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steddiehyperfixation · 6 months ago

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with blonde hair and a tan

steddie brainworms so bad i wrote this silly little thing immediately after watching the rocky horror picture show for the first time the other night lol @steddie-spooktober day 30: "where in the hell did you find that costume?" | 1083 words | T |

Eddie can hear Steve and Robin squabbling as he makes his way up the stairs to Steve's room.

“I just don't know about this, Rob.”

“It was your idea!”

“It's too much. I should wear something else.”

“Little late for that now.”

“Well-”

“Where in the hell did you find that costume?” Eddie stops in the doorway, frozen in a state of shock at the scene in front of him. His mouth hangs open, eyes wide, and a sudden heat rises in his cheeks.

Because Steve is standing in front of his mirror wearing only a tiny metallic gold speedo and matching gold boots, his great expanse of tanned skin and muscles and body hair on full display. Robin stands next to him with a spray can of wash out bleach-blonde hair dye at the ready.

Steve looks over at Eddie. “It's too much, isn't it? I knew it. I told you,” he says to Robin, gesturing at Eddie as if his reaction proves his point. “Look at his face, even he's embarrassed for me.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah, I don't think that's why he's blushing, Steve-o.”

“No one’s even gonna know who I am,” Steve continues to complain, thankfully ignoring Robin’s comment.

“Rocky,” Eddie says. His voice comes out weird and cracked; he clears his throat. “You're Rocky, from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“See?” Now it's Robin’s turn to gesture towards Eddie in vindication. “Totally recognizable. Totally good. It's just one party, and you've got all that unwarranted jock confidence, you'll be fine.” She pats Steve on the shoulder, then turns and tosses the spray dye at Eddie. “Here. You can take over spraying his hair. I have to finish getting myself ready.”

Eddie fumbles trying to catch the spray can, his attempt to stammer out a protest falling on deaf ears as Robin pushes past him out of the room. “Okay.” He sighs. This is fine. He can totally handle being left alone with this literal golden adonis without getting heart palpitations. He can be cool and chill and normal. He can.

Steve looks amused. “You don't have to. I can probably manage spraying my own hair just fine,” he says when Eddie still hasn't moved.

“No, I got it.” Eddie shakes his head, shaking himself into motion. “You won't be able to get the back right on your own anyways.” He approaches Steve - with great restraint, he might add, because there's a part of his brain that's all animal right now and it's just raring to pounce on him. “So are you done trying to talk yourself out of this costume, then?”

Steve chews at his lip as he studies his reflection again. “I think so,” he decides. His gaze flicks up to meet Eddie's eyes in the mirror. “You really don't think it's too much?”

Eddie breaks the mirror eye contact before his face can turn any more red, fixing his focus singularly on starting to spray the blonde dye onto Steve's hair. “No, you uh, you look good. You really should've warned me- told me, I mean, what you were gonna be. I would've matched your theme, could've gone as Dr. Frank N Furter.” (His current costume in comparison is quite boring, just a basic vampire - albeit with some pretty impressive fake blood around his mouth if he does say so himself, but ultimately nothing special.)

“Now that would be something,” Steve mutters, the words a little breathier all of the sudden, but Eddie still doesn't dare let his glance wander from his hair. His voice is back to normal in a second anyway. “Well, there's always next year.”

“Yeah, next year,” Eddie echoes. That really would be something, both of them in flamboyantly skimpy costumes. He's not sure if that would make this situation better or worse for him.

He pushes up some of Steve's hair to make sure he's covered all the layers in the back, his fingers accidentally brushing along the skin of his neck, and Steve shivers. Eddie finds himself watching with an odd satisfaction as the goosebumps ripple up in the wake of his touch.

“I think I might freeze to death like this, though,” Steve comments with a self-deprecating chuckle that just barely conceals that weird breathiness that's returned to his voice. “I probably should've considered that before I decided to go out half naked at night in the middle of fall.”

“I bet you could easily find someone to keep you warm tonight,” Eddie tells him, forcing detachment. He locks his attention back on his hair dyeing work. “You walk in there looking like this and you'll have all the girls at the party falling at your feet. Probably even some of the guys too,” he adds, remembering Steve recently came out as bisexual.

“Yeah?” Steve sounds like he's smiling, or maybe smirking. He tries (unsuccessfully) to catch Eddie's eyes again as Eddie moves in front of him to get to the last few pieces of hair. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Would you be one of them?”

Eddie finishes with the hairspray, nothing left to keep using as an excuse to avoid his attention. He finally looks at Steve's face and raises an eyebrow, deflecting. “You want me to fall at your feet, Harrington?”

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly. He glances down for a moment, then looks back up at him from under his lashes and takes a step closer. “I want you to keep me warm,” he clarifies in a murmur as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and guides it to hold his waist. Eddie's blood ignites at the touch and the look Steve's giving him, flames racing along his veins.

That's as good an invitation as any, and Eddie's restraint shatters. He draws Steve hungrily to his lips. How could he not? The spray can falls from his grip in favor of using both hands to pull Steve closer and roam his body. And if Eddie's wandering hands linger for a while in their investigation of that perfect gold-clad ass, well that's between them and the lovely little sound Steve makes against his open mouth.

And Robin, who has the misfortune of poking her head back into the room right then.

She yelps and jumps out of view of the scene, banging her fist against the wall just next to the doorway to get their attention instead. “When you guys are done being gross,” she shouts, “there's a party we're gonna be late for!”

#this is so unserious #the homoerotic tension of helping your friend get ready while he's dressed as a sexy character from an aggressively queer movie #also side note rocky horror is a truly bonkers film actually and i don't think anyone really properly prepared me for that tbh lmao #anyways.#steddiespooktober #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #mine

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charliegyrth · 1 month ago

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Mark Wears the Pants

A Weight Gain Story

I met Rob at the pool. I’d just finished my morning swim and he was walking out of the changing room.

I tell people that it was love at first sight, but that’s not really a thing. It was more… lust at first sight, you know?

Rob was exactly my type. He had shaggy blond hair and a long, lean face. His ears were slightly too big, but I found them very cute. He sort of had a swimmer’s body (like me), except his was just a tiny bit too skinny. I think that’s what really did it for me. Even though he had lean muscles all over his body, he looked underfed, like he needed a man to take care of him.

