#male skin suit
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My first skin suit
For a while now, I've been visiting a local tennis court to watch handsome men run around in tight, short shorts, groaning with every swing, just to play ball.
Most of the people were pretty cute, but no one compared to Jake.
He would be there every Sunday and Wednesday to play against the same ol' guys, week after week. I figured they don't really know each other; they would never really talk, just chitchat during the match about the match.
Even though I never talked to him, I kind of knew he was an awful prick. Every game was the same. He would enter the court and play for a couple of minutes before discarding his pretty tight shirt to the side, exposing his well-formed physique. His shorts were barely able to contain his member, and it was visible most of the time.
This made him the center of attention every time—he was handsome, well-trained, and had a pretty smile. Jake was completely aware of this as well, and he made sure that not only every woman's but every man's eyes were on him only.
He wasn't a bad player either; his groans echoed across the field with every swing. He was quick on his feet and possessed talent and prowess as well.
I was so fucking envious, and it felt like he knew. At times, he would look at the crowd, flexing his abs, arms, and thighs for anyone to look at.
During my nightly web surfing, I stumbled across a, at first, weird-looking site. It was a doctor selling a special serum—an injection—to create special skin suits. The site promised a fast but high-quality result. Still, $1000 was a lot of money for me for something that might be just a scam.
But then I remembered all the times Jake was teasing his audience, showing off his pretty body, and that's when I made the decision to try it out.
What could possibly go wrong?
My package arrived two weeks later, and I was surprised at how good it looked. Also, there were multiple shots of the serum included with a personal note.
"Starterkit for your new collection."
I read the instructions, which told me there are three kinds of serums. The first one—the most important one—was to create the suit. The second one was to finish putting on the suit, and lastly, the third one was to get out of the suit.
This made me excited, and I wanted to try it.
The next Wednesday, I went to the tennis court again, and of course, Jake was already there—his beautiful chest exposed, of course.
With the serum inside my bag, I hid inside the bathroom—a tiny yet secluded kind of room with multiple stalls. I watched him use the bathroom so many times after two rounds of tennis. Like all of us, he was just a creature of habit.
Someone opened the door, and I peeked through the stall door. It was Jake who went straight to the urinal. He groaned as he pissed and kept running a hand across his sweaty chest—fuck, so hot.
He stretched his neck and walked over to the sink, looking at himself through the mirror—the opportunity to strike.
Jake wasn't able to see me; he was too busy admiring his own reflection. I caught him off guard, covered his mouth with my hand, pulled him back, and injected him right away.
He screamed into the palm of my hand and tried to fight me off, but the serum incapacitated him in mere seconds. Still, I pulled him back into my hiding place, locked the stall, sat down, and embraced him in a tight hug.
I never imagined holding a handsome man like Jake in my arms—fuck, I got hard right away. He kept breathing slowly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, while I tenderly stroked his cheek again and again. His skin was sweaty yet so soft, and his scent was so damn delicious.
As his breathing got lighter, I started to stroke his firm chest; his nipples and pecs were so hard, just like his abs. It was a sensational feeling. But somehow, I felt his body deflating slowly.
The serum was actually working.
I ran my hand down his chest again and again before my eyes fell on his huge junk hidden inside his shorts. I grabbed him firmly through the fabric of his shorts—so hard, so good. But at the same time, all of him flattened rapidly.
After a minute, his shorts slid down his thighs and dropped to the cold bathroom floor. All that was left of this handsome, thick bloke was a rubber-like, skin-tight suit.
The kit included a sharp knife, which I used to open up the new skin suit for the very first time. Slowly, I stripped and discarded my old clothes on the floor behind me; there was no use for them anyway.
Then, I grabbed him by his shoulders and held him in front of me, like a tailored suit just made for me.
My own member was tenting visibly; I still couldn't believe this actually worked.
Carefully, I stepped into his legs; my own were barely able to fill his thick thighs and calves. It was a weird yet amazing feeling. This suit smelled, looked, and felt like Jake, yet I was able to simply step inside it.
It felt like putting on my biker leather suit. I loved how tight he was and how his skin dragged over my own. Even though he was slightly ill-fitting. He was a little bigger and much bulkier than me, after all.
Even though my cock was nearly fully erect, it wasn't enough to fill this suit, and that made me chuckle—he was packing.
The next thing I did was put his upper body on, one arm at a time. I slipped inside him, barely reaching his finger tips, and my arms were way too thin to fill him.
Lastly, I put his face on like a mask before I pulled the second serum out of my bag.
"Here we go."
I injected myself and felt the effect right away: my whole body was shaking, my head was spinning, and my stomach was twisting and turning. However, it actually worked: my body enlarged itself to fill Jake completely.
My arms, thighs, and chest grew bigger with every deep breath I took. This made me stroke myself and my chest again and again; it just felt soooo good.
I let out an audible moan, and to my surprise, I heard Jake's deep, manly voice. Using his hands and his fingertips to touch my new skin felt amazing. My body was tingling, almost tickling my inner self, and this made me chuckle again, using Jake's beautiful voice.
Shivers ran down my entire back once my head was flooded with serotonin, making me feel so fucking good. A side effect of the serum was to make the subject feel no pain, just pleasure.
My new member grew so hard so quick, and I needed to hold back releasing myself just now. I started touching myself, one hand at my junk, the other following my new firm 'jawline. Feeling my stubbly moustache made things worse, however.
"Fuck." I groaned, steading myself against the door in front of me, as it took all my strength to not cum right there. "So good." Instinctively, however, I started to jerk off, starting off softly and slowly at first, but my hand basically moved on its own.
