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monzabee · 1 year

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how you get the girl – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a past break-up, jealousy, possessive charles, angst? (only if you squint, or maybe not I don’t know), charles being charles, google translate French, anger?

Request: “Can I request a Charles fanfic with angst? Maybe famous singer reader used to date someone really famous like Harry styles and they run into Harry and Charles is really jealous and acting up/mad?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this is my first time writing a fic, so all feedback is welcome and appreciated. i liked the idea that the anon named harry so i used him, but also i had to include taylor swift some way because she is the literal best. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You sigh, fixing the way the neckline of your dress looks and meeting the eyes of your boyfriend through the mirror. “I know you’d rather be relaxing tonight than entertaining people.”

Charles smiles softly as he keeps his eyes focused on yours, the green in his eyes shining just a little bit brighter due to the afternoon sun shining through the hotel room window. He abandons his place on the edge of the bed and comes closer to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you trying to convince me to stay back, or convince yourself, chérie?”

His question brings a mischievous smile on your lips and you shrug your shoulders with faux innocence as you lean your head back on the Monegasque’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chéri.” Your use of the pet name he taught you when the two of you first went on a date makes him let out a laugh – well, you don’t know if it is because of your use or your pronunciation or your use of the word in general, but you’re hoping for the latter.

“Well, I think you are.” He takes your hand in his and slowly moves you from your place in front of the mirror. “And it’s not going to work, because you—”

“Promised Helen we’d be there. I know, I know.” You huff, shaking out of his grasp and fixing his bowtie with a small frown on your face as you mumble, “I thought you F1 drivers would be into breaking the rules, but no, I had to find the only decent one.”

Charles chuckles as he places his hands back onto your waist as you continue your mission with a relentless sense of seriousness. “Aw, you think I’m decent?”

An urgency to smile snakes up onto your lips because of his question but you try to refrain yourself from doing so by twisting your lip, “Shut up, Charles.”

“I think you’re decent as well,” he takes a moment to think with an exaggerated expression, “pretty, too.”

You smile at your handiwork as you pat his bowtie twice and place your hands on the sides of your hips. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

He shakes his head and starts walking you towards the door, picking up your coat and bag, and ignoring your protests along the way. “But, yes of course. However, we need to go right now if you don’t want to make Helen angry at you for being late.”

“At me?” You ask, confused.

Charles laughs. “Well, yes, chérie. She loves me too much to get mad at me. You’ll have fun once we go inside.”

By the time the two of you arrive at the gala, Charles has managed to uplift your mood (mostly by promising you pizza and sweets after the two of your leave the event). When you get to Royal Albert Hall, Helen welcomes you with a big smile and open arms. The three of you decide to grab drinks together at the bar and talk about the event, your latest recording deal, Charles’ upcoming season, and Helen’s new client who is a “twat-waffle in skinny jeans, but don’t worry about me, honey, I’ve seen worse.” She leaves the two of you to welcome newcomers, who are probably looking at her to congratulate her on the event. You place your glass on the bar and turn to face Charles, who is looking at you with a small smirk on his face.

You sigh exaggeratedly and tilt your head to the side. “Fine, you were right, this is fun.”

He matches your sigh, although with a lighter tone to it. “I know, I love being right.” He quickly finishes the rest of his drink and gets up from his place to offer you his hand. “Now, chérie, allons-nous danser?” Shall we dance? You nod your head, giggling as you take his hand and allow him to pull you onto the dance floor. With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you think this might be the perfect night.

You and Charles dance through what feels like a hundred songs, but in reality, you lose the count after the third slow-paced song because the DJ decides he’s had enough of the slow songs for the evening and moves onto the fast-paced ones. Both of you jump up and down to the rhythm of the music as best as you can in your choice of heels for the evening, and Charles is there with you to do the same. He nudges your shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows when the DJ decides to play one of your recent songs, not shy to let the people around you know that it is your song. “That’s my girlfriend’s song!” he says, “Yes! It’s the new one!”

After the previous song finishes, the two of you decide to retire for a bit, walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You turn to Charles when you hear him chuckling and find him shaking his head. “Hey, what are you laughing at?”

“You look like a tomato, mon amour.” He’s quick to add, “A very cute one at that.”

You let out a shocked gasp, swatting lightly at his chest to cease his laughs. “It’s not funny! I never make fun of you after your races, even if you do look like a tomato.”

“That is not true, and you know it.” His laughter continues, making you join him and soon after both of you are laughing uncontrollably; with you leaning against the railing of the balcony and him with his arms placed on either side of you to cage you in. After your laughter dies down, leaving you both in heaving breaths in to calm yourselves, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places it onto your shoulders.

You gaze up at him, softly smiling through your lashes. “Thank you, my love.”

You press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but he is quick to capture your lips in his, and his eyes are the last thing before you close yours as he starts kissing you. His hands quickly start moving and he drags them up your body to cradle your face between his hands as he deepens the kiss. You let out an involuntary whimper, in which he responds by gently tugging at your lower lip. In an attempt to bring him closer, you slip your fingers through the belt loops of his dress pants, which thankfully is not occupied by a belt. Charles’ response is to bring your face even closer as he keeps kissing you. The two of you don’t realise the sound of footsteps coming from behind you.

“Oh, God, sorry.” A voice interrupts, and you quickly separate from each other, albeit a little bit unwillingly. You inhale deeply to regulate your irregular breathing, and let out a gasp as your eyes fall onto the intruder. Just as you are about to open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I can’t believe it, hi Y/N, it’s been ages!”

Although Charles’ eyebrows furrow, he keeps his gaze focused on you only to turn around to face the intruder once you say, “Hi, Harry, it’s been a while!” He gives him a once over, keeping his hands on your waist as the two of you talk about the lost time. And yes, while Charles can be a jealous man – just like any other guy in a relationship who is as besotted with their partner as he is with you – he never considers himself to be possessive. He even likes Harry’s music, he mostly encounters the songs at the paddock before a race or after while doing media stuff, but he doesn’t have any issues regarding his music or him in general just because he is dating you because he is secure in your relationship to know just how much you love and respect him and the same goes for you. But standing there with you leaning against him while talking to your ex-boyfriend, yes he know he is your ex-boyfriend like the rest of the world thanks to your very public break-up, he just wants to take you away from there any to anywhere where the two of you can be alone.

You leap off the railing you were leaning against when you feel Charles’ hands tightening on your waist and move one of your hands to cover his as you give him a slight squeeze. “This is Charles, my boyfriend.”

He watches as you give him a polite smile and attempts to do the same, but it reality his probably comes-off as a strained one. Harry offers him a handshake as he smiles at him, “Hello, nice to meet you.” And then, he watches as the Brit turns his attention once against to you.

“We missed you at the awards this season, you didn’t attend any of them!” Harry chuckles, shaking his head a little.

You shrug and answer him with the same polite smile on your face. “Well, you know me, never been fan of the award shows in the first place.”

Charles knows this, of course he does, because whenever someone starts to ask you about award season in the first place, you let them know that the awards are not the reason you write songs in the first place – the fans are. He tunes most of your conversation out as his insecurities take over his thoughts, he thinks it is funny in a way because your relationship might be the only one where he has felt like he could be himself without worrying about what you might think. Just as he is about the calm his fears by the logical side of his brain reasoning and telling him that he should probably stop acting like a fool, he hears Harry asking you about a song on your album which makes him throw all the rationality he has out the metaphorical window.

“I-uh, I listened to your new album, it was very good.” Harry says.

A wide smile finds a place on your face. “Oh, thank you, Harry! It’s nice to hear that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I liked that one song the most, what’s it called, How You Get the Girl?” He thinks quietly for a split second. “Oh whatever – it was very good. But tell me the truth, was it or was it not about me?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you that, it’s a secret.” You laugh. And he laughs. And Charles only watches the scene before him without being able to say anything because he is swarmed by all the thoughts he tried so hard pushing out of his head coming back. You must’ve notice his drastic change in mood because you excuse the two of you saying that you’re feeling a little bit cold.

“Oh sure, it was nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles at you, and then addresses Charles, “It was also nice meeting you, Charles. Take care of my girl, eh?”

“You too, Henry.” Charles replies, without filtering his response in his head and hangs his head low to avoid any awkwardness.

You wait until the Brit leaves the balcony and then focus on the man in front of you, “Charles–” you start, but he cuts you off with a low voice.

“Can we just go home?” He inhales deeply. “Please.”

Needless to say, the car ride home is quiet and tense. Charles acts like he doesn’t care, but you know deep inside that he is bothered by what happened and is probably overthinking the entire situation. The one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you didn’t drive to the venue but instead opted for a car service, thinking that you’d both be drunk by the time event ended. However in reality, neither of you are drunk and you are fairly sure Helen is going to send you a very angry text the next morning because you left early. When the driver announces that you’ve arrived at the hotel, Charles thanks him before exiting the car and you do the same before you lean over to open your door, but Charles is quicker than you and he does it for you.

He is quiet the entire way up to your hotel room, but he has an arm around you and you place your hand right on top of his in an attempt to sooth whatever negative emotions he is feeling at the moment. He is also quiet when you get to your room, and he helps you pull off your coat and his jacket underneath the coat. He smiles for a split second, seeing his oversized jacket on your frame, but the seriousness returns as he helps you out of it.

“Charles,” you say his name, “please talk to me.”

“I’m okay, chérie.” He sighs and places a small kiss to you forehead. “I’m going to take a shower before bed, okay?” He leaves before giving you an opportunity to speak, and you are left behind, thinking about the last time he called you that pet name a few hours ago, and how he was smiling.

Instead of pushing him to talk about his feelings you decide to let him cool down, hoping that he would be more open to having a conversation about what happened after his shower. So, you take of your shoes and your dress – although you struggle to find the zipper for a while – and you take of your make up on the small vanity the hotel provided for you after you put on your pyjamas for the night. By the time Charles is out of his shower, you are waiting for him sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers.

