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steddielations · 7 months ago

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- nsfw, manhandling, coming in pants

One thing Eddie wasn’t expecting when he started dating Steve is just how playful he is.

Seriously, of all the things people say about Steve Harrington, it goes really understated. Eddie asked Nancy about it to see if Steve’s always been like this or if it’s just Eddie that brings out this side of him. But even when they were together, Steve was throwing Nancy into pools and twirling her around in the hallways.

It’s different with Eddie though, of course, because Steve’s not as worried about hurting or crushing him. So Eddie’s getting thoroughly manhandled on a daily basis and, well, he loves it.

All he has to do is snatch the remote from Steve or flick him on the ear or say something a little mouthy and he gets wrestled to the ground with the man of his dreams on top of him. Eddie obviously fucking loves it.

He just didn’t realize how much.

And right now is the worst time for him to find out.

They’re at Rick’s. It’s the best place for them to hang out. Secluded. No neighbors or parents or angry townspeople sniffing around. Rick is cool, always has been. They just hang out, smoke, music, movies, business, and then Rick is fine with them doing what they do. He even lets them defile the spare room. It’s safe.

It’s not safe for Eddie at the moment, though, because he decided to steal Steve’s gum out of his mouth when he gave him a quick kiss. Well, it was supposed to be a quick kiss, but Eddie dragged Steve down on the couch, bumping into Rick as Eddie made the kiss dramatic and messy.

“Alright, love-dudes, any closer and I’m gonna be in on the action,” Rick jokes when Eddie and Steve are practically in his lap.

Eddie drags Steve up by the collar, pulling back from the kiss with a loud smack. Steve’s hair is artfully disheveled, still caught off guard from the sudden lip-locking session. His eyes are slow to focus on Eddie’s grin, chewing on the minty prize he claimed from Steve’s mouth.

“Baby, that was my last piece.” Steve reaches to cup Eddie’s face but Eddie catches his hands first.

“It’s mine now.” Eddie blows a bubble to really tease him. “Unless you’re gonna come take it back.”

Eddie can see Steve toying with the idea in his mind, his pupils widening like an animal before it pounces. Eddie’s heart rabbits in his chest, just eager for whatever Steve’s going to do to him, wanting to rile him up even more, make it worse.

Steve grabs him by the shoulders, trying to lean in for another kiss to take the gum back, but Eddie dodges his lips. Eddie’s laughing, somewhere between delighted and deranged, as all the grabbing and swaying makes them tumble onto the floor.

Steve lands on top and Eddie’s breath rushes out of him from the collision of their bodies. It gives him an exhilarating head-spin, positively reeling all over as they roll around on the carpet.

Steve is relentless, stubbornly determined and Eddie realizes how much he loves it in moments like this. Like no matter how wild and obnoxious he gets, Steve won’t give up on him, won’t let him go. Steve keeps grabbing him, trying to kiss him, flipping over on top of him, holding onto Eddie tight enough to bruise.

At one point, Eddie almost gets away but Steve rips his shirt dragging him back. It sends a hot shot of thrill through him, feeling how much Steve wants him so viscerally like that. Something in Eddie just needs Steve to have him and gives in, letting Steve pin him down.

It’s only when Steve’s body bears down and wedges between Eddie’s legs that he realizes he’s hard. It hurts in a good way, trapped inside his jeans with all of Steve’s warm weight bearing down on him. He can’t tell if Steve notices, all caught up in wrangling Eddie’s wrists, playful fire in his eyes as he pins them above Eddie’s head.

Eddie’s mouth falls open and he feels something slip out. Maybe it’s all the air from his lungs or maybe there’s a breathy moan laced in there too. He can’t tell over the blood rushing in his ears and the fog filling his mind. He doesn’t think Rick’s paying them any attention, though, watching tv.

Steve doesn’t stop and Eddie fucking loves him for that. He bends, finally able to seal his mouth to Eddie’s now, holding him down where he needs him. Eddie lets Steve lick open his lips, tongue dipping inside in search for the gum that Eddie forgot all about. He might’ve swallowed it by accident, but Steve’s kissing him deep enough to find it anywhere.

It’s so good. Eddie’s stomach is doing ecstatic little flips, just lying there letting Steve kiss him hard and squeeze his wrists and push his hips into Eddie’s.

It all collides filthily in his mind, feeling wanted and trapped and taken.

Eddie doesn’t feel all the pleasure mounting until he’s already coming, wet warmth filling his jeans. His hips are moving in shallow thrusts against Steve’s before he can help it, moaning loud and long into the kiss.

Steve pulls back, both of them heaving for breath in the awkward quiet that falls over the room. It’s deafening silence for a moment, until Rick breaks it with a laugh and mumbles something about going to smoke before the door shuts behind him.

Eddie’s still foggy from the hell of an orgasm he just had, but Steve is wide eyed and wild haired above him. He’s still holding Eddie down, maybe stuck in shock, his face is flushed and Eddie can’t tell if it's from embarrassment or something else.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t—” Eddie starts to apologize but Steve cuts him off with an even rougher kiss from before.

Eddie smirks into it, feeling Steve rut against the wet spot on his jeans, feeling how hard he is too.

So, he’s not the only one finding out just how into this he is.

#late but here's eddie discovering he's into being manhandled for sub eddie week heh #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddie smut #subeddieweek #stranger things

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occamstfs · 2 months ago

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Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym.

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing.

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?”

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change.

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion.

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw.

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene.

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?”

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department.

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed.

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead, much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him.

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm.

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office.

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside.

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition.

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven.

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss.

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy.

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions.

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.

#male tf #occam2000 #hair growth #mental change #musk tf #dumber #muscle tf #jockification #masculinization #male transformation

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frownyalfred · 9 months ago

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I am begging for more slut Bruce headcanons- PLEASE-

once had a dick-sucking competition with Oliver Queen in school and won by a full ten points (this is the first thing that comes to Ollie's mind when he finds out Bruce is Batman, unfortunately)

sometimes he just sits down in people's laps as a power move. it works.

learned how to look artfully mussed and disheveled from none other than notorious GILF alfred pennyworth

sometimes he and Dick infiltrate Gotham nightclubs for info and a lot of people have trouble telling them apart in the dim lighting

has ranked the Justice League in order of objective fuckability for a contingency plan and Hal Jordan is actually at the top, to his horror

occasionally shows up to Wayne Enterprises board meetings and flagrantly hits on everyone regardless of age except Lucius and Bob's wife (who's very nice) as a semi-annual intimidation tactic (it also works)

#asks #anon #headcanons #bruce wayne #batman #dc #dc comics #batfamily

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rebelfell · 5 months ago

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Straight from the tortured Eddie department...