That’s exactly what I liked. Despite being pretty thin myself, I liked dominance. “Wearing the pants in a relationship,” so to speak. Muscly guys were hot, but they always had a bit too much swagger. I didn’t like that.

(I hope I don’t sound too picky. I just know what I like.)

I was going to take my shower, but I decided to stick around a little and watch Rob in the pool. He dove in beautifully, barely making a splash, but his swimming skills were… bad. Terrible, really. He didn’t know what he was doing. He did the breaststroke across the pool, never really settling on a rhythm, and stopped at the edge to catch his breath. He didn’t know how to time his breathing.

I watched him kick off and struggle to make it to the other side. It was obvious that he needed someone to help him, and I really wanted to be that someone.

I strutted over, sunlight drying my body, and crouched near him. “New at swimming, huh?”

He looked up at me, still catching his breath. His eyes glanced down at my bare chest before he met my eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’m Mark.”

“Rob,” he said. “You, uh, swim here a lot, huh?”

“Every day. Maybe I can help you out a bit. You look like a natural swimmer. All you need to do is learn a rhythm.”

He smiled flirtatiously.

I stiffened a little in my trunks. He definitely noticed.

I got back in the pool and showed him all my moves. That meant I got to touch him all over as I showed him different positions in the water. He knew what I was doing, and he was definitely into it, too. His speedo didn’t lie.

By the end of our first swim lesson together, he was able to take several laps without gasping for air, we learned a little about each other, and we both decided to take things back to my place.

***

Rob and I went to the pool every evening that week. Afterwards, we’d have dinner at my place. He’d spend the night but leave in the early morning to get ready for work.

It didn’t take me long to realize that Rob and I were meant for each other.

He was a few years younger than me (23) and had always been “too skinny,” as he said. He had an anxious stomach, which meant he barely ate anything and almost never felt hungry. He was self-conscious of his body, so I always made sure to show him how beautiful he was, how every part of him deserved praise and attention.

Before that first day in the pool, he’d never really exercised and barely had any strength. He thought that swimming would be the best way to get healthier.

And with my help, that’s exactly what happened. Every day, he got stronger and more confident in the pool. Pretty soon, he was strong enough to race me. I always won, of course, but he got closer and closer to matching my time.

I felt so proud of him, especially because I knew that his improvements were because of me.

I also noticed that he was eating more at our dinners. All the time spent at the pool was finally giving him an appetite. Before, he looked a bit anxious at the dinner table. Now, we spent our meals talking and laughing.

After two months of seeing him every day, I invited him to move in with me. He was practically living at my place anyway. Rob was open to the idea, but because his apartment was bigger (and cheaper), we decided that I’d give up my place and move in with him.

That was a bit of an adjustment for me. I wore the pants in the relationship, and I didn’t want that to change by shifting things into his space instead of mine, but he had a point. His apartment was better.

***

Our dynamic started to change after I moved in. I was still in charge (making more money, choosing where we went in the evenings, topping him every night), but his newfound confidence had given him a more forceful personality.

It started with little things. Switching our roles in the bedroom sometimes. Pushing back against my plans. Surprising me with presents instead of the other way around.

I didn’t complain, because I still really liked him. And sex had actually gotten better.

But then he started beating me at the pool. I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was to me. I was the one teaching him, but now he was faster than me?

The first time he beat me, I thought it was a fluke. The second time, I actually got mad.

I’d always been the fastest swimmer I knew. I’d been swimming since high school. I know it sounds petty, but I started skipping some of our pool visits. I hated that he was showing me up.

And then, I noticed that his body was changing. He was still thin, but he’d packed on some muscle, especially in his chest and shoulders. His abs were more defined, too.

I was still bigger than him, but not by a lot.

Then one evening, while I was snacking on potato chips on the couch, Rob walked shirtless into the room. He was getting ready for the pool. “You joining me today?”

I wanted to. I really did. But when I looked up at him and saw his defined pecs, I knew that he was now officially bigger than me. He looked really hot (and I loved his new tan), but I couldn’t swim with him! He’d show me up again.

“Not today, babe. Thanks.”

“Seriously? You haven’t gone to the pool all week.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was right. It had been a week. Probably more. What was happening to me?

“Suit yourself,” he said as he slipped on his shirt. It was actually my shirt, and it clung tight to his broadened shoulders. He kissed my cheek. “Okay, Mark. I’ll pick us up Italian after I’m done.” Then he was gone.

I watched his muscular ass sway under his shorts as he left. He wasn’t wearing literal pants, but for the first time, I knew that Rob was the one wearing the pants in our relationship.

As that realization hit me, I shoved another handful of potato chips into my mouth.

***

I was so focused on Rob’s body that I didn’t realize my own body was changing until a few weeks later. We were in bed together. I felt wonderfully sore.

Rob curled up next to me and his hand lightly grazed my stomach. “I miss swimming with you, Mark.”

“I’ll start back up again,” I said.

He quirked his mouth to the side. He didn’t believe me. “I hope you’re not self-conscious.”

So he knew! He knew that I’d stopped swimming with him because I didn’t like how he was showing me up!

Then he said something that made me shudder. “A lot of chubby guys go to the pool. No one’ll judge you.”

Chubby guys?

What did he mean?

Then I felt him pinch my stomach. I looked down in horror, finally noticing the roll of flab that had formed under my belly button.

I was chubby! Now that I wasn’t swimming, I’d let myself go. While Rob was hardening with muscles, I was turning into a blob.

“Honestly, I think you look wonderful.” He let go of my stomach and slid his hand under the covers. I felt his fingers reach under my ass cheek and squeeze that, too. “More cushion for the pushin’, right?”

I wanted to jump out of bed and look at myself in the mirror. I wanted to scream, too. But instead, I just lay there, frozen, accepting the fact that my stomach and ass were now soft enough to squeeze.

***

In the middle of the night, I got out of bed, careful not to wake Rob up. I snuck into the bathroom and finally saw what I’d become.

I was flabby. My nipples were poking out and a roll of fat hung over my boxers. My arms and legs had lost their definition, and worst of all, my jawline had rounded out with the start of a double chin.

I didn’t look manly anymore. I looked… pampered. I looked like some fat, lazy guy who just sat around and let his boyfriend take care of him.

And honestly, that’s what I was. I’d lost all control of our relationship, and I needed to get it back.