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” He mumbles, weaving his hands through his wet hair.

You can’t help the small frown etching on your face. “We never go to bed angry at each other.”

You can see the change in his eyes, but even though his eyes soften at the sight of you, his tone is firm when he tells you, “I’m not angry at you, Y/N.”

“See, I find it hard to believe that right about now.” You mumble, your eyes falling on your lap for a second.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

“What? Why?” You ask, your voice wavering at the last syllable. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to go over some statistics in the living room.” He doesn’t look at you, or let you protest. He picks up his computer from the abandoned backpack in the corner of the room and presses another light kiss to your forehead before going into the living room to try to get rid of the anger by working it off.

And thus, you try to go to sleep – mainly because you know just how stubborn Charles is. His mother always tells you stories about when he was a kid and refused to go to bed in his pyjamas because he didn’t want to take off his karting suit. But you see how much he’s stubborn every single day, when he makes you get out of bed in crack-dawn of the day because you told him you wanted to start exercising with a “no, mon amour, you said you wanted to start running!”, or when he makes you eat your vegetables because “you can’t live off of chicken nuggets for the rest of your life, you’re in your twenties!”. But most importantly, you see how stubborn he is every time he pushes himself to be better; a better man, a better son, a better driver and even a better boyfriend. So, it breaks your heart to think that he is outside the doors of the bedroom, alone and contemplating things he shouldn’t have to because he knows just how much you love him. So, you get out of the bed, which isn’t very hard in the first place because it feels too empty and cold without Charles in it, and you march your way through the bedroom doors and into the living room where a certain green-eyed Monegasque driver is hunched over his computer in the low light.

He looks up and his eyes go wide when he spots you, sleep evident in your eyes and there is a permanent pout on your lips. There is a silent communication between the two of you as he pushes his chair slight off the table for you to place yourself on his lap and consequently wrapping yourself around his sitting figure.

“Chérie, you should be sleeping, it’s late.” He speaks in a low voice, encouraging you to go to sleep, but you know him well enough to read between the lines.

Your voice comes of muffled because you cuddle against the side of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep because someone refuses to talk about his feelings and made me become accustomed to his cuddles over the past year and a half.”

“Mon amour,” he sighs, “I am fine, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?”

There isn’t any emotional strain in his voice, unlike before, but you still don’t like the fact that he refuses to acknowledge his feelings. So instead of pushing, you pick your head up again and focus on his green eyes, “You called me by my name, and you never call me by my name unless I’ve done something wrong.”

“That’s not true.” His voice comes off as a whisper this time.

“It is and you know it.” You untangle one of your arms from around his neck to cradle his jaw and let your finger wander around. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I can fix it.” You think for a moment. “S'il vous plait.” Please.

Charles lets out a frustrated breath and tightens his arms around your frame – involuntarily, or maybe not, but who cares, really? “It’s mine,” He grumbles.

“What is?” You ask, tilting your head with genuine curiosity.

“The song.” Now it is Charles’ turn to pout. “It’s my song, you wrote it for me. I was there when you recorded it and you told me so.”

“Oh, Charles.” You coo, bringing your other hand up to his face and gently caressing his face as you straighten yourself up on his lap. “It is about you, my love, he was just joking.”

You let out a chuckle as you hear him mumble, “Well, it wasn’t funny to me.”

“Is this about more than the song?” You ask, continuing the movement of your hands. You smile as he lets out a dissenting mumble, “Good, because I would hate it if you thought I have eyes for anyone other than you.”

“You would?” He mumbles, leaning into your touch.

“Oh yes, I would be very upset.” You nod, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And Charles?” You ask.

“Yes, chérie?” He asks right back, his eyes not leaving yours even for a moment.

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

“It’s not your fault,” His eyes become serious for a second again, but they soften at the sight of you quickly. “Don’t blame yourself, chérie.” He mumbles as he kisses you softly on your lips. “Okay?”

“But still,” You mumble, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

He sighs, but it is not a sad sigh like before. Which makes you think it is an improvement. “I’m sorry I can’t write songs about you.”

“What?” You ask, voice shaky. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not– I can’t put my feelings into words that way.” His hands occupy themselves with the string of your pyjama pants.

“I don’t need you to write me songs, Charles, and I don’t want you to change.” You press soft kisses around his face, making him smile involuntarily. “I love you just the way you are, you stubborn stubborn man.” You thing he’s about to say something, but can’t finish your train of thought because suddenly you’re being lifted off the chair and you’re in the air. You let out a shriek, “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” Charles replies, and rolls his eyes as your expression changes. “To sleep,” he emphasises the second word, “méchante fille” naughty girl. You laugh as he puts you back on your side of the and tucks you in before turning off the lights and getting into the bed himself. He is quick to pull you towards his arms and cuddle you under his weight, which you’ve become accustomed to and helps you sleep better. “Go to sleep, mon amour.” He kisses you on your forehead again.

“Charles?” You ask into the night, and continue once he lets out an affirmative hum. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” I love you too, my love. You hear him say as you’re falling to sleep. “Tu es l'amour de ma vie.” You’re the love of my life.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #harry styles makes an apperance

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gortashs-skidmark · 9 days

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Some Tieflings DnD variations for the fanfic writers and artists!!

There’s a lot about tieflings on the internet. If you’re gonna do BG3 fanfics about tieflings, please please please consider adding some spice with origin lore and canon facts about their race :) it would be SO fun!

Pls I need more zevlor fanfic too.

- tieflings are prone to bad luck, because of the curse of aasimar.

- loviatar, the goddess, is a tiefling. For those weird people in act 1 who like that fucking guy.

- they’re arcanally gifted, most of them. zariel tieflings are much better melee fighters.

- tielfling blood is tainted from the hells so they could have human parents. Be dscedents of demon, devils, evil deities, night hags, and succubus!

- i know y’all love aphrodisiac fanfics, succubus spittle is exactly what you need dawg. Someone make me a fanfic including succubus heritage.

- along with that, tieflings are unable to breed with anyone except humans or other tieflings. Literally. They can be tiefling or human.

- usually there is some tell to if they’re zariel, amsmodeus, Mephistopheles by birth mark, or traits like cat eyes (they’re portrayed as flaming pupils in bg3, so cool), or night hags bloodlines have red eyes without pupils or scelaras

- tieflings can be male, female, or without gender. Literally written about.

- they can be green, blue, purple, pink, yellow, red. With dark hair colors only like black, purple, dark red and blue. I don’t care for this, genes be gene-ing so have any color you want.

- tieflings can have feathers! Although rare. They have fur, scales, or bald like humans. They can be any variation of sorts! It’s crazy

- tieflings are technically minorities and don’t live in the highest neighborhoods. It gives them an even worse reputation.

- most famous tieflings also give bad reps. Like loviatar as mentioned.

- when tieflings get nervous, experience anxiety, or are upset. They’re known to wrap their tails around their leg!! Super telling.

- they can use their tail like a monkey, very dexterous about it. It’s about 5-6ft long.

- their ages, weight, height. All similar to humans. Idk how logical that is with 5 extra feet of meat behind them.

- tieflings are as sensitive as humans, same hearing. They usually have dark vision. And their body temperatures can be colder or warmer than humans.

- they don’t purr, sorry girlies. They’re closer to humans than tabaxi’s.

- tieflings don’t regrow horns unless they’re still young, though they do tend to file them down.

- there are so many tieflings bloodlines. I love the babau tieflings bc they’re already known as uncanny creatures. Babau tieflings are gaunt and skinny, darker skin, and a small horn coming from the back of their head.

- marilith tieflings are known to be seductive- more than they already are, and have dark hair. They have snake-like trails and have grey tongues.

- succubus tieflings! They’re like the ones you see in bg3, often have a small set of wings.

- tieflings can have so many fucking variations it makes me dizzy.

- tieflings can have bat winged like ears, that perk up and shit. I know yall think about ear movements.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tiefling #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #karlach #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanart

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thefreakandthehair · 6 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th: Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all.

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention.

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch.

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl.

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house?

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.”

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around.

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington.

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one.

The jumpscare.

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers.

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds.

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–”

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!”

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile.

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it.

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!”

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him.

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose.

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned.

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.”

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back.

“Thanks.”

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms.

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?”

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes.

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely.

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man.

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

“Krusty knows everything.”

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement.

Nothing’s real in a haunted house.

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead.

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache.

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that.

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair.

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand.

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.”

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.”

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later.

They’ve gotten him this far.

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious.

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.”

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open.

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly.

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair.

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times.

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.”

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house.

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.”

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown.

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away.

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #please consider reblogging if you enjoy! <333

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arachnoia · 9 months

Text

7 minutes | hobie brown

pairing- college au! hobie brown x fem! reader

a/n | warnings- mentions of drugs, nsfw, partying, reader has snake bites and nipple piercings, just a drabble! requests are opennnn

You felt almost reckless the moment you stepped into the party. You haven’t even drank alcohol at that point but you felt almost drunk from adrenaline.

You’d broken up with your boyfriend over some issues and your friend Margo recommended you go to a party hosted by your friend Pavitr from your Spanish class. It was better than being depressed and looking over texts telling you sweet nothings and false “I love you”s.

You cringed and pursed your lips as you felt the drink you had burn its flavor on your tongue. “Fuck.”

Margo went off with your roommate Gwen to get high off some new weed she bought from a guy in one of her classes. They went and dragged Miles along who was already munching on a rice crispy edible.

You didn’t feel like hot shit as you thought you were. You just stared at everyone get drunk, high, make out, and have fun. Occasionally see some girls skinny dip in the pool.

You nodded your head at some random rap song and frowned. Here you were, in the sexiest, most revealing outfit you had that, at first, made you feel good. But now you just want to go back to your sweats and cry your eyes out over The Notebook.