18+ MDNI 3.9k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cont'd from here, index here

Not a proper “part” of the story, more like an interlude of bits and pieces of Eddie's side. I'm also not liable for any of this — @bettyfrommars made me do it. cw: binge drinking

Eddie never had a real girlfriend.

He’d had plenty of imaginary ones—tieflings or elf maidens or dryads that made their way into his campaigns after floating around in his head for a few days. He put himself to sleep imagining he was rescuing them, adventuring with them, defending their honor. All that hero shit.

But as for real life, he’s never had anything…consistent.

There was that thing with Chrissy Cunningham his third and final senior year when he got to act on his middle school crush for a grand total of a month and a half before she took off for Notre Dame. He decided that barely counted, though. Especially after hearing she was dating girls now.

Other than that, his rap sheet detailed little more than a string of messy and hasty hook-ups with people who wanted to “get with the freak” just to say that they had, or randoms at the Hideout who would fuck anyone as long as they played guitar.

He’d thought a lot about it, though. For years, he had to watch people at school getting so totally, nauseatingly wrapped up in one another they could barely see past their own noses.

And it made him want to vomit almost as much as it made him burn with jealousy.

After he was done mock-retching with his friends, he secretly wondered to himself what it might be like to have someone like that in his life. Someone whose smile he looked forward to every morning. Someone whose hand would reach out for his in a crowded hall. Someone who was always as happy to see him as he was to see them.

Most days the possibility seemed too fantastical to even entertain, but Eddie never had much luck when it came to resisting impossibilities.

Things changed a little after he graduated, but only in terms of quantity.

His community college was only one town over from Hawkins, but it was like a different world. No one there knew the Munson name or the baggage that came along with it. No one had been cheated or scammed or lied to by his father. No one held Eddie liable for sins he didn’t commit.

Girls started going for him because they liked him, not because they wanted to get something out of him. Still, it had never breached that casual containment. Just about everyone was planning on eventually transferring to a “real” school, and they weren’t looking for anything serious.

Neither was he, truth be told. He was just having fun—learning what he liked, what they liked, what he could do to make them like it more.

To like him more.

He quickly garnered a reputation for his giving nature, and for the first time in his life he didn’t mind it so much that people were jumping to conclusions about him based on hearsay.

It gave him hope, tiny as the spark of it was. He thought someone, somewhere, someday, might want something more with him—something more formal. Something beyond drunk make-outs at parties, or too-quick dates that were little more than pretense for getting him in bed.

Even Steve confessed he was sort of jealous.

Girls were dying to date Steve, though.

They fell in love if he so much as flipped his artfully disheveled hair in their direction. He came home from school every break lamenting over yet another girl who had gone and caught feelings for him and how he wished he could trade places with Eddie once in a while.

And Eddie just had to sit there with a stupid, cheesing grin on his face like he was living the dream. All the while feeling like the biggest fucking fraud in the world.

But then there was you.

Eddie had never felt like this about anyone. And he knew, logically, that you weren’t his girlfriend. How could you be when he had never so much as taken you on a proper date? Or held your hand? Or touched you without first having to glance around to be sure the coast was clear?

But you were still his something—his something that was unlike anything else.

And, yeah, it had kind of been a joke when it started. Not a joke-joke, just…the kind of shit he always did. Messing around. Shooting shots from half-court he was certain wouldn’t even graze the net. Flirting with you was just…fun in a way it hadn’t been for him in a really long time.

He thought at first he just liked the challenge. Clearly, he irritated you. He could see it in the fiery glares you gave him, in the way your hands would land on your hips, in the way your mouth would press together in a hard line. And it made him all the more determined to make you crack.

Then you and he started talking more, started talking about real stuff, stuff that mattered—and holy shit were you cool.

There was a bite to you, a witty snark that never faltered. You viewed the world through a wry lens, but there was a softness that bled through when you talked about your favorite songs, or a novel you had taught in one of your classes, or a movie you’d seen enough times to quote from memory.

And, god, were you beautiful. Not in a “for your age” way or a “could tell you used to be” way— just in the way that you were. The way your nose scrunched when you smiled, your lips quirking to the side; the way your hips swayed as you danced to records you put on; the way your brow wrinkled when you were deep in concentration and made Eddie wish he could reach out and smooth it down with the pad of his thumb.

Just…everything.

And all he could do was think how fucking out of his league he was. Not that he believed he really had a chance. Because he didn’t…obviously.

Right?

He thought he must have died and gone to heaven the night of that party. He climbed those stairs all but certain he was going to be sent right back down them. But he was more than willing to take that risk, more than ready to debase himself on the off chance you were feeling even a fraction of what he was. To know once and for all that he wasn’t making all of this up in his head.

Because that night on the patio you hadn’t said you didn’t want to do this. Only that you couldn’t.

And that girl from his Geology lab last semester who laid it on so thick only made it painfully and blatantly obvious to Eddie that he couldn’t settle for something less than anymore.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his time with anyone who wasn’t you.

Eddie didn’t go home after you left him in the van.

Wayne wouldn’t be back from the plant for a few more hours and he couldn’t stand the thought of facing the desolate wasteland of his trailer.

That, and it was sorely lacking in alcohol.

Instead, he parked in the narrow alley behind the Hideout. It was way, way past last call—the sun was rising for chrissakes—but Eddie knew where Bev kept the spare key from his bar-back days.

He didn’t count how many shots he poured for himself, the pools of liquor that splashed on the bar serving as a kind of tally until he passed out on a pillow of folded arms. Hours later, he came to with Gareth shaking him awake calling out his name. He’d found him still slumped over the bar, barely able to hold his head up, about to slide off his stool and onto the sticky floor.

Eddie peered at his friend with bloodshot eyes, vaguely recognizing the blob of floppy and tawny colored curls. “C’mon, man. Time to go,” he said, casting a grateful and apologetic look at Bev, who had been kind enough to call Gareth and not the cops when she came in to do prep and payroll.

He and his girl Annie had to carry him out, one of Eddie’s arms slung over both their shoulders.

“S’over…she…she…” he slurred, shaking his head as they stumbled out to the gravel parking lot and he squinted into the unbearably bright sun, “I jus’ don’no what I did, I just—”

His drunken babbling only grew more incoherent as he flopped over in the backseat of Gareth’s car, his face smushed into the cushion. Annie looked back at him from the passenger side, folded over on himself as he curled up in a little fetal ball, her brow pinched together with concern.

“Who’s he talking about?” Eddie heard her ask.