I had to swim again. I had to push myself harder and faster than I ever had before. That way I could lose the fat, gain more muscle than Rob, and change our dynamic back to the way it was supposed to be.

The next morning, I cancelled my morning meetings and went to the pool alone. I was going to keep swimming until I physically couldn’t anymore. I’d be there for hours.

Unfortunately, I was only in the water for twenty minutes. My swim trunks felt uncomfortably tight. My stamina was gone. I used to enjoy swimming. Now, it felt like a struggle.

I got out of the pool, my head hanging in defeat, when I noticed three guys staring at me. Well, they were staring at my wobbling stomach.

I didn’t know their names, but I’d seen them at the pool a lot. They were regulars, like I used to be. One of them looked disgusted at my softer body. The other two just gave me pity.

I raced into the changing room, which caused me to jiggle even more, and had a complete breakdown.

I lost myself and didn’t know how to get back to the old me, the guy I was meant to be.

As I stripped off my straining trunks, I thought long and hard about what I was going to do. I loved Rob, but I wasn’t happy with what our relationship had turned into. And I definitely wasn’t happy that he’d gotten bigger and stronger than me.

That’s when I came to a realization: He wasn’t bigger than me. He’d grown more muscle, but I definitely outweighed him. I didn’t have to be soft and weak anymore. I could be soft and strong. What if I kept growing, if I tried to make myself bigger?

I imagined what I’d look like with twenty more pounds. Fifty. A hundred. It wasn't the body I’d expected to have, but the image turned me on.

I’ll always remember that moment in the changing room. That was when I decided that I was going to make myself enormous.

***

Instead of going to work, I called in sick for the rest of the day, loaded up on pizzas, and stayed at home stuffing myself. I ate more food that day than I ever had before. It was painful, but I loved it.

Before Rob came home, I dumped all the boxes in the trash and sprayed air freshener around the house.

When Rob came back after his evening swim, he brought home Chinese food for us to share. I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t possibly eat anything else.

I sat with him at the table, staring at the food and feeling my stomach throb.

“What’s wrong, Mark? Still feeling self-conscious?”

That gave me the motivation I needed. I pushed through the pain and ate two plates’ worth.

I didn’t push myself as hard after that. I’d gone way too far, and my stomach had gurgled all night.

I continued overeating, though. Pancakes or muffins every morning. Fast food for lunch. And a secret dinner while Rob swam before we ate our real dinner together.

I was proud of myself for how much I could get down, and extra proud that Rob had no idea what I was doing.

He never saw all the wrappers and take-out boxes, but he saw my body. He knew I was growing.

In the span of a month, my stomach went from soft rolls to a round gut. I developed a matching stretchmark on each side. My ass and hips expanded. My double chin grew.

I sort of sprouted moobs, but they weren’t what I’d expected. Rather than fleshy breasts, I developed a small glob of fat under each stretched-out nipple. Those were very noticeable in any shirt I wore, and the way they scratched against the fabric sent shivers through my body whenever I walked.

Rob didn’t directly mention my gains, but he still made comments.

“Maybe we should get you new pants.”

“Why don’t you sit on the couch? More room to spread out.”

“You look very comfortable today.”

My coworkers’ comments were much more direct. And unkind. Most of them had known me as a fit guy for years, so my rapid changes definitely freaked them out.

Whatever. I kinda liked the ridicule. In fact, I made a point of snacking in front of them just to see their faces. They just didn’t see what Rob saw.

Because Rob, despite his avoidance of the topic, showered me with affection. When we sat together, he always had at least one hand on my new belly. Sometimes rubbing it but mostly just feeling it. And when we were in bed together, he grabbed onto every part of me. He probably knew more about my folds and creases than I did.

As I kept growing, I started taking charge again. Rob was more than happy to let me. This happened in the bedroom, where we both loved my weight pressing down on him. But it happened in our normal lives, too. I picked out where we ate. I made the decisions and invited him to places. I surprised him with presents.

By the time I reached 240, there was no denying that in our relationship, I was the big guy wearing the pants while he’d gone back to being my smaller, doting boyfriend.

***

Then one evening, while Rob was at the pool, I sat on the couch with a tray of storebought lasagna in my lap. I was feeling pretty good about myself, proud of how fast I was able to shovel it in.

I was so caught up in chewing and swallowing, though, that I didn’t hear the rain outside.

Rob came home early and caught me! For months, I’d been able to binge in secret, but now he knew.

“Mark!” he said, acting surprisingly nonplussed. “Got rained out at the pool. That pre-dinner looks delicious.”

I gulped down the lasagna in my mouth. “Hi.”

“I assume you’ll still have room for our real dinner. We have reservations, remember?” (I was taking him to Senora Reina’s that night.)

“Uh…”

He sat next to me, draping his thick arm around my shoulder. His muscles hadn’t grown for the last couple months. (With swimming, there’s sort of a limit to how bulky you can get.) “Don’t look so embarrassed, Mark. I know about all your secret meals. I’m not an idiot.”

“But… How? I worked so hard to hide all the evidence.” The dumpster behind our house was constantly filled with all my empty boxes, and I knew he never looked back there.

“Not all the evidence,” he said, grabbing the bottom of my belly and jiggling it.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought it was hotter that way.” He kissed me, licking the tomato sauce from my lips.

“And, um, what do you think?”

He took the fork from my hand and scooped up a chunk of lasagna. “I think you’re big.” (He pressed the food against my lips and waited for me to take it. I did.) “And powerful.” (He fed me again.) “And so f*cking sexy.”

Why had I tried to gain in secret? All this time, I could’ve had Rob feeding me. This was so much better.

As he told me how handsome I was in a hundred different ways, he fed me bite after bite of the lasagna until the whole tray was empty. Then he kissed me, wiped the sauce off my face, and helped me stand up.

“You better start getting ready, Mark. Our dinner reservation is in thirty minutes.”

***

With Rob fully on board, my weight increased much faster than before. He fed me every night. He filled our nightstand with donuts so that he could surprise me with some sugar while I made love to him.

We even tried funnel feedings a few times, but that didn’t really work for us. Too messy, and I didn’t like how it gave Rob total control over me.

