#hunk in a suit

[pjs-everyday]

it's not too late for a summer beach episode, is it? 🥲

[hunkpossession0]

**Riding a New Life: A Ghost's Journey**

I had been a wandering spirit for what felt like an eternity. Ever since the accident that severed my connection to the living world, I had been drifting through the ether, invisible and forgotten. That is, until today.

I found myself in a dimly lit parking garage, the scent of gasoline and rubber filling the air. The growl of an engine echoed off the walls, and that’s when I saw him—a young biker, effortlessly cool in his black and red leather suit, leaning casually against his sleek Honda. He was everything I had once admired from afar, back when I was alive.

I watched him for a moment, a pang of envy and longing coursing through my spectral form. Then, almost instinctively, I felt myself drawn toward him. There was a sudden pull, a rush of energy, and before I knew it, I was inside his body.

The moment I slipped into his form, it was as if the world exploded in sensation. The first thing I noticed was the heat—the intoxicating warmth of his skin, the snug embrace of the leather suit wrapping around me. It was a second skin, tight and form-fitting, accentuating every contour and muscle. The leather was smooth and supple, a mix of security and allure that was almost overwhelming.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the resistance of the gloves, the reassuring grip they provided. I couldn't help but admire the strength in these hands, the power in this body. My heart raced, not just from the thrill of possession, but from the sheer intensity of feeling alive again. The suit clung to me, a perfect fit, and I relished the way it made me look—strong, confident, and undeniably hot.

Every step I took in the leather suit was a new discovery. The way it accentuated my broad shoulders, the way it hugged my biceps and triceps, making every muscle pop with definition. I could feel the smooth caress of the leather against my skin, the way it moved with me, an extension of my newfound strength.

After an exhilarating ride through the city, I decided to explore more of what this new life had to offer. I had noticed a gym bag in the trunk of his bike, and an idea struck me. I headed to the local gym, eager to test the limits of this new body.

Entering the gym, I felt a wave of excitement. The scent of sweat and metal filled the air, and the rhythmic clanking of weights created a motivating soundtrack. I walked confidently to the locker room, changing into a tank top and workout pants that showed off my muscular physique. The reflection in the mirror was almost surreal—I was now this fit, handsome biker with a body that drew admiration and respect.

I started with some light stretches, feeling every muscle respond with a fluidity and power I had never experienced before. Moving to the weight section, I picked up a dumbbell, the cold metal heavy in my hand. I began a series of bicep curls, watching in awe as the muscles in my arms bulged and flexed.

The intensity of the workout was intoxicating. I pushed myself harder, feeling the burn in my muscles, the rush of endorphins coursing through my veins. I moved from one machine to another, challenging myself with each set, reveling in the strength and endurance of this body.

Between sets, I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror. The way the tank top clung to my chest and shoulders, the way my arms looked pumped and powerful—it was a heady mix of vanity and pride. I couldn't help but snap a quick selfie, capturing the moment of pure, unadulterated strength.

As the workout continued, I felt a growing sense of accomplishment. This body was capable of so much, and I was determined to explore its limits. The sweat poured down my skin, a testament to the hard work and effort I was putting in. And with each rep, each lift, I could feel myself growing more confident, more comfortable in this new skin.

But something was missing. My spectral journey had been long and lonely, and I longed to share this new life with someone who understood. That’s when I remembered my closest ghost friend, another lost soul who had wandered with me through the void. He deserved this chance too.

Later that evening, I returned to the parking garage, where I found another biker—a friend of the man whose body I had claimed. He was tall and lean, with a rugged handsomeness that made my decision easy. I called out to my ghost friend, guiding him to this new vessel.

With a rush of energy, my friend entered the biker’s body. The transformation was immediate. He blinked, adjusting to the new sensations, then looked at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude. We were no longer lost souls. We were alive, and we had each other.

Together, we returned to the gym. It was a surreal experience, seeing my friend in his new form, watching him flex and admire his new physique. We took a moment to capture it—a selfie of the two of us, side by side, strong and proud. The bond we shared as ghosts had transformed into something deeper, something more intimate.

In the gym mirror, we stood close, our bodies radiating strength and confidence. My friend, now in his own muscular form, flexed his bicep while I wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Our tank tops clung to us, revealing every sculpted muscle, every defined line. The pride in our eyes was unmistakable. Here we were, two souls reborn, finding a new life and love in the most unexpected way.

As the days passed, we explored our new lives together. We rode our bikes through the city, feeling the wind on our faces, the thrill of speed and freedom. We worked out side by side, pushing each other to new heights, celebrating every achievement.

Our connection grew stronger, evolving into a romantic bond that felt natural and right. We were a couple now, navigating this new world together. The love we had for each other, forged in the ethereal realm, blossomed in our new, physical forms.

And as we stood together, gazing at our reflections, we knew that this was just the beginning. We had found a new home, a new life, and most importantly, we had found each other. The road ahead was ours to conquer, and we were ready to face it together.

The leather suit, which had started it all, became a symbol of our transformation. Every time I slipped into it, I felt a rush of excitement and power. The way it hugged my body, the way it made me look and feel—it was exhilarating. And as we rode together, side by side, I knew that we were more than just bikers. We were partners, lovers, and together, we were unstoppable.

[surreal-duck]

some business to take care of

[swordmyth]

Jensen bound and gagged in a tuxedo

[heywoodvirgin]

[sir-illmatic]

82%

[hunkpossession0]

Airborne Exchange

It still didn’t feel real. One moment, I was stuck in economy, envying the guy in first class, casually dressed in a white t-shirt and short white pants, radiating confidence. The next moment, after wishing on that strange amulet, I was in his seat—no, in *his body*.