Gareth just shrugged, casting his own forlorn look back at his friend before he turned the key.

“I’ve got no idea.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be camping?”

Eddie smirked back at your cocked brow as you appraised him where he stood on the front steps, a six-pack in one hand and bouquet of flowers in the other. He glided past you inside of the house, swinging around and walking backwards to the kitchen with a wide grin spread across his face.

“I got sick,” he explained, flashing a cartoonish pout. “Steve came to pick me up and I couldn’t even come out of the bathroom. We’re talking major chunkage, babe. I was a hazard.”

Your face crinkled at the visual, but you laughed as Eddie swaggered towards the island.

In his head, he was still congratulating himself for his stellar performance and patting himself on the back for the added touch of canned peas he’d brought with him into the bathroom to pour in the toilet intermittently during his moaning to really sell the ruse. Theatrical wizard that he was.

The camping trip had been in the works for ages, way before all of…this…had started.

It began mostly as an argument in which Dustin was adamant just because he’d only ever been to computer camp, it didn’t mean he didn’t have any survival skills. The other boys had scoffed and jeered and mocked as they were wont to do, until they finally landed on their solution of going camping the weekend of Will Byers’ birthday.

Eddie and Steve were drafted as supervisors-slash-babysitters, and even though Eddie had actually been looking forward to it, the promise of a weekend alone with you was too enticing.

There were a lot of things Eddie couldn’t do with you—real dates, public displays of affection—but with Steve gone, Eddie could stay in your bed all night. He could wake up to you in the morning and coax you from sleep with his gentle kisses peppered along your jaw until you stretched out your arms and released a deep and satisfied groan he could practically hear already.

“So they left?” you prompted him, eyes bright with fascination. Eddie nodded smugly.

“And wouldn’t you know, as soon as they did…I made a miraculous recovery.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient?”

You took the flowers and brought them to your nose to smell. He’d joke later that he stole them out of the neighbor’s yard so you wouldn’t know how he stood at the farmer’s market all morning picking them out. Asking the owner which ones meant what until he gave up and started going for whatever he thought looked best together.

Whatever he thought looked like you.

The beer bottles clinked as he set them down in favor of getting his hands on you instead.

For someone who thought he was going away for the weekend, you certainly had dressed like you were going to see him. Long, flowing skirt that skimmed the tops of your bare feet. A slit in it that showed off a daring amount of leg. A tank top with a deep scoop neck that accentuated your chest and made him eager to bury his face in it. A fresh spritz of perfume on your neck.

Eddie took your hand and spun you into him, pressing himself against your back, his arms curling around your waist to keep you pinned there. You sighed at the feeling, tipping your head back to rest it on his shoulder, giggling as he nuzzled the sensitive skin behind your ear.

His hand squeezed the one of yours he was holding while the other ran up your thigh, fingers slid into the slit of your skirt and traced the edge of your leg until he felt you shiver and squirm.

“So…” Eddie hummed. “What do we do now?”

Your sister's room had remained untouched since her departure, but the en suite bathroom was another story. The jacuzzi spa tub was an anniversary present she got herself after John forgot…for the second year in a row.

It was wide and deep enough Eddie could sit up against the back of it with you between his legs, the smell of lavender and clary sage wafting up and swirling in the air as the jets bubbled.

You dribbled soapy water on his arms and ran your hands over them, making his tattoos shine. And he chuckled as you wriggled against him until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Turn around,” he husked in your ear, his hands on your hips already urging you forward.

Water sloshed and splashed on the floor as you maneuvered yourself around to face him, your legs thrown over his hips, arms slung around his neck as you slid against one another—the head of his cock rutting against your clit until you were whining, mewling, crying out with need for more.

You leaned in close, tips of your noses brushing as you rocked against him, but you don’t kiss him the way he remembers it happening.

He tries to catch your lips, to get them to meet his, but his neck won’t move. None of him will, even as he screams in his head for it to do so.

You chant his name instead, your voice echoing off the gleaming marble and tiles.

“Eddie…Eddie…Eddie…”

“Eddie! Eddie! EDDIE!”

The hard thwap of a pillow on the back of his head drags Eddie fully out of his dream. Warm, frothy water turned back into his dingy, stained sheets and your body morphed into the pillows his arms and legs were curled around as tight as he could. He lifted his head, still pounding and beer-logged, and blinked until the blurry shape looming over him turned into Steve.

“Whad’youwant?” Eddie grumbled.

“It’s like two o’clock,” Steve said. Not quite condemning, but certainly not lacking in concern.

Eddie shrugged, reaching for his nightstand and the graveyard of beers there. He started lifting them one at a time until he found one with some weight to it and brought it to his lips. It was stale and warm on his tongue and he grimaced as he drank, but he tried to drain it all the same.

“Dude!” Steve’s eyes widened and he snatched it from his hand. “Stop!”

“What?” Eddie barked, glaring up at his friend.

Steve slammed the can down, making the other empty ones rattle and fall to the floor. “Seriously, what is going on? You’re freaking me out here.”

“S’nothing,” Eddie muttered, dragging his sheets back up over his head. They smelled like the malt and hops seeping out of his skin and it didn’t take long for the ripeness of his B.O. to permeate the little pocket of air around him. He couldn’t even remember the last time he showered.

The mattress sagged extra as Steve sank down to perch on the edge of it. He stared at the lump under the sheets and his voice tightened nervously as he spoke to it.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “We’re just worried is all, and we want to help. Wayne, Dustin, the band…all of us.”

Not all of you, Eddie thinks.

And there’s a part of him—a spiteful, bitter, angry part—that almost wants to tell Steve everything. He almost wants to drop the bomb once and for all and make you clean up the mess.

But he knows he can’t.

Because the thing he hates the most of all, is knowing how right you were.

Eddie had talked a big game about telling Steve, explaining it to him, but there wasn’t much point when it was never going to go anywhere. And it was foolish of him to believe it ever could.

Because what exactly was he supposed to do? Run off to some ivy-covered university? Tag along at cocktail parties and mixers with the rest of the faculty and have them whisper behind your back about if you were together or if he was your son?

Or worse yet, starting rumors about you sleeping with a student? No fucking way.

He got it now. You didn’t have any choice but to end it once Eddie had gone and spewed all his feelings all over you. And had he known what would happen, he might not have gone through with it. But he also knew he would have ended up in the exact same place, regardless.

He was just so sick and tired of not saying it. Of acting like he didn’t feel it.

Because it was the first time he’d felt so sure someone would say it back.