My most productive eating sessions, however, happened while Rob swam. I sat on a lounge chair by the pool, feasted on sandwiches or burgers, and watched my boyfriend race across the pool. I no longer felt jealous that he’d gotten so much faster than I'd ever been. I was proud of him, and proud of myself for teaching him everything he knew.

The other swimmers always gave me glares, but because Rob and I were loyal customers (and because Rob taught some swimming classes on the weekends), the owners never bothered me.

***

I’m 333 pounds now. A nice, lucky number. I need help dressing myself, but my mobility is more-or-less fine. I use the jacuzzi sometimes, enjoying the way the water pressure shoots ripples through my fat, but it’s been over a year since I swam. I probably still could. (God knows I’m buoyant enough.) But it’s Rob’s thing now, not mine.

Actually, Rob just got out of the pool, water dripping down his washboard abs. His wet, sun-bleached hair looks particularly golden. He smiles as he approaches me.

“Great job today!” I tell him.

“You, too!” He glances proudly at all the McDonalds wrappers on the lounge chair next to me. He leans over me, blocking out the sun, and we kiss. “Up?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

He grabs me by the upper arms and pulls me into a sitting position. The bottom of my gut slaps loudly against my thighs. (Love that sound.)

Then, with a grunt from both of us, he pulls me to my feet.

“Beautiful day, huh?” I ask.

He takes a long look at what I’ve become. My tanned, sagging gut. My poky chest. My round, smiling face. “Beautiful,” he whispers.

Then we walk together to the changing room. Thankfully (and surprisingly), the stalls are big enough to fit us both.

I watch him change first. He strips off his speedo, giving me one last look at his small yet muscular body. Then he slips on a tank top and shorts.

Now it’s my turn. Even though I never go swimming, I always dress for the pool. (Mostly because it gives us an excuse to share the changing room.) He helps me pull down my own dry trunks. Then he slides on my underwear, playfully letting the tight fabric snap against me.

And he guides my feet into the legs of my 4XL jeans. He takes so much joy in feeling my wide, dimpled hips as he pulls up my jeans. I lift my belly so he can button them at the waist. He struggles.

“Looks like we need to go shopping again,” I say.

“Ooh! Can we?” He loves when I take him to the mall.

You know, it’s funny. I’ve gotten so fat that I can’t even put on my own pants without Rob’s help. But even with the added difficulty that my new body brings, I’m still wearing the pants in the relationship.

The End.

As always, thanks for reading!

This story will always hold a special place in my heart. It was inspired by a suggestion from the very first reader to reach out to me on Tumblr. He deleted his profile like a week later. Not sure how to interpret that. (But if you're out there somewhere, thanks for all the kind messages.)

If anyone else has a scenario or idea that they want me to write about, please reach out. I'd love to hear from you.

You can find all my stories here. And if you're interested, I included Mark Wears the Pants as the bonus story in my ebook Go with the Flow. It's about a surfer who gets very, very fat.

#gainer fiction #gainerstory #gainerstories #feeder fiction #male wg #gay feeder #gainerfiction #gainer stories #gainer story #weight gain fiction #weight gain story #weight gain stories #gay gainer

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thebisexualdogdad · 4 months ago

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sugar baby Buck smut fic where his sugar daddy gets jealous when one of his friends is hitting on Buck?

Evan Buckley x Male!reader

All of your friends had become very familiar with your boyfriend Buck, you brought him around often to show him off but none of them had the balls to hit on him... well except for Nick.

Nick had clearly been fond of Buck since you introduced them but Buck had always assured you that he was a one man kind of guy so you ignored the way Nick would get a little too close to Buck whenever they spoke.

You hit your breaking point when you invited your friends to a day out on your yacht and overheard Nick tell Buck who was looking devine in his tiny speedo, “come on sweetheart, spend just one night with me. I'll make it worth your while and Y/N will never have to know.”

“What was that Nick?” You say, Nick's whole body tensing up when he turns around to face you.

“Y/N, I uh- didn't see you there, I was just-” he stammers.

“Just what? Trying to screw my boyfriend?” You reply cocking your head.

“No, of course not,” he says.

“You're lucky I don't throw you overboard but when we hit land we are no longer friends you got that?” You tell him bluntly.

He gives you an awkward nod, a few of your other friends chuckling to themselves at him finally being put in his place.

“Apologize to Evan,” you demand.

“I-I'm sorry Evan,” Nick says embarrassed.

You grab Bucks hand, taking him inside the cabin of the yacht and downstairs to your private bedroom.

“That was hot,” Buck says when you shut the door behind him, pressing him roughly against it.

“You're mine and mine only,” you growl, kissing him hard.

“I'm all yours,” he groans into the kiss, his breath hitching when you reach down and grab his ass.

You guide him back to the bed, pushing him to sit down with Buck pulling your hips toward him to kiss and nip at your stomach.

He tugs your swim shorts down, palming the base of your cock and kissing along the soft shaft.

You play with his hair, “my handsome boy, I can't blame Nick, you're just so irresistible,” you say as he starts to stroke you.

“I don't want anyone except you daddy,” he says, feeling you getting hard in his hand.

“I know love, I know,” you say, moaning when he takes you in his mouth.

He massages your balls, your cock now fully hard in his mouth as he slowly bobs his head.

He takes his time, his free hand on your stomach loving how it clenches whenever the tip of your cock hits the back of his throat.

“Evan you always suck my cock so well,” you praise, “but I want to be inside you so lay back for me.”

Buck releases your cock from his lips, saliva dribbling down his chin as he lays back onto the mattress.

His speedo that you bought him specifically for this outing is tearing at the seams from how hard he is, his massive cock standing tall when you pull the material down his legs.

You go to the dresser and grab some lube, squirting it on yourself before putting some on your fingers and raising his hips to circle his hole.

Buck rolls his hips as your fingertips play with him, opening him up enough for you to ease your cock inside him.

“Oh fuck,” Buck whimpers as you push in inch by inch.

He grabs at the sheets as you start thrusting, his legs going over your shoulders for more stability.

His cock swings around while you pound into him, slapping between your stomachs.

“You feel so good inside me,” Buck moans, grabbing and squeezing his own tits for extra stimulation, “fuck my cock is throbbing.”

“Hold on a little while longer for me baby,” you tell him, holding firmly onto his hips as you thrust faster.

Bucks thighs are trembling, soft sighs and whimpers coming from him with every thrust.