“Nice party huh?” You turned over to the voice who poured himself some of the Pink Whitney you had next to you on the counter.

His name was Hobie. You knew him from being in Gwen’s band as a guitarist. You never paid much attention to him since he had already finished college and just came over when Gwen wanted to discuss band stuff.

You won’t lie that you did enjoy looking at him but you had a boyfriend so that didn’t matter.

Key word: had.

“I guess. But y’know. I’m not really in the mood to strip and show the whole world my tits so…”

You were in the kitchen and played around with your glass. The white lights were in definite contrast to the darkness of the rest of the house, which almost hurt your eyes at how bright they were. You almost felt like an outlier at how you were there obviously and not out there getting your brains fucked by some frat boy who wouldn’t remember you in the next hour.

He chuckled and took another swig of his drink before pouring some Malibu, “So you have some jokes apart from your pretty face, huh?”

You were almost startled by how bold he was and whipped your head at him, who was smirking at you and looking down at you.

He had a nice accent but damn, you couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered at how fine he was.

You never really paid attention but you almost wished you did as horrible as that sounds. Hobie was the complete opposite of your ex-boyfriend who was boring and uptight whereas Hobie was dauntless and intrepid.

From what you knew of him.

What allured you most though, was his lip piercing on the left side of his face.

Oh, how much you wanted to feel its cold metal as you made out with him and feel it pressed against your lips.

“Aren’t you bold,” you yelled out. The music got even louder as some dancing people started yelling a little when some songs started playing. It was almost juvenile how they were jumping.

But then again you can’t judge because you were just feeling moody a few minutes ago about not being fucked.

He leaned closer to you to accentuate every syllable that slipped from his lips, smelling the alcohol on his breath, “It’s better to be bold. Wouldn’t you say?”

You felt excited and caressed his face, feeling the vodka kick in and playing with his lip ring using your index finger.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs, darling?”

Before you went along with him, you got dragged into a circle of different people where they had you and Hobie join. It happened so quick, you couldn’t recall what you thought but now you were apart of a circle, next to him.

“Oh we’re just playing 7 minutes in Heaven.”

You mentally cringed at the idea. That was like something you played in a high school house party.

This is college. It’s supposed to be at least a little more sophisticated.

“I…”

Hobie peered down at you and held your wrist, “C’mon, it should at least be a bit fun?”

You were spaced out and imagined all the things you could do with his lip ring, like feeling it against your pussy. Just thinking about it made you smile a bit and feel horny.

You licked your lips until someone else, tapped your shoulder, “It’s your turn.”

It was almost comical how you were going to hook up with this guy and then ended up trapped in a closet with him for seven minutes.

Talk about coincidence.

The closet was tiny and bare, with just the both of you barely fitting in and you being pressed against his chest, smelling his cologne.

It smelled sexy.

“So…”

“…So”

You both made eye contact to stop the discomfiture. It had only been a few seconds of being there and it felt awkward.

“Some party, huh?”

You tried to nod without hitting his chest with your head, “I guess. I’ve been to better.”

His eyes had a glint as he peered down at you to make eye contact again, “Oh, so you party?”

You chuckled, “Well not as I used to. My boyfriend would disapprove and not be very fond of that and would prefer to stay at my apart-“

He raised his eyebrow before he interrupted you, “Oh. Wait, the wanker with the nerdy ass glasses was your boyfriend? Him?!”

You chuckled at his surprised reaction, “Yeah. But he’s okay I guess.”

You were forced to look up as he held your chin and played with your bottom lip, flicking your snake bites.

You felt his lips crash onto yours, feeling the cold metal of his lip piercing and smiling at the cool feeling. He started to caress your ass and kissed your neck, “C’mon, we have 6 minutes left. Let’s make it quick.”

He managed to slide his fingers through your panties underneath your skirt and start to abuse your clit, making it hard not to start moaning.

He started to take off your tight corset top, exposing your pierced hardened nipples and attacking your sensitive breasts. He stopped a bit, making a ‘pop’ noise to gawk at your breasts, “I feel a bit honored to see them now, considering you didn’t want to flash them.”

His breathlessness made you even more turned on and gasped as he started to flick your nipples with his tongue.

“They’re beautiful…you’re beautiful…”

You gasped and whimpered slightly as he worked his fingers even faster as he muttered sweet words to you, “Please…faster.”

“C’mon, baby.” The feeling of the cold rings on his index only sent more chills down your spine as it touched your warm walls.

He quickly undid his belt and lowered down his boxers. You felt him lower you down to suck his cock, grazed with precum, and decorated with a Prince Albert piercing. That alone made your core throb.

You raised your eyebrow as he flashed you a mischievous smirk, “Problem?”

You smiled and bit your lip up at him.

“Nope,” and without giving him a chance to fire back, you took him fully and started to bob your head back and forth. You felt your eyes glaze with tears as you felt him reach the end of your throat.

“Fuck, babe…” He bit his lips and pulled your hair for to feel your throat feel tighter on his cock.

Before he could release, he brought you to kiss you, feeling his cold piercing on your lips. You felt him smile in the kiss and kneaded your breasts, playing with the rods pierced and rubbing on them, making you gasp.

He started to rub his dick against your pussy, biting your lip and kissed you even harder to stop you from moaning louder after he slid into you, slowly as he felt you clench tighter on him. He pushed you against the closet wall to go deeper, holding your leg up to position himself even more. It felt cathartic, almost.

“Oh fuck…Please do it like that,” you muttered, gasping for air like your life depended on it. You felt a plethora of pleasure as he kept going and kneaded your breasts intensely.

You felt him twitch inside you and smiled, hearing him groan and gasping as you felt him release and fill you up.

Before you could go again, completely lost, you heard banging from the door and someone yell: “Times up!”

You pursed your lips and tried to fix yourself together and before you knew it, Hobie went out the door and looked back at you, smiling, “We should go at it again sometime. It was fun.”

You gave him a dopey smile, half from being sex-drunk and other half from being actually drunk. It was embarrassing how your tits were being exposed and your skirt was lifted all the way up.

At least he wasn’t an ass and actually closed the door.

So much for college being sophisticated.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Is she awake..?”

“I don’t even know if this bitch is even alive.”

You groaned and covered your eyes from the sunlight.

“Well she’s alive.”

“Do you feel better now?” Gwen smiled at you sadly. You didn’t remember what you told her as your eyes fluttered from sleeping on the couch after being drunk as fuck the night before.

You got up to sit before feeling pain from your lower body, “FUCK!”

“I saw you with Hobie yesterday, Ms. Y/L/N…” Margo said as she hit her pen.

Gwen’s caring expression shifted to one of disgust, “You can’t be fucking for real, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips in confirmation of whatever she thought.

“Y/N…Y’know I’m all for having hook-ups and whatever and girl, he’s my friend but he’s not the one for you. I know how much Peter-“

“Don’t finish that sentence and don’t bring him into this. And why? You literally said you two are friends?!” You got up and leaned on your elbows to look at her.

Gwen crossed her arms and refused to look at you.

You frowned and turned over more to look at her. “What the hell? You’re acting as if I just committed a fucking cardinal sin?!”

“Y/N! As much as Parker hurt you, that doesn’t give you a free pass for you to start trusting any random guy at a goddamn house party.”

Your eyes widened at what she told you. “So you’re tryna say I’m a hoe now?”

Margo covered her mouth and took another hit, “Oh damn.”

She winced at your voice crack, “No. I’m just trying to tell you to be careful…”

“Why?!”

“BECAUSE HE’S A HOE.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding…”

You turned to Margo who shrugged, “She’s not wrong. Hobie has a thing for one-night stands and uh, leaving them.”

“Listen, he’s a nice person but he’s a little bitch and won’t hesitate to crush you if you gain feelings.”

Her words made your stomach flip, not because of the several shots of tequila you took after. But more so due to feeling naïve.

It couldn’t be helped. His personality was alluring as it was mysterious and addictive.

You nodded, earning a smile from Margo, before you three turned to the sound of a knock at the door.

“Hah. Imagine it’s him. Hobie Hobie Hobie,” you joked, earning a smile from Gwen as you chanted Hobie’s name quietly like he was Beetlejuice.

“I’ll get it,” Margo said and went over to open the door to a smirking Hobie, leaning against the door frame. He has his classic leather jacket and smoked a blunt while still leaning.

Gwen’s face dropped, “Speak of the fucking devil…”

“Hey.”

masterlist

#astv hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown x reader #hobie smut #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #sol (not de janeiro)

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Note

Hi! I hope this is okay to send because I’ve sent this type of request to others (and I know that’s normally bad) BUT it’s because I enjoy the different opinions of all the amazing writers!!! It’s not a fic request but just a request for your top headcanons for Spencer Reid.

The things that you’re like “this is canon and I’ll fight you over it” - smut, nsfw, tame, domestic, anything - just your opinions/rants!

(If it’s not okay to ask though please accept my apology!!! I’m still learning the social etiquette of tumblr requests! ) - 🌑

I definitely think this is okay to send to different writers, because you will usually get very different results - usually writers don't like it when you send a request that can only get similar results (asking for a narrative fic with a detailed, similar plot). But I love giving my random headcanons about characters.

Random Spencer Reid Headcanons

And okay, the first one I have in mind for Spencer is so weird.

One of the headliners that I always have in mind for Spencer - he wears tighty whities.

Like - the only kind of underwear that he wears are the classic hanes briefs (usually white, maybe heather grey, never black or any other 'fun' colour) - he doesn't wear boxer briefs, he doesn't wear boxers. Whenever I see a fic saying 'and then Spencer took off his boxer briefs', I'm like: "no, you don't know him like I do".

