Spencer

18+ they/them. lurker. kink blog

[hushsubtlefury]

My name is Spencer, this is a kink blog so minors go away(or stay I can't control what you do).

This is my first thing doing one of these so idk what to put, I might write some thoughts here or there(mainly about farts). Kinks I'm NOT into is honestly just everything else(especially scat eating). Okay bye

Kinks I'm into

Farts

Scat

Burps

[blackdykegirlblogger]

ik pride is all ppl think of when june hits but i also wanna say HAPPY CARIBBEAN AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH BITCHES ‼️‼️‼️

[femmefoxhotbox]

masc frat hazing ritual that involves being their fart huffer after a night out drinking, bellies full of gurgling fermentation. upon their arrival back from the bars, stumbling and teetering and laughing, they corral you into the basement of the frat house where you take turns nuzzling your nose into crack after sweaty crack, sniffing up any and everything they have to give you.

with your snout nudged up against a cargo pants seam, the first brother to take to you lets out a potent, rumbling fart, heavy and ripe in your nostrils and vibrating against your face. the other brothers giggle in their drunkenness, little gasps and "oooh, wow,"s and "jeez,"s in response to your predicament, playing it up by fanning the smell away. she reaches back and grabs your hair, rocking your face side-to-side in between her hefty cheeks, letting a few more brassy, heady rips purr into your face, the smell taking hold in your pores. you take deep breaths through your nose, sighing on the exhale, letting the stench sop into your olfactory nerve and the bubbly sounds bounce around in your brain.

you're passed around indiscriminately, the torment seemingly nonstop, soft mockeries persistently thrown your way. you go without coercion, letting strong hands ease your head where they wanted it. "that's it, sniff it all up," someone urges into your ear with your face smushed into another brother's briefs, her jeans around her knees. her boxers are damp and swampy, the earthy musk emanating from them seasoning every burbling fart that heats your face, humid and poignant and tantalizing. while the brothers were drunk off busch apple, you grew lightheaded and woozy with your own gas-induced intoxication.

two brothers sit you in the corner, one having forgone her pants, the remaining boyshorts riding into her ass, the other with their jeans pulled a quarter down their cheeks, a few inches of musky crack visible above the waistband. they sandwich your face in between four plush globes of ass, their raunchy farts sputtering against your head, pungent and smoggy and fully encapsulating your senses. you can't help but moan audibly now with the olfactory input doubled, hot, bubbling beer farts fumigating the last of your fresh air.

with arousal getting the better of you, you turn your head towards the visible upper crack in your face, opening your mouth and letting your tongue dip just inside the doughy cleavage, feeling the pliant flesh mold to the muscle, little wisps of body hair tickling your lips. the strength of their next rip sends vibrations through their fat, cushiony cheeks and over your prodding tongue, making your eyes flutter back and your mouth water so expeditiously as the syrupy reek settles on your tastebuds that a dollop of saliva drips down your chin.

"damn," they muse above you, looking over their shoulder upon feeling your bold oral exploration. "you like sniffing our nasty farts that much? freak."

"hey, be nice to the pledges," the second brother objects. "you don't want them to... tap out, do you?" with that, she forces your face (and tongue) out of their ass and back to hers, letting a particularly bubbling and explosive fart warble into your nose and against your mouth, sticky and ripe and so hot. the other brother smirks and adds onto the revolting offense by pushing out another repugnant, burbling fart, the scents mingling in a dense, poignant concoction and the cacophony of loud, bubbly sounds going straight to your crotch. you huff like your life depends on it, the thick, muggy warmth filling your lungs.

you don't know how many hours into the hazing it was when a delivery driver deposits mexican on the house's porch, or when a brother brings it down into the basement. "fuel," they tell you from your spot on your knees, a thoroughly farted-through pair of boxers discarded over your face. "so you won't have to worry about us running out anytime soon."