Eddie doesn’t answer Steve. He just stays under the sheets until he finally leaves. Breathing in his own breath, wishing he could slip back into his dream to relive the part where he climbed out of the tub and took you straight to bed. And you had tumbled into it with him where you rode him until your muscles were limp and the room had filled with the golden haze of fading sunlight.

He was pretty sure that was the weekend it had happened. He couldn’t say it yet. Couldn’t so much as acknowledge it, or admit it was something he even wanted to say.

But it was there.

It was that feeling in his chest, that warmth and fullness he’d been chasing his entire life.

He finally felt whole.

As usual, Steve assigned himself to babysitting duty. He started showing up every morning to bang on Eddie’s door and make sure he made it to work. And on his off days, he dragged Eddie into Family Video and made him participate in he and Robin’s bemoaning of their sordid affairs.

And despite everything, Eddie hangs on their every word. Not sure which was worse—waiting for Steve to mention home (and by extension, you) or living in constant fear of him doing so.

But it’s not until the day Steve forgets his lunch that Eddie faces the worst possible scenario.

“Alright, great. Thank you,” Steve says in the receiver, voice strained despite the relief he feels.

He hangs up the phone and pushes his hands into his messy hair, eyes closing as he massages his temples with his thumbs in an attempt to stave off his hangry episode.

“Mommy bringing you some num-nums?” Eddie teases. Steve just sighs.

“Nah, my aunt is coming.”

A loud siren sounds in the movie Steve is playing, but it’s not nearly as loud as the one going off in Eddie’s brain. He jerks his head up, his eyes wide and alarmed. If you left Steve’s house right when he hung up the phone, Eddie had maybe fifteen minutes before you would be here.

His feet are frozen in place, glued to the wildly patterned carpet under them, his body being torn between fight and flight. He could just leave. That was probably the smartest decision. He could run right out of here, making up some excuse about forgetting that he needed to be somewhere.

He could leave. And yet it was impossible to will his legs to move so he could do so.

The feeling is overwhelming, almost nauseating—a horrendous combination of being desperate for something to happen and yet totally dreading the possibility. Because as much as he wanted to see you, as much as he’d been hoping to run into you in town or to catch a fleeting glimpse of you, the reality of it was terrifying. Because him seeing you meant you would see him like this.

Ruined. Destroyed. Pathetic.

He was looking better than he had the past few weeks, having rediscovered bathing and some color coming back to his cheeks.

So that was something.

But he’d still not been sleeping great. Staying up all night hunched over his composition notebook filling it with scribblings of lyrics so overwrought and dramatic he could hardly imagine actually showing them to the band.

Shit, they’d probably laugh him out of Gareth’s garage if he did.

It wasn’t enough to look okay, though. Even if he looked perfect, even if he had the sun shining directly out of his asshole, it wouldn’t be enough. He needed to look like he hadn’t so much as thought about you in weeks. Like he hadn’t lain in his bed for days looking for your face in the stains on his ceiling. Like he hadn’t written the start of twenty-some letters only to wind up scratching through the words until the blacked out paper shredded beneath the ballpoint.

Then like an answer from the heavens, or more likely somewhere significantly further south, the bell over the front door jingled and Krista Washington walked inside.

Eddie remembered her from Hawkins High. She’d always been kinda shy and quiet, barely brave enough to buy a measly joint off Eddie now and again. But once she graduated and got out from under the thumb of her snobby cheerleading captain, she had come into her own a bit more.

And her eyes still glittered with that same old fascination when they fell on Eddie.

Eddie didn’t think. He didn’t debate. He didn’t take a second to consider how colossally stupid of an idea this was—he just walked straight up to her and he poured every ounce of Munson charm he had to his name into getting her to follow him outside to talk by his van.

It wasn’t until he heard your car, your brakes screeching because he never got the chance to change out the pads like he’s meant to do, that he realized what a piece of shit this move made him.

While Krista, bless her heart, could have won an Oscar for a part she didn’t know she’d been cast in. Staring up at him with fluttering lashes and parted lips, that look in her eye like,

“C’mon, genius. This is where you kiss me.”

And he could do it. Eddie saw some movement inside and he was pretty sure you were headed for the door. He might be able to time it just so that you step outside the moment Eddie’s lips touch the shiny, sticky peach gloss on Krista’s mouth.

He could do it…but he doesn’t.

He knows he never would have.

Instead, he tucks his chin down into his chest and his hands drop from their spot on her waist. His face is riddled with regret, but Krista is hardly discouraged.

“Come on,” she says, taking his hand in hers and tugging on it. “Let’s go pick out the movie we’re gonna watch later.”

He lets her pull him along with her to the door, seeing in slow motion that you and her are going to run into one another. He watches silently as you nearly collide, never taking his eyes off you as Krista drifts away from blocking his view of you. And it’s killing him to do it, but he shuffles to the side so you can pass. Leaving only just enough space so he can catch one last whiff of you.

And was it so crazy for him to think (hope) you look half as miserable as he feels?

prev┃next

shout out to the song that I cried too many times to when I was 26 and a dumb boy made me realize I can't regulate my emotions for shit. it wasn't shocking news, but still.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things au #eddie x you #eddie x reader #TSITA

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moonchild701 · 2 days ago

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Making a Bad Day Better

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Touya had a bad day at work. You make his day much better.

Pairing: Dabi/Fem Reader

Content Warning: Fluff, Smut, Blowjob, Deepthroating, Facefucking, Cum Marking, Touya is NOT a villain, No Quirks AU

Word Count: 2k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: Had 💫thoughts💫 of taking Touya's stress away from a shitty day at work and now we're here 💕

My Masterlist

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Touya's had a shitty day that day, almost nothing going right.

His only consolation throughout the day was knowing that he gets to go home to his gorgeous girlfriend.

And when he gets home, and you're not there yet, his mood drops and stress spikes.

He flops down onto the couch, head thrown back over the back of it, closing his eyes with a weary sigh.

Hopefully, you don't take too long to come back.

*****

You thankfully come back within a half hour, announcing your pressence. He blinks his eyes open to peer back at you, over the couch, and you can see the toll the day's had on him.

You drop off your things before walking over to him, standing behind him to slide your hands over his shoulders. "Rough day?" You ask the obvious, kneading your hands into his shoulders. He relaxes, melting into your touch, and sighs.

"You could say that again." He mutters, looking up at you, upside down. "Missed you. Bit better now." Your heart flutters in your chest.

People always question you on how you could stand to be with an asshole like Touya, and time and again, you shut it down, because you could never fathom otherwise. Because sure, to others, he can be an asshole, but he can also be so fucking sweet; and you love him, and you know he loves you too.

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, and murmur against him,"I missed you too, baby. I love you."