Spencer is a fucking nerd. Spencer is the type of fucking nerd who would insist on wearing the nerdiest underwear - tighty whities. And people probably write about him wearing boxer briefs because those are the sexy men's underwear and briefs are not like 'hot' to picture men in - but that is exactly why I HC him as wearing them and exactly why I mention that he wears them in every single one of my fics.

Spencer would wear the dorkiest underwear in expectation that he's not going into a sexual situation. He wears his underwear thinking that he's not going to fuck - he's not going to have to 'impress' anyone. Also, over time, of writing several fics about him and thinking about Spencer for 100s of hours a week - I have come to develop this kind of kink for picturing his giant nine inch cock trapped inside the crotch of a pair of briefs, hard and struggling to fit in there. It would be hot in its own way. (Which, Spencer always is.)

Speaking of his cock - you may notice that with a lot of my fics, I take the time to describe in depth what a male character's dick looks like. This is because I take the time to picture and think about what a characters dick looks like and how it is different from other characters (because no, not every characters dick is nine inches, thick and veiny. no) - I call it the Dickscription. And I think it's a very important part of characterization.

Spencer is eight to nine inches (when fully hard) - but he is skinny. His cock is a bean pole, just like he is. You would look at his dick and call it a snake. His cock is very smooth - the skin on it is baby soft and smooth, rather than veiny, and Spencer does not shave his pubes. Spencer is a full bush kind of guy - because he is terrified of putting a razor anywhere near his dick. He would only shave if you helped him and if he trusted you a lot. And he had a very thick, dark bush of hair near the top, around the base of his cock, but it gets more sparse around his balls, which even get soft and fuzzy in some places. (I have thought about this way. too. much.)

He is uncut, and when he gets really needy and teased or if you don't let him cum, then his cock turns a really bright shade of pink or even red, and the colour goes across his whole cock so his cock becomes like this beautiful bright pink rocket - and he leaks. Spencer is a very leaky guy, to the point where he gets everything so wet before he can even cum.

(These headcanons are getting out of control, lets get back to something more wholesome, shall we?)

Spencer is the kind of person to take himself on dates. On the rare occasion that he gets a day off, Spencer indulges in going out alone. It's not necessarily that he likes the solitude, but he's used to it because he spent his entire childhood pretty much alone, and there are a lot of activities that he likes that he thinks no one else he knows will enjoy. So he tries to enjoy treating himself to a day out alone.

He will bring a few good books to a cafe and drink a few expensive lattes (and probably eat a few pastries) and simply enjoy the peace and quiet of reading by himself for a while. He'll go to a book store and browse for hours before finally picking something. He'll go to a naturally history museum and walk around by himself, not tied to the whims of what someone else wants to see.

Hmmm

Maybe some relationship headcanons?

(Because we all love Spencer, lets face it.)

This is something I bring up in Careful (as you guys will see) - but I genuinely believe that Spencer Reid would treat his partner like royalty. He is someone who has spent years reading about romance - especially with his mother reading him so much classic literature, he regards the classics as the bar for romance (and he just hopes that his life doesn't become one of the tragedies where one or both partners die in the end). So he's not the 'Netflix and Chill' type - and he definitely doesn't bring you to the movies to sit in silence on a date.

He is the type of person to hire a violinist to play your favourite song by the table on a date, he will open doors for you, help you with your coat, pull out chairs for you, recite poetry to you (probably in other languages just because it sounds beautiful).

He will always think of the most unique dates to take you on. He'll take you to museums, to an observatory, to the orchestra - he'll take you to a large, elegant library that has rare books and recite lines from those classic books to you while you're there. He would take you to plays or a midnight picnic by a lake. Dates with him would never be boring or typical - it would be like living in a romantic movie.

A lot of people HC that Spencer would not be into PDA because he's too shy, but I don't think that's the case. Early seasons Spencer maybe, but I think that even he would get to a point where he's just so enamoured with you that he needs to touch you in public. But his PDA wouldn't be steamy or smutty, it would be romantic and soft and passionate.

He would keep a hand on your lower back while walking around, a sign that he's right there with you, a gentle signal to anyone around that you're with him. He would lean in close to speak right in your ear - showing that his words are only for you, that nobody else in the vicinity deserves to hear what he has to say, only you do.

He would graze his fingertips right across your arm, causing goosebumps on your skin. He would stare into your eyes with such intense, burning passion. And he would kiss you in public - lingering only long enough to leave you wanting more. And on occasion, he would lean in to kiss your neck or bring your hand up to kiss the back of it - gentle things to show his appreciation of you without giving away too much for prying eyes to see.

Dating Spencer would be like dating a prince from a hallmark movie, I swear to god.

(That's all I have for now, because if I keep thinking about this too much, I may explode because Spencer is not real and I can't actually date him.)

#sundrop writes #requests #requested #spencer reid #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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adiproseprose · 11 months

Text

‘God, I can’t wait for you to explode’

‘Just imagine this helpless piggy too big to walk’

‘No doubt she’ll be immobile soon…’

The addicting tight rush of fullness settles in my bloated gut. My third straight pitcher of weight gain shake collapses to the floor, and I struggle to shake the numbness out of my toes. If I could see them I’d know they were swollen and startlingly red, but I can’t see shit past my massive tits, hanging low to the center of my belly. I sink back into the couch and rub myself off, sausage fingers snaking into my underwear. My chins serve as a resting place for my exhausted head.

I’ve always been something of an extremist. There was a time where I would count the calories on a baggy of baby carrots. I was a whore in every sense of the word, skinny as a pencil and duller than an eraser. I didn’t need anybody, I had the attention of every boy I made eye contact with. Skipped college and became a model, traveled all over the world. If you want, you can get my before and after shots. 45 bucks a piece, 112 vrs. 675.

Nobody pays attention to you when you’re fat.

I kicked the ball down the hill when my agency fired me, parents claiming I was giving their kids bulimia or some bullshit. The ball began to collect years of sugar, fat, salt and grease, hardly able to get out of bed without a mouthful of fresh endorphins. My veins swelled with lard, stomach overstretched and doubled over onto my fat padded knees.

It was all very discouraging at first. I heard the gossip as I toddled along to my convenience store for my nightly dinner of mars bars and oven fries, about how tiny I used to be, if I was really the same girl. ‘Nobody wants to rub out a fat girl’.

I drank a lot. Partied a lot. Had a lot of shitty, desperate sex that ended after 4 minutes with a sigh and a cigarette. Then I met this guy. He grabbed my belly and afterwards told me I could make a killing if I kept gaining weight. I told him to fuck off but I looked into it. Feedism is a deep, dark, somewhat fucked up world. But money is green, so I did some analysis. What did they like about these women, big asses, big tits, double chins? These women are making thousands of dollars just to eat.

I piled on fat like batter in a cake tin. I’m round up top, double belly and huge boobs. Thickness in my face that I don’t love, but my ass is rounder than the moon.

“Ohhhh…fuck *HIC*...fuck me. I might’ve had too much, guys.” I whine to the camera. I rub and shake my belly.

“BURRPPP!”

I like to read the comments while I masturbate. I scroll, an endless stream of aroused fans.

‘700 bucks if you do a fourth!!111’

‘7 HUNDO!!!!!’

Over and over again this bitch. I roll my eyes. “500 dollars for another one Mr…Pigfarmer?”

‘YES!!!’

He donates. And I fix the shake on my coffee table, bringing it to my lips. I wince. I really do not wanna throw up.

“Gonna do this for you, Pigfarmer. Whoooo boy..”

I down the shake in maybe 2 minutes and let the empty pitcher land on the floor with the others. “So *huff* fucking…fat. Can barely get… off the couch anymore..ughhhh…”

‘I will feed you until your fucking feet fall off’

‘I can help you off the couch!!!’

‘I’ll feed you and fuck you until you can’t move baby’

This isn’t enough. I need to be fat enough to where anything is monetizable. Walking out to the car. Going up stairs. I’ve made a few sets of my rolling out bed, when my joints are aching and my waddle is exaggerated the most.

I don’t get much out of this besides the money. If anything, it makes me feel gross. But I blend in effortlessly, I’ve gone so deep. I’m not a feedee. I am a fat fucking whale who happens to be fat because it makes me ridiculous amounts of money. It makes it a lot easier to smile.

“Alright, guys, I’m gonna hop off. See you guys next time!! Love you!”

I click. 1700 dollars from an hour stream. Not too bad. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and drum my belly. I’m numb. I’m covered in grease, shake powder and cum. I can barely make it through my day without that tight fullness now. I wheeze deeply as I contemplate what to eat for dinner.

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boydepartment · 3 months

Note

can i request a comfort fic? i jus got bodyshamed cuz like im kinda skinny and im not in the best mood. Ni-Ki from enhypen pls :((

cold- nishimura riki x reader

a/n: usually i am not this specific with comfort fics however, i have experience going through this and i can write this properly. since i know how this feels first hand i can write this confidently. with comfort fics i really try my hardest to bring comfort and sometimes specific scenarios like this can get a little sticky. i really hope this helps you and i hope you’re okay. ive been body shamed many times throughout my life for being too big and too small, so i understand. lmk if you need anything anon my inbox is always open to you <3

warnings- angst to comfort, reader being body shamed, talk about difficultly to gain weight, talk about mental health, riki being kind. skinny reader.

wc- 300-500

MASTERLIST

your body laid curled up in your blankets, and tangled in your layered clothing. it was colder weather and to everyone else doing this would be pretty standard practice given the circumstances.

regardless of that fact, your main reason to bundle up was not due to the cold.

you were always cold, that was something you could put up with.

what you couldn’t put up with was the sly comments people would make about you unprovoked. even if provoked the comments that were made about you previously were extremely messed up and damaging.

you felt yourself sigh, you knew it was okay to be sensitive to this, it was human. but it really did hurt, there was no reason for anyone to comment on anyone’s body for ANY reason. however people thought they could with you. your friends thought they could with you.

you flipped over not hearing your boyfriend arrive at your home, he was supposed to come over today but you had texted him to cancel because you ‘weren’t feeling well.’ anymore. you didn’t think he would be coming over.