now full of greasy fast food and refried beans and lingering beer bloat, their farts are somehow worse, and more frequent. you just close your eyes, moaning and nearly drooling, crotch on fire as you helplessly accept the onslaught, rancid, intense, steamy ass blasting you from all angles, seeping into the sulci of your brain, making you dumb. your face is squished in between someone's asscrack, then sandwiched again between two, then three, then four. your face is sat on, surrounded, and smothered in drunk, meat-sweating asses, farts dripping out of them in deep, burbling wafts, hammering against your skull and drilling your nose. you were positive this would cling to you for days.

sunrise was approaching by the time they ease up. you were a panting, wet mess, sweating and soaking in a pool of your own arousal. "getting tired? yeah, us too." one brother pets a hand over your hair, both condescending and comforting. taking this as a cue the night was over, you stand and begin to leave, but you're caught by the arms on both sides. "what do you think you're doing? you're sleeping here. under the covers of whoever wants you most. a little dutch oven never hurt anyone, did it?"

you had a feeling this "little" dutch oven would be more of a violently noxious one, so you nod eagerly and let yourself be led to a bedroom where you'll spend the next few hours huffing sleepy hangover gas in a blanketed sauna

[ladychlo]

As you celebrate pride month, I hope your pride extends to queer individuals in Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Haiti, and all queer individuals whose pride is often forgotten while they are facing extermination and genocide, often their identities are preyed upon and erased from the narrative. Celebrate them by demanding the freedom and the liberation of their people.

[hushsubtlefury]

Saw this on twitter and thought it was hilarious

[thecutest-cuties]

Andy's Tummyache

The star of Eastlake’s football team, Andy, crashed down on the worn out couch in the living room after a practice. He kicked his sore feet up on the coffee table and turned on the TV to Adult Swim at a low volume.

The muscular and still slightly sweaty boy was so worn out from practice and his stomach was churning. He tries to hold in his constant gas at practice to avoid distracting the team. (keyword: tries) He put his large hand on his stomach and rubbed it in circles.

Maybe taking off his sweaty uniform before getting comfortable would have been a good idea, everything was still on him except his helmet. The team was responsible for washing their own stuff, which he didn’t mind since he liked wearing his Jersey around.

He squirmed under the armor and padding and lifted his leg, letting out a dry, long, warm fart that smelled awful. He then settled back into the couch, trying to ignore the pressure in his stomach and let out as many farts as he could. It came easy once a few more came out.

The room eventually smelled like rotten eggs as Andy was sitting contentedly on the couch. His bubbling stomach pain was fading, however, this didn’t mean his constant farting was fading too.

Ppppprrrrmmmmmmffft.

He sighed and rubbed his stomach one last time, coaxing out more of the smell.

He then stood up and stretched as more small bubbly farts escaped his huge ass.

Bbbbppppt. Pppt. Pbbbbtttt. Poot. Poot.

“Shit,” he muttered. He felt his underwear get slightly damp and sat back down on the couch. “Now I gotta really wash this uniform..”

“I heard that, Andy,” Caleb called from the other room.

Andy grinned and leaned over, blasting a loud fart in Caleb’s general direction.

FFRRRRBBBBBBBTTTT.

Caleb responded with a small poot and then went back to his homework, sighing once the smell finally hit him.

“That’s why you missed practice today huh?” Andy said to him, small farts still managing to escape his butt while he spoke, “Homework?”

Caleb nodded then stood up to close the door, Andy’s farts stunk worse than his.

Andy sighed and slumped down on the couch, bouncing his leg as poots continued to slide out as he occasionally groaned and wiggled his large rump.

The poor couch, almost always had atleast one gassy ass on it.

Andy sighed and pushed out another dry rumbling fart, fffffffffffrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmpppppppsssss.

The hot smelly air filling the living room made Andy question how the paint hadn’t begun to peel.

Bbbbbrrrruuuuuummmmp.