“Can I touch myself daddy?” He asks.

“Yes you can Evan thank you for asking,” you reply.

He lets out a sigh of relief and takes his cock in his hand, desperately stroking himself.

Buck soon cries out in pleasure when he feels you cum inside him, unable to hold on any longer shooting cum from his cock and onto his chest.

“God, I love watching you cum,” you tell him, slowing your movements as he rides out his orgasm.

“No one can fuck me like you,” he moans, his body twitching with aftershocks.

Buck locks eyes with you and just smiles, all the money in the world couldn't be better than this, he really was a one man kind of guy.

#911 imagine #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #x male reader #fic

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

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vacation, cocktails, stevie in the tiniest shorts… I mean 😮‍💨

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where steve takes you to the beach, but him in his bathing suit is the real view (established relationship, smut 18+, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Steve jokes as he passes you a cocktail. It’s a red, yellow, and blue colored drink with an orange slice wedged into the top of it. It’s about as tropical as a beachside bar can get.

The rainbow colors match his color-blocked swim trunks, though the fabric is far more muted in hue. They make his tanned skin look that much more golden. You can’t figure out which shade is most his color, though, no matter how hard you ogle.

Steve spent a better part of the day smiling with delight every time he caught you staring. He’d been a bit scared to wear the shorts, in truth. They were far too long to be considered a speedo but revealed more of his thighs than normal trunks did. Then he saw how much you loved them and never wanted to take them off.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you take the blended drink from him. “It’s just… It’s staring me right in the face, babe.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs out a laugh, descending on the lounge seat next to yours.

You’ve been on vacation for four days now, playing house in his parents’ beachside condo. He wears the bliss of holiday all over him, tanned skin glittering beneath a golden hour sun. He’s almost constantly shirtless because it’s so damn hot out — which has done nothing but give you ample time to leer at his toned torso, dusted with marred scars beneath sprinkles of chestnut hair.

But it’s his thighs that get you. Those goddamn perfect thighs you want to take a bite out of and ride all at once.

No one should look so good in such a tiny pair of shorts. You think it should be a crime, really. And the worst part about all of it is Steve has virtually no idea what he’s doing to you.

He just sits there next to you and laughs at your ogling — like there's anything remotely funny about the heart palpitations he’s giving you just from looking so damn good.

“I’m so glad I got you those shorts,” you confess, mostly to yourself, before sipping at the bendy straw in your cup. The fruity slush cools your warm skin almost instantly.

“Yeah,” Steve hums with a lopsided smile. His rosy lips match the sunburn on his cheekbones. “They fit like a glove, don’t they?”

You know he’s saying that just to tease you, but you nod anyway. “Yes, they do,” you singsong quietly, chewing at the end of your straw and getting lost in your leering.

It makes Steve chuckle to himself. “Alright, babe. Keep it in your pants.”

“I’d love to get into your pants, actually.”

“You’re in rare form today, aren’t you?” Steve wonders through his laughter.

Being beachside looked good on you — being away from Hawkins looked good on you. It’s the first time he’s seen you relax in a while. Like, really relax. No monsters to hunt, no children to run after, no parents to impress. It’s just you and him and an orange sun.

And also a bar that serves alcohol that tastes like juice that you’re currently downing like it’s nothing.

“I’m tipsy and in love,” you shrug. “Sue me.”

Steve smacks his lips against his teeth. “Nah. I’m tipsy and in love, too, so… I guess I can’t really blame you…”

His admission of love makes you smile. You’ve surely heard it a million times now, but your chest sparkles like it’s the very first.

You grow suddenly soft. “Thanks for bringing me here, Stevie…”

His sheepish grin matches your own. “Thanks for coming with me, baby.”

He reaches a hand out towards you — which you take without thinking twice.

His long fingers are warm as they engulf your own. Your arms sway in the inches of space separating the two of you, knuckles gently brushing the white sand beneath you. And even though you’re touching him, you can’t help but crave more.

“You’re so far away,” you observe with a slight pout furrowing your brows.

Steve scoffs a gentle laugh. “I’m literally holding your hand.”

“Yeah, but like…” You trail off as you try to find the words to say — how to say them without sounding pathetic. Your nose scrunches softly with your admission. “I need you…”

“Need me?” he wonders with pinched brows.

He’s concerned at first, because he’s always concerned at first.

He’s been on the defense since 1984. It’s practically in his nature, at this point. It takes him a second to realize you don’t actually need help — that you’re not in Hawkins anymore, and there’s no reason to look over his shoulder.

His honey eyes go wide in realization a moment later. His pink mouth falls softly agape. “Oh. Like, need me, need me?”

You hum with a distant, tipsy smile.

“Need you, need you, need you,” you repeat thrice for effect.

Despite his similar desire that blooms like a flower in his chest, he urges, “Finish your drink first, ‘kay?”

Your pout returns. “Why?”

“‘Cause it was expensive as shit, and I don’t want it going to waste,” he explains with a chuckle.

You nod in return. “Yes, sir…”

Your mouth curls around the straw again. A smile quirks your lips as you watch the boy next to you squirm in his seat — your words having a rather obvious effect on him.

You swallow down the strawberry slush, now turning into a sour lemon, and blink away a brain freeze.

“You okay over there, Stevie?” you tease.

He nods with jutted-out lips. “Mm-hmm. Yep. Perfect.”

—————

One Tropical Rainbow Paradise cocktail later, and Steve’s leading you to his cabana.

It’s more private than a normal one. Far more lavish, too. It’s like a tiny studio apartment — made of three walls and a thick curtain in place of a door. There’s a television hung below the ceiling, a small bed pushed up against the wood, and a clawfoot tub idling on the other side.

You figure you’ll have ample time to ride Steve in the bath later.

Your mouth waters for a taste of him now.

It’s why you fall to your knees no more than a second after you’ve latched the curtain shut.

Steve’s eyes go wide as he watches you. He nearly stumbles backward onto the mattress behind him because the very sight of you makes his legs buckle.

“Whoa, babe— Let me put a pillow under you first—”

“I don’t care about that,” you dismiss with the shake of your head. Your fingers curl around the hem of his trunks as you blink up at him. “Just take your clothes off.”

He nods, rapid and visibly enthusiastic.