“you cold my love?” you heard a chuckle and you just hummed back. not in the mood for his games. and not in the mood to even become startled that he was in your home.

“i’m sorry were you asleep?” riki’s voice was soft as he walked over to the couch and laid down next to you. your body tensed up and he noticed this.

it made him scared he did something wrong.

“are you okay?” he asked, wanting to put his hand on your head and gently pat. but opting not to, not wanting to make you more uncomfortable than what he was reading from your face.

“i texted you saying i wasn’t feeling well…” you mumbled behind your blanket.

riki frowned, “i’m sorry… do you want or need anything? i didn’t see my texts otherwise i would’ve stopped by and picked you up something warm to drink.” you felt him get under the blanket, you felt yourself become nervous.

quickly you flipped over, your back facing him and you curled up a bit. taking some of the blanket with you.

he went to snake his hands around your waist as he was used to do but you panicked and moved his hands away, “don’t, please…”

the comments about you being too thin were getting to you and you didn’t want riki to even touch your body. the fear setting in that he was going to feel a rough edge or a part of your body where you were more bony than not. you were scared it was going to disgust him or freak him out. your friends were hard to believe that your boyfriend genuinely liked holding you. you could still hear their comments.

riki felt his mouth open a bit in shock, “did i do something?”

this hurt you more, he didn’t do anything, you felt like you did something wrong.

“no… i just- i don’t feel well.” your voice was wavering and it was making you stressed, if you even thought to rub your eyes you’d have to see your hands. you didn’t want to see any part of your body right now. you felt trapped, almost like you wanted to rip your skin off and just start over.

“what’s wrong… y/n please… communication is really important especially since we’re young… i don’t want to fuck this up please…” at this point riki was begging you to say something. he was stressed that he did something to you that he didn’t mean. riki couldn’t recall anything that he did. i mean he accidentally ripped your favorite pillow while you two were play fighting last week but you were laughing when the stuffing started going everywhere.

you flipped over, not wanting to torture him, “you didn’t do anything. i just went back to visit some friends and they made comments about my body.” your voice was shaky, almost panicking. because this is where a lot of people would say-

‘you’re thin why would it matter?’

‘people wish they had your body.’

‘you should be thankful that’s what they’re saying.’

you had experience of people saying that to you when you felt insecure of the bonier parts of your body. you learned quickly to suck it up, but it still hurt. and you constantly tried to gain weight. it was a difficult battle, you want to do it healthily however it’s a slow process that’s not even promised.

you couldn’t help your body and it was too taboo to share your insecurities. that’s what you learned that’s what you became accustomed to. it stung even more that people commented on your body now even without you saying something first. you felt violated.

riki felt his brows contort, he was rightfully pissed, “what were they saying?” he tried to find your hands under the blanket and did. for the first time in awhile, they were warm. you let him hold a small part of you and that relaxed him.

“i don’t want to talk about it anymore…” you mumbled more into the blanket, scared of what he was going to say. scared that if you opened up more, he’d try to hold you. that he was going to hate holding you, or finding it a chore.

“no one should be making comments on your body like that. whatever they said- clearly it effected you… and no one has the right to comment on your body. was what they were saying unprompted?” his voice was soft but firm. wanting to listen to what happened. wanting to comfort you properly.

“yes… it was unprompted and i froze up… i didn’t know how to respond to what they were saying.”

because genuinely how the fuck were you supposed to respond?

riki breathed in angrily, he was trying to properly calculate the situation and how to answer. he didn’t want to mess up or accidentally say something that could hurt you more, “i would take a break from them for a bit… maybe if you’re comfortable communicate how-“

“NO.” you practically jumped up, “they’re just going to tell me i shouldn’t be complaining and they’re totally gonna blow me off like my feelings don’t matter!”

riki’s eyes widened as he watched you settle back down, his hand rubbing yours gently, like you’d break, “okay my love… then you don’t have to… then i would just give myself a break from them okay? i’m not trying to sound like i’m isolating you either but you know your feelings matter to me. you matter to me. i will always listen…”

you nodded, he felt his heart breaking a bit when he saw a tear fall from your face. riki quickly used one of his hands to wipe your tears. you put your face more into his palm.

“when you hold me… does it bother you?” your voice was quiet, “like do i hurt you or do you feel uncomfortable?”

what the fuck did they say to you? that was the only thing that was going through riki’s head but he was smart enough to pick out the hints and signs. that was enough for him.

your friends must’ve pointed out how thin you are, he remembered you trying to gain weight and struggling to. he remembered that specific mental breakdown you had and felt so mad that your friends would just say things without thinking.

“you never bother me…” carefully he finally pulled you closer to him and held you, “my favorite thing to do is be around you and hold you… that’s not going to change okay? no matter what.”

you nodded, “i’m sorry… i didn’t mean to shut you out i was just scared… and i didn’t want you to think i was weird for getting upset about this.”

riki shook his head no, “don’t be scared to talk to me especially about stuff like this, i understand everything okay? so please don’t be scared. i know how it feels and im always going to be here to help you.”

“thank you…” you held him closer to you, riki’s hand going to your head and patting softly. his embrace was warm and you were comfortably wrapped in the blankets together. the cold weather long forgotten, the cold, harsh words that were said to you were slowly being healed, and you were starting to feel content. riki felt you relax and finally relaxed himself. he was always going to be here to help, because he loves you. those cold words people said to you weren’t going to change anything, whether you told him the specific words or not.

he loves you.

“i love you… thank you again…” your breathing was starting to slow, you were starting to fall asleep now that the war in your head was starting to die down.

“i love you more…”

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libraford · 2 years

Text

Drawing naughty stuff just reminds me of when I was in my painting class in like... 2007? And we were supposed to do a tryptich that had to do with a human body part in some way. You could choose to interpret the assignment however you wanted, but be prepared to talk about your work candidly and be critiqued.

And the expectation is that there was going to be a few that were of a sexual nature because we're all adults here and art has a long history of being horny on main.

Well this one dude chose to depict 'the beauty of the female form.' And we're like 'okay, Liam, sure.' Gets up there with a detailed painting of an iris (not inherently female), a decent rendering of a zygote (not exactly the female FORM, but okay), and what can best be described as an anime pinup that was... uh... pretty far from anatomically correct. Like there's skinny and then there's missing a couple ribs because the artist didn't use a real human as a reference. Which he had no excuse because we all took life drawing together.

"Blah blah blah, beauty of female form." Blah blah blah.

Prof starts the critique with "okay, which one of the girls in this class is gonna say it?"

About five hands raise.

"When we get to that figure in the middle, I kind of start to doubt your... uh... perspective on the female body."

"Like that is an uncomfortable pose, hands down."

"Are we sure it's... uhh... 'beauty' you were going for?"

"What is happening here?"

"This is about sex."

That last one pissed him off.

"It is NOT about SEX!"

Now that someone had spoken up about the sexual nature of the pose, everyone felt free to chime in. "Yeah it is," chorused the group.

"You might not think of the sexual nature of this, but the fact that you're a cis dude putting a girl in a boobs and butt pose and saying that its not about sex but about 'beauty' kind of makes it feel like you don't really... see the implications here."

So after a very awkward pause, the prof says: "I think its time for a break. Lets all reconvene in 15 minutes."

We take our break. When we get back, Liam had torn down all the paintings he'd made and hadn't returned.

Our next person in the lineup had chosen the...

...um...

So he had chosen specifically to paint an erection, depicted as a snake breaking out of the frame of the painting. So it was a tongue in cheek representation but we all knew exactly what it was.

And he said:

"So this is about sex."

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 1 year

Note

What's the absolute dumbest thing one of your snakes has ever done? Like, you look at them and go 'how have you even survived this long' levels of dumb? Or 'man, you're lucky I love you' levels of dumb? Because I love snakes. I do. But they make bad life choices so often.

Ohh man. This is now a callout post for my idiot snakes.

Miriam the ball python: gets too excited at food time so she snaps at the feeding tongs and scares herself and we have to postpone eating for a few minutes so she can calm down. This happens like once a month.

Fucking Fred the ball python: regularly pops the lid off his humidity box because he just. Cannot figure out where the entrance hole is. I made the hole as big as I possibly could for him and he just cannot find it. He can get in fine, but to get out he has to like press himself against the lid until it just pops off. It's ridiculous.

Stede the Trans Pecos ratsnake: is both the clumsiest ratsnake I've ever met and absurdly overconfident in his climbing skills. I've had to give him softer substrate because he kept climbing all the way up to the top of his branches and then falling down and I was worried he'd break a rib. I wound up putting climbing shelves in his enclosure because he kept trying to support his entire body weight on a skinny branch and he'd scare himself when he fell down.

Wonambi the Children's python: loves to hang upside-down from the branches in her enclosure like some kind of sentient stalagtite. Then she stretches too far towards the ground and falls down.

Ed the Mexican black kingsnake: regularly tries to eat his water dish and gets, like, really frustrated when it doesn't work.

Viago the California kingsnake: when he was a tiny baby, he liked to climb up the wires of his temperature and humidity probes. He's too heavy to do that now, but he hasn't forgotten that he used to be able to, so I sometimes just hear the soft thwap of him trying to climb the wires and just slapping himself against the wall.

AJ the rainbow boa: loves to burrow under his water dish. This isn't a problem, I keep his substrate super deep there so he can. The problem is when he gets excited he'll un-burrow himself at the speed of light and slosh water everywhere and then be like ":0 why am I so wet"

Heskel the boa constrictor: absolutely HAS to eat first on his feeding day because if he smells the other snakes getting food and has to wait, he'll get way too excited and try to leap out of his enclosure and that's just not fun for anyone

Sirius the western hognose: tries to eat the walls of his enclosure during mealtimes. Every. Single. Time. He's lucky he's adorable because there is nothing going on upstairs.