Andy checked to make sure he hadn’t had an accident with that one, the pillow was it’s usual shade of light brown, not dark, it was all good.

Fffrrrrrmmmmfffffssssss. Ppppbbt.

“God damn,” Andy squinched up his adorable face as a bead of sweat ran through his dark chocolate colored fohawk.

The smell was enough to make anyone tear up at this point.

Whatever this jock had eaten today was causing the gas to be much more smelly than usual.

Ppprrrmmmttt.

His underwear dampened, he felt it become warm and stickier and stood up to air it out. A small chain of farts leaking as he lifted his leg and fanned.

“Scuse me,” he muttered to nobody, continuing to let the gas flow from his bubbly backside.

Finally, he got sick of the wetness, sweaty football shorts, and padding; pulled it all down, his bare ass out. He was now glad Caleb had shut his door.

BBBBBBRRRRRRUUUUUMMMMMPPPPPPPTTTT.

He groaned, hands cupped over his genitals and small poots backing up his huge outburst.

His stomach bubbled and he finally decided it was time to do his laundry, it was all already half off anyways.

ppbbbbbt.

He sighed and took his clothes down to the washing machine, grabbing a pair of old jeans to cover his talkative butt.

[fartcushion]

my older brother was a grade A bully my whole life. His go to was to make me make bets with him that he’d always win. I stopped playing video games all together because I started to associate them with being forced to smell his farts. I’d wised up though and stopped agreeing to any bets with him. But as much as I hate to admit it my brother is just smarter than me and he knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to bet with him again, 

I’d recently started playing a lot of online chess. I wasn’t the best but I certainly better than most casual players. My brother noticed my new hobby and started teasing me about it. “Of course you love chess, nerd” “I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, you spending your free time playing chess with a robot, or that you always lose to that robot!” And eventually the comment he’d been building up to the whole time “You’re such a loser. I bet you couldn’t even beat me at chess”. I wish it didn’t but this caused me to look up from my phone. His evil eyes and cheeky smile goading me. “Seriously? Do you even know how to play chess?” My voice was dripping with annoyance. 

my brother chuckled “of course! It’s just a bunch of knights and kings and wizards and shit that dorks like you play with on a board”. I rolled my eyes at him. “There are no wizards in chess” 

“okay Dorkwad. Wizards or not I bet I can beat your ass at chess with ease”. There it was again. I should’ve just ignored him but feeling confident against my brother for the first time I answered “oh yea what do you bet?” This is when my brother’s face grew into a full on wicked smile. I should’ve known then betting with him was still a bad idea. 

my brother feigned thinking for a moment but he had already planned all of this out. “How about…the winner gets to give the loser wedgies all night and the loser has to let them”. My brother raised his eyebrows up and down at me a couple times playfully. 

The wedgie bet did embolden me further. Usually my brother’s bets were nastier. Fart sniffing or foot rubs. I’d even lost one before where my face had to be his deodorant stick for a whole week, that was a rough one. But just wedgies and for just one night? I deduced that meant he wasn’t confident in his win and didn’t want to risk subjecting himself to anything too brutal for too long. Of course I was wrong. 

“fine. You’re on, wedgie boy!” I jabbed back at my brother. This made him laugh. “That’s the spirit bro!” 

We made our way to the chess board in the den and while I did have whispered thoughts that this was not a good idea, that my brother could actually be good at chess, it was a cake walk. He didn’t play with any strategy just moving pieces on whims. Whereas I knew exactly what I was doing with each move I made. The game was fine in less than ten minutes. “Ahh nice job dork. I guess you win”. I was so happy I had finally gotten one over on my brother. “Ready for your wedgies, loser!” I tried my best to sound like him. 

