERED/CAN'T DO ANY MORE MATHS THAN THAT?

charles_leclerc: bro is proving why we didn't tell him in real time

pierregasly: i will choke you

charles_leclerc: you can't kill enzo's dad and be an absent uncle?

pierregasly: I AM NOT AN ABSENT UNCLE WHERE ARE YOU?

yourusername: newsflash bozo we thought ahead and are at a super secret second location

pierregasly: are you at max's?

yourusername: yes.

pierregasly: i knew you were too lazy to leave the building

yourusername: but you don't have a key to his place 😤

user27: y/n is real for that

maxverstappen1: EVERYONE BEHOLD I AM ABOUT TO COMPLIMENT CHARLES: enzo is very well trained and good with the cats

charles_leclerc: why thank you max

maxverstappen1: he must get it from his mother

charles_leclerc: rude! i thought this was a compliment to me?

yourusername: if it is my trait, it's singularly mine god lord it hasn't been passed down to all the gasly kids

pierregasly: i can read that you know

yourusername: you can read? next you're going to tell me you're potty trained as well

pierregasly: that's it i'm calling mum again

charles_leclerc: btw she already knows about us - i got permission from your parents

pierregasly: SO EVERYONE KNEW

yukitsunoda0511: i didn't :(

pierregasly: you're not in the family yuki that's not a big surprise

yukitsunoda0511: that's not what you said the other day... :((((((

pierregasly: i can't win these days

user28: first the alpine tractor and now this, pierre can't catch a break

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,784,560 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

pierregasly: i guess we're bffs for life now

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user32: balance has been restored to the force

user33: the way it only took some puppy dog eyes from both charles and enzo and the past three week civil war was forgiven

yourusername: thank god, you really aren't made to be a drama queen, keep it for the radio

pierregasly: you're just lucky you chose a guy i like

yourusername: you forced me to hang out with him my whole life, so really this is all your fault.

pierregasly: ????

yourusername: it's always a man's fault

pierregasly: i give up. you win. sure it was my fault

user34: y/n ain't never losing an argument i feel sorry for pierre and charles

charles_leclerc: she's never wrong 🫡

yourusername: this is how it should be ladies

charles_leclerc: how does it feel to be the third favourite to your parents now?

pierregasly: really? i can get the sock back out?

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry!!!

pierregasly: but you are right, y/n is the favourite

yourusername: baby is always the favourite

arthurleclerc: true

charles_leclerc: 🙄

pierregasly: 🙄

yourusername: are we done being dramatic now? can i come to races and can we go to dinner?

pierregasly: don't you dare wear red

yourusername: too late :P

pierregasly: excuse me

yourusername: i've always been wearing red in some way every race

charles_leclerc: i can confirm

pierregasly: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

fin.

note: finally back with my fave ever trope and the pics of little leo just gave me that burst of inspiration. leo is so cute and so is the ice cream, charles really coming for babygirl of the year

#f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc social media au

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weemouserdog · 1 year

Text

Did you say LIVER??!!

#all the treats #weemouserdog #treatos!#pampered pooch

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

HII

Could you do some hcs of alastor with wife!reader who ABSO(LUTE)LY adores dogs? (alastor hates the dog with his entire life)

I mean...he kinda has a good reason not to be a dog person...

😡

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor Vs Doggo 🐶 Cannibalism, Vox getting owned by dog

Description: ☝️⬆️

Look, Alastor loves you deeply and would do anything for you, absolutely anything

Except let you have a dog

Absolutely not, he won't have a dog running around in his hotel and creating problems

He can already see it

The dog using the hotel as it's personal bathroom, gnawing on his hooves and ruining all the furniture

Humping everything in sight!!

You can have anything else, you can have Niffty! She makes a good pet don't you think?

How about Husk? He's basically a cat

"Fuck you!"

You want a dog, you even have one picked out already

You what? When did you even have time to go look at dogs? He's been purposefully keeping you busy anytime you mention one

The bite marks all over your body are evidence of it

Totally doesn't believe you're actually bringing home a dog until you do, then he's spitting out his tea

"Y/N, darling, what is that?"

"A smoothie."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh this? Our new dog, isn't he cute?"

You can't have a dog in the hotel-

Charlie and everyone else already agreed to it, even Husk said yes just to piss off Alastor

So everyone is on your side and you'll have adequate help, Alastor won't hardly ever even notice the dog

Except he does notice the dog, like all the time

The damned beast is always trying to hop up next to him, only to be shoved off by Alastor

"No furry beasts on the furniture~ The hair is a nightmare to clean up. Disgusting really..."

Not Husk and Angel giving him dirty looks for that one

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to sit next to him, it simply settles for resting by his feet

At least it makes a decent footrest

Or the dog is always hogging your attention, sitting in your lap, laying with you in bed, following you around

How is a man supposed to sleep with his wife when there's some mutt in his spot???

You've caught Alastor glaring at your dog a few times, especially when you're giving him scratches and pets

He wants to be the one to hog your lap and be pampered by you, maybe you could even try giving him a belly rub or two

It certainly looks appealing

Alastor at least thinks he can get time alone with you outside of the hotel but nope, you insist on taking the dog with you

"He needs the fresh air and exercise, Alastor!"

But your husband needs some alone time with you! He's not being dramatic!

Or he's trying to enjoy his breakfast?? Guess who's paws are on the table, begging and slobbering over the idea of a bite

"Absolutely not, you can just forget abou-HEY!"

Looks like his breakfast now belongs to the dog

You definitely make him another breakfast and apologize over and over again

Kiss him and sit in his lap, then maybe he'll consider forgiving you~

Sometimes, when you're sleeping, Alastor and the dog will be locked into a staring match

"I don't like you."

Whine

Rosie tries to sell him on the idea of just maybe liking this one dog, even she's taken a liking to him apparently

Traitor

You make Alastor promise that he won't ever get rid of the dog, OR EAT HIM, OR HURT HIM

And he can't break a promise he made to his darling wife

But he hates this fucking dog with a passion so when the dog suddenly gets out one day? He's perfectly content to let him run off

Until he realizes how upset you would be that your beloved pooch is gone and that gives him pause

Fffffffffuck

Not him spending all day trying to find a dog he doesn't even like, asking everyone if they've seen him

Nope, no, sorry no, ect

Just when Alastor has just about given up and started to contemplate trying to replace the mutt, he hears a familiar yell

"IS THIS DOG FUCKING PISSING ON ME!?"