After mere seconds, after edging on for a while, I came the first time through my new skin suit, covering the door with my precious cream. The release felt so good, and for a while, I just enjoyed the moment.
Loving my new scent, I smelled my own pits deeply. Damn, this was so fucking good. At the same time, my dick was still pulsating. Just touching myself made me leak some more, as all of me was acting purely on instinct.
I grabbed myself, touched myself, moaned, and groaned until a noise from outside snapped me out of this state of pure blissful trance. I needed to hurry up a bit.
Then, I got dressed again, leaving my old clothes behind. I just put on his tight underwear, shorts, and shoes. They suited me so well.
I stepped outside the stall and caught a glimpse of my new face. Damn, I was beautiful.
"I can't believe it worked." I groaned deeply, touching myself, my chest, and my junk once again. I grabbed my bag and Jake's old stuff and licked my lips. With one last look in the mirror, I winked at myself and left the bathroom.
It was time to go home and explore my new acquisition.
#male body swap#male body suit#male meat suit#male skin suit#male body switch#male tf#identity theft#male shapeshift#male transformation
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Night at the Museum
Perhaps there had been signs he had overlooked, maybe there had been plenty of clues that something was going to happen at the museum, that someone had made plans and preparations, and it was culminating tonight.
The museum had amongst its collections, a collection of movie memorabilia, one of the memorabilia being a set of costumes of Batman and Robin from the movie of the same name from 1997 with George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell in the respective roles. A movie of questionable quality certainly, but iconic in its own way.
The suits were by no means unique, as there were made multiple of them during the taping of the movie, but now a set was on display here along side other superhero and movie pieces. As the night watch, he was responsible for keeping an eye on all these artefacts, which usually wasn’t particularly eventful, he might do some cleaning and some fixes around the museum, but otherwise, there wasn’t much to do. Not that he complained, he loved history and could enjoy the exhibits by himself. He did have a particular good eye for the Batman and Robin costumes, but apparently he wasn’t the only one.
An uneventful night became very eventful, when he entered the movie memorabilia collection, he had heard voices and went to investigate. Half of the security cameras weren’t working, which probably was a sign, that something bad was going to happen, but he still went to check. As soon as he entered the room, he was assaulted and overpowered by two masked men. They pressed him firmly against the wall, whilst stuffing a gag into his mouth, they then forced him down on a chair, and tied him to it with rope from their duffle bag. They didn’t seemed fazed by the night watch, quite the contrary, they seemed even more excited, as if they had wanted someone to witness this… And the night watch, whilst fearful and shocked, felt something stir inside him.
These two burglars were a mystery, they didn’t seem like your typical burglar, there were something strange about their approach and their goal, that the night watch would soon come to realize. He saw them approach the Batman display, whispering excitedly to one another, not even caring that he was sitting here watching everything. Had his mouth not been gagged, his jaw would have dropped, as he saw the two men do, what he had always dreamt of doing; touching the suits.
The burglars began to undress the two mannequins, the night watch trying to figure out exactly what they were doing and why. He could feel his stomach twisting and turning as he looked in fear, but also longing as the superhero costumes were disassembled and discarded on the floor.
They had undressed the two mannequins of Batman and Robin and thrown all the neoprene and leather on the floor. The night watch was baffled, if they wanted to steal the suits, why haven’t they just stuffed them in their duffle back and ran? Was there more they wanted?
From their duffle bag one of the masked figure pulled out a utility knife. A chill ran down the night watch’s spine. What were they planning? He stared entranced and fearful, his conflicting emotions made it difficult for him to think straight. He was starting to remember the potential danger he was in, he stared at it with his heart in his throat, fearing that this could turn ugly pretty quickly.
But to his surprise and bewilderment, they did something else. With the blade of the knife one of the masked men began cutting off the head of the naked Robin mannequin, he then handed it to his accomplice, who took the head and turned his back on the night watch.
With his free hand the burglar pulled off his balaclava and dropped it on the floor. The night watch could only see the back of his head, but he appeared to be young and skinny with a buzz cut haircut.
To the night watch’s big surprise the young man plunged his head into the hollowed out Robin-head, pushing and pulling the silicone into place. The night watch wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but he could not take his eyes of it. After what seemed like an eternity the new ’Robin’ turned around a flashed a smile. It was unbelievable, it was so realistic. It was like the young Chris O’Donnell stood in the room, the night watch was in awe, he now knew exactly what the burglars wanted, and he felt aroused, he felt insatiable, as terrified as he was, he wanted to see it all.
The still masked burglar nodded in approval, having dropped the headless Robin silicone mannequin on the floor, he then went over to the naked ’Batman’.
And just like before, he cut off the head, turned his back on the night watch, pulled off his mask and plunged his head into the hollowed Batman’s.
Once the other burglar was satisfied with his new face, he turned towards his accomplice, who placed his hand on the George Clooney-impersonator’s face, before leaning in and kissing him.
Despite the potential danger he was in, the night watch eagerly awaited, what he assumed the burglars would do next. He wasn’t sure they would actually do it, but they didn’t disappoint him. They stripped themselves of their black onesies, and ran the utility knife down the spines of both of the mannequins, creating large enough gaps for them to enter.
Slowly, but steadily they both began to force their way inside the hollow mannequins. The night watch felt like his nether regions were about to explode at the sight. The two men were transforming into movie stars as their scrawny bodies disappeared into the silicone, replacing them with the perfectly sculpted physiques of Batman and Robin.
There was something completely breathtaking about their actions. The night watch could only dream of what it would be like to slip into a silicone body like that, instantly gaining flawless skin, a handsome face and some quick and easy muscle mass. He wanted nothing more, than to be like those two right now.