I could barely contain myself as I made my way to the first-class bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and stared at the mirror. The reflection that looked back at me wasn’t the person I used to be. It was *him*. Dark hair, tanned skin, chiseled features, and a body that seemed like it belonged to a movie star.

Without thinking, I pulled off the white t-shirt, eager to see more. The muscles underneath were perfect—strong, defined, and powerful. I flexed, watching in awe as the biceps bulged, the veins popping just beneath the skin. I ran my hands over my chest, down to the sculpted abs, feeling the firmness and strength in every inch of this new body.

The rush of power was intoxicating. I flexed harder, admiring the way the muscles moved, how effortlessly strong I felt. It wasn’t enough, though. I needed more space, more time to explore this new form.

After the plane landed, I headed straight for the nearest bathroom in the airport, almost trembling with excitement. I locked the stall and quickly stripped off the t-shirt and shorts. Standing there in nothing but my—his—underwear, I started flexing again, harder this time. Every muscle responded instantly, swelling with power. The reflection in the bathroom mirror was mesmerizing, and the thrill of seeing this perfect body respond to my every command was overwhelming.

As I explored my new form, the thrill grew into something more. I pushed the boundaries, flexing and admiring, letting the power go to my head. It was more than just a new body—it was an entirely new existence. The confidence, the strength, the way people would look at me now—I couldn’t resist. This was my life now, and I was going to enjoy every second of it.

[chefenrir]

Was thinking about how weird it was that Jason's memorial just fuckin,,,, floats in place, and was trying to figure out how it worked. Came to the conclusion that Bruce got into resin art purely for this purpose and that Alfred had to watch a grown adult man performing in the most depressing five-minute-crafts video ever

[shinygearart]

[worldoffetish69]

[hunkpossession0]

I was just an average 21-year-old guy, nothing special to look at—medium height, a bit of a slouch, and a body that screamed "I occasionally think about going to the gym but never actually do." My days were filled with scrolling through social media, envying the physiques of athletes like Ruben Dias, the Manchester City defender I’d been obsessed with lately. I’d stare at pictures of him—like the one I had saved on my phone, where he’s standing on a football field, wearing a tight black compression shirt, camo-patterned shorts, and those bright pink football boots that somehow looked perfect on him. I’d always thought, *Man, what I’d give to be in his shoes—literally.*

One cloudy afternoon, I was sprawled on my couch, staring at that picture again, when something bizarre happened. I don’t know if it was a glitch in the universe or some cosmic prank, but as I zoomed in on Ruben’s image, a sharp, electric jolt shot through my body. My vision blurred, and I felt like I was being sucked into a vortex. The room spun, my phone slipped from my hand, and then—nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t on my couch anymore. I was standing on a grassy field, the air cool and crisp, with trees lining the horizon. I looked around, disoriented, and saw a wall in the distance with "MARTHA" painted in bold letters, just like in the picture. Training cones were scattered nearby, and I could feel the uneven turf beneath my feet. But something felt… off. My body felt heavier, stronger, like I was carrying a new kind of weight—one that wasn’t a burden but a *power*. I looked down, and my jaw dropped.

I was wearing a black compression shirt that hugged my torso like a second skin, and camo-patterned shorts that sat snugly on my hips. My legs—*holy hell*, my legs—were massive, muscular pillars of strength, the kind I’d only ever dreamed of having. And my feet? They were encased in bright pink football boots, the exact same ones Ruben Dias had been wearing in the picture. I wiggled my toes, and it hit me: my feet were *huge*. I’d never worn football boots before, but now, in this body, they felt like they were made for me. The way they gripped the ground, the way they fit my massive feet—it was exhilarating. I never knew I’d love wearing football boots this much, but now I couldn’t imagine being without them.

I raised my hands, flexing my arms, and watched in awe as the muscles in my forearms rippled under the tight sleeves of the compression shirt. The fabric clung to every curve and contour of my new body, accentuating the broadness of my shoulders, the definition in my chest, and the sheer power in my biceps. I ran my hands over my abs, feeling the hard ridges beneath the shirt, and let out a laugh of pure disbelief. This was Ruben Dias’ body—*I* was Ruben Dias. The swap had actually happened.

I took a few steps, feeling the raw strength in my legs with every stride. My calves flexed, my quads tensed, and I couldn’t stop grinning. I’d never felt this good in my life. My old body had been so… average. Soft in all the wrong places, weak where it mattered. But this? This was a machine. I flexed again, just because I could, and the compression shirt stretched perfectly over my muscles, showing off every inch of my new physique. I loved how it felt—like it was made to showcase this body, to highlight every hard-earned muscle Ruben had built over years of training. I’d never worn anything so snug before, but now I couldn’t get enough of it.

I kicked at the grass with my pink boots, marveling at how natural it felt. My feet, now so much bigger than they’d ever been, filled the boots perfectly. I could feel the power in every step, the way the boots gave me grip and control on the field. I’d never played football in my life, but in this body, I felt like I could run circles around anyone. I jogged a few steps, then sprinted, and the sheer speed and strength I had now was intoxicating. My old body could barely run a mile without wheezing, but now I felt unstoppable.

As I stood there, catching my breath, I noticed a thin chain around my neck—Ruben’s necklace, I assumed. I touched it, feeling the cool metal against my skin, and realized something: I didn’t want to go back. Not ever. This body, this strength, this confidence—it was everything I’d ever wanted. I thought about my old life, my old body, and felt nothing but relief to be rid of it. Ruben could have it, for all I cared. I wasn’t giving this up. I looked down at my pink boots again, at the way the compression shirt hugged my new muscles, and I knew I’d never felt more at home in a body before.

I was Ruben Dias now, and I was never going back.

[hunkybulkymen]

Imagen:

[softhenrycavill]

Henry Cavill | Avatar: The Way of Water Premiere in LA 💙💙💙