Vox

Following the sound, Alastor is greeted with the sight of your dog running circles around Vox, who's standing in a puddle with wet pants

For some reason, the delightful mutt has taken to terrorizing him, biting at his limbs only to jump just out of reach of Vox's claws

Maybe it's something he's picked up from Alastor, you certainly didn't teach the dog that

The sight is too funny for Alastor, who doesn't even try to stop the dog, only laughing maniacally

Maybe this mutt isn't so bad

Later, when he comes home with the dog, you notice they seem much fonder of each other

Alastor goes and picks him out a fancy new leash, he starts giving him table scraps and he even invites the dog to be his footrest

Quit putting your feet on my dog

Stop giving the dog fingers!!

You catch him giving the pup a few scratches here and there, almost in an absent-minded manner

He starts calling the dog by his name instead of calling him beast, mutt, hound, monstrosity, ect

He even gives the dog his own room at the hotel with his own fluffy doggy bed

Okay, that last part might just be him wanting his marital bed back

We love dogs in this house!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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pupcuck · 7 months

Text

PUPPY LOVE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x f!reader

tags. puppy hybrids, knotting, chris is the owner but he’s like not fucking, virginity loss, vendetta leon, age gap, lots of spit

notes. i write gn reader usually but this is super sickeningly self indulgent so it’s fem reader ughdhfh im so sorry this is crossposted on my ao3 :3 NOT BETA READ If u see a typo no you didn’t!!! I am so humiliated by this fic um this only makes sense with vendetta Leon so keep him in mind

“C’mon, buddy, ain’t it a cutie?” You’re being held up, some scary man's hands under your armpits, legs dangling in the air as he shows you off to an older dog.

It. How rude. You’re a lady for god's sake. An ill-tempered little lady in fact. This is growing tedious, so you let out a noise of warning, and clamp down on his forearm with your canines. They’re just in. Fresh and white. Had taken a while, you were a bit of a late bloomer, but they're here now, and that’s all that matters.

“Shit,” the man clicks his tongue, “you got some spunk, huh, pup?” He places you down on the ground, and you sink to your knees with a soft huff. “What’d you think, Leon?”

So that’s his name. The older dog, Leon. He looks worn out and mean. Brows furrowed, wrinkled forehead, dark hair that obscures most of his face. What a creep. You’ve been set up, the old lady at the pet shop told you this was going to be fun! She said you were gonna meet someone handsome, a stud who’d give you puppies. This dog looks like he doesn’t even go into rut anymore. His glory days are so over. Ten years past his prime. You stick your nose in the air and refuse to acknowledge him. He does the same.

“Leon, come on, buddy,” the man, well, you guess he’s your owner now, tries to coax him over, “don't be like this.”

Leon simply rolls onto his side, his ears flopping over so the pink underside is seen. Rude. You’re so pretty any normal mutt would be begging for it. But, you guess he’s just faulty. ‘Cause he’s an old man. Duh. This is so unfair, a pampered pooch like you deserves so much better. A two bedroom apartment with a single bathroom, and an open-plan kitchen is just not classy.

“Fuck, Leon, you always gotta be so damn difficult.” Your owner crouches down, fastens a collar around your neck. It’s pink so that's good at least. You’re a stupid pup, can’t quite make out what’s engraved on the doggy bone charm, but you assume it would be your name. “There you go, girl, you like it?”

You tilt your head to the side, but ultimately nod your head with a forced smile. Getting on your owner’s good side would be ideal. Maybe he’d spoil you a little extra. He’s awfully handsome when you take a moment to really look at him. Why couldn’t he have been the stud?

“That’s a good girl,” he presses a soft kiss to your head, “why don’t you go make yourself comfortable, pup?” He gives you a little smack on the bottom, makes you jump. Gosh. His hands are so big. He’s so big. You felt the way he flexed under your teeth earlier. So much meat to him.

With another huff, you walk around, sniff the couch cushions, press a dainty paw to the wall, admire all the framed photos. They’ve been together for a long time it seems. Your owner and Leon. He used to be perfectly pretty. Sunflower blonde, dopey smile on his slightly rounded face, puppy fat softening all his rough edges. Cute. You wish he still looked like that. His tail looks like more of a blur in the photos, towards the end he starts to mellow out, turning into what you’ve seen of him today. Moody.

“Leon was a military dog,” your owner explains. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s important. Considering all the strange clothes with leather straps and that ugly green print, there’s even a gun in your owner’s hands. “He’s retired now though. I thought you’d cheer him up a little.”

You blink at your owner, pressing your nose into his hand when he offers it, pink tongue licking at his salty fingers. Yeah, you like him. He’s firm and sweet. Smiles at you in a way that’s kind. Leon is the only problem. Whatever. He’ll kick the bucket soon enough, or maybe your owner will get tired of him. After all, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you’ve got plenty up your sleeve to show off. Rolling over, batting your lashes, smiling, looking pretty. You’ve got it handled.

“You know how to speak, pup?” Owner cups your cheeks, “my name is Chris,” he says it slowly, waits till you repeat it back to him.

“Chris…” you’re hesitant to speak, unsure of if you did it right. He pats your head, offers you a paw-shaped treat, that must mean you did well.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Gosh. You like him lots ‘n lots. This place ain’t so bad after all.

“She’s settling in well,” Chris is on the phone with somebody, “no, course not, god, she’s a star.” He’s talking ‘bout you, and you like it. You’re the apple of his eye these days.

He scratches behind your ears as you sit beside him, chewing on a squeaky toy you gnawed at so bad it popped. Leon is laying on the floor as usual, sleeping soundly on a warm spot. You'd given him a shifty kick earlier, but he just grunted through a heavy snore.

It gets lonely when Chris leaves for the day, you often find yourself nesting in his bed, sniffing his pillow, chewing on one of his shirts for comfort. You get scolded for all the pin-sized holes left by your needle-sharp teeth, but you continue to do it. Leon is mean. He bares his teeth when you try to play, kicks you away when you try to curl into him at night, all sorts of things. He’s no fun, it’s why you cling to Chris’ leg, whine and scratch at the door, kick your legs and throw back your head to wail.

The door clicks shut after a short tussle between your teeth and the rough fabric of Chris’ jeans. You sniffle and curl up against the front door. This is so cruel of him. Why can’t he just stay and play all day? You have so many games planned that Leon never wants to partake in. Tug of war, fetch, tummy rubs, kisses, cuddles. It’ll be so much fun! And yet there’s nobody to do it with.

