#and it's not just big but tall and it has enormous feet

[britneyshakespeare]

i think one of our hens is actually a rooster

[feeder86]

Guy and a Gain

“Sure, she’s cute. But she can’t give a decent blow job to save her life,” Guy shrugged, checking out the girls on the dancefloor with his football buddy, Rich. 

“You’ve slept with her already?” Rich asked, always impressed by Guy’s prowess. 

“Of course I have. Look at her. She’s the prettiest girl in here by far,” he nodded down at her. “But she has no instincts when it comes to giving head. She’s been my biggest disappointment since I arrived on campus.”

“I’m sure she could learn,” Rich shrugged, still taken with the girl. He was tall and broad and enough of a catch for her. However, he didn’t have the natural good looks, strapping build and height that made it so effortless for Guy to pick up whoever he wanted on a night out.

“If you want her, go buy her a drink,” Guy shrugged. “But I’m telling you, you’ll be disappointed. If it’s a decent blow job you’re after tonight, you can’t go wrong with a fat girl. They’re always out to please. Gay guys too - awesome at taking a dick in their mouth.”

“Dude!” Rich shot back, taking a step back in horror. “You’re telling me you’re gay?”

Guy laughed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. He strapped his big arm over Rich’s shoulders and pulled him back in. “Don’t be that guy,” he stated warningly. “Not if you and I are going to be friends. It’s not the nineties. You hear what I’m saying?” he asked, turning his head to Rich. There was no denying which of them would win in a fight, so he wasn’t about to take some outdated homophobic shit just because the idiot came from some backwards ghost town in the midwest. “I love sex. And I stick my dick wherever it feels good. That’s just the kind of man I am.”

Rich seemed to get that he’d been out of line and he nodded respectfully. All the boys on the football team looked up to Guy, not just for his sporting capability and strength, but because he genuinely didn’t seem to give a crap about what others thought about him. He was smart and sharp; perfectly suited to the business degree he was studying. “So who’s given you the best time since we started college?” he asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Guy chuckled. “I have this skinny little geek in the room next to mine. You could tell he was a total virgin until I came along, but… fuck me! The boy is a natural when it comes to sucking. And so convenient, right next door. I don’t even have to knock.”

Rich nodded; his world view was a little less narrow than it had been a few minutes ago and he now seemed genuinely interested in his team mate’s extensive experiences in the bedroom. They chatted a bit more, until Guy saw the girl he wanted that night. Short, round and eyeing him like crazy. He’d give her a night she’d never forget!

“She was a bit of a noisy one last night,” Mikey grumbled, sliding into the kitchen area the next morning.

Guy laughed and tore a large bite out of his toast with his teeth. “Sorry, buddy,” he laughed. “I forgot you nerds all go to bed at 9am.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and poured himself some cereal. It was rare that they ever got the kitchen space to themselves like this, but Guy was always up for his gym session, no matter what time he went to bed. He sat there, hunched at the breakfast bar, his damp clothes sticking to his enormously muscular body. Even unshowered and stinking of sweat like this, he knew he could still get his favorite neighbor, Mikey, to go down on him in a microsecond.

“I noticed you brought home another fat girl,” Mikey commented next, grabbing the last of his own fresh milk that Guy had left him, after downing most of it post-workout. “You’re making quite a habit of this.”

Guy rose to his feet and laughed, dropping his plate in the sink for Mikey to clean up after him and grabbing the boy by his hips from behind. “Spying on me, huh?” he whispered teasingly. The boy was at least half a foot shorter than him, melting the moment he was touched. “Jealous, perhaps?”

Mikey moaned as he felt Guy’s lustful hands slide into his crotch to check how hard he was. “I just thought…” he mumbled, “some people find it odd when athletes like you date the fat girls.”

“Because I really give a shit about what people think, don’t I?” Guy chuckled back, peeling back Mikey’s shorts so that his tight glutes were exposed. “I could fuck your skinny little ass later if you think it might balance things out a bit?” he teased. He strolled off to the refrigerator, leaving Mikey to cover himself back up before anyone else came in, perusing the shelf of food Mikey had bought for himself yesterday and seeing if there was anything he wanted to help himself to. “Just because you eat like a little sparrow...,” he sighed, seeing the boring items within and taking a large pot of yoghurt to eat in his bedroom, “... it doesn’t mean that everyone else has to.”

Later that evening, Guy lay back on Mikey’s bed, his head swirling from the intensity of the orgasm after shooting down his geeky neighbor’s throat. He’d never admit to his face how good Mikey was at this, but of the scores of people he had slept with since coming to college, Mikey was the only one he’d made a habit of going back to.

“How was that?” the keen boy asked; his eyes watering from having taken Guy so far down his throat.

“Average,” Guy lied, wishing the nerd would be quiet a few moments longer and allow him this period of pure bliss.

“Not like the fat girls you bring home with you then?” Mikey asked.

Guy opened his eyes and sighed, sitting up. “Are you still going on about that?” he grumbled, pulling his underwear back up his muscular legs and raising his butt to get them all the way up.

“I kinda wanted to ask you something?” Mikey tried next, in an oddly serious tone.

Again, Guy sighed impatiently. “What is it?”

“These fat girls you go after… do you ever get horny thinking about them… y’know… getting even fatter?”

Guy raised an eyebrow. What sort of an odd question was that? He shrugged his shoulders, deciding not to commit to an answer and see where the hell Mikey was going with this. “Why do you ask?”

Mikey seemed emboldened by Guy’s response, getting up from his kneeling position on the floor and sitting on the chair by his desk. “It’s just… sort of a fantasy of mine,” he explained.

“Me fucking fat chicks?” Guy asked sceptically? He realised he knew so little about what genuinely got Mike going.

“No. Not that,” he replied, shaking his head. “There’s just something so kinky and submissive about getting fat for someone; becoming soft and out of shape.”

Guy looked across, even more puzzled, despite doing his best to hide it. “You eat less food than anyone else I know,” he shot back. “You won’t be getting fat anytime soon!”

Mikey nodded, as if Guy had hit the nail right on the head. “Exactly!” he smiled. “Imagine if someone pushed me to get fat for them! If some dominant guy made me eat all the things that forced my body to grow and grow for his own pleasure. How fucking sexy would that be?”

Nodding, Guy considered the idea. “You’re definitely submissive enough,” he agreed, standing and pulling up his sweat shorts. 

“You’re not going to tell anyone I told you that, are you?” Mikey asked, suddenly panicked.

“Who the fuck do you think would be interested?” Guy laughed. “People are allowed to have kinks, y’know? You need to lighten up a little!”

Mikey nodded back in agreement. Neither of them socialised within the same circles anyway. Guy was nothing if not liberal when it came to all things to do with sex. It was water off a duck’s back.

Mikey didn’t mention the subject the next time Guy went over for his servicing, despite being surprisingly chatty about his day afterwards. Guy listened out of a vague politeness as he stretched out on Mikey’s comfortable bed and watched the TV screen in the background. He could relax around Mikey. The guy didn’t take any of this too seriously and never got clingy or sentimental. Sex was sex.

In fact, it was only as Guy spotted Mikey in the corner at a frat house party, that he realised he had never actually seen Mikey outside of the dorms until then. Their lives were so disconnected, with the exception of the thin wall that separated their dorm rooms. He waved politely, following the other athletes through to the kitchen, where the usual fun and drinking games took place.

Later that evening, with a circle of women swarming around him, Guy looked over to see a boy looking in Mikey’s direction. Tall, slim and not unattractive, he gave Guy the distinct impression that he was interested in the nerdy boy. “Does anyone know who that one is?” Guy asked the girls.

“That’s just Aiden,” one replied. “He’s got a crush on that guy over there,” she pointed at Mikey. “They're on the same course together or something.”

Aiden? That name rang a bell. Guy was sure he’d heard that name mentioned by Mikey a few times in the past. It surprised him how little he had actually considered Mikey’s life outside of their casual fucking. Of course Mikey was going to pique someone else’s interest at some point. Guy wasn’t the type to get into a relationship, but perhaps Mikey would be. Then what would happen? No more awesome blow jobs for a start. Normal people weren’t good at sharing.

“Hey, Mikey!” Guy suddenly shouted from across the room, catching sight of Aiden moving in, as if to make his move. “Come grab a drink with me.”

Mikey smiled and diligently headed over. There, Guy wrapped a big arm over his slim shoulders and slipped a shot into his hand. Guy himself didn’t drink, never needing alcohol to make him fun at a party and refusing to fuck his training up with toxins that could impact his progress. There he stood, guarding the boy from any who may try to come near. Ten minutes was all they stayed after that, walking back to the dorms so that Aiden couldn’t sneak his way towards Mikey when Guy wasn’t looking.

“Are you coming in?” Guy asked, opening the door to his own bedroom and inviting Mikey inside. 

“I’m honoured!” Mikey joked, having never been invited into Guy’s room before. He stepped over the threshold, into the dungeon of mess, sweat and sex.

The idea of Aiden had plagued Guy’s mind, suddenly making him realise just how much he had taken Mikey, and his awesome sucking skills, for granted. A gesture was required; a way to show the boy that his pleasure was important too. Guy stood in the middle of the room, planting his feet solidly and pulled the geek into him; kissing him passionately in an almost romantic manner. “Did you like that?” he grinned afterwards, knowing how well he could seduce when he wanted to. He pulled off his shirt and went in again, this time guiding Mikey’s hands to explore his muscular chest. He needed Mikey to know what an absolutely perfect specimen he was if the boy was going to be asked out by Aiden soon; let him see what he would be missing out on if he got into a relationship. “Let’s take off your clothes,” Guy whispered next, undressing Mikey himself until his pants and underwear fell around his feet and he stood there naked, erect and longing for him.

Mikey seemed to appreciate how different this all was. Guy was the first to admit that he never really put the effort in when it came to his sessions with the boy next door. Then, when Guy started sliding his large hand up and down Mikey’s hardness, the skinny boy moaned like he could climax at any time.

Guy had no intention of losing his fuck buddy. For the last hour, he’d been plotting how best to handle the situation, settling upon something he decided he could give Mikey better than anyone else. He threw open his closet door where a mirror rested on the other side, now reflecting Mikey perfectly back at himself.

“Who’s that skinny little shit in the mirror?” Guy teased him, looking like a monster of pure muscle stood behind him.

In the mirror, Mikey watched Guy’s hand slowly sliding up and down his hardness; his lust filled eyes half closed and his jaw slack.

“I want you to do something for me,” Guy whispered next. “I want you to drink my protein shakes,” he nodded backwards to the little minibar that also served as a bedside table for him. “Five hundred and eighty calories each,”

Mikey turned and looked up at him, as if the reflected version was merely a mirage. “You want me to drink all your shakes?” he asked, as if worried he had misunderstood.

“Yeah, I do…” Guy nodded down at him. “Every last drop.”

Guy could feel Mikey almost quivering with arousal. He bent down to his little fridge and popped the lid on one of his shakes.

“You know what these will do to you, right?” Guy grinned. “These aren’t made for skinny little dweebs like you. Boys who drink these and don’t exercise… they start to…” he whispered, keeping Mikey hanging on his every word. “...They start to get a little fat!””

Mikey nodded with absolute submission; his hands twitching to take the bottle from Guy’s large hand.

“Say goodbye to the skinny boy,” Guy laughed, nodding at the reflection once more, before twisting the mirror slightly so that the angle changed. Then he sat himself against the headboard of his bed. He spread his legs, pulling Mikey to sit into his crotch with his back resting against his strapping chest. Cleverly, Mikey could still see everything in the mirror as Guy’s hand rose up his neck, tipping his head back so that it rested on his muscular shoulder. Then those strong fingers pressed into Mikey’s cheeks, opening the jaws and turning Mikey’s mouth into the perfect pouring hole for the shake.

The mixture was cold. Guy took his time, adding a little at a time, as if making Mikey work for it. He theatrically rubbed the boy’s throat, like he was encouraging a good swallow; then went straight back to work on that aching erection. Once one bottle was down, Guy could reach with his giant arm span down into his minibar for the next, without even having to move Mikey. Then, down went another, and another.

“Can you see what’s happening?” Guy whispered, rubbing a hand over Mikey’s bloating stomach.

“It looks so big!” Mikey moaned back, with Guy having to pull his hand away from the boy’s erection once again in order to stop him climaxing.

“This is what you’re going to grow for me,” Guy demanded. “Every day, everything you eat… all for me.”

Mikey moaned so loudly now, it felt almost cruel to deny him his orgasm any longer. “Yes!” he nodded emphatically. “I swear. I absolutely swear!”

Guy only needed to touch him for a few seconds and the eruption that followed was more explosive than any he had ever seen a guy make. He looked at the splatter above the headboard behind them and chuckled. It was almost as high as he could get it himself. This was certainly a strange kink that Mikey had, but Guy felt that he had made his point well. No one was going to indulge this geek in his fantasies about weight gain; at least, not like Guy could. So why would Mikey need to look for connections anywhere else?

A few days later, Guy did a double take as he looked on Mikey's shelf in the refrigerator for food he could steal after his workout. Gone were the boring, sensible ingredients, replaced with high carb options, sugars and high fat dairy. Guy almost thought he was just confused, until he checked out the cupboard that Mikey kept for himself as well, finding a similar story. He frowned in confusion, wondering whether people had reorganised the kitchen space, until the encounter with Mikey nights before came back to him. Was the boy actually going to have a go at gaining a few pounds? How cute was that? But would this mean that Guy would have to buy more of his own food whilst Mikey was going through this little phase of his? 

The normally fresh and clean smell of Mikey’s room was tainted by spices and the sweaty, grease stained food containers that piled up on the boy’s desk. Mikey himself looked bloated and sluggish, his stomach stretched so much that he was obviously in some discomfort. Guy looked down at him, trying to hold back a laugh. “Someone’s been enjoying himself!” he teased.

Mikey nodded. “If I’d have known you wanted to stop by tonight, I’d have saved the pizza so you could watch me eat it all for you.”

Guy wondered what on Earth Mikey expected him to get out of watching him eat a pizza. Was it supposed to be kinky? Like the protein shakes? Perhaps it was part of the submission aspect. All the same, it sounded more than a little dull. But this was Mikey’s kink and Guy was hardly about to shame him about it. On the contrary, how exciting that the otherwise vanilla boy was actually doing something that he genuinely found thrilling. “We’ll have a little fat belly on you in no time!” he smirked, reaching down to pat the clearly overstuffed stomach.

Like a flip switching in Mikey’s mind, the boy instantly became more aroused. Guy took notice, rubbing the stomach more and more, until Mikey finally fished out Guy’s boner and set his magic mouth to work.

“Have you seen Mikey recently?” asked Hannah, a former conquest of Guy's and the girl who lived across the hallway. “He’s seriously packed on the Freshman Fifteen.”

“You probably just saw him after he’d had a meal,” Guy replied knowingly. “He tends to eat a lot in one go. He gets bloated.”

Hannah shook her head, not accepting the excuse in the slightest. “This was first thing in the morning. He has actual love handles!” she stated emphatically.

Now it was Guy’s turn to shake his head. He’d only been in to play with Mikey a few days before the Spring Break and he hadn’t noticed any sign of love handles before then.

Hannah laughed. “Seriously!” she chuckled. “I’m not making this up.”

Guy marched down the corridor and knocked on Mikey’s door, making Hannah laugh as she stayed in the kitchen. “Wakey, wakey!” he called out, knowing that the boy was rarely up at this time on a Saturday. In the short space of time that it took a groggy Mikey to get out of bed, the door clicked unlocked and in Guy went, closing the door behind him. The dark, hunched form of Guy’s drowsy neighbor slipped straight back into bed. Instead, Guy strolled over to the window and threw them open dramatically. “Time to get up!” he teased. 

As light flooded the room, Guy could see the mess of wrappers and containers that was testament to how much Mikey had been overfeeding himself since he arrived back on Wendesday night. He laughed to himself, picking up some of the mess and putting it on the boy’s desk. Then, knowing that it would frustrate Mikey, he reached for the duvet and yanked it away with full force, uncovering the entirely naked boy lying on his front underneath.

Guy’s eyes flew to the little rounded pads of flesh on Mikey’s side, the skin starting to crease and mark the area more clearly: love handles, without a shadow of a doubt. “Ho, ho!” he blasted in amusement. “Look at you!” he marvelled, reaching his big hand down onto his neighbor’s glute and finding it was squishy and significantly bouncier, with clearly added mass to it. “Someone is actually getting chubby!” he teased, absolutely astonished with the difference. That skinny little ass was gone, replaced with something much more meaty and even a little feminine.

Despite his tiredness, Mikey wrigged with arousal at the touch as Guy began playing with the softness that even spread down into his thighs. He rolled over; his erection already sizable as he tried to open his eyes and look towards Guy, even with the harsh light coming in through the window behind him.