You don’t pull his shorts all the way down, just enough to free his half-hard cock. You slip the band beneath his heavy balls and wrap his dick in your hand, wetting your palm with your tongue first to ease the friction.

You work him slowly with your wrist and lick the pearly bead of precum from his flushed tip like it’s muscle memory to you. The rough pad of your tongue flicking over the most sensitive part of him drives him wild. A groan rumbles in his chest, muffled through his clenched jaw and teeth.

“Fuck— These trunks are really doing it for you, huh?” he teases after his fleeting senses return to him.

You blink up at him, only halfway amused. “Be careful, Stevie. I don't know if you noticed, but I have your dick in my hand.”

A crooked grin pulls at his pink lips. “Yeah… Go ahead and put your mouth on it, sweetheart,” he instructs lowly. “Maybe I’ll let you ride it after— shit.”

Your lips wrap fully around his reddening tip.

His breath catches in his throat when you lick over him like a lollipop. Your tongue dips over his drooling slit. The salty tang of him makes you moan under your breath.

Your lips abandon his cock soon after. You keep jerking him with your fist while you bring your mouth to his balls. You know he likes that best. He’s more sensitive there than most men are and spurned on by the sight of it even more so.

The sounds of your suckling and the vision of you nuzzling against his length has his orgasm creeping up his spine.

Your mouth widens as your tongue trails up the thick vein at the underside of his cock, leading all the way to his flushed, bulbous tip.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Steve sighs, right before a whine spills from his throat. His palms are wide and warm as they settle over your temples, his fingers crawling into your hair.

He doesn’t guide you at all — you know what he likes better than he does, really. He doesn’t pull you closer to him, either. He just holds you. He uses you like an anchor when his impending orgasm threatens to pull his head underwater.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he repeats, this time in a more firm groan. His cock jerks faintly in your mouth while he babbles. “Gonna make me come like this… So good for me, baby. Your pretty mouth is always so good for me. Just a little bit more…”

You know what he needs. He blinks, and suddenly his cock is stuffed down your throat. Both of you are barely breathing by then, equally spurned on by his rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Oh, shit, babe— fuck,” he whines, voice breaking when you swallow around him. He tilts his head to the ceiling and talks himself through his orgasm with gritted teeth. “Yeah. Gag on it— let me feel you, baby… Fuck, yes... 'S gonna make me come so hard. You’re gonna swallow it for me, yeah? Take everything I give you?”

With his cock stuffing your throat, you show him better than you can tell him.

His cock spits several warm loads within your waiting throat. You swallow it all down without complaint — not because it tastes good exactly, but because you love having a mouthful of him.

His golden thighs tremble under your hands as your nails rake gently over his skin.

A blissful sigh trembles in his flushed chest when you pull back from him. Even though your jaw aches and your throat is sore, you find it in you to smile as you drag your finger over the dribbles of cum at the corner of your mouth.

Steve swears he almost comes again when you lick the remnants of his pearly load off the pad of your thumb.

“What do ya say?” you find it in you to tease despite your current predicament. You’re still kneeling in front of him, blinking up at him with heavy watering eyes, saliva glistening on your chin. “Did I earn my seat, Stevie?”

Swallowing through a tight throat, he nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Definitely, yeah. Fuck.”

The bed creaks under his weight when he lies in the center of it. Now fully naked, his tanned skin contrasts heavily with the all-white sheets beneath him. His honey hair is wild as he leans against the fluffy pillows.

He beckons you to him with a wave of his hands.

“C’mere,” he tells you, pink tongue darting out to wet his swollen lips a second later.

You untie your bikini in record time. You rise on the mattress and swing your knee over his hip. Your glistening pussy rests just over his stomach, pretty enough to taste.

“Uh-uh,” Steve hums with the shake of his head, waving his hands again. “Come here.”

Your brows pinch. “What do you mean?”

“Closer,” he commands.

Still a bit confused, you shift further up his waist — only a few inches, though, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s asking of you.

You don’t fully understand until his wide hands curl around the backs of your thighs. He urges you up his torso himself, forcing you to grip the headboard before you topple over completely.

He shifts lower on the mattress until your knees are over his shoulders. His strong arms wrap around your thighs to pull you over his face, all but suffocating himself with your pussy.

His scruffy jaw scratches softly at your inner thighs — a stark contrast with the way his soft mouth suckles at your weeping cunt.

You’re practically gushing over his face the second his lips wrap around your clit.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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torakowalski · 8 months ago

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Swimmer Steve has reached summer 1988 and is inching closer to become Olympic Swimmer Steve!

I've got a confession. When I checked where the Olympic swimming trials were in 1988, the site I found told me Indianapolis. So I wrote this part! But then I double checked and it turns out the 1992 trials were Indianapolis but the 1988 ones were Austin. HOWEVER, it's too late, so pls accept this tiny deviation from reality.

(part one | part five)

"This is so fucking cool," Gareth yells in Eddie's ear, over all the different noises crashing around the natatorium.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, way more pleased than he wants to let on. He doesn't know why Gareth's here, but they all are: Gareth and Jeff and Chris, plus Robin and all Steve's kids.

Wayne's sitting further back with Mrs Henderson, away from some of the noise, but he's here too.

"Hell, yeah." Gareth grins at him. "How many times can you say you've seen someone you know audition for the Olympics?"

"It's not called auditioning," Chris says, elbowing him.

"It is, if you want to annoy Steve," Eddie tells him. He thinks it goes without saying that he always wants to annoy Steve.

It's blind luck that the Olympic swimming trials are happening in Indianapolis. Sure, Steve acted like it was no big deal, and said he didn't expect anyone to come, but Eddie knows how goddamn delighted he is that everyone's made it here for the second day.

Eddie's pleased too, of course he is, but he did kind of enjoy yesterday when it was just him here for the heats. Sue him, but he gets Steve to himself so often that he's maybe forgotten how to share.

There's some shuffling from further down the row of seats, and then Gareth gets shoved out the way and Dustin takes his place.

"Who are our main competitors?" he asks, looking at Eddie expectantly. He's got a notebook out and everything, like he's gonna come up with a plan to take them down.

Eddie starts to answer and realises that the rest of Steve's gang are listening in too. It dawns on him that he's the expert here. He's the one who's been up and down the country, going to meets with Steve, and he knows about this shit now.