And he sighs into you, whispering, "I love you too," before languidly kissing you back, softly, slowly, sweetly.

He loves you so impossibly much, basking in the warmth of your love, and maybe the day isn't all that bad.

You pull away slowly, fingers caressing his Adam's apple. "You need anything?"

And by the grin on his face, you know something absolutely cheesy is going to come out of his mouth. "All I need is you, Sweetheart." You roll your eyes playfully, even as you feel your heart stutter, unable to hide your smile at the sap. "But I think I'd like some whiskey?" His smile is now sheepish, and you shake your head with a soft laugh, giving him one last peck before pulling away.

"Sure, baby. I'll get it for you."

You go to the kitchen to get the bottle of whiskey and a glass with some ice, before coming back, walking around the couch to set the glass on the coffee table, pouring him two fingers.

You feel his gaze on you, and you feel a shiver run through you at the heat held within.

"Stop looking at me like that." You mumble, glancing up at him, before quickly looking back at the bottle as you screw the cover back on, heart pounding.

His eyes squint in amusement, narrowing into slits, sharp and hungry. “Like what?” he murmurs, an edge of teasing and heat in his voice as he adjusts in his seat, legs spreading almost on their own, as if to wordlessly invite you in between them.

And oh is it an inviting sight; the top three buttons of his shirt undone, showing far too much of his chest, sleeves rolled up to show his forearms, his watch glinting from the light of the setting sun, and his slacks tight and straining over the muscles of his thighs in this position; his white hair artfully disheveled, falling softly above smoldering azure eyes.

You bite your lip as you stride back over to him, handing him the glass. He takes it with a murmured thanks, sipping at the amber liquid, and his eyes don't move from your frame.

"I think I need something else, Doll." His voice is low and hot, and you immediately feel heat coiling in your abdomen.

You swallow thickly as you look at him. He pats his thigh, murmuring, "C'mere, Dolly."

You crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs. He rubs at your hip with his thumb as you lean in to kiss him languidly, cupping his jaw, before trailing your lips along his jaw, up to his ear, ghosting along it.

"Let me take care of you, baby?" You whisper, pressing a light kiss just under his ear.

He hums low in his throat, pulling you back to capture your lips once more. You lick into his mouth, tasting the whiskey and something sweet, before trailing open mouthed kisses down his throat and chest, unbuttoning his shirt as you go.

He leans back with a sigh, basking in your ministrations.

You climb off, stripping off your shirt, and stepping out of your pants, leaving you in just your underwear. It's plain and practical, nothing fancy, yet his eyes still rove over you like a lion would its meal.

You slide down to your knees, between his legs, rubbing at his inner thighs. You press a kiss to his clothed bulge, before undoing his belt and pants, slipping his hardening cock out of its confines.

He props his elbow against the back of the couch, his gaze locked on yours over his glass as he takes a sip, watching you lick a wet stripe up his shaft before taking him into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks, sucking on him.

Feeling his cock firming and growing under your attention, and knowing that you're the cause, never fails to send a tingle of pleasure up your spine.

Fully hardened in your mouth, he twitches. You lave along the velvet skin, drooling around him, coating it in your saliva.

He lets out a pleased sigh as you run your tongue just under the head, groaning softly when you suckle on it.

Pulling away with a wet pop, you press open mouthed kisses down the shaft, laving and slurping at his balls, suckling at the base of his cock, before kissing your way back up.

Wet slurps and cursed groans fill the apartment, drowning out the soft clink of ice against the glass held loosely in his grasp, arm draped along the back of the couch,

You wrap your hand around his girth, pumping him slowly, your saliva making the glide smooth and sloppy, while the other massages his balls, fondling and lightly squeezing, as you trace every vein with your tongue.

You pull off momentarily, pressing a kiss to his tip as you lock your gazes, licking up the pearl of precum beading there, before relaxing your jaw, sinking down, swallowing all of him into your mouth, feeding him into your throat, drawing out a breathy curse from him.

With your nose pressed to the tuft of white curls, you breathe in the heady scent of his musk, feeling your neglected cunt pulse and drip in need as your eyes roll shut.

You gag as you try to swallow around the thick head, tearing up at the shallow breaths you can barely take as you try to breathe through your nose.

Petting over your head with his free hand, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear, he coos, voice a strained growl, “You look so pretty choking on my cock, Dolly.” His eyes are hot on you, pupils dilated to just turquoise rings around amorous pools of black.

Peering up at him, you moan around him at the praise, the vibration making his cock twitch as he let's out a soft groan.

He adjusts in his seat, making sure he has the perfect view of you sucking him off, and he knows he truly will never tire of the sight.

You, on your knees for him and him alone, lapping and sucking at his cock like it's the best thing you've ever tasted, looking up at him like he's your god, eyes glossy and reverent, pupils dilated; pretty lips swollen and stretched around him, his cock, wet and glistening with your saliva, disappearing into your hot mouth, over and over again as you slowly bob your head, twirling your tongue around the tip everytime you come up.

The sensation makes his hips twitch up before he regretfully gets himself back under control.

And that just won't do.

You pull of with a filthy squelch, hand pumping him slowly, and you murmur, "Mm, fuck my throat, Tou. Please?" Your voice is airy and pleading, your pupils blown.

His eyes darken, jaw clenching. "Fuck, baby. You sure?" And he's truly so sweet for still asking, even when you clearly want nothing more, but you can hear it in his voice how much he also wants to. How strained it is.

"Mhm" is all the answer he gets as you take him back into your mouth, looking up at him expectantly; pleadingly. And who's he to deny you?

He feels something in the back of his mind snap, as his stomach and brain do flips, and he knocks back the last of his whiskey, before carelessly tossing it onto the coffee table.

Your lips are wrapped around just the middle of his shaft when you feel the weight of his hand on your head, fingers gently grasping onto the strands, and he shoves your head down to his pelvis.

You let out a moaning, muffled mmf at the aggression, welcoming it, deepthroating him without complaint. He's thick, and you do love the way he fills every part of your mouth.

He uses his hold on your hair as leverage, moving your head up and down to take his length, his hips rocking up into your mouth, and your cunt aches for contact. You love when he loses his control, using you as he pleases.

Your tongue laves along his shaft, swallowing around him every time he sinks into your throat, drooling and moaning around his thickness, messy and hazed; desperately chasing his pleasure, wanting to taste him.

Showing some mercy, he pulls you up and off for air, and you gasp, trying to inhale deep breaths. The sight of your flushed face, drool dripping out of your mouth makes his cock twitch. A line of saliva connects your swollen lips to the tip of his cock like no part of you wants to be apart from him, from his dick, and Touya wants to ruin you. Wants to fuck your throat raw.