You nose at his cheek as he sleeps in his usual spot. Just by the window, bathed in the warmth of the yolky sunlight, chest rising and falling in tandem with his breaths. His nose scrunches ever so often, his tail mostly still, other than the little flick to the side it makes when you approach him carefully. He smells good. That’s the one thing you like about Leon. His scent. It’s thick and rich and has your gut bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling. However, you welcome it, it feels good to you. Makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Leon,” your slurring speech makes his brows furrow, his lips downturned, “play with me.”

A low sound rumbles deep in his chest when you continue to prod at him, is he seriously growling at you? This dog has no manners whatsoever. Seriously, who raised him? It can’t have been Chris. “Leon,” you drag it out this time, whining as you clamber on top of him.

Sniffing his neck, you lick at his Adam’s apple, watch as it bobs when he swallows. He opens his eyes, glares at you through light lashes, swats at your face.

“Play with me, Leon,” your bottom lip juts out, giving him those eyes that no one is able to say no to. None of the pet shop workers could, and Chris certainly can’t, so Leon should surely fall for it.

Leon’s eye twitches, his lip curls upwards, flashing those big teeth of his. It’s a warning that you take with a grain of salt. “Leon, ‘m wanna play,” you say again, wriggling on top of him, your hands planted on that firm chest of his.

You’re a pest. A mutt at best. A bother, a hindrance, all of the above. Leon doesn’t know many other words. He has no clue on whose idea this was, couldn’t have been Chris on his own, must’ve been his sister. Or the lady with the pixie cut, one who brings him treats whenever she visits. ‘Cause Chris knows him well enough. Knows that Leon likes to be alone lately. That a new puppy is just an extra mouth to feed for Chris. He doesn’t need company, doesn’t appreciate a hyperactive pup kneeing him in the gut every hour in an attempt to play some kiddy games.

Total cutie. He’ll give you that. Soft and sweet like all puppies are. Floppy ears, fluffy tail, cute teeth that don’t do much damage. Droopy tits, layer of pudge that puppies tend to have, full hips, and a pert ass.

Now, Leon would never hurt you on purpose. It’s why he sticks to threats he never follows through with. Snarling, baring his teeth, the regular shit. Would get any normal pup scampering away from him, but you’re spoiled rotten. You get what you want at the drop of a hat. He blames that on Chris. Old age has made him sappy. Old age has only made Leon feel like shit. His bones ache on the daily, can’t even get up to bark at the mailman anymore, his walks have been cut down to half an hour once a day, finds it harder to chew on those dental bones Chris tosses him. Stressful times. And the cherry on top of his shit sandwich is you. The little nuisance who insists on bothering him no matter what.

“Leon,” you start again, talking in that high-pitched tone, an excessive amount of spit garbling your speech, “play!”

Christ, you don’t know when to give up. He gives you a light shove, hopes it’s enough to deter you, of course that's just wishful thinking. You bounce back fast. Pressing your forehead to his, you muster up your nastiest glare. Cute. You’re cute when you do that. “Play with me.” Each word is punctuated by your fists smacking down on his chest.

You’re hovering over him, bare bottom on his clothed lap, tits pressed flush to his chest. Every piece of clothing Chris tried to put on you was deemed itchy. Snipping off the labels never helped, you seem to only like cashmere, expensive taste. So he gave up. Lets you wander around in your birthday suit.

“I don’t want to play,” Leon gets out through gritted teeth, expression contorting into one of restraint when you rock your hips back and forth absentmindedly. You’re being playful. Trying to get him up, trying to get any sort of reaction from him. But he can feel you. Leon’s been out of business for a long time. He was so damn sure his dick had malfunctioned a couple years back. No seed left to spare. This old dog was dried out.

This is all it took to get him fixed up? Puppy cunt? God. What a sicko. He sits up, hands on your hips to still you. Your brow quirks in confusion, blinking at him dumbly. Poor puppy. Don’t even know how wet you are. How your heady scent is coating the walls, making it unbearable for Leon to even breathe. He’s going fuckin’ crazy.

Leon pins you down, hair hanging in your face as he hovers over you. “Playing?” You ask him, face lighting up at the prospect of getting him to join in on your games.

Oh, he’ll teach you a new game, alright. It’s cute how you act all haughty, get Chris running around like a headless chicken ‘cause you’ve got so many demands, when really you’re just a stupid pup. Can’t even take care of yourself. Walkin’ around with this drippy pussy, an itch so deep in your core you can’t scratch it. Leon can’t lie, he’s cracked open an eye to see you trying your best to get rid of it. The ache in your lower belly. Rubbing yourself all over that pink teddy Chris brought back after a trip. Pressing its wet snout deep into your cunt to get rid of that strange tingle, but to no avail. Leon found it a little funny. He remembers being that way.

The sound you let out when he spreads your fat pussy is adorable. A whine that borders on a yelp. You’re frightened and confused for a moment, until his fingertips find your swollen clit, pushing back the hood, swiping over it again and again. Then you melt into a puddle of goop. That’s right. Must feel so damn good. You’ve got a chubby cunt, pillowy lips that hide your bud from his view, fluffy fur all over your tummy and crotch that’ll shed in a few months time and grow back in a darker shade. Cute little thing. He’s gonna eat you up.

He bullies his way between your thighs. Your scent is so much thicker now. Clinging to his skin in a way he’ll be unable to wash off. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has your hips bucking up, pelvis mashing into his nose a little painfully. Leon makes sure to hold you down. You’re sugary sweet in his mouth, like he’s bitten into a ripe fruit. Your pussy sure is the sweetest peach he’s ever seen.

“Leon…” you grab at his ears, tug on them to combat the immense pleasure that tears through you. Ouch. He’s gotta get Chris to trim those claws of yours down.

His hand is splayed across your tummy, holding you down as he buries his face in your cunt. Leon nips at your inner thighs then goes back to making those obnoxious noises that any lady with dignity would be mortified by. But you’re a stupid puppy that can’t tell left from right. Eyes rolling back into your skull as he slurps away, lips smacking noisily, his tongue fucking in and out of that tight hole.

Your toes curl in your fluffy socks, hips arching up despite his hold on them, pussy gushing like a burst pipe all over him. “There you go, atta girl,” Leon hums, flicking your clit one last time for good measure. He smiles at the sound you let out, a pitchy yap of irritation.

More where that came from. You got him all worked up. That hasn’t happened in years. His cock is dripping, a wet patch forms in the front of his sweats that he’s quick to lower. Your mouth waters at the sight, smiling at him all dopey. It’s instinct, it seems, for you to be a greedy, cock-hungry little pup. Leon’s all for enthusiasm, so he’ll give it to you, reward the spoiled little pup.