And my absolute favorite:

Bentley the boa constrictor: a few months ago I gave him a few quail chicks as a treat, and what we usually do is I let him strike and coil one and then I put the others down in his enclosure for him to find. He ate the first one no problem, and then started looking for the others. He found one, smelled it, looked like he was about to eat it - and then gently, slowly, opened his mouth and just stuck his face in the substrate. He was fine, he spat the substrate out and found the rest of his food, but...man.

#not a rating #my snakes

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hotmentransformed · 1 year

Text

Thrifted Snapback

James loved perusing the thrift stores in his college town in the Midwest. There was something so magnificent about being able to style an entire outfit and personality around one specific second-hand item. Being so skinny, the pants he would buy needed to be styled with a belt, but it was part of the magic of being able to make something new out of someone else’s clothes.

In one of the smaller stores at the edge of town, James stumbled upon a section filled with miscellaneous accessories. Always a sucker for pieces that added a little flair to the fabric, James began to sort through them: a waterproof watch, a seashell necklace, some knee pads, stud earrings, and… a black snapback.

James paused. He had always avoided getting headwear at thrift stores because of the risk of lice, but there was something intriguing about this hat. Lifting it up to his face, he took a sniff: it smelled clean, with only a hint of sunscreen. It was perfectly plain enough to add to any outfit of his. He wanted it. Trotting up to the cash register, he made his purchase and headed out of the store, hopping onto the first bus back to campus.

As soon as he got back into his dorm room, James immediately pulled out the snapback and put it on his head with the rim facing forward. Looking in the mirror, he smirked at how he stupid he looked. No one cool wore a hat with the rim forward. He pulled the snapback off of his head and turned it around, slowly placing it back on his head.

Suddenly, he felt a strange jolt of electricity surge through his body, starting from the top of his head and flowing down through his entire being. At first, he thought he had been electrocuted, but then he felt a sense of warmth spreading throughout his body, and his hair began to change.

His hair began to grow at an incredible rate, inching down his back and around his shoulders like golden waves. It felt soft and bouncy to the touch, with a texture that reminded him of cotton candy. The color of his hair changed too, shifting from its original dark brown to a bright, sunny blond. His eyebrows grew thick and manly, transforming from his manicured arches into bushy caterpillars. As he blinked, dumbfounded at his transformation, his eyes lightened to a bright blue color.

His biceps bulged like melons, with veins that looked like they were about to burst. His chest expanded into a broad, chiseled wall of muscle, complete with a deep, rippled cleavage that seemed to have a life of its own. Even his abs were impossibly defined, with six-pack muscles that looked like they had been chiseled out of stone. But it wasn't just his upper body that was changing. His legs grew thicker and more powerful, with quads that bulged out like balloons and calves that looked like they could crush coconuts. His butt, which had once been flat and unremarkable, now jutted out like a shelf, perfectly sculpted and round. His feet slowly stretched out on the floor, pushing against the hard, cold surface. His toes stretched and lengthened, growing thick blond hair on the tops, spreading to the tops of his feet and snaking up his legs. The thick blond hair found its way to his torso, swirling up into his armpits, which grew dense forests of hair. The hair began encircling his crotch, which pulsated with energy. With each electric burst coming from the cap, the bulge in his pants swelled further and further, causing waves of immense pleasure to emanate throughout his entire body.

James’ newly blue eyes began to water up, forcing him to bring his massive hands to his face and wipe them dry. When he took his hands away, he found himself no longer in his dingy dorm in the Midwest. Instead, James found himself in the sun on the beach in some tropical paradise. The electricity began to concentrate on his head again. He grabbed his skull, unable to focus on anything besides the waves of electric pleasure shooting through his body. He couldn’t think straight. The hat was doing something strange to him and it needed to stop.

This was wrong. He couldn't be on the beach! He needed to get back to his dorm because he had classes tomorrow. He paused. Classes? He had dropped out of college years ago to travel the world. His head hurt. What was happening? He had never been this muscular before, how would he explain this to his friends and family? They would never believe it. James gripped the snapback with his hands, trying desperately to pry it from his head. As he struggled with it, the muscles in his arms tensed trying to rip it off, flexing his massive biceps and working up a sweat in his hairy armpits. His head felt foggy, but he needed to get this damn hat off.

Finally, with one big yank, James pulled the snapback from his head and tossed it into the sand, along with all the memories of his former life as a scrawny Midwest nerd. Turning around in the sand, James began to stroll back to the condo he was renting in Hawaii, leaving his massive footprints in the sand. Entering the house, he reached for his muscular abdomen with his enormous hand and turned back towards the beach. All the ladies at the beach were cooing at him and his massive body; they all wanted a piece of him. This was going to be a fun night.

#clothing tf #tf #male tf #muscle tf #transform #muscle transformation #male transformation #transformation #straight transformation

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hauntedestheart · 3 months

Text

Security Footage - Bodyhoppers

One of Trevor & Andy’s misadventures, a more detailed account of the sort described in Security Measures - Hoppers

This was the bar Paolo always went to when he was looking for a hookup, and he'd hit the jackpot tonight with this guy. Andy, as he'd introduced himself, was a tall drink of chocolate milk with a pretty face and a killer body who seemed very into himself (who could blame him?) and very interested in getting out of there with Paolo... and Paolo was thinking that he just might let him.

They'd been chatting for about twenty minutes, the obligatory idle small talk that allowed them both to pretend they were interested in each other as people rather than just warm bodies, but Paolo's patience was wearing thin and he was spending less time looking into Andy's deep brown eyes and more time looking at the deep crease between his pecs. Andy was talking about some kind of video game when Paolo chanced another glance, and when he looked back up, he found Andy looking at him with a knowing smirk.

"You're checking me out," he said, a hint of smugness in his voice like he knew he was hot, and got pleasure out of being admired- Paolo found it incredibly attractive.

"I've been eyeing you up since the second you sat down and you know it," Paolo fired back, not a trace of shame in his voice. His eyes flicked up and down Andy's sculpted form. "Come on. Look at you."

"Look at me? If you insist..." Andy tugged the hem of his shirt up for a moment, exposing the abs Paolo had been hoping lurked beneath the fabric, and Paolo licked his lips. Andy, for his part, seemed equally delighted by the sight of his tight midsection and was still staring at them as he popped his next question. "Damn, I look good! Are you maybe interested in helping me see what this body can do?"

Paolo grinned- finally.

He leaned forwards and closed the gap between the two of them, pressing their lips together into a deep kiss, sticking his tongue into the other man's mouth to get a taste of what was in store for the rest of the evening. Andy groaned into his mouth, his deep voice sending shivers down Paolo's spine, and he yanked his partner even closer with a sort of roughness, like he didn't know his own strength too well, but Paolo, swept up in the moment, seized on the momentum and leaped onto Andy's lap. He straddled the hunk's strong thighs and Andy's hips bucked up instinctively in response; Paolo felt an almost comically large mass of flesh grind into the seat of his pants and press into the crack of his ass.

"Jackpot," he heard Andy mutter, and Paolo couldn't disagree- he was even more excited by the prospect of a hookup now that he knew Andy's private parts were just as impressive as his public ones.

Speaking of public, both men seemed aware that they were making a rather brazen display of themselves in a public setting, but neither seemed to care. They were far from the first couple to be spotted making out at the counter of a gay bar- Paolo had even heard rumors that management encouraged it because it "set a good tone" for the establishment. Two hot studs getting physical for all to see... what was there for anyone to complain about?

Because of this, it took Paolo a bit by surprise when he heard someone clear their throat and felt them tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. He growled, more than a little upset at such a hot make out session getting interrupted, but he pulled away from Andy and turned his attention to the newcomer- a skinny young Latino guy who was staring at the two of them with bemusement.

"Hey, I'm Trevor," the stranger announced, giving a shy little wave. "Sorry to interrupt!"

"Enjoying the show?" Paolo gave the interloper a withering glare, placing one hand on Andy's firm chest as a way to clearly mark his territory, and as a reward he felt Andy's big hand snake around him and pinch his bottom. Trevor glanced down at the hand and raised his eyebrow, and Paolo sneered in the most bitchy manner possible. "As you can see, we're kinda in the middle of something, so..."

"Of course," Trevor said through gritted teeth, then he met Paolo's eyes and gave him a dry smile. "I just need you to know that the guy you're sitting on is actually already taken."

The young man called Trevor lifted up his phone and held it out to display a photo of him and Andy together, Andy's big arms wrapped around his midsection as he leaned down to press a kiss into the top of his partner's head, and then he flicked his thumb to swipe through several other photos of the two in similarly romantic positions. Paolo noted that each photo was timestamped, showing a variety of dates from over a year ago to as recent as the week before. Alarm bells started going off in his head so he glanced back at Andy, who seemed just as surprised as what was on the screen as he was.

"Oh shit," Andy muttered, looking distinctively guilty, but he didn't tell the guy to get lost, which confirmed to Paolo that the two probably did have some form of relationship. Well, fuck.

In light of new information, Paolo found himself struggling with indecision. On the hand, he was horny as hell and the fat bulge he was sitting on let him know that he wasn't the only one. But on the other hand, Paolo was not a homewrecker and acting as someone's side piece was so tacky! But on another hand, he didn't know the full situation and if Andy was into it, who was he to say no? But on a fourth hand, getting involved with a guy whose "boyfriend" was willing to make a scene in the middle of a public bar seemed to be a questionable choice. But also, one of his real life hands was currently on Andy's massive bicep and it felt like pure sex so maybe the trouble was worth it?

Fortunately, Trevor seemed to read Paolo's thoughts and decided to make up his mind for him.