Gripping the sides of your face in a deceptively tender hold, he quickly shoves you back down, starting to relentlessly facefuck you.

Your moans intertwine with the lewd slurping and gagging noises you make, Touya's cock hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust.

You feel him twitch harshly in your mouth, and his nails bite into your scalp, pulling you off of his cock just as he cums hard. He lets out a strangled groan, his hips jerking up and a shudder runs through his body as he paints you white; the thick, sticky spurts of cum splattering onto your cheeks, your waiting, lolled out tongue, dripping down your chin, and onto your heaving chest, trickling down between the cleavage of your tits.

For a moment, you thought it wouldn't stop. There's so much, so thick, and you wonder just how pent up and stressed he was.

You pant as you still try to catch your breath, licking up the mess he made of you off your fingers, wiping and scooping up globs of it where you can.

His white shirt is transparent where it sticks to his sweat slicked skin, chest heaving for breath as he comes down from his high, pushing the damp strands of his hair back from his forehead, eyes shut, lips parted in a blissful smile.

You feel a fresh wave of slick sliding down your thighs at that, and then cerulean eyes are on you again, hot and hungry as he takes in the image of you marked so thoroughly by him.

He grins wide, slow and sharp, licking his teeth like a beast would its chops.

"Let's go get cleaned up, yeah Sweetheart?" His voice is low and gruff with lust, and from his tone and the look in his eyes, you know you're going to be absolutely filthy by the time he's done with you.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #my fics #mdni #mha smut #bnha smut

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rahuratna · 1 month ago

Text

In another universe, you and I ...

(But it's crack): PART 1

Summary: A short series in which the highly attractive sorcerers of JJK find themselves in an alternate universe with you (with a twist).

Part 1 includes:

Top Model! Gojo who meets you at a party. In spite of your instant chemistry, he harbours a dark secret ...

Naval Captain! Nanami, who has been hunted for years by his nemesis, the white leviathan who aims to show him his giant member. Will you stand by his side?

Genre: Humour, parody, crack

Warnings: sexual and suggestive content.

(I)

"You need a date."

"Mei Mei, I don't have a single free minute in my schedule at the -"

"Okay, let me rephrase that. You need to get fucked."

The coffee you've just taken a sip of diverts somewhere in the depths of your nasal passages, leaving you sputtering. Dabbing at your mouth with a napkin, you glance around the cafe while Mei Mei stirs her flat white, amused.

"Something wrong?"

"You know I'm not ... good at that kind of thing."

"A mystery, to be sure. You're an eyecatcher, even in that coat."

"What's wrong with my coat?"

"Listen." She leans forward, the crook of her lips conspiratorial. "I'm having a little get together at my new place. Kind of a housewarming. And I'm inviting some people I work with. You should come."

Mei Mei was an avante garde fashion photographer, known for her theatric sets. If she was hinting at what you thought she was, then ...

"You're telling me that you're inviting a ... bunch of models?"

"Some of my associates. So yes, models. And others. Just a relaxed little get together. What do you say?"

"I don't know ... I have to -"

"So you'll be there."

Her sly, red-lipped smile brooks no argument.

******

Tugging at the straps of the shimmering green dress Mei Mei had loaned you for the occasion, you took a breath before pressing the buzzer on the intercom that would give you access to the upscale compound. Mei Mei had pulled some strings to procure an apartment here, arranged by one of her well-connected clients in the fashion industry.

Gaining entry, you traversed the beautifully furnished foyer, with its black and white tiles and vintage lamps. The heels you wore were a lot higher than your usual choice, and you walked with the care of one who expected to twist their ankle at any given second. You hoped nobody noticed.

Mei Mei's get together was a relaxed, but lively affair, the buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses audible above the scent of various flowers her guests had brought her. She greeted you at the door and introduced you to a few of her colleagues.

Sipping champagne and appearing to listen intently to the lighting director who seemed to have an odd fixation on nipples under spotlights, the slow dawn of another's observation prickled against your skin.

You turned and surveyed the room, and you saw him. He was not exactly the kind of person you could miss. Tall, eerily beautiful, the ripple of lean muscle evident along the rangy lines of his body, his eyes capture you before anything else does. Blue as the most crystalline mountain lake, as clear, his pale lashes framing their illuminated surface, he is watching you with undisguised intrigue. The snowy hair, artfully disheveled, and the promise of a cheeky smile form a devastatingly handsome collection of features that blend together in a most pleasing fashion.

There was no mistaking it. This was the Gojo Satoru, one of the rising stars of the modeling world, a man who happened to look effortless in each and every one of his lauded photo shoots, many of which had already won awards.

And he was looking right at you.

Mei Mei had noticed his scrutiny of you, and she edged in, her soft introduction delivered with a smirk. She is gone faster than your eye can track, and now he's standing right opposite you, examining you with that laser-lit stare.

Clearing your throat, you swirl the remaining champagne in your glass.

"Gojo Satoru. I saw your cover on last week's Men's Wealth. It was ... really something."

He grins, pearly teeth catching the light of the chandeliers.

"Yeah? Which part of it did you like the most?"

"Which ... oh. The composition of the second photo was quite ..."

"Ahh, that one. Yeah. They just handed me the baby oil and told me to go to town. Didn't know it would be that slippery."

You choke slightly.

"So they don't give you ... more direction than that?"

"Oh no. I guess it's unique to me. I know what works best in my shoots and I get it done."

"Sounds like an interesting work ethic. I bet there aren't many models at your level who can say the same."

"Nah. I know I can be the best. I'm gonna be traveling to the New York Fashion Week tomorrow, and I barely know what's in store. They don't even bother telling me anymore."

His easy admission would sound arrogant from anyone else, but the confident assurance in his voice tells you that this man is simply stating facts. A frisson of something warm filters through you. As if his looks weren't already enough.

"Are you good at everything you put your hand to?"

Oh boy. The champagne had decided to assert its control over your mouth. Gojo doesn't seem to mind. If you're not mistaken, something is kindling in those fractured points of brilliance in his eyes too.

"I guess you could say that. I do have one vice, though. Something pretty incurable."

You lean forward, keen to hear this.

"A vice?"

"Yeah." His voice lowers to a secretive huskiness that turns the conditions in your underwear as humid as the Amazon rainforest.

"I kind of have ... a terrible sweet tooth. Can't get enough. I see something sweet, I want it right away."

He winks and sips from his glass, which you can see contains a cocktail with a fair amount of grenadine. You lick your lips, and his gaze follows the slick movement of your tongue.