He’s sheathed inside of you in no time. You’re made for this sorta thing. Made to be a breeding bitch if he wants to get crude about it. So he doesn’t worry too much ‘bout how you’re adjusting. Just moves his hips forward sharply, fat tip jabbing at your cervix, and watching as you tremble.

“Mmm, Leon,” your nails scratch down his chest, ears flattening against your head as you gaze up at him with starry eyes. This all it takes to calm you down? Some dick? Leon’s willing to give it whenever you get rowdy. Spit pools in your mouth, dribbles down your chin, and he’s quick to lick it up. You don’t know how to kiss him. But you try. It’s clumsy and open-mouthed, your tiny hands cupping his stubbly cheeks as you just kinda slobber all over the lower half of his face. That’s alright. Leon got the hang of it after about five years. He can teach you.

You’re sucking his dick in, pussy tight around him like a vice, his balls slap against your ass. It’s so good. Fuck. He should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve jumped you the moment Chris brought you home. What an idiot. He was basically gifting Leon a living fuckdoll and he missed out on it for a good month or so. You’re so easy, kicking your legs, and digging your nails into his biceps as you cream on his fat cock, leaving a ring of milky white around the base.

He’s old now, can’t help the way his breath is a little ragged as he nears his high, can’t last as long as he used to. Don’t matter anyway. ‘Cause you’re satisfied. He fills you up like a creampuff. There’s a little surprise on your face when his knot begins to swell, stretching your cute hole till it’s gaping.

“Fun.” You tell him with a sleepy smile. Leon’s tongue smooths over your fluffy ears, he remembers his fur being this soft. They’re wet with perspiration, but he likes the taste of you. He grooms you to his heart's content. It’s been a while since he’s done any of that. Makes him feel rather happy actually. Like a weight has lifted from his chest. You’re falling asleep so he manages to roll over, careful not to move too fast and tear you in half while he’s knotted. He has you on top of him, face in his neck as you snore lightly. The warmth is putting him to sleep too.

Leon only stirs when he hears the jingle of keys and a few voices from down the hall. You’re still knocked out and drooling. The front door opens, Chris is talking to someone he tries to pick up on through smell.

“Jesus, buddy, what’d you do to her?” Chris kneels down beside them, pats Leon’s head then yours.

“They do get along well, Chris,” it’s Rebecca, she’s smiling down at Leon, he can sniff out those expensive treats in the pocket of her winter coat. “Guess it’s just when you’re around.”

“No, no, I swear,” he holds his hands up in defence, “Leon’s always being a fuckin’ bastard when it comes to her.”

“You’re just being mean to him,” Rebecca says, cooing as she pinches Leon’s cheek, “hey, there, good boy.”

“Yeah,” Chris lets out an exasperated laugh, “sure, whatever, glad you like your new pal, buddy.”

#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #my fics

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colorsofbeauty · 2 years

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Cancel the groomer and discover all the pro tips and products to give your fur baby the puppy love they deserve! Join us for doggy bath time with everything you need to leave their coat soft, shiny, and smelling fresh. Exclusive free gift offers and more!

Be sure to invite all your friends by sharing this link---> https://www.avon.com/live-shopping?rep=lepler

*CODES VALID 7.26.22 8PM et TO 7.27.22 8PM ET

#liveshopping #avon representative #avonrep #avon skin care #skin care #dog lovers #dog grooming #dog shampoo #pampered pooches #doggy bath time #bath time

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kneelingshadowsalome · 17 days

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Why do I feel older Konig would worship and kiss every part of your skin with reverence and devotion. His eyes showing all his emotions.

While young König is feral dog that destroy it but love you in own complicated ways.

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFVPpKb1/

The dress in this so pretty.

Yes I still think that this is the best thing I've offered to CoD community

Older König who takes his time adoring you, is more confident in his skin and therefore makes you naturally dependent on him and his authority. You'd do anything for this indomitable Colonel who, even when pushing his fifties, has no trouble at all hoisting you up against a wall and fucking you dumb while you cling to his neck... He won't even feel ashamed, dating a younger woman and making her his pampered, bashful wife before a month has passed. In his worldview the strongest provider male prevails, and as such, he is entitled to a cute little thing like you. Besides, his love for you is pure, isn't it clear by the way he insists on eating you out for hours?

Younger König however has that 'beaten dog left alone in the rain' rizz, but you're mistaken if you think your love and tender care will turn him into a puppy eyed cuddly pooch. He will leave your skin full of love bites and your cunt so stretched you fear no man will ever fulfill the void he leaves behind. Even if you sometimes wish to get rid of him for the sake of your mental health, he keeps coming back because he's addicted to you, just like you're addicted to him. He says he wants to fuck you in full Nelson but in truth he's back at your door for the soft times, the cuddle times, for the gentle caress of your fingertips across his back before he gets to fall asleep in your arms, finally a little less in pain...

#double trouble au

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snotland · 4 months

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love 💗

#love #plur #peace and love #peace love unity respect #my drawins #art #furry #sfw furry #furry art #doggy #ouppy dog #ouppy #pamper the pooch #pamper #oc #my ocs #my sona #ocs #furry oc

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tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 2 years

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Hey, DC. Give Jason his puppy back

Adorable, scrappy stray off the street to pampered pooch? Make her one of the Superpets, stat!

I love her little gold engraved name plate.

#jason todd #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #jason's dog #dc comics

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 6 months

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I would looooove if you could write a little something about Steve and Bucky celebrating Bucky reaching weight gaining milestones. Stuff like going up his first size, out growing his drivers seat, reaching 300,400, 500 etc (maybe also reaching immobility?? If that’s not too extreme haha sorry just a wish)

Like do they celebrate with feast, a special meal that has emotional meaning to them, buying Bucky new clothes/gifts?

Thank you for indulging me!

Not gonna lie, I am BAD at actual numbers and knowing what someone would look at that size so.... this might be rough, but I'm trying and I'm not thinking too hard because, uh, horny brain = dumb

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink, lots of stuffing, weight gain, some immobility, etc.

I think the through line of all these milestones is one thing: stuffing.

It might seem kind of unimaginative because aren't they just stuffing Bucky to make him gain anyway? What's special about stuffing him when he reaches a milestone? Well. Let me tell you -

When Bucky reaches a milestone, Steve makes sure the stuffing is extra ✨️special✨️

He goes all out, making sure to get anything and everything that Bucky has been recently craving, and ensuring that he orders as much as he can that way there's no interruptions in their session. He also ensures that Bucky is pampered throughout the stuffing. Anything he wants, he gets. Steve isn't mean when he doesn't hit milestones, not unless Bucky wants him to be 😏, but he's more inclined to let Bucky struggle, sweating and panting and rubbing his own tummy. When he hits a milestone, Steve will all but pat his damp forehead dry, handfeed him every little bite, peel his grapes, cut his food into bite-sized pieces, rub his belly, belly him put his feet back to recline under his growing gut, and anything and everything else.