"Look, I'm going to level with you-" Trevor began, and there was a somewhat bored look on his face as if the interaction were more akin to customer service than anything else. He pointed at Andy, who was still gaping at him like a fish, and he shook his head. "I know he's hot and you're probably thinking of risking it for him but there is some weird stuff going on here you don't want to get in the middle of. Move on."

He stared at Paolo with an even, steady gaze, and something about his confidence was incredibly unnerving- it made Paolo think that despite his small stature, Trevor was the kind of guy who would cause a lot of trouble if he had to.

Fuck it, Paolo thought to himself, and he reluctantly slipped off of Andy's lap and shot the man an apologetic glance. "This is getting too weird for me, I'm out. Hit me up sometime if you ever work out... this."

Andy muttered a half-hearted protest but he let his hands fall from Paolo's waist, allowing the other boy to slip away from him, and Paolo took one last longing look at the sexy stranger before he shuffled off in search of a safer conquest for the evening.

Trevor slipped into the empty stool he'd left behind and flagged down the bartender, glancing sidelong at his boyfriend before setting his phone down on the counter and digging into his pocket for his walled. An uncomfortable silence settled in and Andy winced awkwardly- one hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he searched for words.

"Hey baby, I can explain, I was just-"

Trevor cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You can stop there, I know you're not him." He ignored the other man's dumbfounded expression in favor of flashing the bartender his ID and setting some cash on the counter. "Can I get a hard cider? And get him a rum and ginger ale with a splash of lemon please, it's his favorite."

The bodyhopper, now exposed, swore under his breath- he thought this had been one of his cleanest snatches yet, the dude fit him like a glove, but apparently he hadn't done as well as he'd thought. He should have known that snagging a hunk like Andy on a Saturday would be too good to be true. With a sigh, he slumped over the counter and lolled his head sideways to stare at the other boy.

"Fuck, did you see me hop him?" he asked, double checking to see that the bartender wasn't nearby and they could speak freely.

"No," Trevor shook his head and gazed at the back of the bar, idly studying the assortment of bottles lined up against the wall. "But when I got back from the bathroom and Andy was gone I kinda figured that something was up." He turned and wagged a finger at the body hopper inside of his boyfriend's body, almost like he was chastising a disappointing student. "You were on the right track taking him to a different bar- smart to leave the scene of the crime -but disappearing without giving some kind of excuse to the bartender or sending a text was a mistake. Leaving is one thing but leaving without an explanation raises questions."

"Damn, you're right," The hopper grimaced at his rookie mistake- he'd been so excited to be inside such a handsome body that he'd forgotten to cover his tracks. Speaking of which... "How did you track me down?"

"Location services are on," Trevor tapped the back of his phone. "I always know where Andy is."

"You just track your boyfriend's location all the time?" The hopper's eyebrow raised a little judgmentally. "That's kinda creepy."

"Creepy? I guess it kinda is," Trevor's tone was as dry as a desert. "Boy, I sure would hate to feel like I'm doing anything too... let's just say invasive, to him."

Trevor gave the hopper a pointed look, and the hopper slouched a bit and shuffled in his seat awkwardly. Touché.

The bartender arrived with perfect timing, depositing Trevor's order in front of him, and the young man nodded his thanks. He grabbed the bottle of cider for himself then slid a glass full of pale amber liquid across the counter towards the hopper, who eyed it with confusion.

"Here, try this," Trevor said after a sip of his own beverage, nodding towards the glass. "Ginger ale, lemon, rum. Andy prefers it to beer."

The hopper thought it sounded like a strange combination but, not wanting to be rude, he sat up and took a small sip. When the concoction hit his tastebuds, he groaned.

"Oh my god, that's good," he licked the spare drops off of his lips, savoring the tangy flavor, and Trevor shot him a look that said I told you so.

"Yeah, the big guy swears by it," Trevor said, referring to the real Andy, and he shook his head and gave a fond little smile. "It takes like cleaning fluid to everybody else but it's magic on his tongue."

Then the smile dropped from his face as Trevor adopted a serious expression and clasped his hands in front of him, turning in his stool to face the hopper occupying his boyfriend's body. Instinctively, the hopper sat up straighter.

"Anyways, now that formalities are out of the way, let's talk business," he began, speaking with a firm, steady voice. "As you've probably gathered I'm rather fond of the guy you've hopped tonight and I don't take kindly to people who try to use him, so here's what's gonna happen: I'm gonna sit right here next to you all night and chase off any guy who comes close. If you try to leave, I will follow you. After a long night of nothing, you're gonna get bored and leave us alone. Or, you could skip all that, just leave now, and maybe salvage the rest of your evening inside of someone else."

The hopper was about to argue (he'd finally managed to hop a guy like this and now he was being told to give it up?) but a second look at his host's boyfriend caused him to close his mouth. Getting involved in a situation with too many strings was a rookie hopper mistake, and he'd already made too many of those for one evening. Still, the hopper glanced down at his stolen cock which (somehow) was still hard in his jeans and he grimaced.

"So you're really just gonna make me sit here all night with a boner?" he whined, flexing his ass to make the tent in his pants jump a bit, which Trevor seemed unamused by.

"Yup," Trevor said flatly, popping his lips on the final "p" sound. He crossed his arms. "It's a nice dick and I'm in charge of keeping it safe."

"Damn it, I thought I was gonna get laid tonight!" The hopper threw his hands in the air and bowed his head, giving it a good natured shake. "But you win, I know when I'm beaten and I accept defeat." He glanced at the still full glass on the table in front of him. "Can I at least finish this drink first? It tastes so good with his mouth."

Trevor let out a puff of breath and the hopper could visibly see tension he hadn't realized was there seeping out of him as he relaxed back into his barstool- it took guts to face down a hopper, and the relief he experienced at his success was palpable. Trevor eyed the hopper, then the clock, then he shrugged.

"I suppose that's fair," he said, and then he lifted up his bottle and extended it towards his companion. "Cheers."

"Cheers!" The hopper clinked his glass against Trevor's bottle and took a small sip- he intended to stretch this one drink out for as long as possible so he could extend his stay inside of Andy's delectable body. Even if he didn't get to use it, just getting to sit there in it was a treat in itself. Trevor raised an eyebrow at him, so the hopper took another, slightly larger sip, then changed the subject.

"You're being awfully chill about this," the hopper remarked, and he eyed Trevor up and down- he hadn't thought much of the other boy at first but now that he looked closer, he could see the appeal in the boy's sweet face and delicate proportions. "You a hopper too? Nice choice of vessel, you wear the whole 'little brown twink with the heart of a bulldog thing' well. He's not bad looking either."

"Uh, thanks I guess?" Trevor said awkwardly, his cheeks suddenly a shade darker. He looked away and fiddled with the label of his cider. "But I'm just a regular human, this is my real body."

"Oh!" The hopper blinked and took a big swig of his drink to cover his surprise. "Shit, and there I was just talking about you like you're a Halloween costume. It's a hopper thing, don't take it personally." He paused. "Or do, I guess, if you like the compliments." He paused again, feeling like there was one more thing he should add. "And, uh, sorry for hopping your boyfriend I guess."

"Don't worry about it, happens all the time," Trevor chuckled bitterly, running a hand absently though his hair while the other hand gripped the counter tighter than was strictly necessary. "The fact that you're still wearing clothes and didn't try to punch me in the face and bolt off the second I showed up already puts this in the top half of the encounters the two of us have had."

The hopper whistled. "Sounds like there's a story there."

"There is," Trevor looked a bit guilty and he stared up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes shut like he was recalling a painful memory. "I was, uh, actually the first one to snatch his body with some random spell I found on the internet."

"Oh really?" The hopper eyed Trevor with a newfound sense of respect. "That's ballsy for a human but I can't say I blame you, this guy is a nice vessel. I thought for sure your boyfriend was gonna be my golden ticket for tonight, like, look at him!" The hopper lifted both of Andy's arms up into an impressive double bicep flex and gave an exaggerated smolder that drew a laugh out of Trevor. The hopper relaxed a bit and leaned back in his stool, arms crossed behind his head because he liked the way it made those same biceps bulge. Might as well enjoy them while I still have them.

"Man, if you hadn't come along I was gonna be rolling in dick tonight," he mused, running a hand over the strong line of his jaw and admiring his smooth caramel skin. "Nobody could turn this face down."

"Yeah, I'm rather fond of it," Trevor said wistfully, staring at Andy's body with a bit of a sad expression on his face, and suddenly the hopper felt a twinge of guilt he usually didn't experience after snatching someone. But then Trevor shook his head and furrowed his brow. "But you don't need to look like that to find someone- I'm living proof of that. I still managed to net Andy looking just like this."

"Shut up, you're cute," the hopper said, rolling Andy's eyes. "But seriously though, the thing about being a hopper is you get to try on all these different faces and forms and it kinda starts to give you an inferiority complex. My true body is around the same age as this guy but like, he's made out of bricks and I'm made out of straw, if you get what I'm saying. Nothing wrong with wanting a little upgrade every now and then!"

"Oh yeah?" Trevor's eyes flicked up and down the hopper's body- he knew it well, of course, but it was always a sight to see. He licked his lips. "What's your favorite part?"

The hopper blinked. "Huh?"

"I wanna what your favorite part about being in my boyfriend's body is," Trevor clarified, his fingers toying idly with the neck of his bottle of cider. For a second the hopper thought the boy might be nervous, but this seemed to be something else. "I'm not gonna judge, I was in there myself once! I just think it would be interesting to... compare notes."

"Well he's-" The hopper stumbled over his words for a second, not entirely sure if a joke was being played on him, but Trevor's big brown eyes stared at him expectantly, so he continued in earnest. The answer was easy anyways.