What was happening to Mikey’s chest? Guy inspected further. The nipples seemed softer and the blubbery build up in the boy’s love handles was further spread across his stomach, deepening his belly button. “Stand up,” Guy demanded. “I want to look at you properly.”

Mikey did as he was told, Guy placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, guiding him over to the mirror, so that he could see all angles at once.

“Fuck!” Guy laughed, seeing what a transformation had been silently happening behind his back. He felt proud. The biggest complaint people had about Mikey, here in the dorms, was that he was a fairly dull and boring person. Well, look at him now! This was hardly boring. The kinky little fucker was actually doing something none of them would ever have the guts to do. “I’m pleased,” Guy told him honestly, looking at his face in the reflection. “How does it feel for you?”

At this Mikey’s hands began exploring himself, grabbing at the fat and jiggling where he could with the tips of his fingers. “Amazing!” he whispered back, bursting with arousal.

“Well then…” Guy smiled, placing his hand back on Mikey’s chubby glute: his favorite new feature by far. “...You have to keep going,” he stated. “Keep eating and eating. Add more and more fresh fat onto this frame of yours.”

“I will,” Mikey nodded back obediently. “If it’s what you want. I’ll keep going as far as I can!”

Guy had never seen Mikey’s dick dribbling with arousal so easily. If this weight gain and submission was what aroused him so much, there was no way he could let it stop. “It’s what I want,” Guy agreed. “I want you to grow a proper fat belly, just for me.”

The pair kissed. Guy had never felt Mikey moan and collapse into him quite so much; like a ragdoll, ready to be played with.

“I know what’ll help…” Guy laughed, pulling down his pants and tugging on his own semi-erection until it was pumped and hard. “Let’s lubricate your throat ready for a full day of eating,” he joked cheekily.

Immediately, Mikey slipped to his knees. His jaws opened and he hungrily took the whole of Guy’s enormous erection down his throat like no one else on campus could. It took Guy by surprise each time, how instantaneous the pleasure was. He had to spread his legs a little more and reach one hand out to steady himself on the wall for fear that he may fall over. He didn’t need to press Mikey’s head into his crotch. The boy needed no guidance in the slightest. It was all just so perfect.

An involuntary moan escaped Guy’s lips. Now that his fuck buddy was getting fat, he wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to steal him away. Mikey’s mouth was all his.

No one on campus was aware that Guy and Mikey were anything more than casual acquaintances, and so no one was cautious about discussing Mikey weight gain around Guy. The overall feeling was one of amusement. In many ways, it was understandable. Mikey had indeed been incredibly thin at the start of the year and he was heading towards the summer looking significantly softer and padded. For the most part, Guy simply ignored it, or tried to move the conversations away. He wasn’t about the campus drama and the behind the scenes bad-mouthing like some of the others. Sure, people were going to talk, but they didn’t have the full story in the same way that Guy did.

The final football game of the season arrived and Guy was pumped for it. He didn’t get nervous like the others seemed to. He was also bigger than everyone else on the field, not weighed down by excess weight, making him lighter on his feet than the opposition ever expected from him. He’d been buzzing the entire morning, heading to the gym for a full session despite the advice from his coach to rest that morning. He simply had too much energy to spare. He knocked on Mikey’s door wondering whether the boy was up for a little fun before he had to leave. Unlike everyone else in the dorms, Mikey never came down to the games. He simply wasn’t into sports, and that was fair enough. In fact, Mikey seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that it was even taking place that day, answering the door and ushering Guy inside excitedly.

“Look what I bought!” the chubby boy smiled, leading Guy over to his desk where a large, round cake sat waiting for a party of twenty people to come in and start feasting upon it. “I’m going to try and eat it all this afternoon!” he beamed.

Guy chuckled to himself, seeing the erection already pressing against Mikey’s sweatshorts. “You go for it, buddy!” he smiled, clapping the boy on his back. His enthusiasm for overeating and putting on weight was almost infectious at times. He lifted the plastic lid and swept his finger around the edge, gathering a decent amount of cream which Mikey excitedly sucked off.

“Do you want to feed it to me?” Mikey asked, pulling his shirt off to reveal his softening torso.

Inwardly, Guy sighed with disappointment. How long would that take? He had to leave in twenty minutes or so, and if Mikey’s mouth was going to be occupied that entire time, there was no chance of a quick blow job. 

“How about…” Guy began, lifting his own shirt off and dropping his shorts and underwear, “...we both have a little fun at the same time?”

“What did you have in mind?” Mikey asked, watching as Guy pulled out the lubricant from the drawer and squirted it into his hand.

Guy looked down at him with a smirk. Then he reached a hand into Mikey’s crack and began preparing the area, making the boy moan with arousal as his large fingers brushed and gently penetrated. Mikey pulled down his underwear to help him and was soon leaning into it so much that Guy could give him a decent warm up.

Having a firm press down on his back, Mikey obediently slipped onto all fours. Guy reached for the cake and placed it underneath the boy’s face. “Ready?” he asked, reaching for Mikey’s jaw, as if loosening it up for better movement and stretch.

Mikey’s eyes were on the prize. His head was lowered down into it, perhaps more than he was expecting, his nose now pressing into the sponge and his tongue lapping it all up with ferocious speed.

Guy assumed his position, grabbing a condom, sliding his hardness into Mikey’s gaping butt and sighing with pleasure. As blessed as most people told him he was with such a large dick, Guy found he was rarely allowed to settle into his own good rhythm when penetrating. There was simply too much of him to handle. WIth Mikey, however, the boy just seemed to relax so much, it was like total freedom for Guy. After wincing the initial time they had tried this, Mikey took to it with ease. He was the only one Guy could properly deliver what he referred to as a ‘thorough pounding’.

Through the mirror, Guy could see that Mikey’s face was now covered in cake as he tried to gorge himself at the same time as his body was getting pumped from behind. Guy laughed, happy to take the control that Mikey offered up so willingly. “Come on!” he chuckled. “You can do better than that!” he called out encouragingly, seeing Mikey’s tongue scrabbling about trying to lick up as much as he could.

The fat on Mikey’s back had really come a long way since they had last done this. The love handles in particular seemed to ripple and bounce out of sync with the rest of his body. The bones in his shoulder blades were less severe and an emerging softness appeared to be forming just under his arms. However, the boy’s butt was the centerpiece; the way it was spread so wide and felt so much softer to the touch as Guy gripped on.

A moan started emanating from Mikey. In the mirror, his eyes were rolling up into his head. He began oinking - actually oinking, as he continued to gorge himself. Guy sped up. There was nothing he got off to more than seeing someone else genuinely getting lost in the moment. Mikey was letting go like never before.

“That’s it!” Guy cried out. “Oink like a pig!”

Without even a hand anywhere near his own hardness, it was obvious that Mikey was climaxing. His face fell upon the cake and he groaned louder than he ever had during sex before. The whole thing made the pleasure build upon Guy with rapid speed; almost taken by surprise as he felt himself squirt.

Guy wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed in relief. He’d rarely felt so completely satisfied before. He pulled out, stopping only momentarily to chuckle at the wide, gaping hole he left behind, then unpeeled the condom and began dressing himself. The mess was everywhere, cake smashed into the carpet that would take some time to scrub out.

“Thanks for that,” Guy smiled, looking down at the fat boy who had rolled onto his doughy rear and not even attempted to clean any of the cake off his face yet. He too seemed to be enjoying momentary bliss, grabbing at the first roll of his fattened stomach like it was the most precious thing in the world. Guy’s work was done here.

During the summer months, Guy had sweet talked his way into an internship with a local company, hoping to boost his CV for when he finished his degree in a further two years. He didn’t need to be told that his pretty face would be an asset for the company, but he was surprised at how much more he was interacting with the clients than the others in his position. A well fitting shirt and a tight pair of pants never failed to make things easier for him to charm pretty much everyone he was around. Already, he could see how well suited he was to business; his boss realising what a force to be reckoned with Guy could one day become. "This guy is going to take over the world one day!" she'd laughed as Guy pulled in new clients from a sponsorship event that he had organised entirely by himself.

Guy had also briefly dated a couple of girls, wanting to experience the steamy ‘summer love’ of his old high school days. However, he still had no intentions of settling down for anyone. Not a chance!

Mikey, meanwhile, had taken a job at a fast food restaurant back in his hometown; returning to campus that year looking like he hadn’t stopped eating the entire time. Quite a few of them had applied to stay in the dorms and been successful, but there was still plenty of fresh meat for Guy to enjoy about the place.

Guy remembered being quite taken aback when he saw the full stomach on Mikey after their time apart. It had morphed from a tight paunch to a full starter gut, complete with pointed and juicy-looking nipples. Had the boy seriously eaten nothing but fast food all summer? A simple rub of Mikey’s stomach or jiggle of his fleshy rear never failed to get the new chub horny, and Guy was all in for that. He thought back to the previous year and how forward he’d had to be with shy Mikey just to let him know that he was interested. Sex had not been a part of Mikey’s life before then, and now look at him: his entire body turned into a playhouse of his kinkiest sexual fantasies! Guy felt nothing but pride.

“You knew Mikey from last year, right?” asked Samantha, a clearly high-maintenance fresher girl who had moved in last week. “Maybe you can get through to him.”

“Why?” Guy asked, wondering what seemed to be so urgent.

“You need to let him know that we don’t want to see his belly hanging out anymore. He’s just bent down into the refrigerator and I had about four inches of his butt crack staring back at me!”

Guy laughed. “Is that all?” he sighed in relief. “I thought something was wrong.”

Samantha exhaled in shock. “Something is wrong!” she blasted. “He can’t be allowed to keep walking around in clothes that are that tight! It’s disgusting!”

“Leave him be,” Guy shrugged. “You don’t need to be around him if you don’t want to.”

“There are some guys who make fun of him on his course,” Samantha pressed on. “If he’d just wear a damn sweatshirt or something to try and make himself look like less of a target, I’m sure they’d leave him alone.”

At this, Guy stood up from his chair, suddenly filled with anger. “Who’s been making fun of him?” he demanded, ready to go and see to them, right there and then.

“Mikey is the one who needs speaking to!” Samantha shot back. “Go ask him who the guys are. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

Shaking his head with annoyance, Guy stormed down the corridor and let himself into Mikey’s room without even knocking. The boy was sitting at his desk, still pushing a large tray of cream cakes he had collected from the refrigerator when he had offended Samantha so much. He turned in surprise, seeing Guy bursting in on him like this.

“Who’s making fun of you on your course?” Guy asked, closing the door behind him.

Mikey smiled; his chubby cheeks and chin showing all the more. “Oh, you heard about that?” he chuckled. “A couple of the new freshmen: Dan and Alec.”

“You’ll need to point them out to me,” Guy demanded, clearly annoyed. “I’ll soon sort them out.”

Mikey’s face was one of pure amusement. “Not everything is a problem that needs fixing,” he simply replied, pushing a cream cake into his mouth.

“What is it they say to you?” Guy pressed on.

Mikey chewed and swallowed. “Oh, lots of things!” he giggled. “Fat Boy, Pig, Piggy, Lardass!”

Guy could feel his heart beating faster with frustration However, Mikey seemed entirely relaxed and happy. “Wait a minute…” Guy stopped him. “Is this one of those things..?” he pondered. “Are you… Do you get off on this? The guys treating you that way?”

Mikey raised his eyebrows cheekily, not needing to say anything further.

“That’s why your clothes are so tight this year, isn’t it? You actually want people to comment?” Guy asked next, feeling like he had delved further than ever before into the mind of his part-time lover.

Again, Mikey only pressed a cake into his mouth and smirked.

Guy felt all the pent-up frustration in him release. A great wave of affection for Mikey swept through him and he reached out a hand to pull the chubby boy up from his chair, leaning him back into his great arms like he was trying to seduce him all over again. “You’re the kinkiest little fucker I’ve ever come across,” he smiled with delight. “You know that right?”

Mikey swallowed and grinned back. “You started this,” he stated, rubbing his easily accessible belly fat as his overly short t-shirt rode up.

Guy looked down at the boy’s gut and nodded. “I sure did!” he teased. “And what a good piggy you’ve turned out to be!” he smirked, trying the word out now he knew a little more about how it excited Mikey.

The chub seemed to melt into him further. They kissed and then quickly undressed for the inevitable.

The Spring was upon them once again as Guy invited Mikey over to his room for a quiet evening together. Mikey always seemed more aroused to be in Guy’s room for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Guy had fucked and pleasured so many people between those sheets of his. The large athlete was sitting propped up against the headboard, romantically caressing Mikey as he leant against his naked chest and watched a movie with him.

Watching movies was not usually Guy’s thing. He’d often been accused of having an attention difficulty in school, making him restless and troublesome in class, despite the high grades he always came away with. But here, with Mikey, Guy felt complete relaxation, rubbing that fat stomach that had been grown for him and laughing together at the funny parts of the picture.

“There’s actually a gainer event happening not too far away in a couple of months,” Mikey explained, scrolling through his cell phone.

“When is it?” Guy asked. “I can take you.”

Mikey mumbled nervously. “I’m not so sure it’s my thing…” he fretted. “I’d be too nervous.”

At this, Guy laughed. “Nervous? You?” He rubbed Mikey’s large stomach. The boy was now a full one hundred and twenty pounds heavier than he had been when the pair met over eighteen months ago, standing at a full two hundred and sixty pounds despite his fairly average height. He’d battled name-calling, family disapproval and public wardrobe malfunctions aplenty. “You’re the bravest person I know.” 

Again, Mikey grumbled in disagreement.

Guy quickly did an internet search on his cell phone and found it himself. “There!” he declared a minute later, putting his cell phone back on the bed beside him. “Two tickets. One for me, and one for my lardass!” he teased, kissing Mikey on the back of his head and squeezing him once more. “I’lll book us a nice hotel later too.” Picking up a few modelling jobs had definitely helped make Guy’s life a little easier of late, and there was no one who deserved a treat more.

As the date approached, Mikey had gone into a frenzy of calorie consuming, determined to look the part for a gainer event. The boy was just a frustrating couple of pounds shy of three hundred when Guy took his chubby little hand and led him inside. 

Guy had never seen so many huge men in the same room and they eyed him suspiciously until they saw that his hand was placed appreciatively on Mikey’s broad butt as they stood to the side of the dancefloor.

“There are still quite a few small guys,” Guy whispered to Mikey, who had been worried about not being fat enough for weeks. “A few dad bods with only a little gut to show for themselves.”

Mikey nodded, feeling better and more relaxed as others started coming up to them, wanting to know their story.

“That person’s been checking you out all night,” Guy nodded over at a slender and handsome man in the corner.

“No he hasn’t,” Mikey shot back.

“Trust me, when people aren’t checking me out, I notice,” Guy replied. “He’s definitely interested in you.”

Mikey smiled, rather flattered.

“Who knows, he might be open to a little…” Guy winked, having learned recently that Mikey had a small fantasy about having a threesome. Guy waved his arm and beckoned the man over to them, despite Mikey’s nervous protests.

The admirer introduced himself as Henry and he admitted to having attended plenty of these types of events in the last few years. “What’s your weight?” he asked Mikey; an outrageous question in any other circumstances but these.

Guy jumped in to answer. “He’s just hit three-twenty,” he lied. He was only one hundred and forty pounds two years ago.”

“That’s impressive!” Henry nodded, clearly more interested than ever.

“He’s been a high achiever his whole life,” Guy smiled, wrapping his strong large arm over Mikey’s shoulders with pride.

Henry wanted to know more about their situation and circumstances. Were they an item? Was it casual? Was Guy really a feeder? But when the time came to ask him if he wanted to come back to the hotel with them, Henry did not decline. They stopped for takeout on the way, with Henry very clearly getting off on how much Mikey was able to eat: being so assertive with the chub, clearly setting high expectations from the start. Then they all headed back, making every pleasurable second all about Mikey; just as he deserved.

At the end of another summer, Guy and Mikey embarked upon their final year of college. Mikey’s weight had continued to creep up, with his face now properly framed by a large double chin and his upper arms finally starting to puff up and broaden him up a bit.

“I actually met up with Henry a couple of times this summer,” Mikey explained casually as the pair of them lay awkwardly facing each other on the narrow single bed in Guy’s room.

Guy instantly felt ashamed of the giant wave of jealousy that washed over him. He’d slept with a countless number of people during their casual sex games of the last two years, yet he begrudged Mikey even this little thing in return. Still, he tried not to show his feelings, diligently asking questions and smiling encouragingly, as if this was all positive news.

“Henry really knows how to push me to eat,” Mikey went on. “I’ve never eaten as much in my life! And it was all the type of stuff that he knew would only make me fatter.”

Guy nodded, concealing the inadequacy he felt. He’d never really been what Mikey had wanted. He only knew the absolute basics of the feedism kink Mikey was so into and had, for the most part, got away without having to sit through many of the tedious feeding sessions Mikey seemed to enjoy so much. This whole affair with Mikey had started because Guy hadn’t wanted anyone to take the champion blow-job boy away from him, yet he had unknowingly opened the floodgates during that fairly average threesome he had been a part of back at the gainer event. “Are you meeting up with him again?” he asked casually.