Steve makes it worth his while. They both are obsessed with Bucky's weight gain, if they weren't, they wouldn't be hitting so many milestones to begin with, and they both know that, but these celebratory stuffing milestones are Steve's way to really, truly express that obsession. That admiration. He can't fucking believe that Bucky is growing so large and round for him. The weight is piling on. It's incredible.

200

Bucky starts his weight gain journey around 180lbs, so the first 20 pounds don't really look that different. Unless someone is really looking for that extra little bit of softness, they wouldn't see it. His face is a tiny, tiny bit rounder. His ribs are less visible. His belly pooches out, it's no longer flat, but he could also could just be bloated. It's not huge (not yet 😏). His thighs and waist aren't really noticeably larger, either, they're squishier but... not bigger, really.

Those first 20lbs are different, though.

20lbs.

That is an accomplishment.

Bucky's body is changing.

Steve and Bucky can't wait to see him change even more. Rounder. Bigger. Fatter. Yes. So... in anticipation of getting larger, they celebrate these 20 pounds with a stuffing and unknowingly set the tone for the rest of their milestone celebrations.

They celebrate with a stuffing. Bucky's most indulgent stuffing yet.

Steve orders take out from several different restaurants, having the deliveries staggered so none of Bucky's food gets cold while he works on the first course. Bucky jokes halfway through the second order that if all of Steve's orders for him are so massive, he won't last through another one! There's no way! He's already running out of room. His gut is heavy, getting heavier. He's not chubby enough yet for his tummy to be squishy when he's full. He's full. He's taut. He can press his fingers into the tight, round, surface pushing out from his ribs, but it aches when he does. He can feel all that food in there.

Steve takes over when the next course arrives, feeding him with one hand, rubbing his starter belly with the other. Massaging him to softness so they can wedge more calories in him.

"C'mon, yeah, yeah, that's it," Steve encourages, drooling as if he's the one filling up on rich, delicious food, not the other way around, "swallow it, good boy, you got this. You can do it. You gotta keep eating. Doesn't this feel good?"

Bucky moans, chewing and throwing his head back to swallow, feeling the food push down his throat in a sizable lump and land on top of the mound of food bloating him into a round balloon. It does feel good.

Really good.

"Yeah, I know, baby," Steve replies, shoveling more into his mouth for him, "don't you want more? You wanna feel even better. You wanna get even fatter."

Bucky mumbles his agreement, "yesh," through his food, even though it's a rhetorical question. This does feel incredible. He really does want more. More food. More of Steve's big, heavy hands on his growing, gurgling belly. More fat. More stretch marks. More achy cramps from muscles pulled tight. More fullness. More. More. More.

Could he already be addicted to this?

The doorbell rings again.

Delivery.

Bucky groans, dropping his head back and shutting his eyes just to swallow. He really doesn't know.

"Looks like you'll get your wish," Steve sounds like he's wearing a shit-eating grin.

Fuck.

"Don't worry," he gives Bucky another quick forkful before standing up and moving toward the door, "it looks like you'll get your wish, baby."

Bucky swallows; his stomach whines, making his dick twitch. So. full. "Uh-huh," he puffs.

"It's just dessert," Steve softens, smiling and coming over with, thank fuck, just one bag of take out.

By the time Bucky has demolished the bag, courtesy of Steve shoveling bite after bite after bite between Bucky's sugary, sweet lips, Bucky's head is spinning. Steve is rubbing his belly around where Bucky's hands are glued to his excessive, domed tummy. He's never been rounder. He's never eaten more - not on Thanksgiving, not on Christmas, not during any of their stuffing sessions before. He's never seen himself so big. He's never -

He's breathing so hard.

He's sweating buckets.

He's tight.

He's hard.

He's full.

He's never been so stuffed. Speaking of Thanksgiving, he feels like a gorged turkey. Packed. Dense. Oooh. Fuck. He groans. It feels so good. Why does it feel so good? It should feel bad! His stomach is throbbing, tight and achy, but so is his cock. He's not used to how connected his cock and belly are still. How can his stomach swelling make him so horny? 😫😫

Fuck it, he doesn't care when it's so good!

It gets even better when, with awe and arosual in his voice, Steve tells Bucky he's done. He finished everything. There's nothing left.

"Oh my god, you're a blimp-"

Bucky shivers, blinking his eyes open and gaping, food-drunkenly, down at himself. His gut.

His. gut.

"Look at you," Steve coos, rubbing him.

Bucky can't let go of himself.

He's-

He's big.

So big.

He can't believe this is real.

"You're, God, I've never seen you so," he trips over his words, truly fucking thrilled, "so fat."

Bucky whines, he wants to shout, I know! I know! But he can't speak, he's breathing too hard.

"What do you say, baby, wanna take this party to the bedroom, stretch out? Let this tummy bloat?"

Fuuuuck.

He's so stuffed and -

And he's gonna grow bigger. Steve is so right. All that grease and fat and rich sweetness from the takeout. He's going to bloat even bigger. He might pop! He does need to stretch out! He nods.

How much weight has he gained sitting here, in pure food? How much weight is he going to gain, digesting all this food? How fat can he possibly get?

"Alright, up you get, then," Steve murmurs, getting up himself first. After, he looks at Bucky expectantly.

Trying his hardest, Bucky fights the heavy mound of his gut, sticking straight out from his torso, solid with food. He heaves, once, twice, three times, he, he-

He can't get up.

Bucky gasps for air around his stretched belly. His lungs are crushed. Short of breath from being so round. Bucky wants to moan, but he doesn't have the air for that either. His hands scramble against the tight, hard surface of his belly, reaching for something, anything to pull himself up, but not getting anywhere because he doesn't want to stop touching himself. He can't stop touching himself. He feels so good. Solid. Round. Tight.

Steve-

Steve watches him with dark, intense eyes. Looking at him like he wants to take a bite of him. "Are, are you-" he doesn't finish. He can't.

Bucky whimpers thinly, nodding urgently. He is. He really is too big to get himself up off the couch. That's never happened before! He's too stuffed! Too round!

Bucky is ungodly turned on.