“Give me one sec bro. I’m actually free balling at the moment.” My brother played with his junk as he said that making me roll my eyes. He left to go out on underwear, or so I thought, and I started to set the board back up. I did take a picture of my dominant win first just so I could lord it over him for a while. I wasn’t pay attention when my brother returned though. In his hands were a roll of duct tape and two large zip ties. Before I had a chance to even compress what was happening he had my hands behind my back and was restraining them with vigor. 

“What the hell dude!” I exclaimed as he jumped off me laughing at the sight of me, 

arms bound behind my back.  

“Uh oh dork, how’re you supposed to give me any wedgies with your arms stuck like that?”. He was playing dumb and really pissing me off. 

“Exactly dude let me go!” I yelled at him. My arms pathetically swinging behind my back. “Oh wait I have an idea!” My brother spoke with a mocking tone. I saw his eyes grow dark and his smirk became slightly more aggressive. I knew that meant I needed to get away but I was already cornered. My brother was on me and had my head pinned face up on the den couch cushion in seconds. “There ya go bro. You won fair and square. So I have to let you give me wedgies allll night”. He emphasized the word have as he stood over me his legs straddling both sides of my body. “But without hands I guess your only option is to wedgie me with your face!” My brother then dropped his shorts exposing his crusty boxer briefs. I really started to struggle then but I couldn’t get up with my hands tied 

“Don’t worry loser, I only wore these to the gym three times last week. They’re pretty clean”. Turning around my brother showed me his boxer clad ass. A light skidmark running up his crack. “Dude please don’t! I won this isn’t fair!” I begged as my brother began to squat down on my face. His ass and skidmark growing in size as they approached me until I was consumed in his musk. 

“Ahhh there it is. Come on dorkazoid. Do your worst. I want my underwear wedged up my crack the farthest you can get it.” My brother teased as he rubbed his crack on my face pushing my face deeper and deeper. His ass stunk so bad. A combination of his unwashed dirty underwear and him never washing his ass either. 

“Wow bro, this isn’t so bad. I don’t know why you’re always such a whiny baby whenever I wedgie you”. My brother teased as if the wedgies he gave me even compared to him shoving my face in his butt. 

“Uh oh dork! I’m feeling a little gassy. I guess wedgie night is gonna be a lot more than you signed up for!” My brother cackled and all I could think was I will never bet with him again. 

This is why you all need to start your own blogs so I can have more stories like this to read ☝️

[mcporker]

I love your farts and burps

Have some more then 🥴😈

[hushsubtlefury]

Changed my pfp to bubble bass from spongebob soley because he's got a fat ass and when he squishes Plankton in the theater and the way his cheeks move, it's just so hot... need him to crush me with that ass lol

[jawwtin-gets-gassy]

Stuffing on doughy cheesy carbs can leave me rather gassy~ 💨

[transsexual-feminism]

Today I wanted to talk about Kyle Bassinga. Kyle was a 21 year old man from Georgia, whose family described him as "a kind, thoughtful, and smart young man who loved nature, music, and the people around him". Kyle Bassinga was killed on February 18th 2026, just ten days after his birthday. He was found hanging from a tree in a park.

The police ruled it a suicide. The family and local community demanded an investigation. The police refused to change their ruling.

I know this website it too white for this to really go anywhere, but an understanding of the present reality of white supremacy in the United States is just so important to transfeminism here. Lynchings never stopped, white supremacy never went away, you just stopped looking.

[seymour-butz-stuff]

Time to feed unprofessional managers what they’ve been dishing out for far too long.

[beaniebaneenie]

Couple things here, for when you do this to people: 

1. if you get the “answer my call” text, NEVER ANSWER THE CALL. 

They are calling you because they want to have the conversation verbally, and be able to lie later about what they said or didn’t say. Force them to continue via text or email- force them to continue the conversation in writing or not at all. 

2. “Lack of 2 weeks notice is unprofessional!” or the other version, “Not providing notice is illegal!”

No it isn’t. Neither is true. 