“He’s coming here in December,” Mikey squeaked excitedly. “But he’s given me strict instructions to continue to eat and grow before then. I honestly think he wants me to be absolutely huge!”

Guy smiled back at him, despite the sadness he felt. Mikey was undoubtedly slipping away from him.

That December, Guy had been away with the football team during the weekend of Henry’s visit. Even so, Mikey’s weight had continued to increase at an almost alarming rate, both before and after the feeder had called over. It had been spurred on by the many messages and video calls the pair had made, despite the great geographical distance between them. Guy had so many other things on his mind, he tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him, but he was never fully successful. Mikey himself was now entirely unrecognisable, coated with giant amounts of fat all over his body. His frame had widened, with fat spilling out from his round gut and his nipples sagging right onto his swollen midsection. He walked slowly about the campus, usually carrying a backpack filled with fattening supplies from the nearby supermarket in order to further his weight gain. Likewise, Henry had begun ordering fast food to the dorms, increasing Mikey’s intake even more and ensuring that the boy had surpassed three hundred and eighty pounds by April.

Guy knew that he couldn’t get away with avoiding Henry a second time when he stopped by for an entire week that Spring, just before the final exam season got underway. The conversation was polite, but it was obvious that Henry wanted more time alone with Mikey, rather than having Guy tagging along.

“Let’s be real…” Henry stated at the end of the week, taking advantage of the fact that Mikey had gone to the bathroom at the restaurant he was treating the two of them to a meal at. “You’re not actually a feeder, are you?”

“What does that matter?” Guy shrugged. “I’ve done pretty well getting Mikey’s weight up. He would still be that skinny little twig if it wasn’t for me.”

Henry shook his head and laughed. “No he wouldn’t!” he replied dismissively. “Mikey is a fat boy, through and through! I’ve never come across anyone like him. If you hadn’t been there, he would have found some other excuse to start piling the pounds on. It’s just in him. He’s meant to be absolutely enormous.”

Guy didn’t have a response. In reality, he’d known as much from the very beginning. Mikey had never needed much encouragement to overeat, and he’d always seemed propelled to fatten by some force greater than a basic kinky subservience kink to Guy himself.

“I’m going to ask him to move with me to Phoenix when he finishes college next month,” Henry announced; his tone one of uncompromising assertiveness.

“Phoenix?” Guy gasped in alarm. “But I’ll never see him!”

“What the hell did you think he was going to do when he finished college? You’ve got a job lined up here in the city, but what is there for Mikey? He doesn’t have any family here. You really expected him to just hang around for you?”

Guy exhaled, knowing that they couldn’t carry the conversation on with the fattened Mikey trotting back towards the table. He ground his teeth together, wondering how best to fight this plan to uproot Mikey’s entire life and move him to Phoenix. But then he witnessed the boy’s delight the next day as Henry made the offer, and witnessed the tears days later as Henry had to leave him once more. It was over. Mikey had found the one he was really meant to be with.

“You’ll come and visit me, right?” Mikey asked as Guy dropped the last of Mikey’s stuff in the back of Henry’s truck a few weeks later.

“Of course I will,” Guy nodded, trying to hold back on how cut up he felt that his time with Mikey was now over. “Just you try and stop me!”

The pair hugged warmly.

Next, Henry came up and shook Guy’s hand. Despite the silent animosity between them, there was an air of respect. Henry had been right, after all. Mikey needed a lot more than Guy could give him. This was the life that the fat boy coveted and deserved. But Henry was no idiot either. He knew what Guy was giving up; that he had fallen in love with the boy, and that his love was not returned; at least, not in the same way.

“Come on, Fatso!” Henry smiled, patting Mikey on his wide, blubbery butt. “We’d best hit the road.”

Guy stood looking into the distance long after the truck went out of sight. One very massive chapter of his life had just ended, and another was about to begin.

[angelfoxx]

how about a petit reader like 1.53 or 5'0 (size difference) with keegan, ghost or konig?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ HI, SHORT STUFF. ❞

… in which you’re (much) shorter than they are.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, könig (does he have a last name or anything???) & keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: suggestive per usual. daily dose of shameless keegan hornyposting

NOTE/S: as a relatively small girlie myself (5’5, so not as short but still not tall) this one makes me giggle. tee hee tall babies tall babies

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ — He’s six foot four. Add on whatever height those boots give him, and he’s got a good foot and a half on you. It makes him even more intimidating in the beginning, because he’s just…a big guy. He’s loud and kind of scary and he’s just a fucking tank of a guy, all flat muscle and ridiculous height.

✦ — Once you two are…acquainted, physically…he sort of uses his size to his advantage. Not necessarily sexually. He’s quick to act as a human shield if anything is thrown your way. His first instinct when you two are in a crowded room is to shadow you, which is totally fine, but he’s enormous and so you can just sort of always see the edge of his silhouette in the tops of your peripherals.

✦ — You’re so much smaller than him, and beyond his usual hurt-my-troops-you-hurt-me demeanor, now you two are involved — and you’re so much smaller than him, and you’re so…little. You’re so little and it’s not that he thinks you’re weak but you’re so much smaller than him and most of the other people on the base. So when he sort of fights your battles for you, frets over you doing certain tasks on the field, et cetera, it’s not because he thinks you’re weak or incapable. He’s just…you’re so fucking short compared to everyone else. And he likes you. And you like him. And so he’s going to watch out for you even when it’s sort of pointless.

✦ — His public demeanor towards your size might be mildly annoying at times, but behind closed doors it’s a bit…different. Bringing up how overly protective he is of you results in a minor argument — when he finally lets slip that it’s partly because you’re so much fucking shorter than he is, you’re quick to argue that you’re just as capable as he is. You’re just as capable as anyone else on the base is.

✦ — He wants you to understand that he’s not coming from a place of total insanity. Most of the people on the base are guys, and they’re also usually over six foot. You’re a foot and then some shorter than almost everyone on the base. Physically, you’re at a disadvantage — and he proves that by picking you up under both arms and just…holding you there. He wants to show you that maybe he has a good reason to be “overly careful” with you. He cares about you, and you’re at such an obvious imbalance in a high-stress, rough working field.

✦ — Oopsie. Difference in size…mm. Mm. Suddenly, it seems less annoying and more arousing.

✦ — You stop complaining after you’re thrown back-first onto Ghost’s bed and the guy fucking blots out the ceiling because his shoulders are so broad and he’s tall enough to literally swallow you under his shape.

✦ — At some point, you stop complaining about Ghost being so physically overprotective of you. Actually, when there’s a crowd attending a debriefing, one of the soldiers swears that when Price mentions heavy artillery and Ghost sort of stances up behind you, a close shadow clearly unhappy with the idea of you manning the big guns, you reach back and pull his arm around your waist. Oh, and you seem to zone out looking at the way his hand is so much bigger under yours. That too.

★ KÖNIG WHATEVER THE FUCK HIS SURNAME IS.

✦ — Six foot ten. Six foot fucking ten. What the fuck? Why is he so tall? That’s almost seven feet. What the fuck? What the fuck?

✦ — He knows he’s tall. Obviously. He’s the kind of person to bully people with his height; if he’s involved in a heated argument, he’s no stranger to standing upright (he usually slouches) and sorry, but a seven-foot-tall man wearing an executioner’s mask, staring down at you from his colossal fucking height? You’re toast. Whoever he’s arguing with generally excuses themselves because dude, what the fuck? What the fuck. Hell no.

✦ — Keeping in mind that a lot of his men (and women) are on the taller side, you waltzing in at five feet tall almost makes him laugh. Because like, you’re short to everyone else, but everyone else is short to him. So you’re fucking tiny. He keeps calling you ameise, which you later learns means “ant”. He’s calling you an ant.

✦ — You’re a good soldier. In good fun, he’ll compare other soldiers to you; he’ll tell them that they’re being outshone by “eine kleine ameise”, which sort of pisses you off but you do remember that it’s a joke. Sort of. You are very short and you are outdoing other soldiers.

✦ — If/when you two get in a relationship, he’s keen to use his height against you. You go to find him in his office? He’ll stand up just so he can talk to you from two feet over your head. He’s leading a debriefing? He’ll make a point out of having you stand near him so that every time he straightens up, you have to deal with how fucking huge he is.

✦ — With his jests at your height, you often try to return the jokes. Every time he comes through a doorway, you rush over and ask if he needs ice for his forehead. Because, you know, he’s hitting his head constantly. Every time he’s on the field with you and you have to get in any sort of vehicle, you tell him that he’ll have to skip out on the ride because he’s too fucking tall to comfortably fit in the thing and putting him on the roof would make you guys an enormous target.

✦ — Your jokes sort of die down though when you’re pushed up against the wall, toes brushing the floor and breath shuddering. He’s got both forearms pinning your shoulders down and he’s pistoning his hips unfairly hard up into you and he’s sort of breathlessly laughing a wheezy cackle in your ear. “Why so quiet, meine kleine ameise? No words?”

★ KEEGAN P RUSS. THATS MY LAST NAME TOO BTW

✦ — He’s six foot one. So his height difference to you isn’t as excessive as the other two seen above, but…

✦ — He’s the most irritating about it. Probably. Because you’ll think everything is fine — he won’t think of you as any less, and he’s fully confident in your capabilities, et cetera — but the minute he gets you alone, the short jokes start. Is it chilly down there? Do you find the stairs too steep? A new truck came in this afternoon, but…well, it’s a little lifted, so you won’t be driving it. You’d only be able to get in with a step-stool — no way you’d be able to reach the pedals!

✦ — He’s insufferable. He’s fucking insufferable. It’s like you’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box of stupid fucking jokes that Keegan finds ridiculous. This shit gets genuine laughs from him. Maybe it’s the jokes or maybe it’s your reactions to them.

✦ — If/when you two are in a relationship, the jokes take a dirty turn. You’re trying to get in his pants? He’s biting his cheek and saying that he’s not sure he’ll fit, and you’re two seconds from slapping him. He makes random comments about how your knees will never turn red because you don’t even need to kneel in order to suck him off. Et cetera. Half the time the jokes go over your head and it takes you a good ten or fifteen seconds of being confused in order for you to realize that he’s making sex jokes at you. By that time, he’s usually turning away and biting back amusement.

✦ — He seems to take a great joy in bringing you stupid gifts. Ever the romantic; if you’re both scouting on a looser mission, he’ll pick you flowers. Specifically, though, he’ll pick you tiny flowers. Or, like, petals. He asks you to carry his rifle and walks behind you because apparently it’s the same height (or taller) than you are and it’s funny to watch. At one point, he gets his hands on a tiny model gun and he’s practically bursting at the seams to gift it to you as a “proper size gun”.

✦ — He knows he can make those jokes and get under your skin. He doesn’t care, though. When he’s laying in his barracks with you sitting on his stomach and jabbing him in the chest with that stupid toy gun, he’s just smirking like an idiot. He finds how easy you are to irritate so incredibly fun to mess with. He’s just sort of egging you on the whole time. “Yeah? I’m bothering you? I’m frustrating you?”

✦ — You’re still complaining and whining, so eventually he just starts flipping the script. He’s saying it’s so good you’re short because it makes it so much easier for him to flip you over and pin your shoulders down, and it makes it so much easier for him to wrap his arms around your mouth to keep you quiet when you two are tangled in his sheets at night with his teeth buried in your shoulder and his hips flush to yours, and you fit so nice and snug around him…

[dynamoe]

REDRAW Venture Bros S01E10 "Tag Sale— You're It!"

→ → to all Billy Quizboy & Pete White posts

The scene where Mr. White and Master Billy (they didn't have full names yet) try to sell Dr. Girlfriend on becoming their nemesis opens with a tilt (camera moves up-down on X-axis), which I patched together from multiple screenshots.

This episode is officially Conjectural Technologies first appearance post-pilot, but the episode order was scrambled. Even as early as this episode is, when everything looked kinda “off” in general, in this scene in particular the proportions are very odd.

Dr. Girlfriend is enormous. It's not from a forced perspective/"wide lens" effect since even White is looking up at her— she really is like 7 feet tall here. The stretch is somewhat hidden by the tilt. She's supposed to be barely 5' (according to Doc on a commentary track)— a petite lady. Meanwhile, Billy's way too small in the shot. He's usually level with White's top row of buttons.

I rejiggered the proportions while faithfully recreating the poses, which I find both static/boring (the boys) + weird (why are her hands posed like that?) If I recall, I don't think anyone moves in this shot, just the simulated camera angle, so it may have been one drawing so no one could move, explaining the stiff poses.

Looks like I accidentally created a new subtext. White gives Billy judgemental side-eye for looking up with reverential joy at Dr. Girlfriend about to bless him with a laying-on of hands on his big ol' melonhead.

When I've drawn White with his parasol before, I used the typical Japanese design. I considered maybe the canon brolly might have been based on a Thai (or another Southeast Asian culture's) design. When it comes back in a later episode it has more of an inverse curve to it that you see in old temple roofs.

I've searched everywhere for a real life parasol with this design. Nothing. The closest I can find are big beach umbrellas at fancy resorts, but they aren't open at the top with criss-crossing ribs. Venture Bros takes place in a world very much like ours, but with subtle differences. This umbrella is one of those differences.

In my redraw, I added a Santa windsock. If you don't know why, turn in your fan club card, you POSEUR.

I found this abandoned drawing on my backup drive from 2021. Decided to finish it as self-care. (I'm moving in two weeks and very stressed out.)

First time (kinda) drawing Dr. Girlfriend. Only my fourth VB character drawn after, like, four years? Fifth if you count the Rusty Venture action figure.

What did they do with the Santa Windsock? Which one wanted it? Did Venture refuse sell it to them after he threw a snit over the Shrink Ray? He claims he won't sell the Shrink Ray to them in that scene (because they said the logo was stupid), but then they have it (in pieces) in their possession when he comes looking for it in Escape to the House of Mummies (Part II)

→ to Master Billy Quizboy & Pete White index

edited to add a further idea....

If only the show had an unlimited animation budget, it'd be more in character for Billy to be jumping around and gesturing wildly while making his pitch to be her nemesis. Sweaty. Hard sell.

...and smoking. (My version of Billy smokes.)

[triasticalwarlock]

Adam brainrot with me

Look at this, look how big Adam is compared to Alastor (who is canonically 7 feet tall). This motherfucker must be 12 feet or over. 12 FEET OR OVER, do you realize how fucking enormous this dude must be???

He must give the best fucking hugs in the universe because if he's tall and has a dad bod, then his robe is the same. And his so much happens to look soft as fuck. And his wings, imagine being hugged by him with his wings, absolute heaven.

Speaking of his wings, those fuckers are enormous as well. So they could just swallow you whole if they wrapped around you. Like, you're the only person Adam trusts to preen his wings since he doesn't do it himself (both by their size and because he's let himself go). No, wait, what if in blood lust we start to make sure Adam is doing basic hygiene. And when I say Adam is doing it I mean us, he gets better though :) BUT, I absolutely refuse to make him get rid of his dad bod, keep him squishy.

Like, just look at his lap. It's so sittable. Like imagine that you're just sitting in Adams lap and his arms are wrapped around you lazily while his head is on your shoulder. Grinning cheekily before asking, "feel comfy babe?"

Just like, aggdjzkrbejsudjsisjsjdh I'm in love with this man.

But also, is it just me or is confused and lost Adam the funniest version of him? Like he just looks so confused in the picture and I can't get enough of it. I would love to just spew out the craziest and random shit ever said, and when I look at him, he has a horrified look on his face.

LOOK HOW HE'S HOLDING THAT BIG ASS GUITAR WITH ONE HAND LIKE IT'S NOTHING, HE COULD PICK YOU UP WITH ONE HAND IF HE WANTED TO. I want him to coddle and cosset me. He could stab me with that guitar-axe-thing and I would thank him. But in all seriousness, he would be so overprotective. He already lost his two wives to a homewrecker and he doesn't plan for it to happen again, so he's just constantly concerned and worried when he doesn't see you for a few hours. He's not controlling, just got abondonbent issues.

[lokis-army-77]

Pretty Girl and her Hoodie Guy

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.4k

It was supposed to be a sunny day until it wasn't, but that's okay because maybe love is right around the corner... or the bus stop.

Warning: E for everyone!! This is just really cute and if you don't read it I'll be very mad at yall >:(.

The first part of this is based on some pictures I saw on tiktok but I totally forgot to save it so I could give credit for the idea that it gave me.

Masterlist

It has rained almost every day in Chicago for nearly a week. So, the one day the weather forecast called for bright sunny skies and nearly eighty-degree weather, you decided to leave your umbrella in your apartment along with your umbrella. 

The bus ride to campus was dry as could be, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze tickled as it made your skirt flutter around your thighs. The walk to class after getting off the bus was also crystal clear, not a single cloud in sight and the sun beat down brightly, you were thankful for the shade of the trees. 