"He's jacked, you know?" The hopper shrugged and shook his shoulders out a bit, putting the full broadness of Andy's shoulders on display, and he tilted his head down so he could watch the way his host's hard earned physique rippled visibly beneath his clothes as he moved. With delight, he pushed out every muscle that he could until he felt so big that he was worried he might burst. "Like holy fuck, is he ripped! This guy is jacked from head to toe in the best way possible- because sometimes you go for a really muscular guy and he turns out to be some roided up gym rat so you wind up feeling like a dried out piece of beef jerky, but this guy is juicy."

He relaxed a bit and leaned back in his chair, wrapping one of his hands around one of his thick thighs and squeezing to feel the firm handful of meat giving way beneath his fingers. He shuddered- he'd taken over a good number of bodies in his time, and none of them had legs like this.

"His body has a bit of a bounce to it, you know? And I like that, I like that I can feel him move when I move." He paused, almost embarrassed about what he was going to say next, and he took a big swig from his drink for courage. His eyes remained trained on the glass as he continued, but he still felt Trevor's eyes drilling into the side of his face. As he shifted in his seat, he felt his stolen glutes roll beneath him. "But the first thing I noticed about him when I spotted him across that bar was his giant cakes and they don't disappoint, there's almost a kind of luxury in getting to sit on a pillowy ass like this."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean..." Trevor murmured, blatantly staring down at the aforementioned butt, and one of his hands drifted absently down to his lap. The hopper raised an eyebrow. "What else do you like?"

"Is this..." The hopper glanced around the room to check that no one was listening, but then leaned in closer anyways. "Dude, is this turning you on? Are you getting off on this?"

"Maybe a little bit," Trevor shrugged, his cheeks flushing dark brown, and he hunched his shoulders defensively. "What? It's not often that the people who snatch Andy's body are interested in doing much talking. Indulge me for a minute."

The hopper was all too happy to oblige, relishing the opportunity to speak openly like this with someone else about his experience. He puffed his chest out, feeling the natural swagger that came with being in such a studly body, and continued.

"I like how hot he is. I like that people's heads turn when I walk by them, and they can't keep their eyes off of his body because even when he's dressed head to toe you can still see these big fucking muscles busting out of his clothes, like this body is to be contained."

He leaned in closer to Trevor and lowered his voice, bringing Andy's tone down to a deep rumble. "And I like just sitting here knowing that I'm probably the biggest guy in the room. You know," his hand slipped under the bar and closed around his crotch. "with this fucking thing your boy is packing... that's a hell of an ego boost."

He squeezed tight, unable to hold back a little groan as he felt what was hidden inside of his pants, and he thinks he heard Trevor make a little noise too. His face grew hot and he took another swig to cool down, savoring the taste of the golden mix, and when the hopper set his drink down on the counter he heard it clink- glancing at it, he realized that there was nothing left in the glass but ice. He reluctantly let go of Andy's swollen cock and ran his hand down his face instead, knowing now that his time was up.

Trevor cleared his throat and brought his hands back up the countertop, taking another sip of cider and then gesturing with the bottle towards the empty glass. "You finished your drink."

"Seems like it," the hopper said with a sigh, then clapped his hands together decisively. "Well, a deal's a deal, I guess I'll get out of your hair now."

Trevor's lips quirked up at the side and he glanced up at Andy's wooly hair. "Technically his hair."

"Hardy har har," the hopper droned, shooting Trevor a dry look. Unable to resist, he gave Andy's pecs one last rub (seriously, he thought, this guy has an incredible rack) and bounced them a few times for the road. "Damn, and I was really hoping to get laid tonight!" The hopper laughed and shook his head. "But it seems like you two have a good thing going and I don't wanna mess with that."

He gestured with his thumbs towards the privacy of the bathrooms. "I'd better-"

"Do it right here," Trevor interrupted him, and the hopper froze.

Now that was a risky proposition- only the most daring of hoppers would do it in the open unless they were absolutely sure they wouldn't get caught. But... the hopper glanced around and it seemed that no one was giving the two of them much attention. And if Trevor and his boyfriend had gone through this before, they were unlikely to make a fuss, which meant even less risk...

"No one is watching," Trevor egged him on. "Come on, it'd be hot."

Unable to resist the temptation to do something a bit naughty for once (well, naughtier than usual for a hopper) the hopper slipped out of his stool and rose to his feet slowly, doing his best not to draw too many eyes to himself. He took a deep breath, taking note of the way the air made his massive chest expand, and he still thought it was a damn shame that he wouldn't get to take such a lovely body out for more of a joyride. After one last survey of the room to make sure the coast was clear, he closed his eyes and-

"Wait," Trevor interrupted again, and the hopper's eyes flicked open. What more could there be? he wondered as he stared at Trevor, who looked at him with a coy expression. "Before you go, what's your name?"

"Oh!" the hopper said, a bit surprised. Asking a hopper their real name was something of a faux pas, but Trevor seemed nice so for some reason he decided to answer the question honestly. "Dante. My name's Dante."

Trevor extended his hand. "Well, it'll be nice to meet you Dante."

Dante smiled and reached out, returning the handshake, and then suddenly it was Andy's hand that Trevor was holding.

"What the hell?" Andy blinked rapidly and shook his head out as if trying to physically chase the confusion away, and his hand instinctively pulled away from Trevor's in confusion and groped blindly for support. He found the counter of the bar and grabbed onto it, lifting his head and searching the room wildly as he gathered his surroundings, but when his eyes recognized his boyfriend he instantly relaxed.

"Hey Andy," Trevor said meekly, and he didn't have time to get another word out before Andy crashed into him and enveloped him in a great big bear hug. Trevor grunted, because he was being squeezed a bit tight, but he rubbed his boyfriend's back to comfort him anyways- Andy was always a bit clingy with his boyfriend after regaining control of his body, finding that the other boy's presence helped him to feel grounded in himself once more. (And Trevor needed a bit of reassurance as well sometimes.)

"Shit, Trev," the bigger boy groaned, his face buried in the wavy hair atop Trevor's head. He breathed in the familiar scent and focused on that instead of his disorientation. "Did I let it happen again?"

"You did get snatched," Trevor gave two firm claps on Andy's back (the sign that he was running out of air) and Andy released him, pulling back to gaze into his partner's eyes, and Trevor smiled at him reassuringly. "But everything is okay now. Nothing happened."

Unnoticed by the two lovebirds, a Dante was sitting in the stool that had formerly hosted Andy's body and watching the tender proceedings with mild interest. He had to admit that the pair made for a very cute couple, which made him feel he'd made the right choice in letting Andy go... but that didn't make his balls any less blue after a night of striking out, and seeing two hot young college boys getting physical right in front of him wasn't getting his mood up in the right way.

Feeling a bit dejected all of the sudden, Dante snatched up the glass that he had been drinking from before and upended it to his lips, letting the last few drops of alcoholic concoction slide into his mouth. He winced at the bitter taste.

"Shit, he was right," he said out loud. "It's only good with his tongue."

Trevor glanced over at the visitor and his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of what Dante looked like in his real body- a black man with skin a few shades darker than Andy's who seemed just a few years older than the boy as well, an average build and median in height between Andy and Trevor.

He was, Trevor noted, not unpleasant to look at.

"Andy, this is Dante," Trevor directed his boyfriend's attention towards the hopper, who gave Andy a nod. Andy nodded back. "He hopped you earlier tonight but he's very graciously decided to step out of you before he could cause any trouble."

"Really?" Andy breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Dante. "Thanks man, that's really cool of you."

Dante sniffed and gave a casual shrug but Andy, apparently unsatisfied with a simple verbal thanks, stepped closer to Dante. For a moment the hopper was worried he was about to get clocked, but Andy just stuck his hands out and pulled the other man in for a firm bro-hug, and the two clapped each other on the back.

(Dante let his hands linger for a moment on the other boy's back and damn, his body felt just as good from the outside. Maybe he should have tried harder to fuck someone using it.)

"Don't worry man, it's nothing," he said after they'd pulled apart, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Always down to help a guy out."

"Sick t-shirt by the way," Andy's eyes flicked down to the Trials of Osiris top that Dante had picked out for the evening, and he gave a nod of approval. "You game?"

"More than I should," Dante admitted, and Andy let out a big laugh. Dante gave a little snort and rolled his eyes. "Dead game."

"Dead game," Andy repeated, and Trevor looked a little bit lost but smiled and nodded anyways.

"This is my good luck shirt," Dante explained, feeling a bit more at ease around the duo now that he knew they didn't bare him any ill-will. "It doesn't really matter what I wear when I go out because I- well, you know, I'm gonna be wearing whatever my host was wearing." He coughed awkwardly. "So I like to wear this one."

"Seems like you two are hitting it off, that's cute," Trevor glanced between the two of them with a coy look on his face. He leaned over and draped himself across Andy's shoulder, his smaller frame fitting nicely onto his boyfriend's sizeable bulk, and he rested his chin by Andy's ear. "Hey, Andy, you know how we went out tonight so we could find a guy that we could, you know..." his voice trailed off. "Try that thing with?"

Andy tilted his head to the side and looked bewildered for a moment. "Yeah? So you still wanna find someone to have a-" Then the switch flicked in his head and he perked up. "Oh! With him?"

He turned to face Dante and looked the young man up and down, and Dante shuffled uncomfortably- he was a hopper, he wasn't used to having his real body looked at like this. But apparently Andy liked what he saw because he placed a hand on Trevor's shoulder and squeezed tight. "Yeah, yeah I'd be down for that."

Dante glanced between the couple, who were both eyeing him up in a strange way, and his eyebrow raised. "What are you guys talking about?"

"You know how you wanted to get laid tonight?" Trevor asked, squeezing in closer to his boyfriend and tracing one finger against his chest in a motion that landed somewhere between casual seductive. He looked at Dante expectantly. "What if that was still an option?"

#male possession #Series: Security #Idk why this is 5k words with a three act structure #didn't go into it with super much of a plan and was caught off guard by the ending

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