Once they were both inside they began a process of self-gratification, rubbing their hands all over their new smooth and toned bodies. The night watch was in awe at the sight. It was flawless. The two impersonators were clearly as aroused as him as they embraced each other, kissing each other deeply and passionately with their erections pressing against each other.
Having lost any sense of time, their make-out could have lasted hours as they caressed their new ’naked’ bodies, clearly beyond satisfied with their result. But they weren’t quite done yet, there was still a final trick in their bag.
They began rubbing some sort of paste on each other’s backs and around their necks. It dawned on the night watch what they were doing… They were sealing themselves inside. He would have thought that it would have been unbearably warm inside those silicone bodies, but apparently it wasn’t the case. They were going all in, no turning back, they wanted to stay as Clooney and O'Donnell forever.
The night watch couldn’t bear it anymore, he was so full of longing and desire and without knowing it and despite the gag, he let out a deep and audible moan.
For the first time for what seemed like hours, the impersonators turned towards their spectator, they both chuckled, seemingly enjoying they were being watched. The naked George-impersonator took a few steps toward their hostage: ”I hope you are enjoying the show, it’s only halfway done.” Did he have any idea, how much their witness was into this?
’George’ flexed his right arm, it responded flawlessly, you wouldn’t believe it wasn’t real unless you had seen, what had transpired before. ‘George’ turned away, looking at ’Chris’ who had begun pulling on the Robin-costume.
The night watch stared still entranced, no longer feeling any fear, just unyielding desire. ‘Chris’ had slipped into the pants of the Robin-suit, they were a perfect fit of course, maybe even a little tighter, but the mannequin was made to fit the proportions of the suit, and now, in some bizarre way, they still were.
‘George’ had also put on the pants of the Batman-suit and then helped ‘Chris’ zipping the back of Robin’s top. ‘Chris’ returned the favour as ‘George’ slipped into Batman’s top. The mannequins were almost completely dressed, they put on the costumes’ gloves, boots, belts and capes, then ‘Batman’ pulled on his leather cowl and ‘Robin’ his mask.
The transformation was complete, it was like the mannequins had simply come to life, except it really wasn’t that. It was almost more unbelievable. The two burglars strutted around for a bit, getting comfortable in their new skins and costumes. The night watch was so deeply infatuated, he could only imagine, how they must feel, how he wanted to be them.
“Are you satisfied?” said ‘Batman’ to ‘Robin’. “Very satisfied,” ‘Robin’ replied, whilst tweaking the nipples of his suit, “this feels so good.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” ‘Batman’ responded with a chuckle, running his gloved hand down to his suit’s crotch. ‘Robin’ wrapped his arms around ‘Batman’ and pulled him towards himself and they locked lips once again. The night watch moaned again, as he felt like climaxing any moment, he couldn’t contain himself anymore. The two ‘superheroes’ turned to look at him.
”I think he’s into it!” ’Batman’ laughed to ’Robin’ like they had been completely aware of it from the start. The ‘dark knight’ walked towards the night watch, whose heartbeat began to increase with every step of the approaching ‘hero’.
‘Batman’ placed his hand firmly on the night watch’s erection, giving it a few tugs. “Yeah, you are really into it, aren’t you? We had a feeling…”
The night watch let out another moan, the culmination of a most eventful night.
‘Batman’ walked away and began picking up the clothes of their former identities, the burglars’ balaclavas, onesies and so forth, all the traces of what they had been.
’Robin’ chuckled and walked up to their hostage. He placed his boot firmly on the night watch’s aroused member and smiled the boyish smile of the young Chris O'Donnell. ’Robin’ leaned in on the night watch, their faces so close, that he could smell the silicone and the warmth radiating from it, ’Robin’ placed his mouth inches from the night watch’s ear and whispered sensually: “If you let us get away… We’ll make it worth your while. You can join us if you want. If this turns you on as much as it does us, then I think we’ll get along nicely, and we can even get you a skin like ours.”
’Robin’ stepped back, ’Batman’ was done tidying up after them.
”Give it some thought,” said ’Robin’, “we’ll make sure, you won’t regret it.” The night watch felt the ropes loosen and the gag too. ‘Robin’ then gave him a kiss on the cheek, the night watch felt the warm silicone against his skin, it felt so realistically, he then felt ‘Robin’s’ tongue in his ear, and he almost felt like fainting from the hotness.
The sound of two heavy sets of leather boots walking echoed through the empty halls as the ‘dark knight’ and the ‘boy wonder’ left the crime scene, leaving the night watch behind, pondering what his next move should be.
#male bodysuit#body suit tf#identity theft#male skinsuit#male body suit#male transformation#masking#male masking#male bodysuit tf#male skin suit#stolen body#impersonation#imposter#steal clothes#stolen clothes#body theft#leather suit#wetsuit#silicone mask#silicone bodysuit
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Sergey's Skin
Artem was losing his breath from repeatedly flexing these two massive trunks attached to his torso. Just a day ago, his arms weren’t this massive. They were twigs that could barely carry two pails of water. Gah! He drew his arms closer to his head, taking a deep drag on the cigarette from his lips, and groaned as he exuded the limits of his strength. Veins on his skin popped out as his biceps bulged outward the more he flexed his arms. He could feel the very fibers snapping as sweat trickled on the contours of his muscles. He looked at the camera and smiled. Instead of his old and frail physique, he saw his cousin Sergey's domineering face and muscular body. He'd be a dead ringer for his cousin if it weren't for the prominent zipper stretching from his chest to his navel.