Three hours later, as you exit the English building, you notice it has gotten darker, clouds have begun to roll in. You sigh as you begin walking to the bus stop, hopeful that the weatherman was still correct about having no rain. 

You and the meteorologist were both proven wrong when, halfway to the bus, the bottom fell out. Big, heavy droplets of rain started pouring down out of nowhere, almost instantly soaking you to the bone. 

You begin to run as fast as your bag full of books and laptop will allow. You can only pray that the rain hasn't seeped through your backpack and ruined your things. 

The bus stop is only a couple more feet away and when you make it under the awning you have a breath and set your backpack down on the bench. Today was such a bad day to wear a white shirt. The water had made it nearly see-through. Your white bra practically shining through the thin cotton fabric like a spotlight was on it. 

As you try to squeeze the water out of your clothes you hear a deep cough, like someone clearing their throat. You look up. To your left is a guy, he's tall with shaggy hair and bangs almost covering his eyes. He's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans even though it had been almost eighty-three degrees mere hours ago. Your eyes catch on the glint of piercings in his ears before they wander to the peak of a tattoo showing just above the collar of his hoodie. 

He looks at you with impossibly big, brown eyes, something you'd imagine only a puppy or a newborn baby to have. 

"Here." He says before tugging the hoodie off. The way he reaches up and grabs the back of the garment to take it off has the shirt under it riding up. You can see an expanse of ivory skin covered in charcoal-black lines, tattoos. They cover almost every inch of skin and you suspect they go farther down, past the waistband of his jeans. 

He shakes the hoodie out in front of you and you hesitate to grab it so he forces it into your shivering hands. The rain and the sudden drop in temperature are making you freeze. 

"Put that on. It'll keep you warm and away from prying eyes." His smile is big and bright as he watches you put his clothes on. 

It's big on you, more than big, enormous. What was a perfect fit on him, swallowed you whole. The hem came down almost to the back of your knees and the sleeves might as well have been a mile long. 

"Thank you," you say softly with an even softer smile back at him. 

"No worries." He then points at your hand and motions for you to reach it out to him. So, you do, without hesitation. 

He grasps your hand in his and with the other, rolls up the sleeve. He then produces a pen from seemingly thin air and scribbles something down. 

When he lets go of your arm, you hold it up. 10 scratchy numbers are etched over your forearm as well as a name. Eddie. 

You go to ask him why he's given you his number when he beats you to it. 

"Call me. I'll be needing that back." He grins, holding his fingers like a phone to his ear. You can't help the shy giggle that leaves you. 

The guy, Eddie as you have just learned, then sprints through the rain and into the bus you hadn't even realized had stopped moments before. 

He leaves you speechless and giddy. Butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach, making you dizzy. You have to sit down or else you think you might faint. 

Never have you had an interaction like this. Something so simple and sweet. He drew you in front the first second you laid eyes on him. 

It only takes you a few minutes to remember to come back to reality. Quickly you put his number in your phone under "hoodie guy (Eddie)" 

.... 

It's a few days later when you finally work up the courage to call hoodie guy. It’s maybe three in the afternoon and as the other line rings and rings your nerves begin to eat at you as you wonder if he did really want you to call him, maybe a text would have been better. 

Your thoughts are cut short when a rather chipper voice answers. “Y’ello?”

“Hi, is this Eddie?” You swear your anxiousness can be heard in your voice. 

“Yeah… and who is this?” He questions. 

“Oh, um. This is the girl you gave your hoodie to the other day, remember?” 

“I remember you.” You could almost hear the smile stretching across his face. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”

You had it bad. Really bad. Just speaking to him for these few seconds had your heart racing. “Sorry about that. I wanted to wash it before I called.” You give him your name then, shyly introducing yourself. 

He chuckles in response, “Pretty name for a very pretty girl.” 

You’re glad this is a phone call, otherwise, Eddie would see how badly you are blushing. Your face is white hot and beet red, a dead giveaway to how this stranger has totally smitten you with two limited interactions.

You don’t realize you have been quiet this whole time until Eddie speaks up once more. “Hello? You there pretty girl?"

"Y-yeah," you stutter. "I'm here." You blush impossibly harder. 

"Would you like to meet me at the coffee shop by the bus stop we met at? It'll be my treat." There's a hopefulness to his question. 

You nod only to realize he obviously can't see you. "Yes," you answer. "I'd love to."

"Great! Can you be there in thirty?" 

"Sure. I'll head that way now."

Excitedly you begin to get ready, putting way too much effort into your outfit, but hey it's not wrong to want to look good for the guy you find insanely attractive.

… 

Thirty minutes later you are walking into the coffee shop dressed up in a cute, green corduroy pinafore dress, perfect for the upcoming fall weather, and a giant hoodie in your grasp. 

You don't notice the large guy coming up to your side until he's poking a finger into your shoulder to grab your attention. 

You jump at the sudden poke and turn to face the culprit. 

"Oh'" you say surprised. "Hi."

"Hi." He smiles back. "I'm sitting over there if you want to take a seat. What do you want to drink?"

You're quick to shake your head. "You really don't have to do that. I can pay for my part." You start fumbling for your card in the back of your phone case. 

He places a hand over yours. "I insist. What would you like?”

It doesn’t take much for you to give in and tell him your go-to order. After he repeats it back to you, you head to the table by the window Eddie had pointed to. His denim jacket was hung over the back of the chair, leaving you the booth seat to settle into. 

The cafe is relatively empty, save for the two baristas behind the counter and the older man seated at the corner table reading a book, so it doesn’t take long for Eddie to come back with two coffees carefully balanced in one large hand and a plate with a warm croissant. 

You try to help him but he tuts you away, quickly saying, “I got it, I got it.” He sets the plate down first before placing your glass in front of you and his before him. Then, he sits. 

You both take slow sips from your coffee and as he looks intently at you with those eyes, you try and avoid them. 

“This is for you.” He pushes the bread in your direction with the knuckle of his forefinger. 

“I- thank you.” A fierce blush starts to creep up your neck and you busy yourself by drinking some more.

You know that Eddie can tell you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be able to tell with your seldom eye contact and soft, stuttering words? He starts the conversation off slow, easing you into a more comfortable state, you’re grateful for it. 

Questions like “How’s your day going” to his only little version of twenty questions finally get you to break out of your shell. He makes you laugh, a lot, to the point your stomach hurts and your muscles ache. 

Conversation flows easily after the initial bump in the road. You’ve talked about college and life after; he’s studying in the music department with plans to eventually become a professional musician. He tells you about his dreams and ambitions and you can’t help but feel inspired. You tell him about the book you would love to write one day and he listens intently. He even asks questions and refers to things you stated previously in the conversation. Never have you had such a connection with anyone, not even your closest friends. 

Eddie is so charming and witty that it barely even registers when both of your hands meet in the middle of the table. His larger fingers play with your smaller ones and you converse in your own little world. 

You’re only broken from your state of enchantment with the other when a cafe worker approaches you.

“I’m sorry guys but we close at four on Sundays and it’s ten till.” The worker gives you a strained smile, the underlying message, “Please leave.”

You gasp in shock. “How have we been here for three hours?”

Eddie looked at you, just as surprised. “Well, time does fly when you’re having fun, pretty girl.” 

You shake your head. The complement turned pet name making you blush every time he said it but not as hard as when your name rolled off his tongue. 

“Come on,” he says, standing to his feet. “I’ll take you home.”  He reaches for your hand and pulls you up after you quickly gather up your purse and his hoodie. 

As you walk out, you both apologize profusely to the two workers for staying right until closing. 

“How are you gonna take me home?” You ask. “You took the bus the day we met.” You really didn’t want him spending an extra bus fare just to escort you home.

He gives you a lopsided grin. “I took the bus 'cause I had an inkling not to listen to the weather. This is my usual ride.” Eddie arcs his hand out in front of you both, gesturing to the sleek black motorcycle resting by the curb. 

“Woah. That is actually really cool.” You gush. You had always wondered what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle. 

Eddie reaches out and grabs the helmet strapped to the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this.” 

“What about you?”

“You’re precious cargo, far more important than me.” He answers before helping place it over your head and buckle it under your chin. Then he takes his hoody from your arms and ties it around your waist. “That should cover you up enough.” He gestures to your dress. You hadn't even thought about that detail and his mindfulness had you swooning. 

He gives you a small but thorough lesson on what you do as a passenger before getting on and then helping you on after. 

He drives slowly, taking less busy streets to the address you gave him, and the whole time you cling to him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the feeling of freedom as the wind whips around you. Every so often, Eddie will reach for your hand at his waist, or when you are stopped at a red light he automatically reaches back to cup your legs, fingers dragging up the back of your calves. 

You’re sad when the ride comes to a stop outside your apartment building. You are slow you follow him off the bike and even slower to let him remove the helmet. This amazing time was coming to an end and you desperately didn’t want it to. 

You can feel his calloused fingers tickle your chin as he undoes the strap. He’s careful to pull the protective gear off, fixing the strands of hair that fall out of place when he’s done. You cherish the warmth coming from his palm and it really feels like he’s about to kiss you. And you wouldn’t mind if he did. No matter if you only just met him or if this seemed to be moving fast, you wanted to know what those plump lips felt like on your own. 

He leans in and your breath hitches in your lungs, your eyes close as you prepare with the one thing you need at this moment. Only, Eddie doesn’t kiss your lips, instead, he places a gentle peck on your cheek. You deflate, sad his target was somewhere else. 

“Eddie?” You ask softly.

“Yeah?” He mutters your name, eyes staring into yours. 

“I had a great time.” 

“Me too, pretty girl.”

“Thank you for bringing me home.” 

“You’re welcome.” He backs away from you and you frown just a bit. “You should get inside.” 

“I should… I’ll text you?”

“Nothing I’d want more.” He slides his leg back over onto his bike and you turn to walk away.

“By Eddie.” You only get a few feet before you pause. “Oh, wait.” You untie his hoodie from your waist and rush back to Eddie’s side. “Here.”

He shakes his head. “You keep it. Looks better on you than it ever will on me. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to come see you again.” 

You become shy again and the mention of seeing him again, hopeful that this wasn’t just a one-time thing to get his clothes back and that he will answer when you text or call him.

“Bye, pretty girl.” He grins and you watch him put his helmet on but he doesn’t leave just yet. No, he only leaves after he sees you enter your building and you waive to him from beyond the glass door. 

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

I have noticed things about this Bumblebee design, and I can't stay silent about it anymore. (If I do not speak my mind now, I fear I may explode, so please bear with my unhinged screaming, this is good for my health.)

I have compiled my thoughts into a post because I want to spread my insanity like a plague. There are things about this YELLOW MOTHER FUCKER that I can not let go un-acknowledged anymore, THE WORLD WILL KNOW OF YOUR SINS AND I WILL BE THE ONE TO REVEAL THEM

Did you notice anything off or weird about Bumblebee in TFP? Did you? Did you notice? Anything?

BECAUSE I DID

BOY FUCKING DID I

TO begin, this fucker has no eye lids. No, I am not kidding, he never blinks. Ever. Entire show. Not one flutter of a wayward eyelid. Those eyebrows do SO MUCH heavy lifting. There are three other characters (Soundwave, Shockwave, and the Vehicons) that also do not blink, but they have either one big eye and no face or a full face mask, NOT TWO COMPLETELY NORMAL EYES THAT JUST DON’T BLINK

Second, his battle "mask." There are maybe like, 3 instances of a battle mask in the entire show: Optimus, Wheeljack, Bumblebee, and I think that's it. And Bumblebee's is the only one that looks like that, that barely-cover-the-mouth thing it's doing.

Why do his upper arms look so disproportionate to his lower arms? They look too small, the wheel looks like it’s most of the structure and, once again, no one else’s looks like this. Look at his horrific shoulders. What kind of unloving god would make this? (also im like 80% sure his left shoulder is clipping on his body just to accommodate this shot fUCKing hoRriFiC CHoicEs gENTlemen leTs KeeP fUCKINg doing iT)

Exhaust Pipes. I shant say more.

Yes, his insignia is fucking tiny and on his pelvis. Do with that what you will. no one else's is like this why-

Mothers and Fuckers I give you the BANE of My Existence, TFP BUMBLEBEE’S HOLLOW KNEES. Look at those fuckers I can thread a stick right through it. These stupid fucking triangles have been haunting me for YEARS, and, just like his eyes, NO OTHER CHARACTER HAS KNEES LIKE THIS!! I feel nothing but rage looking at this, I hate his knees with a fucking passion I am going to commit 8 felonies

Why do his knee spikes stick out so far? Why. Several other characters have similar spikes, why are Bee’s so far out. The Knees...are probably making it look worse than it is.

HIS FEET ARE TOO BIG FOR HIS LEGS WHY ARE THEY SO MUCH BIGGER! They look like clown shoes, why are they so enormous, they look so disproportionate to the rest of his body. It’s so suddenly too, his feet just abruptly explode out.

Bumblebee has no ankles. All of my emotions have shut off. Everyone else has an their joint is closer to their heel, more in the middle of their foot. Bee’s joint is too far away from his heel, more at the front of his foot. Why iS HIS HEEL SO MUCH BIGGER THAN THE REST OF HIS FOOT!! WHY ARE HIS FEET SO GODDAMN WIDE??

Let's look at a couple other bots to make my point. I'll stick to ones around Bee's size. Wheeljack and Knockout are both 21 feet tall, same as Bee. Knockout has similar wheel placement in his feet and Wheeljack has similar wheel placement in his shoulders.

would you look at that they look fucking n o r m a l. look at their NORMAL KNEES and NORMAL ARMS and NORMAL SIZED FEET THEY DON'T LOOK LIKE CLOWN SHOES HELD ON BY FUCKING STRING

I am having a conniption he is the only one that looks like this.

Would you like some very, very cursed knowledge? Yes, you would: TFP Bumblebee and RID2015 Bumblebee CANONICALLY LOOK IDENTICAL. Like, if you were in the ALC Universe, looking at two photos of him from both the time of TFP and RID15, you would not be able to tell them apart. How do I know this?

LET ME TELL YOU. So, in the episode “History Lessons”, Bumblebee takes his team to the ruins of the Nevada Autobot base, Autobot Outpost Omega One, which we all know was destroyed at the end of TFP Season 2, and they find an old recording from Before the base was destroyed. This recording is of Bumblebee in the base before it was destroyed, and his model is the same as his RID15 one. (see FUCKING above)

You’re probably asking yourself, “But why does that matter, it’s just the show’s different art styles and they needed to make sure we recognized Bee in the recording,” Why? Let me list the ways:

Bumblebee has spontaneously grown fingers in RID15. He only had 4 on each hand in TFP, but in RID15 he Suddenly just had 5. They did the exact same thing with Bulkhead, so I’m not just going crazy.

Bumblebee’s transformation sequence has drastically changed. In TFP he transformed face down head forward, and in RID15 he transforms face up head back. This is significant, and can’t be explained as artistic interpretation, because in TFP season 2 episode 4, Bumblebee drives through a ground bridge after Megatron, transforms then launches himself forward, diving to snatch the spark extractor from Megatron’s hand. You can’t do that if you’re leading with your feet. And It is very obvious that Bee transforms face up in RID15, his feet are the front of the car. I would show you pictures but I am not combing through the shows to find any more images I am so done someone please save me-

"The shows have very different art styles, maybe Bumblebee has just changed how he looks." I hear you say, and Yes. That is something that can happen in canon, Starscream “reformatted himself to his old body type,” which is actually true; his RID15 form looks a lot more like his WF/FOC form, and Soundwave shows up in his TFP form when he’s fresh out of the shadow zone, then he changes his form. We have direct confirmation that characters can change their forms. So there shouldn’t be any problems with Bumblebee’s design, correct?

YOU WOULD THINK, but because the video bee is identical to rid15 bee, but it's supposed to be tfp bee, this makes TFP Bee and RID15 Bee CANONICALLY IDENTICAL. Plus Bee's Rescue Bots Cameos are Identical as well, and one is from TFP time and the other is RID15 time.

The LOGICAL implication is that if TFP Bee and RID15 Bee are identical, then RID15 Bee actually doesn’t have eyelids and does not blink. fucking pains me in places that should not be able to feel pain.

Can you see why I'm insane now?

[helluvahusker]

Heyyy I wrote a lil post-mastermind fic for y'all 👉👈

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Stolas had not been sleeping well. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, he was simply too tall for Blitzø’s couch, so besides for his first night on it, when he’d conked straight out due to the stress and exhaustion of almost watching Blitzø get executed, almost getting executed himself, and then instead losing his entire livelihood, powers, and his daughter, he hadn’t been able to catch more than a few unrestful hours a night. 

The New Couch

[Psst! The layout of Blitzø's apartment can be found in this Tumblr post.]