And in the US, all states except Montana are “at will” employment (though you may hear an employer refer to it as “right to work” to make it sound better, it’s the same thing). Sure, at-will employment means they can fire you without cause, BUT! It also means that you are not legally required to give a reason for quitting, or to give notice of any kind. 

Is it polite to give notice when you can? Sure. Do bosses expect it? Absolutely. But that does not make you legally required to provide it. 

3. The only thing I would change in the worker’s interaction here was their response when initially asked to come in. 

Employee: “Hey Mark. Sorry I’m unable to cover the shift tonight because I’m studying for my exam tomorrow.” 

Don’t give a reason for your lack of availability. It may be tempting to. You may feel rude if you don’t. 

DON’T DO IT.

You do not owe your boss any information about what you do off the clock, and any reason you give will only ever be used against you. 

Boss: “Hey I need you to cover Jasper’s shift tonight.”

Employee: “Sorry, I’m not available.”

And leave it at that. 

Do not elaborate. 

Do not offer additional information. 

When you boss asks you to elaborate, because they will, be polite but firm. “With respect, that’s personal. I’m sorry, but I’m unavailable to cover this shift/work late/come in early/etc.”

Be a broken record- you’re unavailable. That’s the only information they need to know, and it’s the only information they have a LEGAL RIGHT to know. 

Please stop giving your bosses information they don’t need to know and don’t get to have, because they’re only going to try and use it to fuck you over later. 

[reasonandempathy]

My job is HR. The above is completely accurate.

[the-second-twin]

If you’re worried that your next fart might actually be a shart, just let rip in someone’s mouth. No harm, no foul, right?

[sailatina3]

The world is always more racist than you think it is. Every corner of the internet is more racist than you think it is. Every person is more racist than you think they are.

[radicalgraff]

Memorial murals around the world for George Floyd, whose murder by Minneapolis police on 25 May 2020 sparked uprisings in cities around the US, and protests against police racism in various cities around the world.

[hushsubtlefury]

Your roommate burped in your face again, their hot breath fanning over your face.

You couldn't get away even if you wanted to, their weight being far more than yours.

"If you can guess what I had, I'll let you go." They wink.

"If you can't then well..." they trailed off and pats their ass cheek. "You're just gonna have to smell my lunch from that end."

[hookedonhuge]

I'm Right Behind You

(Farting | Big Butt | Short Story)

“Hey, can you hold this step ladder while I fix this?”

You can’t believe how lucky you are. The opportunity to get up close and personal with his giant, muscular butt, given to you without even asking. You walk up behind him and grab the sides of the step ladder, your face so close to his perfect ass that your nose is almost in his crack.

“Hold on tight.”

You grip onto it like your life depends on it, not willing to let this opportunity go.

pffffft.

Your nose hair burns from the rancid gas that escaped from his ass. It’s nasty! You instinctively lean your head back trying to escape the smell, your grip on the step ladder loosening ever so slightly.

“I said hold on tight!”

You tighten your grip again and lean back in towards his ass. He shifts his positioning on the step ladder so that he can reach further, then when he is stable he pushes his butt back, smothering your face in his cheeks. You can’t believe that you’re getting even luckier.

“Just need to get in the right position to reach this…”

He pushes his butt back further, your face now even deeper between his cheeks and your arms at full stretch as you hold on desperately to the step ladder.

BRRRAAAAAAAP!

His foul gas blasts directly into your nose and down your throat. You can taste the whey from his protein shakes on your tongue. With your arms at full stretch there’s no escape from your noxious prison.

“Yeah I’ve been smashing my protein goals lately, but it’s just made me so gassy.”

FRRRRAAAAAAAAP! 

He inflates your lungs with his rotten fart. You thrash your head fighting for fresh air, but it’s no use.

“You wanted this ass so bad, well now you’re going to get every last bit of it. Ha!”

He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face so deep into his ass that you’re practically kissing his hole through his shorts.

BWWWRRRRRRRRRLT!