Artem ran his fingers on the teeth of the zipper, feeling the metallic ridges until he reached the slider hanging on the end of his navel. He would be identical to Sergey if it were not for this prominent zipper attached to his chest. Artem's body was hidden under the thick layers of his cousin's flesh within that zipper. It has fused with him, becoming one with its sensations. He has Sergey to thank for giving Artem this opportunity. He just had to cheat with the wrong village witch and look where that got him. A pile of skin to be given and worn by a better person (which happens to be Artem), his identity to be stolen, and his dick ripe to the touch.
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Desires and Deception: Full Undercover
"Your assignment: Assume the identity of a high-profile businessman and fitness guru with deep connections to the underworld elite.
Your objective: Infiltrate a high-stakes bodybuilding event where one of the underworld's most influential figures, deeply involved in a clandestine affair, is about to take center stage. A complete physical transformation is your only cover."
On the surface, his existence seems so different from mine. He's deeply entrenched in the world of luxury, surrounded by the glitter and glamour of the upper class.
I lead a life of shadows and secrecy, a chameleon in the backdrop of society. While he basks in the spotlight, I thrive in the darkness.
Yet, as I become more familiar with his life, I realize that beneath the facades, we're not so dissimilar. We both wear masks, albeit of different kinds.
He portrays an image of power and wealth, and I craft identities to delve into the hidden realms of espionage. We're both performers, navigating the stage of our own making, just on opposite sides of the curtain.
Within the covert operations division, our team constituted a rare breed, masters of disguise, each possessing an exceptional talent for the craft of metamorphosis.
We shared an unspoken bond born from the countless secrets we held and the trust we placed in one another.
The intricately crafted muscle suit lay before me like a silent partner in this clandestine masquerade. I'd done this countless times before, but the excitement and tension of the moment never ceased to grip me.
This moment brings a complex blend of emotions to my entire body.
There's the weight of responsibility, knowing that I must seamlessly become another person, thinking, speaking, and moving as they do.
But there's also the thrill of the challenge, the adrenaline rush that comes with immersing myself in a persona utterly distinct from my own.
As I slipped into the suit, the material stretched and molded to my physique. My hands found their way to the attached silicone gloves. The snug fit accentuated every contour, making me look more sculpted than ever.
My team of ingenious innovators had left no stone unturned to make the muscle suit as lifelike as humanly possible. Their unwavering dedication shone through in the meticulous attention to detail.
My pulse quickened with anticipation as the muscles subtly inflated, intensifying the illusion of strength and confidence.
With every stroke, the skilled hands erased my facial hair, and I could almost sense a new identity taking shape.
The skintone had been impeccably matched, with the paintwork skillfully blending the boundary between reality and artifice.
I marveled at their exceptional precision as they carefully placed the snow-white silicone prosthetic skin onto my scalp, deftly concealing the intricate details at the rear.
Each brushstroke they applied infused the blank canvas with a spectrum of shades and tones, gradually merging it with the flesh-colored muscle suit.
The cap clung to my scalp, obscuring any hint of my natural hair. Their unparalleled expertise accomplished an astounding feat, vanquishing visible seams and ensuring a flawless integration with the rest of the suit.
As I rose to my feet, I could feel the muscles discreetly swelling, enhancing my size and making me appear more imposing. Enthralled by this transformation, I locked my gaze onto the mirror, realizing that, except for my own face, the reflection before me resembled that of a complete stranger.
The next phase was even more unsettling. I couldn't help but feel vulnerable, yet excited, as I closed my eyes and immersed myself in embodying the fitness guru's charisma and unwavering drive for power.
Seated before the vanity, I felt the cool touch of silicone on my skin. With each prosthetic piece, I watched myself morph into the figure whose aura and allure I admired and now emulated.
My own features were vanishing, slowly replaced by the chiseled jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and the perfectly shaped nose.
Each adjustment, every little tweak, brought me closer to becoming the fitness influencer I needed to become.
The transformation has reached its halfway point, yet I can't shake the persistent unease that lingers within me. Something feels awry, lacking in authenticity.
This void echoes the emptiness I've felt in past impersonations. The team is well aware of this predicament, which motivated them to develop a new technology aimed at resolving the issue. Although they conducted numerous beta tests, this marks the first field trial.
I stood from my chair and began to don the silicone muscle pants, preparing myself for the next step.
The pants appeared remarkably sophisticated, quite different from the silicone muscle pants I had initially envisioned. Nevertheless, the team assured me that this unique design was intentional, tailored to fulfill its specific purpose.
As I settled into a sleek, state-of-the-art machine, they assured me that it would serve as the catalyst for the forthcoming comprehensive transformation. The team then delved into an explanation of the pants' fabric and the silicone prosthetic pieces they had attached, emphasizing their integration with nanites.
They elaborated on how these minuscule marvels were precisely programmed to discern the unique contours and characteristics of my body, thereby enabling the seamless fusion of the material with my own skin. This intricate process would ensure an astonishingly lifelike and untraceable metamorphosis.
The machine enclosed around my waist with a gentle yet firm embrace. I could feel its mechanisms hum to life as it began its work. A warm, viscous liquid began to flow from the machine's hidden nozzles, gently cascading down my legs and torso.
The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as if I were being submerged in a pool of liquid silk. I watched, my heart racing, as the substance encased my legs and torso. It was as if the nanites and the liquid skin were in perfect harmony, dancing a choreography that was breathtaking to experience.
The machine released me, and I fell forward, landing on my hands and knees. The ground was cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat that surged within me. As I struggled to regain my footing, I realized that I was sweating, my skin tingling with life.
My skin glistened with sweat as the nanites engulfed my whole body. My senses were on fire as the second skin adapted to the shape of my own body, molding itself to me with an almost sentient understanding. I could feel the air against my skin as I breathed deeply, savoring the newfound sensations.