Still, he’d rather die than complain. Blitzø had been relegated to a fucking beanbag chair as his bed and he seemed to be sleeping just fine. He appeared chipper as ever, if a little more subdued and gentler, while Stolas spent all his waking hours struggling to focus through a thick fog. He was taking up Blitzø’s sleeping accommodations and he had nothing to show for it.

It was due to Stolas’s sleep deprivation, that when an enormous crash shook the apartment and he peered over the island to see Blitzø coughing and waving dust out of his face, he was sure that everything must have caught up with him, and he was hallucinating. 

"Ta-da!" Blitzø said proudly, holding his arms open in a dramatic L shape to present his new uh. Couch. It had landed partially on top of the old one, sending splinters and stuffing flying. Well that explained the dust. 

"Why did you get a new couch, Blitz?" Stolas asked, his feathers already ruffling agitatedly. "The one you've already provided me with is fine, I don't wish for you to go into trouble-"

Blitzø waved him off impatiently. "Shut up Stolas, anyone with eyes could see your feet dangling off the edge of that thing. Besides, I was due for an upgrade anyways. I solved the problem by snagging a pullout couch from one of our victim's houses. It has a queen sized mattress all folded up in there, plenty of room for your fancy ass to spread out with room to spare, capiche?"

Stolas capiched. Blitzø had gotten tired of the fact that his bed was not big enough for the two of them and had gotten them one that would be. How silly and rude of Stolas to be accusatory about it.  

“Right,” he said. “That makes sense, yes. But why in Hell wouldn’t you move the old one out of the way first?” 

Blitzø at least had the grace to look sheepish. “Okay, maybe it was more of a spur of the moment decision. I saw the pullout, I thought it would be nice for you. Look, I’m not a genius like you or Moxxie, you can’t expect me to think everything through. That would fuck up my whole-” he flailed his hands some more. “-thing I’ve got going on.” 

Stolas did love Blitzø’s whole “thing” so he refrained from arguing. It was already done, anyways. 

“If I still had my magic I could help move the old couch away,” Stolas lamented. “I’m so sorry, Blitz. You’ve done such a sweet thing for me and I can’t even repay you.” 

“Hey!” Blitzø leapt towards him, vaulting over the room divider and taking Stolas’s dainty hands in his own. “None of that. You don’t owe me anything, alright? It’s okay, Loonie can help me move the couch when she gets home and I’ll portal the old one away, easy peasy no harm no foul.” 

It was rather odd, Blitzø appeared to be… blushing. Stolas blinked. That couldn’t be right. 

The next second Blitzø got distracted, noticing the novel that was placed open face-down on his kitchen table. “Oh hey! You were reading? That- that’s great, Stols.” 

Blitzø smiled at him so disarmingly, that now Stolas was blushing, quite obviously. 

“Yes, you picked a rather good one, actually,” Stolas said. In fact, it was so good that this was the first day he’d felt up to doing anything other than sitting on the couch staring aimlessly at the TV. Lucky thing, too. He glanced down at their hands, which were still joined, and gave Blitzø’s a squeeze. “Thank you for that, Blitz.” 

“Of course,” Blitzø said, and withdrew his hands, definitely blushing. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to do or say next. That was ridiculous, of course. Stolas had never met anyone, imp or otherwise, who always knew exactly what to do or say in any given instance more than Blitzø did. 

“Did you have a good day at work?” Stolas asked, ready to invite Blitzø to sit down with him so that they could talk until Loona returned. 

To his disappointment, Blitzø’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, I was totally in the middle of a hit! I left M&M stranded in the human world! Fuuuuuck me.” He grasped Stolas’s face gently and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be home soon with Loona, kay? Just hang tight, enjoy your book.” And then with a flash of a portal, he was gone. 

Stolas was left blinking after him stupidly. He raised a shaking hand to his cheek and touched the spot where Blitzø had kissed him. 

-------------

The second time Blitzø came home, he did in fact have his daughter in tow. Stolas watched, feeling useless, as they worked together to lift the new couch off the wreckage of the old one. He caught Blitzø’s expression of relief as he fished his horse blanket out of the mess, somehow still entirely intact. Once the new couch was clear of all the wood shards and ripped cushions, Blitzø rubbed his crystal and a portal appeared under the old one. They all watched it fall away into an unidentifiable living room, presumably the one Blitzø had gotten this new piece of furniture from, because it was conspicuously missing anywhere to sit. 

“There!” Blitzø clapped his hands together proudly once the portal had closed. “All done, thanks Loony! I’m sure Stolas and I can figure the rest of it out.” 

Loona just shrugged, already halfway through the doorway to her room. 

Blitzø looked up at Stolas, who was hovering awkwardly in the space between the kitchen and living room. “Wanna see if we can figure out how this thing unfolds?” 

It wasn’t too difficult. There was a handle under the seat cushions that, when pulled, somehow expanded out into an entire bed, as promised.  

“I guess we can just leave it out like this all the time, for now,” Blitzø said, rubbing his chin. “Business is picking up. Soon I can probably find us a two bedroom, so you can have your own space. But this’ll do for now, right?” 

It struck Stolas as odd, that Blitzø wasn’t prioritizing his own space. Perhaps he just meant because they were both in the living room. 

“This is more than enough,” Stolas said, realizing he’d almost been silent for too long. This time, he moved forward and took Blitzø’s hand in his own. “Really, Blitz. Thank you.” 

“Oh. Uh.” Stolas couldn’t possibly be imagining, both of Blitzø’s cheeks were turning mismatched shades of pink. The imp swallowed. “Really, Stolas. It’s no problem. It’ll make me feel better if I know you’re getting a good night’s sleep.” 

“That’s so sweet.” Stolas paused. “Darling,” he added, just because he needed to see what would happen. If he was allowed. 

Blitzø’s eyes widened. “I- oh. I- uh. Yeah.” He backed away, pulling his hands in towards himself protectively. “I have to make dinner.” Now he paused, and contemplated Stolas cautiously. “You wanna help?” 

Stolas’s feathers fluffed in astonishment. “Yes!” he said, then tried to tone down the enthusiasm, in case Blitzø found it off putting, like he had so many times before. “Ahem, I mean, I’m afraid I’ll be starting from an almost completely beginner standpoint, but yes, I would love to assist in any way I can.” 

Blitzø threw him an odd look. “Well alright, you didn’t have to use so many words about it. But-” he added, before Stolas could go and get his feelings hurt. “I kinda like that you did. Now get in here and we’ll get choppin’.” 

-----------

Well as it turned out, Stolas wasn’t entirely useless without his powers. He proved to be absolutely average at kitchen-related activities, which seemed to match Blitzø quite well, as he gave Stolas gentle and thorough instructions full of dozens of tips and tricks he’d picked up over the years. 

Still, the imp absolutely bragged to his daughter about how Stolas had helped make the food. 

Even stranger, her reaction had been a borderline-impressed, “Oh shit, not bad,” before retreating to her room.

Stolas beamed at both of them, not because he believed it was anything special but because it genuinely wasn’t bad, and that was good enough right now. He was feeling so proud of his amateur cooking skills that when Blitzø offered for him to come into IMP tomorrow - Stolas had been showing great interest in how his work went, the first real interest he’d felt in days - he almost said yes. Hesitated and thought about it deeply, chewing his lower beak and nearly going cross eyed. 

In the end though, he sighed and looked away and asked for a few more days

Blitzø took one of his hands within his own and held it in his lap until Stolas looked at him. 

“Hey,” Blitzø said gently, “A few days is way sooner than never. I want to make sure you’re really feeling up to it before I drag you into I.M.P.’s mess too. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better, even if it’s not all the way yet. Take the time you need, okay?” 

“Okay,” Stolas whispered, his eyes once again darting away from Blitzø’s. 

Blitzø drew back and started gathering up their empty dinner plates. “You should go change, birdy. Almost time to try out that cozy new bed of yours.” 

“Oh! You don’t want to teach me how to do the dishes too?” Stolas asked, mind short circuiting at the thought of sharing a bed with Blitzø again. But like, in a good way. “I helped make, I should help clean.”

Blitzø considered that. “How about you wipe down the table? Just take a damp rag to it, clean rags are in that drawer over there.” He motioned to the drawer.

While Stolas peered in the drawer, Blitzø got started on the dishes. The actual rule of the house was whoever used a dish cleaned it, but Blitzø usually ended up doing Loona’s anyways due to her dislike of being outside her room. He didn’t mind washing Stolas’s too. 

A long arm snaked around him and Blitzø would have jumped- except he’d been keeping track of exactly where Stolas was, and it felt almost natural as Stolas held his rag under the faucet for a few seconds to dampen it, his stomach feathers brushing the back of Blitzø’s head. No, instead Blitzø found himself frozen, not wanting to disrupt the moment. 

Stolas didn’t seem to notice, stepping away a moment later and turning to wipe the table in long graceful strokes, humming the prettiest little tune Blitzø had ever heard. He spent way longer wiping the table clean than Blitzø would have, but that was probably a good thing. Most of the time Blitzø didn’t even bother wiping the table down until it started grossing him out. 

“What shall I do with the dirty rag?” Stolas asked, his voice barely audible above the rush of running water and the sudsing of soap on dishes as Blitzø scrubbed them. 

“Just leave it, I’ll rinse it and hang it to dry when I’m done,” Blitzø said, glancing over his shoulder. So he caught the look of confusion and then understanding that dawned as Stolas understood that the laundry situation was a whole lot different here than it had been at the palace. 

“Alright.” Stolas’s hand landed feather-light atop Blitzø’s shoulder. “I’ll go get ready for bed, then. See you in a bit, darling.” 

Definitely unrelated to Stolas touching him and calling him sweet things, Blitzø’s hand jerked, and he accidentally sprayed himself with water. Stolas’s hooting little giggles drifted over his spluttered curses as the owl backed away to get ready for bed. 

When he’d finished cleaning everything up and gotten himself into his own pjs, Blitzø tiptoed into the living room, hoping that the new mattress was so comfy Stolas would already be in snoozeland, but no such luck. Instead, it appeared Stolas had deliberately waited up for him. He was sitting up, the edges of his feet still too long and dangling off the edge, and he smiled when Blitzø rounded the couch and entered his line of sight. 

The smile dropped just as quickly as Blitzø headed over to his beanbag chair and curled up in it. 

“What are you doing?” Stolas asked. 

Blitzø looked at him quizzically. “Going to sleep? Why, do you need something?” 

“No! No, I- Well, I…” Stolas seemed to be struggling to find words, frown lines creasing his face unpleasantly. Blitzø’s heart dropped. Fuck, and today had been going so well for him. 

“Is it the new bed?��� Blitzø asked. “I’m sorry Stolas, human mattresses are just shorter than you, I wish I could afford a goetia-sized one, but-”

“It’s not that!” Stolas interrupted, louder than he meant to. He just couldn’t tolerate Blitzø being so apologetic, so- ugh. Best to be straightforward about things, even if that hadn’t ended up so well in the past. 

“I just thought that you would be sharing this new bed with me,” Stolas admitted, twisting his fingers tightly in the horseshoe blanket. “I mean, it is big enough. I don’t wish for you to not have a real bed because of me anymore.” 

“That’s really nice, Stolas,” Blitzø said, his voice oddly hoarse, “but I can’t.”

Stolas raised an eyebrow, voice coming out sharper and bitchier than it had in weeks, maybe months. “And why the fuck not?” 

Blitzø shot a nervous glance at Loona’s door before turning a glare on Stolas. “Because I won’t be able to keep my fucking hands off you,” he hissed.

“No one said you had to,” Stolas shot back, lowering his voice to match Blitzø’s out of respect for his daughter. “Besides, you very much haven’t. Why start now?”

The imp’s face went blank. “What do you mean?” 

Stolas made an impatient noise. “Oh come now, we’ve held hands more in the last few days then we did for the entire duration of our arrangement. Earlier today you kissed me on the cheek, and,” Stolas could feel himself blushing, thinking about the vague ghostlike memory of his first night here, “I’m quite certain that wasn’t the first time.” 

A look of regret and longing passed over Blitzø’s face. 

Stolas took it upon himself to draw back the covers invitingly. “Please come to bed with me, darling. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can just cuddle.” 

Blitzø huffed, like this wasn’t something he’d been dreaming about for weeks and struggled out of the beanbag. “Absolutely not,” he said, climbing into the bed, settling beside Stolas and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “If we’re doing this, then we’re gonna talk.” 

“Very well.” Stolas reached under the blanket and tangled their fingers together. “Would you like to start or shall I?” 

“I will.” Blitzø’s voice was definitely not shaking, not even a little bit. “I’m glad you’re here and I don’t want you to leave. That’s all. Anything else you want, it’s yours. We go at your pace. Just-” Blitzø’s hand squeezed Stolas’s. The imp wasn’t looking at him, instead staring straight ahead, like he couldn’t bear to be seen while saying something so vulnerable. “-Keep me in the loop about what you’re thinking, okay? I promise I’ll believe you this time.” 

“I promise I shall try to be understanding and reassuring if you don’t,” Stolas replied, his throat tight. 

He understood better now, had had that month to reflect on Blitzø’s initial reaction that dreadful full moon, and now these precious days in Blitzø’s apartment, learning more about just how much they both hated themselves. 

But not each other. They’d both clearly been wrong about that. 

“I am happy to stay with you,” Stolas continued softly, “for as long as you’ll have me. I’ve known for a while now that you’re it for me, Blitz. As long as you know that, I believe everything will work itself out.”

Funny, how optimistic he felt about it. There was something about being called after desperately during a near-death experience, followed by being wholeheartedly welcomed into someone’s home that just… helped quiet all those pesky voices that were always telling Stolas no one could ever love him. 

He’d been ready to die for Blitzø, and Blitzø had been ready to die for him. 

“You’re it for me too, Stolas,” Blitzø said. He’d clearly been following a similar line of thought, because his next words were, “if you ever try to die for me again, we’re going to have a fucking problem, got it?” 

“I understand,” Stolas answered, because that was something he couldn’t promise. 

But neither of them had died. Blitzø had taken care of him instead, and now maybe Stolas could do the same. At least until the next big problem - and there was sure to be a next big problem, whether that be how to get Octavia back, Andrealphus or Satan seeking them out again, or something else entirely - reared its ugly head. 

“Good,” Blitzø said, aggressively snuggling up to Stolas’s side. “Good talk. Now go to sleep.” 

“Yes dear,” Stolas said lightly. He bent his neck and pecked a tender kiss to the top of Blitzø’s head. “Sweet dreams.” 

When he turned on to his side and curled around Blitzø, drawing his knees up to his stomach, all of him fit perfectly on the mattress. He could feel himself melting quickly into sleep, all that tiredness catching up with him. 

Blitzø buried his face in Stolas’s long-missed chest fluff and threw an arm over him, and a leg for good measure, keeping him close.

The bed could hold them both, and nothing was going to keep them apart now. 

[calmcoldevening]

Ashe Corven (The Crow) x reader

TW: hurt/comfort, maybe a little angst because of Eric, love triangle

for @violet-alessan-1999; I hope you'd like it, have a good day

Eric is used to your constant presence. There was something comfortingly pleasant and gentle about you that always made him come back to your gentle embrace. You've always been by his side for as long as he can remember. As a child, at school, in the moments when he told you about his girlfriend. And even then, when he was literally a living dead man, you did not disdain, but took him into your soothing gentle embrace, hugging him and stroking his tense back. Why didn't he notice before how delicate your hands are? Gentle touches? Warm skin? Soft smile? All this realization came over him like a wave in an instant. The young man pressed hard against you, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling the scent of such skin. You were always there for me, always taking care of me. Maybe it's fate? Eric only wanted you for himself.

Eric started giving you little little gifts and compliments. He talked about your beautiful eyes, like an inviting cosmos, and your delicate hair. The guy was often there so that you would never feel lonely and not be afraid of anything.

But you didn't care. You still saw him as your childhood best friend, your comrade, practically part of the family. He was like a caring older brother with whom you could spend a lot of time all day long.

It hurts.

The sun was hidden behind a gray mass of clouds, and a cold November wind was blowing through the streets. Although this city has always been very cold. The overcast, dreary sky was now perfectly combined with the greyness of the dirty streets and alleys. There was almost no one around, so you felt calmer than usual.

You buried your nose deeper into the collar of your hoodie, hiding your hands in your pockets. You walked straight at a slow pace, occasionally glancing at Eric walking next to you. He was smiling and telling you something very quickly and enthusiastically, gesturing actively. You liked that next to you he could openly show emotions. At least this way he remained in a certain mental balance after the death of his fiancee. You didn't blame him for the lack of visible grief for his beloved, after all, you knew that he had a big bleeding wound in his heart from loss.

Your feet moved almost reflexively along a long—learned road - you've lived in this city all your life. Suddenly, something slammed into you. You stumble back, but you grab it with your hands. It was a boy. Those big brown eyes looked up at you with curiosity and fear at the same time. He carefully clenched his hands into fists, squeezing out of himself in a quiet voice: "Sorry.."