All he can think about is how good he feels and how much he can't wait until he doesn't have to be stuffed to feel like this. He wants to be so fat that he can't get up even when his belly is empty, except, wait, no! He never wants his belly to be empty again. He wants to be stuffed always. He wants to be stuffed twice as large as he is right now because he wants all this heavy, heavy food to be fat. Soft-yet-firm fat. Wobbling and round. He wants-

Steve jerks him up by the wrists. He's panting, too. He has no excuse. He's not stuffed to the point of the best kind of achy, throbby pain.

Steve's large, strong hands land on his hips, suddenly steering him - walking behind him with his lips to Bucky's ear - "c'mon tubby, you need your rest to work through all these calories," his fingers caress the impossibly round belly attached to Bucky. His belly. His belly! That's all Bucky's! "Let's get you to bed." Steve's voice lowers to a whisper, "I'm gonna lay you back and suck the fuck outta your dick, baby, this is the hottest shit I've ever seen. I can't believe you vacuumed all that food up. You're a little, well," he chuckles, "maybe not little, but you're a black hole."

Bucky leans his bigger mass back into Steve, stumbling, toddling, and weak at the knees from his words.

Fuck.

He's going to do anything to keep hitting milestones. All of this is so unbearably hot. The excess. The fullness. The weight.

300

Again, when Bucky finally, fucking finally, yet also so soon, how has it been so long since he was 200 lbs and no time at all with how fast the weight is piling on - ballooning in thick, chubby rolls - they celebrate with a stuffing where Bucky eats as much as he possibly can.

Engorging himself beyond belief. Fatter, fatter, fatter. Rounder, rounder, rounder. The numbers just keep ticking up. From 180 to 200 to 250 to 300. It's so satisfying to watch those digital numbers tick up, almost as satisfying as rubbing his hands over the dome of his belly, pushing out from his plump moobs.

This time -

This time, when Bucky eats as much as he can, stuffing himself, it's so much more.

More.

More in that Bucky and Steve start at a restaurant, dining in. Steve chooses Bucky's order. Steve makes sure to get a dish he knows Bucky loves, but going for the more indulgent, more expensive order that Bucky wouldn't dare if he were in control. The plate is massive. Stacked with food.

Steve remembers when Bucky's eyes would've gone wide, thinking how will I possibly fit all of that inside me?

Now, the opposite happens. His eyelids hang heavily over his eyes, pupils expanding and darkening. He's thinking, I can't wait to put all of this inside me and more.

"You hungry, baby?" Steve asks, playing footsy with him under the table.

Bucky knocks their shoes together, "mmm-hmm," he moans, dramatically shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply at the aroma of his food.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Dig in, tubby."

Bucky moans softly under his breath, obeying.

He shovels the meal into his mouth in record time, practically licking his plate clean and moaning around the taste even though he's stuffing himself so effectively that Steve doesn't possibly know how he can taste it. Steve lets his meal last... Bucky will need a little time to digest between now and the food they're going to have waiting at home. Fucking bless scheduled deliveries.

Steve orders them dessert to go, having their waiter box it up. The fudgy cake will be perfect to top Bucky off after his second and third courses. Maybe his fourth, too. Steve and Bucky are on the same page with pushing limits. Bucky will end tonight tight as a drum and round enough to roll. He can't think like that if he wants to get up any time soon, though. 🥵

"St-" Bucky pauses to burp into his fist, "Steve," he moans, shifting in his creaking, wooden kitchen table chair. He's nearly too heavy for it even when he's not stuffed with 10 or more pounds of dinner.

"What, baby?" Steve's fingers feel cool against Bucky's damp, feverish forehead, brushing a stray strand of hair out of the way.

Bucky can hardly breathe, his gut is pressing into his body so much. It feels like he hasn't got room. He needs. He -

"Steve," he moans again.

"Babyyy," Steve rubs firm circles on the tight, tight surface of his belly, "what is it?"

"Guh," he complains. He can feel sweat pooling at the base of his spine, above his thick ass, arched with the weight at his front. He can feel dampness under his arms and between his bloated belly and round, fat pecs. He might be sweating in the crease of his double chin. God. When did eating become such hard work?

"Do you need to get outta this chair, Buck? Is it too small for you? Huh?"

Bucky nods, burping and moaning at the same time. Every release of pressure feels so fucking good.

He knows he can get more in, he wants to get more in, he just needs-

Oof.

He needs to get more horizontal. He's being pressed in on, on all sides; the arms of the chair digging into his blubbery, stacked, and stretch-marked sides; the back of the chair pressing into his big, big ass; his belly so tight and full that it's hurting his lungs. His poor body. He's compressed and about to pop.

"Alright, fatty," Steve softens, grabbing his thickening wrists and pulling him forward.

It takes effort.

Steve has to heave, grunting. Bucky has to put in all his strength against his weight. The chair creeeeaks.

"Ugh!" Bucky groans, his arms trying to soothe his sloshing belly. He can't, though, Steve is still grabbing him, still trying to get him up. Fuck. Fuck, he's such a fat ass. How can eating be such hard work? How can struggling to get up feel so good? How can getting fat be so luxurious? Fatter. Getting fatter. He was already fat.

Finally, Bucky's sides unstuck. Unwedged. Popping free.

He nearly topples forward, all his weight fighting gravity going forward, forward, forward and-

Steve steadies him with a laugh, "woah, there," patting him on the bowed out side.

Bucky's whole belly ripples. Christ. He's never felt fatter. His back complains, arching more. It's like he's pregnant. God. Oh, God, what did he eat that was so heavy? How did he get so heavy?

He staggers after Steve, going wherever he leads. Panting. Wobbling. Struggling. The thing that keeps him from taking a break, asking for a breather like a true fatty, is more. More food. He gets more after this.

More.

He's not done yet.

This celebration is going to end with a bang. That bang might be Bucky popping.

Fuck.

He's gonna explode.

Sitting on the couch is easier than sitting at the table. The couch doesn't force him to sit up so straight. It's easier. He can feel all the food shifting inside him, glorping and sloshing. He almost feels... hungry. On the couch, he can leave his arms splayed out by his throbbing sides, giving himself room to bloat. Rounder. Tighter. Skin flushing redder. Fuck. Mooore. He moans for it.

More.

Steve answers his cries, hand feeding him. He takes care of Bucky so well, and with every bite Bucky moans - he swears he can feel himself growing with each bite.

He might, fuck, it's so intense that he might black out. All he knows is there's a barrage of food that's going down his gullet and landing in the massive pot that is his gut. Tight. Tight. Tight.