I stood on my feet, and a tidal wave of power surged through my veins—a breathtaking rush of unearthed strength that sent shivers of exhilaration cascading down my spine. I was utterly captivated by the profound transformation I had undergone.
It was as though this second skin had reshaped the core of my existence. It was no longer just a disguise; it had become a part of my own being.
Overwhelmed by curiosity and newfound confidence, I couldn't resist the urge to explore my transformed physique.
As I flexed my thighs, I could feel their utmost solidity, the sensation of unyielding strength resonating through my body. My legs, once unassuming and lean, now bore the weight of sculpted power.
Running my hands across my chest, I felt the hard contours beneath my fingers, swelling with a sense of pride. My pectoral muscles were now pronounced and firm. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the chiseled ridges of my new washboard abs.
With each movement, I admired the pronounced biceps and triceps, each muscle responding to my command. Flexing my forearms, the veins stood out like a roadmap of my uncovered power.
I had truly become the living embodiment of the role I was about to play.
With the transformation complete, I am reborn in the shadows, ready to dance into the abyss of intrigue and danger, playing my part in a game where trust is a currency of uncertainty, and the truth remains veiled forever.
To Be Continued . . .
#male body transformation#male bodysuit#body change#male transformation#male skin#male disguise#male body suit#male form#hot male
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Alex part 8
Part 9.
As Damien watches his partner come to, he's filled with awe at the breathtaking transformation that has taken place. The wizard and Mystic have captured the essence of the ideal physical form in a way that surpasses Damien's wildest dreams. With each glance in the mirror, Damien's partner begins to realize the extent of their metamorphosis, their eyes widening in wonder and disbelief.
As the lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the room, Damien's partner takes hesitant steps, their new stature and weight causing them to stumble slightly. Their larger feet feel unfamiliar against the floor, their body now towering and imposing in its newfound size.
A sensation of hairiness envelops them, the sensation of coarse fur prickling against their skin as sweat beads form from the exertion of the transformation. Itching in places they've never felt before serves as a reminder of the radical changes their body has undergone.
With each breath, they feel the air caress their nearly naked body, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down their spine. Every movement is a revelation, a rediscovery of their physical form in its enhanced state.
As Damien looks on, he can't help but feel a surge of desire and arousal at the sight of his partner's transformed body. The air between them crackles with electricity, anticipation hanging heavy in the air as they both come to terms with the new reality they now inhabit.
And there stands Damien's partner, now 6 feet tall, with darker skin of Arab descent. His green eyes gleam with newfound confidence and desire, framed by a dark, thick beard that is perfectly sculpted. He's transformed into a muscular bear with a large belly, only adorned with a leather jockstrap that strains to contain the size of his new penis and balls.
In this moment of raw vulnerability and exhilaration, Damien knows that their bond has been forged anew, stronger and more intense than ever before. And as they stand together, bathed in the glow of their shared experience, Damien is filled with a sense of gratitude and reverence for the magic that has brought them to this moment.
As Damien's partner struggles to find his footing in his new body, his senses overwhelmed by the magnitude of the transformation, he feels a sense of disorientation and awe. But as the lights flicker on, illuminating the room with a warm glow, his eyes gradually adjust, revealing Damien's expression of absolute satisfaction and glee.
Their eyes meet, and in that moment of connection, Damien's partner feels a rush of reassurance and comfort. Despite the physical changes, Damien's unwavering adoration and desire remain unchanged, filling him with a sense of warmth and acceptance.
As they embrace, Damien's partner becomes acutely aware of his new stature and larger frame. He feels the weight of his muscular body, the bulging belly, solid biceps, and powerful legs, all testament to the transformative magic that has reshaped him.
His senses are heightened as he moves with newfound grace and confidence, his enlarged cock straining against the confines of his leather jockstrap, a tangible reminder of the pleasures that await them.
And as the air wafts by his large, plump, bubbly butt, Damien's partner can't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through him. With an instinctual need for connection, they lean in and share a passionate kiss, their lips meeting in a fervent embrace that speaks volumes of their unbridled passion and longing.
As Damien's partner remains in the blissful anticipation of his new form, he revels in the overwhelming ecstasy of knowing that his partner's wildest dreams are about to come true. Sensations of surrender and transformation mingle in his mind, fueling a heady cocktail of desire and fulfillment. Both Damien and his partner are on the brink of realizing their deepest fantasies, and the anticipation is almost unbearable.
As they continue to embrace, Damien's partner feels a surge of electricity coursing through him, every touch and caress igniting a fire of passion within. Suddenly, Damien begins to realize that his thoughts are shifting, his mind processing in a language foreign to him. Yet, in the throes of ecstasy, the barrier between them seems inconsequential, their connection transcending language and logic.
With a primal need for connection, Damien embraces his partner's transformed body, their kisses growing more fervent and urgent with each passing moment.
The overwhelming desire to merge and become one consumes them both, driving them to new heights of pleasure and abandon.
In a bold display of dominance and desire, Damien seizes his partner's new large penis and guides him, turning him around with a commanding grip. Without hesitation, he takes control, plunging into his partner with a primal ferocity that leaves them both gasping for breath.
As they move together in a frenzied rhythm, Damien and his partner lose themselves in the ecstasy of their union. The boundaries between them blur, their bodies merging in a symphony of desire and surrender. In this moment of raw intensity and passion, Damien realizes that their love knows no bounds, transcending physical form and language to become something truly extraordinary. And his partner is now the bottom, with the perfect ass. And he is not the top.
As they recover from the intense ecstasy, Damien's partner gazes into the mirror, his reflection still a blur of unfamiliar features and sensations. The intensity of their lovemaking lingers, intermingling with the profound sense of transformation brought about by the Mystic's magic.