You smiled, trying to assure the child that nothing bad had happened, but after a moment your eyebrows furrowed on your face.

This city has never been safe for people because of the large amount of crime. Especially for children. Especially such small ones. He couldn't have been more than six years old. His hair was tousled and his small lower lip was twitching nervously.

"Why are you alone here, mm?"

"..with daddy"

You gently squeeze the boy's shoulders and squat down to be about the same height as him.

"You're with daddy, eh? Where's him?"

The boy doesn't say anything, just looks at you with his big eyes and blinks slowly. Finally, when you wanted to ask the child another question, you heard a voice approaching. You lift your head up and raise your eyebrows questioningly.

"Danny! Why did you run away from me?"

The boy's head instantly turns towards the man. He was a tall and sturdy man with shoulder-length dark hair and soft features. The boy was clearly the son of this man, because the similarities in appearance were enormous, although the boy still looked more innocent. The child approaches his supposed father and asks for his arms, to which his father only smiles and takes his son in his arms.

"Thank you for finding him. I was afraid something could happen to him," the man says with a warm smile. The boy in his arms looks at you askance, continuing to hide his face on his father's chest. His voice is hoarse but pleasant, and his tired eyes look at you with an unusual kindness that is not typical of this city.

You nod in response, also smiling slightly and looking at the stranger. You were immediately pulled away by another hand. Turning back, you met Eric's displeased face. His lips were pressed tightly into a tense line, and his eyebrows were pulled down to the bridge of his nose.

"Let's go, Y/N. You seemed to need to go to the store, didn't you?"

"Yes, sorry to interrupt you," the man replies with slight awkwardness, hugging his son tighter, "Thank you again."

"Have a good day," you answer them after the man heads in the opposite direction from you.

***

Eric has been really obsessive lately. It was as if after your meeting with that man with his son, something turned him upside down, from which Eric became protective and almost controlling. It annoyed him when you were talking to someone other than him, when you were walking alone and all that. It's like he always wanted to keep you around. If at first you didn't blame him, then over time you began to worry about his behavior.

And so, during your next little quarrel on this topic, you left, slamming the door.

You walked slowly through the park, the yellow and orange leaves crunching unpleasantly under your shoes. The wind caressed his face, and his thoughts were somewhere far away. What was your surprise when you saw the same man on the playground, on one of the benches. He sat hunched over a little and looked at his son playing with other children with a tired smile.

You sat down next to me with your arms crossed over your chest. After all, right now all you wanted was to take your mind off the recent conflict with Eric. The man turned his head in your direction and his face instantly took on a surprised expression, and then some embarrassment.

"Oh, hello. I didn't think I'd see you again," he muttered with a slight smile that made slight wrinkles run across his tired face at the corners of his eyes. A few strands of dark hair fell carelessly over his face, but it definitely made him even more handsome.

"Yes.. I don't come here often. There are usually too many unhappy moms here," you reply with a note of displeasure, which makes the man give a light laugh.

"It's true... That's why we don't come here during the weekend."

An awkward silence followed, although it wasn't that unpleasant, it was more like each of you didn't know how to approach each other's huge wall of trust. Finally, the man holds out his hand to you with the same kind smile.

"By the way, Ashe. Ashe Corven."

"Y/N," you replied to the handshake, and you noticed how his tense shoulders relaxed a little. He turns away, muttering to himself something like 'beautiful..' At that moment, Danny ran towards you, his face instantly brightened when he saw you. The boy came up to you, putting his hands on your lap.

"Daddy, I don't want to play anymore! They are evil," the boy said with a slight resentment in his head, pointing at the other guys on the playground. Ashe sighed, his body returning to its former fatigue, and he got up from the bench, grabbing his son's little hand with his own.

"Okay, let's go home. Y/N, I'm sorry, what-" before he can finish, Danny is happily babbling, "Can Y/N come with us? I'll show you my drawings!"

The boy looked up at you with hopeful eyes. His eyes were blinking rapidly, and his lower lip was trembling in anticipation.

"I'm sorry, kid. But I still have things to do."

The boy's face visibly clouded, and the grip of his father's hand on his own became even tighter.

"It's all right. Take care of yourself," Ashe said in the most dispassionate way he could manage and walked with his son to the exit of the park. Danny turned back from time to time, waving at you, and smiling his slightly toothless childish smile.

***

About six months have passed since that moment. Spring came, and it was no longer so dreary in this gloomy city. You and Ashe have become quite close all this time. You often met in the most ordinary places, whether it was a park or a store near your house. The man was always friendly and pleasant to talk to. A couple of times he even brought packages home for you so that nothing would happen to you at night. Also, sometimes you sat with Danny when his dad had to work hard. The boy was very happy to spend almost the whole day with you, you played and drew. Out of the corner of your eye, you even noticed a small drawing on Danny's wall. There were three little men holding hands. 'Me', 'daddy' and 'Y/N'. On top was a large neat inscription "my family". You found out that Danny didn't have a mom. And although you knew that Ashe did not miss that mysterious woman at all, but fatigue and sadness were clearly expressed on his face for the fact that his son does not have a second parent. From time to time, Ashe would even give you small trinkets or flowers. Corny, but he always found bouquets that could 'highlight your wonderful eye color.' In each of his actions, you could read the cares and that cherished warmth that made your heart beat faster.

Eric gently touched your cheek with his hand, stroking your skin with the rough skin of his fingertips.

"What am I doing wrong?" He asked in a whisper, and you heard his plaintive voice almost crack.

"Eric.. I'm not her. I can't replace her for you," you replied. It sounded much more confident and convincing in your head. But it was true. You didn't know why, but you were sure that Eric still loved Shelly and saw her in you. It wasn't something external, rather, your kindness and demeanor gave him reason to think so. You loved Eric, he was your best friend since childhood, but it hurt that he only noticed you after the death of his fiancee.

Eric stepped back. His hands clenched into tight fists, causing his knuckles to turn noticeably white.

"You're wrong.."

"You know I'm right. I started living with you after she died so that you wouldn't be so lonely. But do you think I don't hear you crying into your pillow at night? Do you think I don't see how longingly you look into the coffee I make you in the morning? She was doing the same thing, wasn't she? Or with what pain do you look at that coffee near our house? After all, she loved this coffee. Just like me. But I'm not her, Eric. Don't try to replace her with me, please. I'm a completely different person."

It hurts. It hurt to say such words, but maybe it would have sobered his mind. Eric was like an older brother to you, and you didn't want to change that.

"You have magical hands," Ashe muttered sleepily, closing his eyes and smiling.

You were sitting on the couch, Ashe's head resting on your lap while you gently massaged his hair. He's been very nervous lately, so you decided to give him a head massage. The man smiled in a relaxed way, exhaling slowly and folding his arms over his chest. Danny was sitting by the couch, drawing another picture. He liked that you spent a lot of time with his dad. You were always kind and brought Danny a lot of sweets. The boy really wanted you to be with his dad, to live with them and be his second parent. You were nice and funny and gentle with Danny and his dad.

"Daddy, can Y/N live with us?"

Ashe visibly shuddered, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at his son.

"What are you talking about, Danny?"

You giggled, seeing how the man's ears turned red.

"But I want to live together! I will be able to play with Y/N every day and eat sweets together!"

Ashe looks away, covering his mouth with his hand, and clears his throat, "Only if Y/N wants it..."

[icycoldninja]

Can you write the DMC boys with a reader who’s a a tall lady, not like normal tall lady but Lady Dimitrescu kind of height:

Here’s a little bit of her biography: https://residentevil.fandom.com/wiki/Alcina_Dimitrescu

And the reader’s devil trigger looks like Alcina’s other mutation form

P/S: Hope you have a cool pillow to sleep on both sides

Thank you, I could use a cool pillow given how hot it is over here.

Sparda boys + V x Lady Dimitrescu-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is used to being way bigger than everyone around him, so this is new and exciting.

-He likes the fact that he has to look up when talking to you; it makes him feel secure for some reason, like he can really and truly trust you.

-Though he was surprised the first time, he loves it when you pin him him the wall. He's just kinda hanging there, swinging his feet and all that.

-Your haughty nature is just another excuse for him to start friendly arguments, which you eagerly go along with.

-He thinks your "devil trigger" or whatever you want to call it is pretty unique, and isn't terrified of it in the least.

-He still thinks you're prettier in your normal, but giant human form, even more so after he finds his face pressed up against your thighs whenever you two hug.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil loves you for who you are, not your intimidating size. He needs to be in control; the dominant one in the relationship. You and your giantess body are ruining that!

-He claims that your height is unsettling and often says that he thinks of you as an ogre woman, (affectionately) you know that isn't true.

-Though he would rather lose to his younger brother than admit it, he likes the fact that you're bigger than him, especially when you cradle him in your arms like he's your little baby--and in a way, he is.

-Will judge people with you, especially people who have the misfortune to pass by your home, making rude yet posh remarks on their appearance.

-Likes your "outdated" sense of fashion too; it's not every day that he sees someone dressed so elegantly.

-Your devil trigger is...well...something. He's not sure what it is, but it's definitely a thing.

□ Nero □

-Nero was shocked by your enormous height, not used to seeing anyone this big before.

-He thought you were a very pretty lady, though, despite the fact that you towered over him like Godzilla over Tokoyo. Height shouldn't dictate everything, and yes, that applies to both of you.

-He likes the fact that you can easily scoop him up and carry him to previously out-of-reach areas. It's so much more convienent than using his grappling hook arm thingy.

-Will jump onto your back out of nowhere, surprising and prompting you to give him a piggyback ride.

-Your devil trigger might seem like a monstrous creation to others, but Nero thinks it's badass. Love really is blind.

● V ●

-You had him at "hello there, little thing."

-All he ever wanted was to be loved, protected, cared for, and cuddled. That's it, and you can give it to him.

-Greets you every day by hugging you (as best he can) and kissng your hip because the rest of you is too high up.

-When no one's around and he has some downtime, V would love to sit in your lap and just sleep, his head buried in your warm chest.

-Very intrigued by your long, retractable nails, wondering how they work, what you can do with them, how durable they are, if you like painting them, if you'll let him paint them, etc.

-Is not frightened by your devil trigger in the slightest. If anything, his morbid soul finds it even more interesting.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

This is semi for me but mostly for my boyfriend. I'm already a decently big hairy bear (6'3 260 lbs) but I have a small size 11 feet. My boyfriend really really loves feet and I was hoping you help me give him a good anniversary gift by making mine bigger. I don't care how big. I just want him happy with them and me.

I’m always jealous when you men come here and say that you’re already hairy. 😌

But none the less. You want bigger feet to make your boy friend happy? Well my friend that is going to come at a cost. But I’m sure you’re more than willing to pay it. In the gym you’ll find yourself getting out of the shower wrapping a towel around your hairy waists when you feet and calves begin to spasm. Looking down you’re shocked to see your feet. Bulging with veins. Pulsating with each heart beat but they are also…getting bigger. Taking a seat you let the heat of change take over and your feet grow larger and thicker. Getting wider and definitely sweatier. Soon your feet look as though they have doubled in size making it so you will never wear your regular shoes again. And the hair that coats them is so thick and dark it looks like you leg hair hair didn’t stop growing. Even covering the thick stubby toes you now have. I’ve given you what you wanted. And a pair of heavy size 20 wides is definitely what a big bear of a man like you needs. But there’s also something else. As payment for these large feet you’ll need to sacrifice something. 260? For a bear like you. Tall and now with enormous feet! These thick’s sweaty soul are meant to carry some heavy weight. Your stomach begins to gurgle and you begin to burp. You panic not know what’s going on as you can feel pressure building. You look down and slowly you see your stomach pushing its way out. Losing the slimmer waists you have become accustomed to while a large round gut forces its way onto you torso. You try to push it back in but find it impossible. When you feel like you can’t take this immense pressure anymore it stops growing. Standing up you sway. Not even sure what just happened but looking down you can see the damage. You used to have a slight paunch to your hairy bear body but now you have a full blown gut. You go to the scale. 325 lbs. putting your hands on your head you’re shocked. How could this be. But what’s sad is I’ve thought more. And with a surge of energy your stomach blows out slightly. Hitting the scale weight and making them slam against the wall. Breaking the metal contraception. 350 lbs is more like a good weight for a big foots bear like you. And what’s even more is that with this heavy weight you now carry you’ll find it almost impossible to out those sweaty shoes on when you get them. Crocs maybe? That could be a good fit for you now. Let’s your boy friend decide because he’s going to be the ones that has to help you put them on. And sure I’m not completely evil. So I’ll even grant you the ability to lose some of this weight. But don’t think I’m that kind as your weight will never drop below 335 lbs ever again. You’re going to be a big bear now and for good.

[jokeringcutio]

Halloween requests!!! I've been vibing for pumpkin season since September 1st, so this is fantastic! I can't wait to see what Halloween horrors abound here 😍

Hook (Peter Pan 2003) x female reader

Smut: No preference, so whatever strikes your fancy

Reader is at a Halloween party and somehow ends up in Neverland? Bonus if Hook has something to say about her pirate costume (author's choice if it's in the style of big boxstore tacky, sexy, 'authentic', or what have you 🙃)

If you aren't up for the request, it's all good!

Captain James Hook (imagine Jason Isaac’s Hook) x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Halloween Party, Pirates, Kiss. AN: Hope you enjoy! I am open for Reader insert requests, come at me ya'll.

Halloween Pirate

The night was alive with the laughter and chatter of guests, their costumes creating a colorful sea through which you had to find your way. The Halloween party was in full swing, held within a grand ballroom adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, casting eerie shadows upon those who danced beneath the crystal chandelier. Macabre decorations of skeletons and bats hung from the walls, pumpkins were found in each corner.

It was a party you couldn’t just attend without an invitation. And a costume. Those who weren’t dressed for the occasion were bluntly sent home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your own pirate costume. It was an ode to days long past, with loving attention paid to every detail, ensuring authenticity and capturing the spirit of a swashbuckling adventurer. From your tricorn hat adorned with golden trimmings to the billowing white shirt peeking out from underneath a deep red waistcoat, it was clear that no expense had been spared in the making of the ensemble. Your black pants hugged your hips, tucked into tall leather boots that comfortably encased your feet, perfect for dancing. Or dueling.

"Ahoy, matey!" a friend called out to you, raising their plastic lightsaber in salute. You grinned and returned the gesture, allowing yourself to be swept up in the lively atmosphere.

A fellow pirate approached you, clearly impressed by your attire. "You've really outdone yourself this time," they said admiringly, eyeing the gleaming cutlass hanging at your side.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and genuine appreciation. "I wanted to make sure it was as authentic as possible."

As you exchanged pleasantries with other party-goers, you couldn't help but feel a certain thrill – a sense that tonight would be one to remember.

You danced a bit with your friends and laughed a lot. But after a while, you felt your mouth turn dry and looked around for the tables with food and drinks on them. Of course, the drink you had set your eyes on was gone. An empty spot glaring at you. There was more in the kitchen, one of the waitresses told you, and so you decided to venture into the kitchen for a drink.

You made your way through the crowd, which was quite the challenge, to find yourself in front of a closed door that should lead to the kitchen. Here you had seen the waiters pass through all evening with fresh snacks and drinks.

But the wooden door was closed.

Weird, you thought. The door wasn’t very big either, smaller than you had thought it had been. Hadn’t there been double doors here? You must have remembered it incorrectly.

Pushing it open with a sense of adventure, you stepped into an opulent chamber that seemed worlds away from the raucous celebrations outside.

"Wow," you breathed, your voice barely audible as you took in the lavish surroundings. The walls were draped in rich tapestries depicting exotic lands and mythical creatures, while the floor was adorned with plush velvet cushions and ornate rugs. An enormous chandelier cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating a magnificent table laden with delectable treats and goblets of sparkling wine.

"Where in the world am I?" you wondered aloud, feeling as if you had somehow been transported to a realm of enchantment and luxury.

As you wandered deeper into the room, your fingers trailing over the smooth marble of a nearby statue, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strangely familiar about this place, as if you had stumbled upon a forgotten corner of your own imagination.

A large map spread across one of the walls. Curious, you approached it.

Only to realize that this wasn’t a world map. Not the one you were used to, anyway.

There was no Africa, no United States, no Europe. This was no ordinary map. Perhaps something of a fandom, you mused. Perhaps this was part of a storybook or a movie? It depicted a world unlike any you had ever seen before, a place where mermaids swam in crystal clear lagoons and pirates' coves lay hidden among rocky shores.

Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the coastline of the fantastical island full of detail, more than you would have expected from a fantasy map. The word "Neverland" was emblazoned across the parchment in bold, swirling letters, and your heart skipped a beat as childhood memories of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys came flooding back to you.

"Neverland," you giggled softly, shaking your head. Of course, you knew about that fictional world.

"Ah, so you have heard of our little slice of paradise, haven’t you?" A husky, low voice came from behind you, catching you by surprise. The huskiness sent shivers down your spine. There was something raw about that voice, something that made a warmth spark in the pit of your stomach. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with none other than a man dressed as Captain Hook himself. He didn’t seem familiar, not anyone you’d ever met before. But he looked amazingly in character.