At some point, he's done. He can't breathe. His lungs can't expand. There's no room in his body. His belly is completely solid. Stuffed to the absolute brim. Gluttonous bliss. All of the fat that's grown on his heavy frame feels a hell of a lot less jiggly suddenly.

Shit.

Fuck.

He huffs. He puffs.

Steve is talking to him, telling him something about how hot he is. So full and stuffed. Sitting on his ass, getting bigger. Larger. Gonna be so huge.

It all rolls over Bucky. He can only focus on the pulse of his racing heart in his belly. He, he-

Steve rubs his gut, and he swears it's so good he might cream in his underwear. His underwear feels too tight. He's never been so impossibly packed. Solid all the way through. He'll never move again. He's never felt so fucking huge. He's never felt more fucking sexy. Everything about this is sexy. Blindingly so. Greedy. Excessive. Gluttonous.

Steve's fingers stray from Bucky's struggling, stretched skin over his broad gut and dip into his shallow belly button.

"OH!" Bucky wails. He's so sensitive there! It tingles, and the hot, thick pleasure shoots electrically straight to his dick where it's trapped under the boulder of his belly.

Steve fucks his belly button with his fingers, thrusting, curling, pressing.

"Ohhhh, oh, ohh, God!"

Steve keeps at it. Fingering his belly. He's trying to jiggle and wobble his fat, but he's so tight. He's too packed. Made illogically huge.

Pleasure curls hot and tight and electric inside Bucky. How is there room?! It's even more intense now than it was before - how full he is. He's going to come. He's going to pop. Burst. Explode. Fat. Fatter. The weight of his gut on his swollen cock is good but really, it's just that he's been rewired to find his gut insanely erotic. He's grown, and he's gotten more sensitive. His nerves feel like they're most alive over his gut. Steve's thick fingers in his belly button are what's doing him in.

Christ!

Bucky wails when he comes, his dick entirely untouched. His poor, abused, stretched belly the only thing getting loved on.

Steve stares, stunned. "Fuck, I fucking love you, glutton," he rasps, nearly speechless.

400

Bucky is 400 lbs, and he has truthfully never felt so good.

It's so much effort to walk - to do all these small little tasks that were effortless when he weighed over 200 lbs less - but it feels good to walk, too. He's started waddling. Just a little. Unsteady. Heavy. His legs are thick, and his chubby thighs jiggle, sweatpants about to burst at the seams. His love handles shake and rub against his chubby arms with every plodding stride he takes, the hem of his shirt slowly coming up to expose his stretch-marked, soft fat. His belly gurgles and sloshes, dragging his back into a painful arch with all the weight it adds onto the front of his blubbery, round body. His moobs bounce, all this excessive, obscene cleavage straining against the stretched fabric of his t-shirt. Just walking makes his dick hard now.

Yeah.

He's fucked up. He's fucked up on food.

He always had a thing for food, there's no denying that, but Steve has trained him so well. He gets so hard for anything around food. Calories. Fat. All of it.

Bucky is almost always drunk with excessive fullness and gluttony, aching for more.

More.

Steve stuffs him, giving him what he wants. Moremoremoremore. Greedy fucking glutton.

Bucky already has past the point of fullness where he can keep going on his own tonight during this celebratory stuffing. He isn't walking right now. He's simply feeding. His belly is throbbing.

Full to the top.

No extra room.

Still, more food is being shoved inside him. Shoved down his throat. Added to the immense, thick fat already on his frame.

Bucky groans around the food in his mouth. His mouth floods with saliva. Good. It tastes so good. He can feel his stomach stretching. Preparing for more.

More.

There is only the need to get more. Grow more. Fatten up more. Become as massive as he can until he can't walk - until lying down is the same blissful sensory experience of walking. Rolls rubbing against rolls, stacked up, he's so big. His body has no more room for fat. So incredibly excessive.

Steve chuckles at his loud outburst, begging for more, "that's it, baby," he murmurs, his fingers gently running down his throat, coaxing him to swallow. "Take it. Get bigger for me."

Yes.

Bucky moans again.

More.

There's just a little bit left.

A little bit more.

Chewing and swallowing, desperate simply to grow, Bucky finishes the last of the feast. Bite by bite. Swallow by swallow. Exactly what Steve gives him, Bucky consumes. Encouraged not only by the lust inside him, just as heavy and oppressive as the mass of calories in his belly, but by the way Steve stares at him. His eyes are heavy. Dark. His hands are greedy, rubbing, pinching, wobbling - playing.

Playing with him.

Playing with his fat. Playing with Bucky. His fat, pet glutton. His own bloated playground of softness. Unbearably sexy for them both. Bucky is living it and breathing it, and Steve is watching it, eyes glued. He's never seen something more obscene.

Bucky moans. He burps. The pressure inside of him is immense. He feels immense. He can barely stomach it.

So. much.

Bucky wants to get up. Not to get away - he doesn't want to stop, just the opposite, this is all he wants forever - but he wants to waddle into their bedroom and get horizontal to really feel the intense fullness, to feel all the heaviness on his lungs, to feel what he's done to his body. Grown. Increased. Swelled. Fattened.

Bucky can't get up, though. It's not even that he's too full. He is too full! But. But... He can't. He can't fucking get up. He couldn't if he tried. It's too fucking hot. Hot and heavy. He's too heavy. There's too much fat in his way. Way, way too much fat. He's made himself so fat. Steve's made him so fat. He's so big. Getting bigger.

Bigger. God. Was their ever a hotter word?

Steve groans, and he squeezes Bucky's prized gut. His gut wobbles in thick, slow waves, even with how full he is. Solid. Stuffed. Bucky can't believe it. The way it feels-

Christ.

It's orgasmic.

So fat.

So thick.

So heavy.

With a long, satisfied moan, Bucky's hips try to jerk forward. He's too heavy. He can't move. Stuffed and entirely immobilized. His body moves, though. His belly. Waves. Fat. Thick.

Heavy.

Oh, God.

It's too much.

Bucky short fucking circuits, electricity shocking through him, white, hot heat that makes him come messily, grinding against the underside of his completely full, flabby belly.

Fuck!

Steve is on him before his head stops spinning, spreading his thighs WIDE to accommodate for Bucky's thick girth. He's grinding against Bucky's blubber, which is pushing all his sensitive, thick fat hard and harder against Bucky's sensitive cock. He just came! He can't come again! He can't! He can't! Oh, God. He can't even see straight. Nothing has felt so good. So indulgent and decadent.