As he tries to make sense of the jumble of emotions and sensations flooding his mind, Damien's partner begins to speak, only to find that the words emerging from his lips are in Arabic, a language unknown to Damien. It's as if his very essence has been rewritten, his thoughts and speech now guided by forces beyond comprehension.
Despite the language barrier, Damien and Ahmed share a deep, unspoken understanding that transcends words.
Ahmed's voice is deeper, with a hint of rasp and a slower, more deliberate tone, exuding confidence and authority as he embraces his new identity as an Arab bear of a man. Muscular, thick, and confident, he embodies the epitome of masculine allure.
In that moment of revelation, Damien's heart swells with admiration and desire for his partner. Despite the linguistic divide, their connection remains unbreakable, their bond forged in the fires of passion and shared experience.
As they stand together, their eyes meet in silent acknowledgment of the profound journey they've undertaken together. Damien may not understand the words Ahmed speaks, but he feels their meaning in every fiber of his being. And as they embrace, their love transcends language and time, binding them together in an unbreakable bond of passion and devotion
#leatherman#skin suit#bodyswap#body possession#transformation kink#body swap#body transformation#male body swap#testosterone#male tf#race sawp
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#loodncrood#shrek#shrek art#shrek fanart#male art#green skin#ogre art#chad art#2d art#meme art#man in suit#Swole#swole art#perfect male#fanart
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New York World’s Fair (1939) #1
#now we’re learning more about this character’s civilian identity beyond just that he’s rich#he’s apparently a millionaire playboy and he’s an inventor who’s connected to a large corporation#which tracks with that he presumably built his sleeping-gas gun#and was shown synthesizing the gas for it in the previous story#it was startlingly to see so much of his skin visible in this story after he swims to the boat#he spends five pages with no shirt on and just the strap holster for his gun barely covering any of his chest#not that I’m not used to see male superhero characters with visible skin at all#but it’s striking for this character that’s not physicality-based at all#he doesn’t physically fight anyone he’s entirely reliant on putting them to sleep#and his costume with the full suit and gas mask and gloves otherwise completely covers everything#dc#wesley dodds#my posts#comic panels
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522 Icons | Orga Itsuka | Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blood Orphans
522 Icons for Orga Itsuka from Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blood Orphans.
Please like or reblog this post if you plan on using them
Credit me if you edit them! Otherwise, credit’s very much appreciated.
Download Here
#Orga Itsuka#Orga Itsuka Icons#Mobile Suit Gundam Iron Blood Orphans#Mobile Suit Gundam#Mobile Suit Gundamn Icons#Mobile Suit Gundam Iron Blood Orphans Icons#hl: short#tan skin#male#age: teen#hc: lilac#ec: yellow
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pls ignore me not having the hq mod in i just updated my game but poppy got hit w the yassification beam again..
#changed her nose and lips preset#uhh changed her eyebrows and fiddled around w her eyes#changed up her makeup and some skin details#basically shes Brand New but i do this every time i open her in game#the mm hair is really suiting her i think when i do coa im actually gonna go back to being maxis mix ngl#it just like allows for a lot more freedom ESP W MALE SIMS#sadnesshotline#chat#poppy
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the reason i thought i was bisexual for so long was because i saw men and thought i was attracted to them but really i just wanted to be them
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cant say i like this comment
#personal#nge lb#'any thoughts for this volume?' 'hmmm... i wanted to see the girls in skin tight suits!'#male mangaka...
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The last detail
*Zip* The low crunching sound of the zipper stopped as the transformation was completed. The skin, the muscles, the youthful face were all in the right place now with the final movement of his hand.
How the hell am I supposed to get rid of the zipper? Rasmus thought to himself. This silicone suit was perfect in every aspect, except for the zipper, that now dangled from the back of his head. He thought of simply just yanking it off, after all, why would he ever take this off? But then again he wouldn't risk ruining the suit. Maybe I can just put on a cap backwards for now, nobody will probably notice, he thought, continuing his self-gratification in the mirror. He was insatiable, he simply couldn't believe that he was this stud, and he could be staying like this forever. He just needed a safe way to remove the zipper.
#male body transformation#male transformation#male body suit#male bodysuit#male skinsuit#masking#male masking#male bodysuit tf#male skin suit
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Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.
Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampié, one bed trope, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.
Word count. 8.5k
A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.
You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.
So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.
Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum.
With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus.
How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago.
You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side.
Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.
And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin.
God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.
Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.
That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”
You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises.
Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.
Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.
Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right?
You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.
But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.
Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.
But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.
Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.
You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.
Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.
With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.
Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.
…
What’s the worst that can happen?
Slam!
The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail.
Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.
But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.
His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”
You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?”
“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”
“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”
“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”
“No. Don’t be a pest.”
“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”
“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.
“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”
And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot.
“Wow.”
“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”
“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.
“But you won’t.” he hums.
A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.
“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-”
“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”
“But-”
“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.”
A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”
With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”
As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-
“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”
“...”
“I will use one of your body lotions.”
Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days.
---
The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad.
You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.
Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer.
Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places.
The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?
“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed.
“Good.”
“What if that was my last straw?”
“Even better.”
His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”
Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”
“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all.
But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”
Huh?
“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”
“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”
You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”
He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”
"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body.
Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”
Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”
“Then prove it.”
Damn, he was good.
Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case.
“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”
You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”
Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.
You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”
“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent.
Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep”
Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before-
“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”
“Boardwalk.”
“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”
And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence.
You just wonder if he remembered “before”.
Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.
It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.
First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.
And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either.
Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off.
Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late.
Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him.
And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-
But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.
Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?
…
Ha. As if.
“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.
“Well, I can. Goodnight.”
Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”
A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist.
“Or I can go back to the couch and-”
“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”
But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet.
And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.
---
“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind.
He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.
“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”
---
You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.
Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit.
If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker.
But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up.
Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.”
Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.
At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”
Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people.
Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning.
You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby.
The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.
You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.
Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.
“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”
“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”
All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”
“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”
“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”
You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”
He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”
“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory.
“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”
“More like to a bug-zapper.”
Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people.
And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.
As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.
The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race.
“I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”
Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”
Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.
“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”
You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.”
Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you.
“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”
A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin.
When did they even get there? Sly bastard.
Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”
Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest.
That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?”
And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”
Oh.
Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.
So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap.
What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.
Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion.
“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment.
Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”
“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does.
His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours.
Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love.
He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t.
One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.
Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.
His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.
And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.
He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed.
Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties.
“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”
Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt.
“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs.
“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.
Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?
“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”
Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat.
Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden.
Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-
“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”
“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get.
Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole.
You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction.
Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.
“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-
“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”
You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”
And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers.
And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.
Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.
“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.
Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”
“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak.
He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting.
“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”
“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-”
You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs.
Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss.
“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”
Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw.
“Next time you do that you’re-”
Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.
Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.
Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours.
He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.
So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes.
“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.
And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins.
Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”
“Shut up, Satoru.”
And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.
“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this.
Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum.
Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters.
It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips.
You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.
Messy. It was so fucking messy.
You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…
But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch.
“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”
And that you don’t argue with.
It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you.
Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below.
And you liked it.
Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow.
“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you.
“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?”
And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first.
Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.
Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can.
You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him.
It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest.
Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell.
“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”
“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?”
Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part.
Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt.
“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”
Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours.
“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”
God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out.
Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.
“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.
Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.”
A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”
“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well.
And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach.
Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.
Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”
Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,
And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget.
As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would.
It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust.
And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you.
So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.
Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you.
All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.
But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.
“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”
Ah.
You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything.
Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile.
Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”
“Absolutely not.”
He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do.
“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”
God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”
You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”
“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”
Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump.
A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.
“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.
“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”
“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.
Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.
“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”
You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.”
But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.
He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time.
“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”
“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”
“...”
You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.
A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0
Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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Teaser Trailer for the upcoming Desires and Deception chapters
... more male transformations, disguises, bodysuits, etc. + brand new stories that will tickle your imagination. What do you think will come next? What other stuff would you like to see?
You can read the previous chapters here:
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
#male body transformation#male bodysuit#male skin#male disguise#male skinsuit#male transformation#male body suit
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Alex...the end.
Conclusion
As Damien and Ahmed step out of the black room, the remnants of their transformation still tingling beneath their skin, Damien's dominant instincts surge to the forefront. With a commanding presence, he takes charge, guiding Ahmed through the space with firm but gentle hands, relishing in the newfound power and control that their transformations have bestowed upon him.
Ahmed, still adjusting to his muscular, Middle Eastern form, submits to Damien's guidance, his own desires intertwining with Damien's dominant aura. Despite the language barrier, their unspoken communication crackles with raw energy, each gesture and touch speaking volumes of their mutual desire and trust.
As they encounter the Mystic outside the room, Damien's dominance asserts itself even further. With a commanding tone, he demands answers and explanations, asserting his authority over the situation.
The Mystic, recognizing Damien's dominance, acquiesces, his own demeanor shifting to one of deference and respect.
With a smirk, Damien accepts the cigars offered by the Mystic, but instead of a simple exchange, he turns it into a ritual of submission and domination. Taking control, he lights Ahmed's cigar, his movements deliberate and confident, a silent assertion of his dominance over his partner.
Ahmed, in turn, surrenders to Damien's control, his body thrumming with arousal at the display of dominance and power. As they walk away, Damien's grip on Ahmed tightens, a silent reminder of who holds the reins in their dynamic.
And as they disappear into the shadows, their connection deepening with each step,
Damien whispers promises of pleasures yet to come, his words laced with a tantalizing mix of dominance and desire. In this moment, they both know that their journey into the depths of kink and submission has only just begun.
But before they leave, the Mystic stops them, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I have one more thing for you," he says, producing a set of traditional clothing known as a Kandora. "This is custom-made for your new body," he continues, handing it to Damien. "Be sure to wear it at all times, along with your leather spiked jockstrap." The implication is clear: even in their traditional attire, their kink and dominance will remain a central part of their identity and dynamic.
Months have passed since their transformative journey, and Damien and Ahmed have delved deeper into their newfound identities and desires. As their language skills improve, their communication blossoms, strengthening the bond between them.
Damien's once-thick mustache has grown even fuller, adding to his rugged charm and enhancing his dominant presence. Ahmed's beard has flourished, longer and thicker than ever before, framing his face with a striking allure that captivates Damien's heart.
Ahmed revels in his new physique, embracing the strength and power of his muscle bear body. His memories of his Arab lifestyle infuse him with a sense of pride and heritage, reflected in his piercing green eyes and his adorned septum ring and Prince Albert. Damien is enthralled by every aspect of Ahmed's transformation, from his muscular physique to his embrace of cultural traditions.
Their exploration of kink and domination has only deepened with time. Ahmed's nipples now adorned with rings, adding to his allure as Damien delights in playing with them, indulging in the sensation of his partner's heightened sensitivity. Damien finds immense pleasure in Ahmed's submission, relishing the opportunity to dominate him in their intimate moments.
And when Ahmed dons his traditional Kandoras, brewing Arabic coffee with practiced ease, Damien's desire for him reaches new heights. The aroma of Arabic coffee mingles with the scent of their cigars, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere of their intimate rituals.