His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul, while his long black hair fell in seductive ringlets around his chiseled, stubble-lined jaw. He was dressed in the finest velvet, his tall hat adorned with soft white feathers that quivered with every movement. A silver hook gleamed menacingly from the stump of his right hand, a testament to both his ruthlessness and cunning.

"Captain Hook," you breathed, entranced by the vision before you. It was as if the infamous pirate captain had leaped straight from the pages of your favorite childhood storybook, brought to life in all his dark and twisted glory. This man’s costume was superb.

"Indeed," he replied with a wicked grin, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "So you have heard of me?” A pleased hum escaped his lips. “No wonder, since you are here.” He clicked his tongue, brushing the tip past his lips in a pensive gesture while he studied you for a moment.

“And who might you be, my dear? I don’t remember having seen you on my ship before."

You laughed, thinking the man made a funny in-character remark. The room did look like a luxurious cabin on a ship, you thought. And the man himself, he looked astonishingly like the real deal. Or well, like how you had imagined the captain would look like if he had been real. A perfect Halloween outfit, you thought.

“A fellow pirate?” He asked.

"Something like that," you replied coyly, your pulse quickening as his intense gaze roamed over your pirate costume. There was something undeniably alluring about this man.

"Your ensemble is quite remarkable," Hook complimented, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "One of the finest I've seen in some time."

"Thank you, Captain," you replied with a playful curtsy, enjoying the way his eyes remained fixed on you with a subtle undercurrent of attraction. "I do my best."

"Clearly," he murmured, stepping closer until the scent of leather and sea salt filled your nostrils. His presence was intoxicating, filling you with a heady mixture of excitement and danger, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "Now tell me, lass—where exactly do you hail from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you teased, meeting his intense stare with a mischievous glint in your eye. The game had begun, and you were more than eager to play along.

"Indeed, I would," Hook replied, his tone growing rougher as he sensed your willingness to engage in this dance of wits. "Perhaps I could persuade you to share your secrets, hm?"

"Perhaps," you mused, your heart pounding in your chest at his nearness. "But I think I'd rather keep you guessing for now."

For a moment, the man’s features darkened. As if he was frustrated by your response. Then his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Very well," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But remember, a captain always needs to stay informed. About anything,” here he paused and his blue eyes slid down your frame once more, “and everything,” he then added.

"Of course," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? Surely not. But then again, his eyes roamed your body and had darkened.

And then, before you could think about it any further, his left hand brushed past yours, and fingers tangled with yours, pulling you along gently but firmly. You followed, trying not to stumble at the sudden movement.

The tension in the air was palpable as Captain Hook led you away from the strange map and into a dimly lit, quiet nook. The atmosphere seemed to shift. You felt your breath hitch as Hook pressed you against the wall, his body effectively trapping yours.

“And right now,” the man whispered in your ear, breath tickling your skin, “I have stumbled upon a stranger dressed in such fine clothes, it makes me suspicious. Can she be a spy?”

Your eyes grew wide, feeling how you were still trapped between his upper body and the wall. The slight pressure was enough to keep you in place and at the same time, the friction created was making your nipples peak. “No, not a spy,” you quickly said, frowning. “I was looking for the kitchen. I never intended to end up…” Here you hesitated and tried to look around the man. Was this an expensive-looking office? Where exactly had you ended up?

"Be a mysterious, lass," he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His gaze roamed over your outfit once more, this time lingering on the intricate details that made your pirate attire so authentic. "I must admit, I find myself quite taken with you."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. As Hook's hand began to explore your body, tracing the curves and edges of your clothing, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the contrast between his warm fingers and the cool metal of his hook sent an electric current through your veins.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your ear. "If I were to take off these fine garments of yours, would I find you just as enchanting beneath them?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Was this man serious? Then again, why didn’t you even try so much as to stop him? How come you enjoyed this? He was a stranger!

Hook had always been a figure of mystery and danger in your mind, but never before had you imagined yourself in such an intimate situation with him. And yet, here you were.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you managed to tease, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a risky game you were playing, but one you couldn't resist.

"Indeed, I would," he growled, his grip tightening on your waist. The pressure of his fingers and the sharp edge of his hook served as a reminder of his dominant nature, and you couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he might do next.

"Perhaps," you continued, your heart racing in your chest. "But you'll have to earn that privilege, Captain."

Hook's eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you'd successfully stoked the flames of his curiosity. Whether that was a wise decision or not, only time would tell. But for now, you were both caught up in the dangerous dance of attraction, unable to break away from the magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer together.

"Very well," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Tell me a story.”

His request surprised you, his voice low and inviting. A story? About what?

"Alright," you agreed, laughing softly. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a girl who found herself at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate..."

You began to spin a tale that danced between fantasy and reality, weaving together your own experiences with elements from stories you'd grown up with. As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how intensely Hook was listening to you. His gaze never wavered, and you felt as if he was seeing straight through to your soul.

Feeling bolder, you reached out and let your fingers trace the intricate embroidery of his velvet coat, finding it surprisingly soft beneath your touch. Not the fancy dress material, you noted, but the expensive real deal. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, gauging his reaction. He didn't pull away, instead, his lips curled into a slight smile, encouraging you to continue.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the party in the distance.

Emboldened by his response, you allowed your hands to wander further, exploring the taut muscles beneath his clothing. The contours of his body sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself both fascinated and excited by what you discovered. The dangerous undertone to your actions only served to heighten the thrill, making your pulse race wildly in your chest. Whoever this stranger was, he was well-built, making your core pulse hot and wet. You knew you should stop before things got too far, but why stop now when feeling him up was bringing you such pleasure? You deserved a little bit of fun every now and then, didn’t you? And this man was fun. At the very least, he was exactly the type of man you had dreamed of. And he wanted to be touched by you. How often have you had a chance like this?

Hook's breathing grew heavier as your fingertips grazed over his chest, the feeling of desire clearly mutual. His striking blue eyes darkened with lust, locked onto yours as if daring you to push the boundaries even further.

"Interesting," he commented, his voice husky and thick with unspoken need. "But how does your story end?"

"Perhaps it doesn't have to end just yet," you suggested, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were playing with fire, but you couldn’t resist. A tad longer, you thought, just a bit more. Enjoy it as long as it lasts…

You felt your fingers trail down the curve of his shoulder, every inch of him a testament to power and danger. The tension in the air thickened as you brushed against the fabric encasing his arm, your mind racing with the excitement of the unknown. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel it too.

"Careful," Hook warned, his voice low and almost playful. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

"Isn't that true for everyone?" you replied, curiosity guiding your hand further down his arm. When your fingertips grazed over something cold and metallic, you hesitated, your pulse quickening.

"Ah, you've found my little secret," he murmured, his eyes darkening as they held your gaze. "Would you like a closer look?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the gleam of metal. As he slowly raised his arm, you realized with a start that what you had felt was not a mere ornament or accessory. It was his hook, glistening silver and wickedly sharp.

It was real.

And its presence sent shivers down your spine. Because this was more than just a fancy dress item. This was more than a costume. The hook was attached with expensive-looking leather straps. Too glorious to have been crafted for a Halloween feast. Perhaps he had played the part somewhere else, you wondered. But an eerie feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that there was only one explanation for why this hook looked so real and so sharp.

This man truly had no hand.

And this hook was truly a replacement for it, sturdy and made to last all the wear and tear of ordinary day life.

"Your... your hook..." you stammered, your wide eyes shifting between the deadly weapon and his piercing blue gaze. "It's real."

Hook grinned, a sinister edge to his smile that made your heart race even faster. "Of course, darling," he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am Captain Hook, after all."

In that instant, the line between fantasy and reality blurred. You were struck by the powerful realization that this man, this pirate, might be more than a man in a costume. He was alive, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“You seem surprised,” he murmured, “You weren’t a moment ago. What changed?”

Unable to find words, you stared at him, lips parting and closing like a fish.

"Does it frighten you?" Hook asked, his voice laced with a dark and seductive undertone that made it impossible to look away while he twisted and turned the hook in front of your face. You had no other choice but to watch the cold metal up close, see the sharp tip glisten in the light of the lamps.

You hesitated, but then your eyes met his hypnotic blue ones. A strange sense of resolve washed over you.

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I like it."

Hook's grin widened, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flash of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Well then," he said softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his breath warm against your ear. Obediently, you allowed your eyelids to flutter shut, surrendering yourself to him completely.

And then, suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, soft and insistent, claiming you as his own. The kiss was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a dizzying blend of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and aching for more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of him.

As the two of you kissed, warmth spread through you, making your skin tingle. This man was a good kisser, you thought. Too good to be true. Your knees turned to jelly and you were grateful to be wearing such sturdy boots or you might have melted into a puddle.

When at last you broke apart, your chest heaving with the effort of catching your breath, you opened your eyes to find Hook smirking down at you, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"I think I know the ending to your tale,” he whispered, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. "And they lived happily ever after,” a soft whisper that sent goosebumps down your skin.

Then he started to laugh, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you in close. Then he cut off his own laughter by pressing his lips against yours once more in a demanding and sensual kiss that made you see stars.

“I suppose you are mine now,” the captain mumbled once the kiss was broken. “After all, you are on my ship. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

You wanted to laugh, wanted to say how silly that idea was, even though you felt flattered that he wanted to keep you. But then the wooden door through which you had come opened and a new man appeared. A sailor. Mr. Smee. He looked shocked, probably just as shocked as you. Because behind the sailor you didn’t see the ballroom you had left only minutes ago. Instead, you saw and heard the sloshing sea. Rambunctious pirates walked the deck. Seagulls flew overhead. And the very real and very cool metal hook was now near your throat, lovingly bringing you in for another kiss, when you realized, this was no mere man dressed in a costume to attend a party.

This Captain Hook was real.

~*~

AN: Out of 10, how screwed are you? Or… how much will you screw? . . . if you want to show me some support, why not buy me a virtual drink and help me buy new glasses in real life :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

[alphajocklover]

Hey bro, I have a bit of a strange situation going on. You see, I’m a big nerd, like playing dnd, good at math, into card games nerds. And I never really questioned it. But recently, I’ve found myself wanting to be more active, I’ve been wanting to become something I am not, a big strong guy. And it all stared when I rediscovered the Xmen through the show and upcoming movie. Could you, I mean, would you mind helping me become like my ideal man, Wolverine?

I want to be the small hunky and hairy beats he is, oozing with libido and sex appeal.

It's a little strange, but I’ve been getting a lot of superhero requests recently! Not that I’m complaining, I love writing about superheros. They’re interesting characters who have long histories and decades of lore to use. Plus they’re usually hot as fuck. And Wolverine is one of the hottest. Muscular, with a thick layer of hair, and gruff as can be. He’s traditionally a loner, but he has a certain rough charm to him. There’s a reason he’s been a part of almost every superhero team at one time or another. People can’t get enough of the guy. It could be his inventive power set, his ability to change with the times and still remain interesting and relevant. Or it could be that he’s an incredibly manly hunk whose animalistic nature makes people weak in the knees. He’s everything you ever wanted to be, or at least everything you’ve wanted to be since you saw those new X-Men cartoons. When you watched them, something awakened in you. And now… you’re becoming just like him.

You’re not becoming him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Whatever is happening to you can’t give you claws like Wolverine or coat your skeleton in adamantium. I mean, in our world adamantium doesn’t really exist, and even though some transformation methods could turn you into a perfect replica of wolverine or add onto the periodic table, this one won’t do that. It’s more fun to be a stud without the responsibility of being a superhero anyways, especially since one of his main powers is to survive incredibly painful situations. Now you get all the pleasure, none of the pain, and an absolutely studly body.

One common fun fact that people like to bring up about Wolverine is the fact that he’s… while he’s short. Really short. Since Hugh Jackman is over 6 feet tall, people tend to forget that in the comics Wolverine is a complete shortstack, standing at 5’3”. So, I’m afraid to say that you’re going to shrink quite a bit. Luckily, being shorter just makes your new muscles look even bigger and better. Your biceps are enormous, your pecs are amazing, and your abs are almost inhuman. That, plus a heavy layer of manly, thick hair, and you look like you walked right off the pages of a comic book. Or out of a very suggestive movie. Of course you don’t want to just look like Wolverine. You want to be like Wolverine. Which means a few… adjustments to your personality.

That might seem daunting or scary at first, the idea that your personality is going to change. But you won’t feel that way very long. Nothing is going to faze you anymore. Just like Wolverine You’re tough as nails and you act like it. Literally nothing throws you. You’re a certified badass. Yes, you have a sensitive side like the real Wolverine, but most people aren’t gonna see that. Most people, from your manly new friends to the girls you hook up with, are going to see the manly man, the strong warrior, the beast.

There are some small differences between you and Wolverine of course. The main one being that the guy in the comics doesn’t hook up with people very often. Too busy saving the world. And when he does get a love interest, the feelings between them are pretty serious. You don’t have the same patterns. You’re the type of guy who has a new girl every night and is constantly looking for more pussy. You can’t help it, with a massive cock and an even bigger libido. You’re the best at what you do, and what you do is fuck.

**Hey guys! Hope I did Wolverine justice. He’s a super hot character and I had a lot of fun writing a tf inspired by him. Hope you enjoyed!**

[miraluking-respectfully]

How Tall are the SWTOR Boyfriends?

This was written some months ago, but the Theron Height Poll has inspired me to actually post it.

Basing my metrics around 1) the average male height in the USA where I live (5'9" or 1.75m, according to google) 2) what would be funniest or cutest when matched to their personalities and dynamics with the player character. Bear in mind: I am not operating under the assumption that being a short man is something to be ashamed of (it isn't in the real world and it isn't in Star Wars), but some of the husbands in this video game have personalities that are...enhanced by engaging in a little playful stereotyping. You'll see what I mean.

Jorgan: 5'11-6'/~1.8m, hovering somewhere in the above average range. It makes him more intimidating to the average private who makes the mistake of getting his attention, but by the same token, more charming when he warms up to the Trooper and proves himself just a big fuzzy kitty. With a big fuzzy sniper rifle

Andronikos: 5'6ish, 5'7ish (~1.7m), hard to tell because he slouches. He only really stands up straight when he's trying to be a big tough guy

Quinn: 5'7"/1.7018m. No ambiguity because his posture is perfect. Alternate Interpretation: However tall your SW is, he is exactly 6 centimeters shorter. Come Here Elbow Rest

Doc: 5'4"/1.6m. No, not because I think his womanizing personality is him "overcompensating"; in fact Doc's height is only ever an advantage in his romantic conquests. He comes on so strong that him being particularly tall might be intimidating. But nah, he's just a little birthday boy, so the hot people in his orbit let their guard down, allowing him to get in close and hit 'em with a pickup line related to his medical expertise. Being small also means he's harder to hit when helping retrieve wounded resistance fighters from the battlefield #BalmorraForever

Felix: 5'11"/~1.8m, he gets an ABOVE AVERAGE height bc he is an ABOVE AVERAGE husband can I get an AMEN

Torian: You ever met a high school freshman and been fucking shocked that children are allowed to be so enormous? The kid's like, 14 years old and shot up like two feet over the summer, and it feels illegal? That's Torian. He's 19 and he's been 6'2"/~1.87m for the past five and a half years, but he's still a little gangly and the only reason he knows how to control his extremely long limbs is he's literally a trained fighter. Alternate Interpretation: If your BH is taller than 5'10, he's 5'10 exactly

Corso: 6'/1.82m. I know I just said negative associations around short men don't exist in The Galaxy Far Far Away, but Corso seems like the kind of guy who would somehow independently develop a complex about his height, if he was short. The fact he doesn't means he must be tall

Vector: God, I really wanted to make him on the shorter side of average to pair with his mild-mannered personality and contrast the more unusual elements of his speech and his eyes, but his sleek character design makes him feel tall when I'm looking at him. He's also the only LI I've drawn beside one of my characters, and I just sort of unconsciously made him tall because my agent is kind of short, and it looked appealing. Results inconclusive; some boyfriends can grow as tall as starships while others can be as small as mites

Arcann: 5'8"/1.72m. (Thexan was 5'9")

Theron: No taller than 5'9"/1.75m. Theron seems like a pretty normal guy when you meet him, until he reveals himself to be an insane little freak (affectionate), so giving him the most Average Height Possible feels correct.

Koth: However tall Lana is, Koth is exactly 2 cm shorter.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk. I encourage spirited debate in the replies. Girl LI Height Opinions still percolating

[hooter-n-company]

Since I mentioned him here, might as well officially introduce this big fella. Also because @twistedtummies2 is a big fan. 😉

No one knows exactly where Bubba came from, but ancient legend goes that he is the living essence of the primordial swamp, laying dormant beneath the muck for who knows how long before he was discovered by the local tribes. The humans noticed a section of the ground beneath their feet shifting, rising and falling with the beast’s breath. Believing it to be some kind of slumbering god, they created ceremonies, myths, and cautionary tales warning to never disturb the deity from his slumber, or risk incurring his wrath. However, a corrupt shaman thought that he could control and exploit the powerful “god” for his own gain and proceeded to cross onto the sacred patch of land where he slept before digging him out. Unfortunately, the shaman didn’t have much time to enact his plan as he was immediately gobbled up by the creature, who promptly vanished into the murky depths.