"Oh? And what specific kinds of sweets do you like?"

"The classic kind."

He isn't touching you, but with the way his eyes rake over your form, he might as well be.

"I like spun sugar, light as air. The creaminess of a panna cotta. The burst of flavour on my tongue from a berry coulis. Give me some of that, and I'm yours, fair lady."

The upward quirk of his mouth is practically irresistible. It's what keeps you glued to his side for the rest of the night, while he, shockingly, seems to be thoroughly enjoying your company too. At times, you catch Mei Mei watching you both with discreet amusement and satisfaction.

At some point, she approaches and makes sure to thank Gojo for his assistance in obtaining this apartment. You glance over at him in surprise.

"Oh, Mei Mei did talk about that. I didn't know her contact was you."

"Sure was. I live just one floor up, actually. Put a word in with the owners and got her the place, no problem."

"So you own a place here too?"

He slides a hand into the pocket of his designer jeans, the glance he shoots you over his tinted glasses a clear invitation.

"Wanna come up and see the view?"

******

You had no idea how it had come to this. This wasn't you. And yet, here you were, in his apartment, the soft chatter of Mei Mei's party long forgotten in the frantic pace of your lips against his.

You both were barely in the door before his hands were on you, groping, caressing, mapping out every part of you sheathed in that increasingly cumbersome green dress. At the first opportunity, his fingers had stolen their way along the zipper and the material had slid down your legs.

You couldn't remember where your bra had been shed, probably somewhere just outside the bedroom.

He was surprisingly strong for someone with such a lean build. The corded sinew of his arms and back clearly weren't just for show. You found yourself tossed breathlessly onto the soft surface of the bed, as he surveyed you with a hunger that had your hands creeping south between your legs.

Satoru pauses, and suddenly there is a shift in the energy within the room. His face takes on a serious cast and his glance bends floorward. You sit up slightly.

"Satoru? Is everything - "

Eyes flitting briefly up to you, his throat bobs slightly as he swallows.

"Well. I guess this is a first for me. I don't usually do this, but ... I kinda want to see you again. After tonight, I mean."

You breathe out reverently. You certainly hadn't been expecting this level of vulnerability.

"And I want to see you again, too."

"So ... if that's the case then ... you need to see all of me. I can't hide this if we're going beyond a one night thing."

You're paying close attention now, reaching for him. He laces his fingers with yours.

What could this perfect man possibly be insecure about?

He takes a bracing breath before relinquishing your hand, stepping back from the bed and approaching the nightstand. Reaching into his mouth, he fiddles a little before plucking something away and placing it in a small container stored there. Turning back to face you, you see what he has been concealing.

The pearly teeth that had reflected such brilliant perfection in the light of Mei Mei's home were gone. In their place were a series of ill-formed, browning and misshapen stumps, many of them worn down completely. Your eyes snapped up to his, widening slightly.

"Satoru ... how - "

"I told you that I had a sweet tooth. I ... indulged myself as a child and my parents never stopped me. They spoiled me rotten in more ways than one! And now I'm ... I'm paying the price."

"That's ... but why didn't you - "

"I'm going to have surgery soon to ... permanently fix it. But even if I do, my sweet tooth won't go away! It'll be with me forever. I'm ... "

His shoulders slumped slightly.

"Caramel icing. Berry coulis. Soft serve and rock candy. Even liquorice! Toffee! I can't - "

His voice breaks and you find yourself lunging across the bed towards him, enfolding him in a tight embrace. His breath washes over you, the foul tang of decay now noticeable. You understand how he couldn't keep something like this concealed beyond a one night stand. Your voice, when you speak, is infinitely soft.

"Satoru ... all this time ... were you avoiding proper relationships because you ... "

"I - yes."

His arms come up slowly around you, as if he is unused to the gesture.

"I couldn't even ... make them breakfast if I wanted to. Because then ... we'd have to brush our teeth together and they'd see ... "

"Oh, Satoru."

You press your mouth fervently against his, undeterred, mapping out each stump and broken edge with your tongue. He tastes like old coffee, milk gone sour, the cloying overripe sweetness of a fruit gone bad. But this is irrelevant to you, because you're kissing him.

You break away from him, watching those magnificent features of his freeze in shock.

"Wait ... you still want to - "

"Of course I want to. Come here."

The merry tap of fork and knife and Mei Mei's self-satisfied smile on the floor below would escape the both of you, as wrapped up in each other you had become. You vowed to yourself, running your fingers through his incredibly soft hair, that every morning from now on, you'd stand beside him at the bathroom sink and brush your teeth together.

Satoru missed the New York Fashion Week, but gained something far, far sweeter.

(II)

They call you Ishizu.

It isn't your true name, but it's one you'd accepted when you joined this crew. As the ship's surgeon, armed with your family's repertoire of skills and remedies, you'd managed to earn some credibility in your field. You'd saved more than one sailor's life.

For the brave fishing crews that traversed the Sea of Ruin, the vast stretch of unchartered water between this continent and the next, populated by scores of deadly sea beasts and treacherous archipelagos, the sea was a perilous temptress. Those with the skill and courage, not to mention a healthy dash of insanity, could make a substantial profit within a short time before retiring.

Such was the nature of Nanami Kento, Captain of the Casse Croûte, one of the few living men who had sailed the seven oceanic planes in all three seasons.

The Captain was an enigmatic man, to be sure. He'd come across as cold initially, sticking to such rigid timings and sailing plans that you'd wondered how any of his crew liked him. And heavens, did they adore the man. He had the undying loyalty of every person on board, and whenever you'd asked about it, they'd simply smiled and told you that you'd see with time.

So you waited and observed. Gradually, you began to see the qualities the crew so prized in him. When the cabin boy, Yuuji, almost fell into the jaws of a large sea beast with grey, cross-stitch skin, the Captain had drawn his cleaver and struck such a heavy blow across its nose that the creature immediately lost interest in a fisherman-sized snack.

When Sailor Ino, eager to prove himself, had set forth on an expedition on an unchartered island, only to return covered in large insect bites and a raging fever, the Captain had stayed up with him every night until the fever had broken. You'd never seen such dedication to the welfare of the crew.

There were many other such instances, and slowly, you found yourself gravitating to the quiet, charismatic captain as much as the others did. He was also unmistakeably handsome, with his kind, tired gaze, gleaming blonde hair, tall, muscular frame and clean-cut profile. In spite of his injuries, a missing eye and the damaged hand, he was also a formidable man. You'd be lying if you'd claimed that this dangerously attractive man hadn't intruded on your nighttime musings more than once ...