He never thought he'd willingly learn anything about a sport, and even less that he'd admit to knowing anything, but it turns out you'll do a lot of unexpected shit when you're head over heels for a jock.

Even a straight jock. Even one who's been nothing but sweet about his stupid crush.

Speaking of which, here he comes now, golden skin and black speedos, standing out from the rest of the hopefuls, at least to Eddie.

"What happened to his chest hair?" Lucas asks, from one of the seats in front of Eddie. Their little Hawkins gang is really taking up a lot of this stadium.

"Right?" Max mutters, sounding disappointed.

Eddie tips forward to lean in between them. "He has to wax. Legs too."

"Ow," says Lucas, shuddering. "What's wrong with staying hairy?"

"You didn't say that when you asked why I hadn't shaved," Max says.

Lucas throws up his hands. "I didn't mean it that way! I've said I'm sorry and that I didn't mean it that way!"

It sounds like an old argument. The only bad thing about spending all his time with Steve these days, is that they miss a lot of the kids' day to day dramas. The ones that are too small to get relayed to them over the phone, anyway.

He knows Steve feels that too. He's planning to have a real break back home, after the Olympics. If he makes it to the Olympics. Fuck, Eddie hopes he makes it to the Olympics.

There's a buzz down below by the pool, everyone lining up for the first semi-final. Backstroke first. One of Steve's favourites.

"Okay," Eddie says, and takes a deep breath. "Here we go."

Steve makes it through all his semis easily, which Eddie had known he would, but had still panicked about.

There's a break before the finals, but Eddie unexpectedly can't make himself move. He's too keyed up, so tense and nervous for Steve that it's gone all the way around in a circle and frozen his legs.

"He's doing great!" Dustin says, easy and relaxed, because he's not worried. Whether Steve believes it or not, Dustin thinks he can do anything.

"Yeah." Eddie nods. "Yeah. Yeah, really great."

Dustin frowns at him. "... isn't he?"

Fuck, now Eddie is infecting other people with his anxiety. That's not cool. "He is doing so great," he says. "Like, fucking fantastic." He grins at Dustin, wide enough that he feels it stretch the scar on his cheek that doesn't move as easily as the rest of his face.

"So what's wrong with you?" Dustin asks.

If it was anyone else, except Wayne and maybe Gareth, Eddie would deny anything being wrong at all. But he and Dustin are bonded by like, bats and death and shit. So instead, he finds himself admitting, "He just wants this so bad. It's gonna shatter him, if he doesn't qualify."

"But he will," Dustin says. He grins crookedly at Eddie. "It's cute how much you care about him getting what he wants."

"Shut the fuck up," Eddie tells him, but affectionately.

They grab lunch while the 1500 metres guys do their semis, and they're back before the 50 metre finals.

Steve doesn't do 50 metres, says it's too short to be interesting, but Eddie thinks there's something cool about watching people whizz along down one length then be done. The fact that he enjoys races that Steve isn't even in is no good for his cred and not something he's gonna tell anyone.

Two minutes before Steve's first final, Robin drops into the seat next to Eddie. She doesn't say anything, just reaches out and clutches his hand.

Since he knows exactly how she feels, he just clutches back.

Steve qualified third fastest out of all the semi-finalists for this one, so he's in a decent, middle lane. He's easy to spot in his yellow swim cap, amongst all the reds and blacks.

"I'm gonna throw up," Robin says conversationally.

"Yup," Eddie agrees.

It's backstroke again first, so the swimmers all get into the water before the start. It feels like it's happening in slow motion, which might be because Eddie isn't breathing.

The whistle blows and they're off. It's a 200 metre race, so four lengths. Steve keeps up easily for the first length, is slightly ahead at the start of the second, but he falls behind just, just slightly right before the turn for the third.

Robin's fingernails digging into the back of Eddie's hand are all he can feel.

"Go Steve!" Max yells, followed a second later by the rest of the kids.

But Eddie already knows it's too late, Steve pushed himself too fast too early and he's not gonna catch up.

He finishes fifth. And, like, that makes him the fifth fastest guy in America in the backstroke, but fifth isn't gonna get him a spot at the Olympics.

"It's okay," Eddie hears himself saying, because the kids look kind of stunned. "It's okay, backstroke's done, we move on. He's still got three more finals; he just needs to place first or second in one of those. It's totally okay."

"What if it's not?" Robin hisses.

"Then I'm gonna cry."

She nods. "I'll join you."

Eddie watches as Steve drags himself out of the pool. He stands for a minute, then follows the others back to the changing rooms, without looking up at the stands.

He finishes third in the butterfly.

He comes second in the breaststroke, but it's a joint second, tied with some guy from Nebraska, and Eddie just doesn't know if that will be enough. What he really needs is a win.

"He's better than this," Robin says, voice hoarse from yelling Steve's name. "He is, right? He's been winning all his other meets."

"He's nervous. He's tensing up." Eddie wants to go down there and do something, anything to make Steve believe he can still do this.

It's late by the time the swimmers troop back out for the breaststroke final. Eddie's tired just from watching, he can't imagine how they all feel.

Steve's last out because he won this semi-final. He's the favourite for this one, but even across the distance between them, it's easy to see he's still frustrated with himself from the other races.

"Everyone cheer," Eddie orders before jumping up and fucking, whooping. Making a fool of himself at a sports event? He never thought he'd see the day.

Steve sees him then sees the kids join him and laughs, his whole body relaxing. He waves, waves again.

"Knock 'em dead, Harrington!" Eddie yells and ignores the looks he gets from the other families dotted around.

"Drown them!" Dustin yells, which makes Steve cover his face with his hands, but probably to hide his laughter rather than his dispair.

"He's gonna do it," Robin says. "He's got to."

Eddie sinks back into his seat, and can't say anything.

They line up, Steve dead centre this time. The whistle blows.

Steve's dive is beautiful, sends him nearly half way down the pool before he has to come up for air. He makes the first tumble turn ahead of everyone else, and then he's unstoppable. It's like he's been waiting for this moment, like everything has kicked into place.

He's in the lead for the second length, the third. A guy from California starts to creep up on him half way down the last length and Eddie has a second to think this is all gonna get snatched away, but it turns out Steve's not gonna let it.

He puts on a burst of speed that looks superhuman, fucking shoots himself through the water, leaves everyone in his wake and slaps his hand down on the end two maybe three strokes ahead of everyone else.