Despite his elusive nature, the amphibious creature can still be seen roaming the swamp, devouring all in his path. The tribes still revere him as a godly figure, providing him with numerous offerings to appease him…and to keep him from turning his appetite back on them one day…

More info under the cut:

Name: Bubba

Pronouns: He/him

Age: Unknown

Species: Unknown amphibian/fish hybrid/possibly a god

Role: Pred

Height: 10 feet tall, 17 feet long

Abilities: Elastic tongue, super sticky saliva, tissue regeneration, can hibernate for centuries, breathes both air and water

Personality: A lazy, greedy, gluttonous, and incredibly territorial beast. He’s a complete loner who is perfectly content living by himself and views all other creatures are potentially edible, incredibly annoying, or both at the same time. However, he isn’t a sadistic creature who goes out of his way to hurt people. He just wants to be left alone with some peace and quiet, so if you keep your distance, he will happily do the same. When Bubba is alone in his element, he can be surprisingly relaxed, mellow, and laid back, even jovial at times when he’s engaged in his own personal interests. His appetite heavily dictates his mood, as he tends to get irritable and short tempered when his stomach is empty. He is driven by simple motivations (mostly filling his belly), but he can be a surprisingly cultured and curious creature with a fair amount of intelligence.

Likes: Food (especially jambalaya and gumbo), cooking, discovering tasty ingredients, collecting unique trinkets and useful items, sleeping, mud baths, hot n’ humid weather, learning about the outside world, scaring people for fun, living a minimalist lifestyle, being alone, smoking

Dislikes: Bland meals, severe boredom, trespassers, poachers, pollution, rival predators in his territory, people interrupting his naps, an empty stomach, annoyingly loud critters, cold snaps

Other Info:

-Has a THICK southern accent.

-Has taken up cooking as one of his main hobbies. Despite not being picky in the slightest, he has developed quite a refined palate. He really loves gumbo and jambalaya.

-He begrudgingly tolerates the local tribes who worship him, mostly because they provide him with food and useful materials at his request. Although he does get a kick out of scaring the bu-jeezus out of individuals who wander into his territory.

-When injured, Bubba can regenerate large chunks of damaged tissue, including entire organs and limbs if given enough time.

-Croaks like an enormous frog to warn nearby creatures to stay out of his territory. Can also puff himself up for defense and intimidating enemies

-His first stomach is like a “storage pouch” to hold extra food, but also has powerful muscles to churn meals and coat it with enzymes. These aren’t strong enough to cause serious acid damage, but they work in tandem with the juices of the second, primary stomach, making it easier to digest tough meat and hard materials like shells and bone.

[voraciousvore]

Walking the line between heaven and hell...

Since there was a tie, I incorporated both answers into the conclusion. I apologize in advance for unleashing this abomination into the world. I suppose if you're yearning for gross giant pervert man x unwilling gender-neutral reader, you might like this.

First part (not really necessary to read if you missed it, as I recap where we left off in the first paragraph)

Content Warning: NSFW/ 18+!!! Sexually explicit non-con, threat of vore/ mentions of digestion

Word Count: 2835

You never imagined you’d be in a situation this horrible. You’re currently languishing in a shallow puddle of coffee, imprisoned by a cylindrical barrier of ceramic too tall and slick to climb, with no hope of escape. The cup you’re trapped in belongs to Ronny, your giant coworker, who is also a notorious human-hater. 

All he has to do to finish you off is pick up the coffee mug and drink. One substantial gulp, and you’ll be gone forever. You shudder. From the giant’s perspective, you’ll simply disappear from existence—but you’ll be alive and aware the entire time, as you slide down his throat and into the acidic pit of his stomach, where you’ll inevitably struggle and scream, drowning in pitch-black darkness, with only the pain of your flesh melting away to occupy your senses in your final moments. 

You’re crying. You didn’t bargain for this when you were hired to work at Big Corp. You just needed a job, and now you’re going to pay for it with your life. You’re not ready to die in such a gruesome fashion. Ronny flashes you an ugly grin. He’s in no rush; he’s enjoying tormenting you far too much. He thumps the side of the cup with his nail, making you flinch as the sound reverberates around you. 

Just when you’ve given up all hope, another giant approaches the desk. He’s an older man, with silvery hair and weathered features. You recognize him as Mr. Hardon, your boss, although you don’t know him that well. He hired you on the spot after a brief phone interview, so you’ve barely interacted with him in person. 

You find him intimidating, with his high-ranking status and gargantuan stature, but now is not the time to be shy. You seize the opportunity, clinging to your only chance of rescue. “Help!” you scream, jumping to your feet and waving your arms. “Help me! Get me outta here!” 

Mr. Hardon looks down at you in response to your squeaky cries. His features betray surprise, as he cocks a brow, but are devoid of sympathy. His pale blue eyes are cold, freezing you in place despite the urgency of your situation. That condescending gaze makes you feel insignificant and pathetic, particularly with how soaked and dirty you are. 

“What’s this, Ronny?” he asks without concern, picking up the mug. You lose your balance, splashing back into the sloshing coffee. Your boss is mildly amused by this, as his lips turn up slightly into a smirk. 

“Just some sweetener for my coffee,” Ronny answers somewhere beyond the mug. You can’t see him, as the space above you is now filled with Mr. Hardon’s enormous face. He shakes his head with mild exasperation. 

“Ronny, we’ve had this conversation before,” Hardon chides him. “You can’t keep doing this sort of thing to your human coworkers. You’ll scare them away.” Ronny doesn’t verbally respond, but you can almost hear him rolling his eyes and scoffing with his typical snarky attitude. 

Even though your giant boss is technically saving you from being eaten, you feel little relief. His indifference to your suffering, along with his toothless, lackadaisical reprimand, bothers you deeply. Your skin crawls every time his eyes meet yours. You sense you’re in just as much danger as before, if not even worse. 

Hardon grunts, walking away with the mug in hand. Your heart sinks into your stomach as he enters his office, closing the door behind him. The ambience of the rest of the office is muffled, leaving you in an uncomfortable hush. He settles into his chair, examining you thoughtfully, not bothering to take you out of the cup. You cower in the warm liquid, uncertain of your fate. 

You can’t take the suspense any longer. “S-sir?” you stammer in a tentative probe. 

The withering glare you receive in return makes you wish you could vaporize into nothing. “You were late this morning,” Hardon growls. 

You gape incredulously. “Huh?” 

“And fooling around like this while on the job? Look at you, you’re a mess!” His lip curls in disgust as he speaks. You’re in so much shock at this unexpected development, you can’t form words properly to defend yourself against the unfair accusations. “Your appearance is not office-appropriate at all. I’m very disappointed in you.” 

“B-but…” you begin. 

He cuts you off with his much deeper, louder voice. “No excuses!” He taps his fingers on the surface of the desk with impatience. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to punish you.” 

Those pale eyes of his gleam with a cold fire, and his lips peel off his huge white teeth into a revolting leer. Your blood thickens to ice at the ghastly sight. “First off, those filthy clothes are ruined. You can’t wear those at the office. Get rid of them.” 

“W-what?” you choke. You glance down at your messy company uniform, stained brown. As much as you’d love to change into fresh clothes, you’re scared there’s some sort of catch. “You’ll… give me another set, right?” 

The giant waves his hand dismissively. “Sure. Naturally.” 

You wait. He doesn’t take his eyes off you. “Um…” 

“Is there a problem?” 

“Well… are you going to let me out of here?” He doesn’t move. You add in a whimper, “Please?”  

He leans closer over you, washing you in a wave of humid breath. His lecherous grin deepens, turning your stomach. “Take them off, and maybe I will.” 

You freeze up. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to strip with him watching you, but you’re completely helpless, with nowhere to go. He taps his fingers on the wood again, and his eyebrows turn down with anger. 

“You might want to hurry, before I get thirsty.” He runs his tongue over his teeth suggestively. 

You blanch. The horror of nearly being slurped down in a mouthful of coffee is still fresh in your mind. With shaky hands, you start with what feels safest, your shoe. You only have one, since Ronny swallowed the other one whole earlier. You take it off. Mr. Hardon grins wider. “Good,” he purrs, his tone soft yet salacious. “There you go.” 

You swallow hard. Your fingers are shaking so violently you can barely grasp the buttons on your shirt as you remove it. He’s fixated, like a predator that’s just spotted his favorite prey to devour. With your torso bare, you give him a pleading look. There isn’t a single speck of remorse or regret in that lascivious gaze for you to work with. 

Your heart pounds with the force of a hammer as you grip your bottoms with your underwear and slide them off your legs. You’re fully exposed now. Your face is burning as you turn your head away, unable to look up. Yet, you can’t escape the giant with his face so massive and close. He’s all around you, breathing heavily with excitement, permeating the whole space with his presence and his breath. 

You cringe as fingers thicker around than your entire body envelop you and lift you up. You’re rolled into the soft cushion of the giant’s palm, ensnared in his giant hand. Those fingers caress your naked skin, leaving no spot untouched, no matter how forbidden. You want to get away, but you’re so frightened and overwhelmed. He’s being gentle for now, but you’re fully aware his digits could just as easily crush you, rip off your limbs, break your bones. You can’t utter a word of protest, even when he submerges you in his lips with a suffocating kiss that covers you from your forehead to your ankles. 

His opposite hand moves away, and he plants his titanic thumb firmly on your chest to keep you in place. The distinct clink of metal focuses your mind far below. You realize, with abject horror, that he’s unbuckling his belt. The sound of a zipper follows, along with the shuffling of fabric. 

“Please don’t…” you manage to squeak, but he ignores you. He pinches you with his thumb and index finger and dangles you above his lap. You look down and gasp. He’s pulled his massive hard dick out of his pants and underwear. He’s gripping his raging boner firmly in his hand and stroking himself. 

Your face drains of any color. You open your mouth to yell, only to be forcibly shoved against the colossal monument. You’re smashed between his palm and his cock as he jacks off, his pulse throbbing in your head as the loose skin rubs against you. His moans of pleasure vibrate through your core. Your body was already wet before, but now you grow slick with his sweat. You’re in a nightmare, and there’s no relief. 

A booming knock on the door startles you both. Hardon’s hand loosens, and before you even know what is happening you drop down into his underwear with a piercing scream. You tumble down past the base of his shaft and get wedged somewhere between his balls and his thigh, in a tangle of pubic hair in hot, musky darkness. Hardon hastily pulls up his underwear and adjusts his pants to hide his junk, blocking out any remaining fresh air and light. 

“What was that?” a distant giant voice rumbles, and the door creaks open. You have no clue who just entered his office, but you’re well past the point of caution. You thrash and shriek wildly, but your faint voice is smothered by thick fabric and walls of flesh. Your efforts displace you from your unpleasant position, but you’re appalled to find that you’re slipping lower, deeper, further away from the exit and into foul, infernal depths. 

“Nothing,” Hardon snaps with obvious annoyance, his voice blaring around you. “What do you want?” You fight against your confinement, clawing frantically at skin and hair and punching the immense bulge of his testicle pinning you in place. 

The response from the other giant is drowned out by Hardon’s movements all around you as he shifts and creaks in his chair, his vast thigh threatening to crush you. His breathing becomes labored with arousal and his meat bloats around you in a tight squeeze. You realize with disgust that your struggles are stimulating him further, as his dick and balls enlarge and press down on you with hefty mass. The weight finally forces you all the way down, into the bottom of his underwear.  

Your alarm escalates into full-blown panic as you fear the worst. His gigantic rear is perfectly poised to flatten you into jelly if he moves the wrong way, and he’s too aroused to sit still. The danger is imminent, but you’re disoriented and blind in the black confines of his pants. His natural body odor is potent and overpowering, weighing you down as much as his physical frame.  

He thrusts forward, nearly compressing you enough to trap you in place under his butt cheek, but you miraculously roll away just in time, instead getting slapped down by his scrotum. You’re miserable, boiling with the heat and sweating profusely as his impossibly heavy balls nearly suffocate you. With a feral cry, you grab at the flabby folds of skin and use all your strength to pull yourself free. You wiggle along the interior of his underwear, tracing the curve of his crotch as you’re sandwiched between his groin and the cloth, until you discover the seam along his inner leg.  

You worm your way through the opening, surging forward into the looser space of his pant leg. You don’t hesitate. You leap to your feet and rush ahead, tripping and crawling and groping your way forward in a blind rush. You know there’s no time to spare as the giant leg beside you, unfathomably vast, bears down on you. He’s trying to halt your progress, and you can’t let him catch you. 

Just as enormous fingertips brush your back through the fabric, you fall. You didn’t realize in the darkness that you reached the bend of his knee, and now you’re plummeting in a petrifying free-fall. You bang against his calf and flip several times before your hand snags on... something wooly. His sock?  Your arm jerks painfully, but you successfully break your fall enough to keep you alive. You can’t hold on for more than a few seconds, and you roll along the heel of his shoe before slamming into the floor. 

Your whole body is electrified with pain, but you don’t stop. You clamber away from his feet, shouting for help. You won’t be able to outrun Hardon, but there’s a chance the other giant might hear you. At this point, anyone is better than your perverted boss. His shoe stomps down alarmingly close to you, but you dive forward and continue to sprint with wild abandon. 

You emerge from beneath the desk to behold another pair of giant shoes in the distance, similar to the ones you just evaded. You cast your gaze upwards, up, up, up, into the lofty space above you to the imposing figure of another giant man. He’s intimidating, tall and broad even for a giant, with short dark hair and scruffy facial hair around his lips and chin. Your wailing, despite the raw hoarseness of your throat from so much screaming, catches his attention, and you’re met with stormy gray eyes that widen with bafflement. 

“Help me!” you croak with desperation. “Get me away from this man!” The giant blinks, then crouches down on his haunches, still looming above you. The abrupt movement startles you, especially when you’re already in such an intense emotional state, and you screech to a halt, falling flat on your butt. You feel more vulnerable than ever, buck naked as you are and running off pure adrenaline. Your heart is racing so fast, you worry you’ll pass out. 

Before you can change your mind and flee, the giant acts with shocking swiftness. He scoops you up in his enormous hand, palming you protectively to his chest. You’re pressed up to the soft silk of his tie, his fingers contacting your back and surrounding you with warmth. He stands up, making you queasy with the incredible change of height. 

“Give that human back, Martin!” Mr. Hardon barks sharply. You recoil, in spite of the barrier of log-sized fingers encompassing you. “It belongs to me.” 

“No,” Martin booms, his deep voice swelling through his mighty chest. You can’t help but tremble, even if he’s on your side. At least, you hope he is. You peer out through the cage of fingers. The evil giant has a savage glint in his pale eyes that portends of all the horrible, unspeakable plans he has for you. 

“I’ll fire you if you don’t!” Hardon responds, standing up out of his chair with passion. He’s forgotten that his pants are unbuckled, and they slide down his legs to reveal his disarranged underwear, the head of his erect penis sticking out over the waistband. He flushes as he immediately realizes his mistake. Martin glares at him with contempt and turns to leave while the disgraced old man fumbles to fix his clothing. Martin slams the door of the office behind him on the way out, shaking his head. 

“Are you alright?” he asks gently, glancing down at you as he walks away. You rock in his hands in a soothing motion that matches the cadence of his gait. “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

You struggle to form words before whispering, “No...”  

Martin leans his head closer, turning his ear in your direction. “Hm?” 

“No,” you rasp, louder this time. To your relief, the giant’s large face crinkles with the sympathy you so badly need, rather than the condescension or bloodlust you’ve become accustomed to.  

“I was so scared,” you whimper in a tiny voice. “Ronny almost drank me up in his coffee, and then the boss took me into his office and made me undress and...” You can’t finish. You bury your face in his shirt as the tears begin to flow anew. He’s soft and warm. 

“Hey, hey...” he coos. “You’re safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I’ve got you. Okay?” He rubs his huge fingertip gingerly in small circles over your back and hunched shoulders, careful not to touch any of your sensitive private areas. You appreciate how delicate he is with handling you, as well as his comforting presence. 

“Okay,” you sniffle. 

“How about we get you cleaned up? And I’ll see if any of the humans in the office have a change of clothes they can spare.” 

“That... would be nice. Thank you.” 

He rewards you with an understanding smile and encloses his hands around you in a sort of hug. You feel safer, closed off from the rest of the giant world. You let out your tears, and a weight is lifted from your chest. You know you’ve been mentally scarred from the horrors that transpired today, but you’re grateful that at least Martin was there to save you from a worse fate.