And on one particular night, while the next watch took their positions at the bell and you sat in the small galley that adjoined your surgery, he'd come in, nursing a steaming coffee, and kept you company. Slowly, he'd opened up to you, speaking of his days as a sailor, before he'd become Captain of the Casse Croûte, and what came after.

Something heavier lay over the conversation, though, something he seemed on the verge of telling you. Eventually, you pried it out of him. As you'd suspected, it was to do with his terrible injuries.

"Have you ever heard of the white leviathan?"

Swirling the coffee in his cup, his single eye glances up at you under dark lashes.

"I ... have heard some tales, yes. He's a legend, according to some."

"A living legend."

Seeing your eyes widen, he nods.

"Made off with a portion of my arm, and I'll never watch the sunrise with this eye again."

You exhale heavily.

"Captain ... I had no idea you'd encountered such a creature. What ... exactly happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You should ask. After all, as long as I remain in command of this ship, he may yet make another appearance."

"What do you mean?"

"The white leviathan, also known as a Gojoverian Satorunus, is the strongest of its kind to be born in centuries. Normally, they keep to their distant isle, within the Lightning Archipelago, where few venture. He, however, roams the seas in an eternal quest."

"I've heard that legends call him the Meibi Dick. Is there ... a reason for that strange nickname?"

The Captain hisses through his teeth, one hand raising to his eyepatch, as if just the mention of that moniker has sunk a harpoon into his flesh. You hurry to apologise.

"Captain, I'm so - "

"Please. No need. Let me explain. That nickname ... was a direct result of my encounter with him."

"It was?"

"Indeed. It was a gloomy day, I remember. Rain was pelting down. We'd put out the sails, because the sea was quite still. At that time, we came upon a wreck, out at sea. The ship had washed up on a great reef, and there it hung, a spectre of former glory."

You were now hanging on to Nanami's words like a crow with carrion.

"And the white leviathan had caused this?"

"Indeed, although we didn't know it at the time. I ordered some of our skilled divers to check the wreck for any possible survivors. There were none, but one of the divers came back with something. A large piece of purified ambergris, said to smell and taste as good to leviathans as the sweetest nectar. Its call to them is so strong, that it may even drive them into heat, causing mating events in their population when they come across it. In my folly, I took it on board for its great value."

"And what happened then?"

"That night, the white leviathan, which had destroyed the other ship for the ambergris, came for us. The scent had laid such claim to the beast's mind that its mating mark had bloomed on the skin near its head, which it displayed to us."

"Its mating mark?"

Reaching into his pocket, Nanami drew out a small notebook and charcoal stick. He sketched something on one of the blank pages before passing the book over to you. Your eyes widened as you took in the drawing. It looked like a crude, stylized penis with the testicles sketched in just below.

"Is this ... "

"His frightful member. Indeed. He was attempting to show us his intention in order to lay claim to the ambergris."

"What did you do?"

"I knew we stood no chance against him. Foolishly, I thought to outrun him. It was futile. He boxed us in at every turn, his plaintive, terrible cry echoing across the water to us. Eventually, I ordered for the ambergris to be thrown overboard. It only served as a distraction. The beast consumed it and resumed his chase. Due to how long I'd evaded him, he'd come to associate this ship, and me, the Captain, with the ambergris."

"But Captain, that means ..."

He nods grimly, and you are sorely tempted to reach across the table and take his hand.

"He will hunt this vessel to the ends of the earth. Why do you think I plan every stage of our voyage so carefully? I'm always one step ahead of him, monitoring and studying the tides, the currents, the beast shoals. As long as we stick to the plan, we have the ability to outrun him."

Hope flares in your chest, in spite of your growing fear.

"I have faith in you, Captain. So does this crew. We'll be beside you, if the white leviathan ever makes an appearance."

This time, you do take his hand in your warm, tentative grasp, watching as his eyes drink in your countenance in the dim light of the galley. He squeezes your fingers in return.

**********

The seasons at sea come and go, and its a full seven months and three days before Captain Nanami's perfectly timed schedule is threatened. A storm, the likes of which you've never encountered before, strikes with unpredictable ferocity. The ship is blown completely off course, and although it will take a few days to rectify, Nanami's dire mood is palpable.

If you didn't have full faith in your Captain, you might have considered this an overreaction on his part. But you knew better. You knew that his concern came from long experience.

A well-founded concern, as it turned out. The white leviathan made an appearance a mere two days after the storm, spotted far to starboard by the lookout, and gaining fast.

Captain Nanami forbade any of the crew joining him in his task of slaying the beast, but this was one occasion where nobody would follow his instructions. You all loved him too well. Come hell or high water, you would all be by his side.

And the leviathan approached, its size alone boggling the mind. The waves slapped and beat against the hull, the slow rise and dip of the deck more and more pronounced as it came closer. Nanami stood on the prow, facing the creature, the large harpoon readied by Yuuji in one hand, his trusty cleaver in the other.

Then, you heard it. The terrible call of the creature, booming across the water to batter at your ears. The grotesquely formed words were difficult to make out, but to your astonishment, they formed distinct speech that you could understand.

"Naaanaaamiiiin, letttsssss .... gooooooo oouutttt."

The Captain gritted his teeth, his own reply loud on the wind.

"Never, you foul creature!"

"Sompppthin .... impooorrtant .... talkkkkk tooooo youuuuuu .... "

"You've been chasing me for years! There's nothing this important! Begone!"

"Iiiiiiii .... havvveeennn'tttt...... saiiiiddd nyythiiing ... "

"I refuse!"

That groaning, awful cry had come closer and closer, forcing you to your knees, hands clasped over your ears. The Captain stood firm, even as the giant, pale form broke the surface of the sea beside the ship, the giant, electric blue eye surveying the vessel with the glee of a long awaited victory.

"Naaaanaaaaminnnnn .... "

And then, you saw it. The mark the Captain had spoken of, the giant member and testicles that appeared as scrawled marks from beneath the skin of the beast. It had not forgotten! And now, as the beast called out again, it dawned upon you in a flash where it's dreaded nickname had come from.

"Naaaanaaaamiiinnnnnn ... maaaaayybbeeeee ... diiiiiiicckkkkkk?"

You lunged toward the Captain, grabbing at his leg to keep him steady as the deck pitched violently before the amorous leviathan. You saw Nanami looking down at you, that beautifully courageous gaze trained on your water-streaked face. He turned back to the monster.

"I will never accept your dick, you all-ruining, unambitious fish."

You grasped his leg harder, willing all of your strength into his good arm as his body uncoiled and the harpoon flew true through the eye of the storm.

Part 2:

Demon Lord! Geto and Fireman! Kusakabe

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