In the privacy of their home, Damien takes Ahmed as his own, claiming him with a primal fervor that leaves them both breathless and sated. Their love knows no bounds, transcending language and culture as they navigate the depths of desire and pleasure together, united in their unyielding bond of love and devotion. And as they bask in the afterglow of their passion, the smoke from their cigars swirls around them, a tangible reminder of the intensity of their connection and the pleasures that await them in the days to come
#skin suit#bodyswap#body possession#transformation kink#leatherman#male body swap#race swap#race change
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Daniel
Relevant Posts: Drusa, Deadlock, Loki, Ellen, Valentina, Quetzalcoatl, Sun Wukong
Master Post
- - - - - -
- - The great serpent that never was... - -
Daniel is a snake demon that hails from a fairly interesting lineage. It may not seem like it, but he shares blood with notable serpents such as Quetzalcoatl, Apophis, and Jörmungandr. In the distant past, there was a land in Europe that connected Britain to mainland Europe. This land was named Doggerland in modern times. Daniel was set to be the great serpent of the belief system of those people, once the culture of those people properly developed. Daniel was super excited, getting to know his fellow deities and preparing for his role. Unfortunately, things are never set in stone and a great cataclysm would change the course of history.
The ending of the Ice age was changing the planet. An ancient lake in North America flowed into the Atlantic around 6,200 B.C.E. The sea level in Europe rose and the temperature of the northern Atlantic dropped. Doggerland was beginning to degrade and fall into the sea. This was certainly a bump in the road, but the future Doggerland pantheon could adapt. Daniel was having panic attacks, but he was able to get a hold of himself. Things were fine... until a massive tsunami struck Doggerland due to an earthquake triggered by methane pockets. The pantheon watched in despair as Doggerland was being whipped off the face of the map. And adding insult to injury, the rising sea levels were submerging Doggerland even further.
Whatever was left of the ancient people was way too small to form a society and were absorbed into whatever land they moved to as Doggerland sunk into the ocean. The pantheon would disband, as there was nothing to guide. Interestingly some of the deities went and joined other pantheons, notable ones being the Aesir and the Tuatha Dé Danann. Daniel went into a bout of depression and became a loner, however.
- - Daniel's recovery - -
Daniel spent most of his time in Hell, doing nothing. He would read books, eat, bathe, sleep, but that was about it. At the request of Loki, Spiritus Magni Drusa would visit Daniel on a regular basis. Drusa had dealt with the fall of Atlantis in the 4000s B.C.E. and knew how hard it must have been. Daniel was not a talker, so Drusa told him all about Atlantis and the things she went through. She talked about her tribulations, how she mentored Octavia and Artemis, the time she nearly erased Atlantis off the map while experimenting with cause and effect, and the battles she fought to try and reclaim Atlantis. Something Daniel caught onto was that firstly: Drusa was nuts... but secondly was that Drusa never gave up, no matter what.
Daniel felt his drive to do things come back to him. How could he just sit around and do nothing? His first gig was a bust, but why should that stop him from doing other things? What was he supposed to do though? It took some thinking, but he settled on being an informant. He liked studying and research, on top of wanting to meet new people and explore. Drusa was fully supportive of this, helping him out whenever he could. His two most notable clients were Ellen the Wayward and Valentina Pari. Ellen was always in need of information and Valentina... Well Valentina had a secret crush on Daniel and utterly adored his true form. In recent times, Daniel has been working for the Tah family and has taken a particular interest in the Fallen Angel Deadlock.
- - In regards to Daniel - -
What can be said about Daniel is that he is a gentleman... and a snake. Daniel is not bad, just secretive. For some reason he likes tricking people and being mysterious. He will help you out while not telling you that he knew this would happen. Daniel likes to learn and one of the things he likes to learn is how people work and think. If he has this knowledge, he can find the best outcome for everyone involved. Aside from that, he loves knowing all he can in general. As a youngling, he kept asking why, to his caretaker's frustration. He was the kind of kid that reached for a world history almanac as opposed to a comic book. Something Daniel also likes to do is tease people to get a laugh out of them.
The sinking of Doggerland tempered a bright-eyed naiveté that he was warned about having. Once he got over his depression, it taught him to temper his expectations and that everything can go wrong at any moment. It was better to be ready to move rather than settle down and get ready. The sinking also dampened his desire to climb Hell's Pseudomonarchy. His accomplishments that got him to Dukedom are what landed him a spot in Doggerland's pantheon... and all of that went to waste. He could easily become a King, he just does not want to.
Of note is his true form. At peak strength, he is a truly colossal serpent that towers into the clouds. He dwarfs everything and is not to be trifled with. Of course, nothing has really ever made him go into his true form. Into his lesser forms? Sure. He has taken on his true form in the past, however. If you're lucky, you can see him flying through the skies of Infernal Earth. It is widely believed that Daniel's true power ranks up there with other great serpents of his ilk. It is widely stated that only people such as Thor and Sun Wukong could go toe to toe with Daniel in his true form. This is not surprising when you remember he is a duke bordering on Kind of Hell and was supposed to be a deity.
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Further reading:
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And a post that isn't an entire documentary for once. Daniel actually comes from a personal project, but was imported into UMAE. He is one of the many snake bois of UMAE. The funny thing is that I have his serpent form drawn... I just need to finish it.
#fantasy#chaotictempleknight#ultramagic alternate#sciencefiction#art#character profile#sciencefictionfantasy#magic#character art#alternate history#bodysuit#male#male character#serpent#tan skin#silver hair#black#black suit#purple#original character#deity#deity character#oc lore#character lore#lore#artwork
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