Their section erupts.

Dustin and Gareth and Robin all hug Eddie, like he's somehow had anything to do with this. Over their shoulders, he can see Wayne and Mrs Henderson cheering as loud as the rest of them.

He kisses Robin's cheek, says, "You're crying."

"Damn right, I am," she sniffs. She pats her hand against his cheek. "So are you."

"Huh," says Eddie, who hadn't noticed. "Your boy done good."

"Our boy," Robin says, "is going to the Olympics. You should say congrats to him with a kiss."

Eddie snorts. "Maybe I will," he says, knowing he won't. Steve doesn't want that. "Maybe I will."

(continued)

#stranger things #steve harrington #swimmer steve #steddie #snippets #Olympics AU #eddie munson

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ed-wwarren · 2 years ago

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When Ed said he loved sports that might have been an understatement. For him, there were three things in life and they were God, fixing cars, and sports. Not necessarily in that order. Growing up, he didn’t have the easiest home life. His father, the asshole, was verbally abusive and liked to dabble in the physical abuse when he got drunk so his mother, the angel, would make sure Ed was out of the house as much as she could.

So, when he wasn’t at school or working at the local theater, he was volunteering at church, at practices and games, or fixing people’s cars for free just for the fun of it.

But while he was still in high school, he was going to live up the sports. He would be able to work a job, volunteer at church, and fix cars the rest of his life but he knew after high school, sports were over so he dedicated a lot of his time to that. He was smart but didn’t have a desire to go to university so this was it for him. His senior year.

He had a sport for every season too. In the fall, he was a football guy. In the winter, he was all about the swim meets, and in the spring he was always outside playing baseball.

The funny thing about it though, he didn’t consider himself to be a jock. He understood what the word meant and he knew that’s what the whole school would refer to him as, but he didn’t think he fit into that stereotype. He had friends that absolutely did but they weren’t his close friends. Especially not the jocks who acted like jocks. The ones that would bully other kids or just be arrogant assholes. It made him sick.

School was already underway and it was getting towards the end of winter which meant there were only going to be a few more swim meets before they got into the spring and started baseball. Ed was at his locker getting books for his next class when he saw Natalie, one of the cheerleaders, making her way over to him. He sighed and stuck his head back in his locker pretending to be looking for a book. He was not the biggest fan of this girl. She was constantly hitting on different guys at the school and when one wouldn’t pay her any attention or she got bored, she would moved onto the next. It never ended.

“Hey, Ed,” Natalie cooed with a grin, moving close to him. “I can’t wait to see you at the swim meet today,” She said slowly, her eyes traveling bluntly down to his crotch. What she meant to say was, she couldn’t wait to see him in the tiny speedo they had to wear.

Ed slowly looked over at her and gave her a small smile. “Hey. Yeah, it’ll be umm…kind of weird. It’s my last one ever.”

“Oh,” Natalie said with a pout. “Well, I’ll be cheering for you. I hope it’s a good one.”

As she walked away, she brushed her hand along his arm and grinned. It made Ed shiver but not in a good way.

@giftedclairvoyance

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max-the-many · 2 months ago

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Couldn't believe my luck when I came across this marvelous display. I just had to have them! All of them! Even though it would be a solo-beach day for me.

I would gather them, one bye one. Getting the first one somewhere alone was obviously the most tricky. I still am kinda awkward, getting to talk sometimes.

After waiting for quite a while with no one getting anywhere, I couldn't wait any longer.

I stepped close, still with no udea how to get someone seperated.

"Ehm, Hi" I opened with no one responding.

"Sorry?..."

Seeing them all layed out in front of me really got me all the more excoted. All of those well built guys, ready to be mine. Or almost. I couldn't help but imagine to hit them right here with those 4 shots I luckily had handy.

But this beach, although not as busy, sure wasn't empty either.

So I kept trying to get their attention until one of them lifted his head. He clearly woke up at that moment. They actually were asleep! It would have been so easy if I was alone with them.

But patient.

"I... sorry to bother you... can you maybe give me a hand with my car? I'm really sprry" I rambled.

Still dizzy he didn't get what I wanted at first. I mean, I myself was unsure of how I would pricede.

But after a moment, he stood up!

"Sure" he said, stretching his limbs after what might have been a good slumber. Seeing him like that made me crave to have him even more.

He reached for a speedo before he stepped towards me.

"Where is it" he said, hitting me hard as I was pretty stunned from his sight.

"Ehm, sorry, ehm..." I stuttered, before I lead him towards a pathway between the rocks.

It was the main access, so I still had to get him further.

"I... parked away from the usual spots. Turns out my car got stuck" I improvised, heading along the path away from the usual access points and bathing spots, finally stepping off of it aand into the sparce bushes under lightly scattered trees.

When he followed with noone to be seen I figured, that this is as good a moment as any from this point on. I looked around, pretending to search for the right way.

"I think this might be... this direction? Or...maybe there?" I wondered, pointing in a direction that made him look sway long enough so I could finally hit him with the syringe I felt in my pocket the whole way, ready to strike, pushing the serum into his hips in one well placed hit.

He turned around in surprise, looking at me while his eyes already got empty while his body froze.

I stepped towards him, grabbing him around the hips to bring him down on the dry ground to hollow out, frequently checking the progress, feeling his body, the body I would have the pleasure to try out myself in a matter of minutes, checking his bulge as I haven't seen what was underneath before.

Finally I got the speedo off, undressed myself to slip into his rubbery husk, closing it off as to seal the process, making it fully merge with my body, even adjusting my proportions and finally my voice.

"Guys?" I said when I got back, already feeling way more confident in speaking to them.

"Could you come to help with that guys car aswell?" I asked the first guy that lifted his head.

"Should I come, to?" the one next to him said.

"No need."

And like that I quickly got the other three, returning in the husk of the second one, luring the third away, even turning the fourth one right on his towel as the beach became more empty before I got the other husks from the woods, neatly wrapped in their towels.

"Guess what I got waiting for you" I sent to some of my buddies along with a picture of those three packages of towel, each one having their contains peaking just a tiny bit.

I really couldn't wait to meet up with my boys the next days. But I surely had some ideas for fun with my new gear until then aswell...

#male skinsuit #male bodysuit #buddies #177

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