Steve shoves the last, last bite of food messily between Bucky's gaped, moaning lips, muffling his desperate, wailing sound, and forcing Bucky to swallow breathlessly. He licks at Steve's fingers, still struggling to breathe, and that's what sets Steve off. That show of pure fucking gluttony. Nearly bursting at the seams and still mindlessly accepting more.

500

For the first time, when Bucky is officially waddling and heaving for breath every time he moves - not even when he's walking! Just when he's moving! Shifting from laying to sitting up, changing his position on the couch, crouching to dig through their always stoked pantry, whatever - Steve doesn't make enough food and doesn't order enough food for Bucky to get fully stuffed during their celebratory orgy of gluttony.

Gluttony on gluttony on gluttony 🥴🥴

All compounding into one rich, pampered, too decadent feast. It's such a feast that just getting a whiff of all the foods that are laid out for Bucky to put down would make you gain weight. POUNDS of weight. Easily.

Still, ALL of what Steve has set out is not enough.

Bucky has grown into such a pig, no, a hog, NO, such a whale that the courses, courses, and courses are food do not satisfy the greedy beast inside of Bucky's wobbling, endlessly round belly.

Steve has to order more food for Bucky when they're winding down to the last few platefuls. God. He's so fat that even when he's approaching full, then, after they get their next order of take out and Bucky's moaning about being on the cusp of bursting, he's all soft and round.

Other than the way that his skin glistens with sweat, the way that his feminine, heavy chest heaves and jiggles, and the way that he moans excessively loud, unable to shut his mouth, unable to shut up... you would never know that he's full to the brim. Packed. Stuffed. No more room. It looks like there's plenty of room in that gut. There has to be! How could anyone so sinfully fat ever be satisfied? You don't get to Bucky's impressive, lavish size without pushing yourself to the limits. Yeah, Bucky's habit of gorging himself until he's stuck on his back has never been more visible than it is now. Steve loves to see it.

Steve loves ordering Bucky more food. His dick is hard, he's already come once. Bucky has, too. They just couldn't wait. Why would they wait? They're indulging tonight. They're celebrating. They can do whatever the fuck they want.

"Steeeeve, Steve, Steve, 'm gonna fucking pop. Swear to God," Bucky slurs between bites of food, he's still fucking eating like he's ravenous, digging into his feast in the same way that a starved predator digs into a luscious, juicy fresh kill. There is no time to worry about such silly sensations as fullness. It is not every day that prey is caught and torn into. Bucky must take what he can get. He must stuff himself like a predator. Moaning, burping, groaning, gut gurgling through its excessive bounty. It drives Steve insane. "'M really gonna, gonna explode this time, oooooh," he grips his tummy, chubby hands scrambling over the roundness attached to his ballooned body. He looks like one of those people from Wall-E.

Like he's never walked on his own two feet. All fat. Round, soft, soft fat.

Steve slaps his gut, reveling, perversely, in the way that Bucky groans and how deep his hand sinks into his blubber. He really is a whale. He's not meant to walk. Yet, he's too fat to swim now. He can't go anywhere. He can't do anything but eat. Glut. Consume. Gorge. Stuff.

"Jesus Christ," Steve growls.

"Mmmmmnghh," Bucky senselessly moans. "So. Fat." He pants.

"Sooo fat," Steve agrees darkly, "you're so huge, baby."

"Wanna be," he pouts.

"You don't have to want to be. You are, fatty. You are the biggest. The fattest. I can't believe how fat you've gotten. I can hardly see your stomach bulging through all this fat!" Steve swallows his drool, "just look, Buck-!"

Bucky obediently looks down, his sweet, round face developing another chin.

Christ.

Steve could blow his load all over those chins right now, untouched. He doesn't. Instead, Steve squeezes all the soft fat that's malleable and thick despite being stretched around his throbbing belly, then he shakes it.

Bucky's fat moves. "Guh, mmm, fuck, Steve," Bucky gasps, he tries to hold his belly in place, he's so sensitive! He can't take it! It does nothing, though. Steve is shaking his whole gut. He's pressing his hands into his fat. He's trying to find his rock-solid gut under all that blubber. But it's too much! There's too much! Steve can't feel anything, so he keeps going. Bucky can do nothing because he can't even reach all of his gut. His arms aren't long enough. His stomach is so huge.

So. huge.

All of him is so huge.

Steve's plan, post endless stuffing, was to get Bucky onto his hands and knees and see how close his gut is to the floor, but... looking at him like this, feeling him like this, he knows it won't work. Bucky is too round. Bucky is too big. Bucky is too much of a whale, his gut is too round to let his hands and knees touch the ground, although...

He squeezes one last time, Bucky whimpers, "Steeeeve, 'm too full!"

Maybe all that blubber would squish out around his sides, and he'd get stuck like that. His belly and piled up, excessive fat would prevent his arms and legs from being able to move. Bucky would just kneel there, moaning, his fat wobbling while Steve fucks him, on the cusp of filling him more. Giving him just enough to really make him burst. Too much.

Maybe Steve should carry out his plans.

Maybe Steve will carry out his plans to fuck his butter ball... once he digests some.

Steve isn't strong enough to move Bucky without any imput from the food drunk, pleasure drunk glutton himself. 500. God. How did he get so big? How did he grow so large? When did his appetite become entirely bottomless? The mind willing, only the flesh weak.

Flesh.

Fatty, pale flesh stretched to the point of a hot, red stain and stripes covering him. Overindulged. Overfed. Fattened. Ballooned into an unrecognizable, excessive, burping, groaning whale from the slim, svelte, charming man. Steve doesn't hardly recognize him, though. Steve knows that this is what Bucky was always meant to be. Bucky was meant to be so massive. Luxury. Soft. He slaps the perverse surface of his domed middle again.

Bucky sobs, "fatter, fatter," he whines, "gonna get bigger!"

"Fuck yeah, you are, tubs," Steve can hardly scramble into his lap now, there is no room with his gut in the way, "you're gonna keep growing, you're gonna get bigger." He humps that irresistible, soft, but stuffed belly. "You're never gonna stop. You couldn't. You won't."

"Fatter! More! Steve! Make me fatter!" Bucky chants, agreeing desperately. He can't even twitch into Steve humping him, so he just moans recklessly. Craving. More food. More sex. More indulgence. He needs it. Neither of them can actually imagine what he will look like any bigger than he is, but they will find out. He needs to grow until the couch and the bed can't hold him. Too fat. Too heavy. Too much. Yes.

Yeah 🥵🥵

(Here's a short add on!)

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #writerkenna #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #chubby bucky #fat bucky #immobility

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