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#the type being buff woman
ijustthinkhesneat · 2 months
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I guess I should put out a bat fam basic headcanon statement…..
Batfam Headcanon Baseline:
Alfred (69…nice)
-5’8
-British
-Is in possession of the coveted last brain cell
-Can and will kill for very little
-Despite having infinite shopping money for groceries he loves a bargain, coupon king
Bruce (35)
-6’4 (big boi)
-Italian (Southern Region) and Russian
-A brand of autistic that could be described with the word “grumch”
-In love with Clark
-Is a himbo AND a wet cat
Dick (21)
-5’10 (says he’s 6’0)
-Romani, Portuguese and French
-ADHD and joint hypermobility
-Pansexual menace
-Fashion ✨Icon✨
-Should quit being a cop and become a beauty guru
Cass (18)
-5’5
-Chinese
-L E S B I A N
-Selectively mute
-Does fake ASL around pretentious rich people, actually just Naruto ninjutsu signs
-Loves to grill a cheese
Jason (18)
-6’7 (Biiig Boi)
-Puerto Rican and Scottish
-A chef a connoisseur
-Hates Cops
-Bisexual/Greysexual (he’s not sex repulsed just not like that about it)
Tim (15)
-5’4 (pocket sized)
-Vietnamese and German
-Trans King 👑
-In a polycule with Kon and Bernard (maybe Bart too depends on the time of day)
-He was a sk8er boi
Duke (12)
-5’0 (A growing boy)
-Jamaican and Dominican
-The token straight
-Sleeper mario kart assassin
-Airdrops memes at galas to his siblings to see who will break first
Damian (7)
- 4’5 (he so tiny)
-Italian, Russian, Chinese and Arab
-Will ask if you have games on your phone
-Not allowed on the internet unless he is watching cat videos
-Also Autistic
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sunnibits · 1 month
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guys please why is everyone in this game so hot I’m experiencing bisexual heart failure
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sanctamater · 7 months
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calling bg3 amelia my pookie like she hasn't been responsible for the deaths of 90% of everyone she's encountered so far because i'm doing 'amelia's war criminal run'
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wiltingdecay · 2 years
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why is it that asra who is canonically quite lazy and has probably never lifted a weight or even done a sit up in his entire life is absolutely fucking shredded and yet nadia doesn't even have visible abs. this is injustice
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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months
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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)
Word count: 3.5 k
Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)
Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.
A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.
Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.
And you don't.
Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults. 
The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.
But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard. 
The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like. 
He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.
Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow. 
Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?
You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.
The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.
You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you. 
You're posh. And clueless. And a child.
And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.
It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.
And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.
Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?
You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.
It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.
And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.
"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.
"I reckon."
He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.
"So. What made you become a soldier?"
"Joined the SAS when I was 17."
And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…
"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."
Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.
"Nah. That's not how this works."
You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.
"Lady." 
The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.
He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.
"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."
He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.
"...I'm just going shopping."
His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes. 
"Then let's go shopping."
…......…......
Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.
You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.
And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.
He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.
"You're from Manchester, right?"
You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance. 
And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.
"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.
There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.
"Do you still live there?"
"...No."
"Do you miss the place?"
"No."
The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.
"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."
…......…......
You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times. 
He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.
And you’re not going to give in to fear.
You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?
What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.
Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.
Ugh.
Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.
Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.
Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.
A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.
"Found the one who's hunting you."
Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock. 
This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…
You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.
"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."
Nice. More brutes.
"Why are you telling me this?" 
You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.
"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in." 
He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...
And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.
"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"
"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them. 
He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.
Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.
"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."
And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.
You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.
"What do you mean?" 
He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.
"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."
"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"
"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."
The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.
You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…
"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.
"That's the least you could do."
That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury. 
He could be a little more sensitive.
You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.
You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.
"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.
"Neither did I."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."
The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all. 
You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.
"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him. 
He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.
He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.
Soddy bastard…
"Nah. Not until I've done my job."
His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.
"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout. 
Your fucking job.
Why did you even want this job if it's so–
"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."
You have to take support from the table with your fingertips. 
"Excuse me?"
There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.
"Good night, ma'am."
…......…......
The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing. 
You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes. 
He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep. 
You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job. 
And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.
"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then. 
The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.
But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.
"That so?" 
He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.
"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.
He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.
"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"
"That's for sure."
You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.
His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.
If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.
"Will you forgive me?"
You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up. 
"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two. 
"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."
"Ain't that the truth."
The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.
"Are we going shopping today?"
"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.
"What then?"
"I… I have a yoga class."
"Of course you do."
…......…......
Taglist: @cumikering
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cammys-imagines24 · 2 months
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°•NSFW Abby Headcanons•°
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Abby likes when you yank on her braid. Either to pull her down to your height for a kiss or when she's eating you out, how you tug on her hair as if it were a horses reins, guiding her to exactly where you need her.
Size kink. This woman gets off on the fact that she's so much bigger than you. How, if she wanted to have her way with you, there's absolutely nothing you could do to fight her off.
Her whole body was practically made to dominate you and make you suffer (in a good way.) From her big, calloused hands, to her meaty thighs, her thick, buff arms and substantial height.
Just the thought of her being able to easily maneuver your body and use you in anyway she pleases gets her so, so wet.
How she could deny you your own pleasure and you couldn't fight her off... but, she's much too giving to deny you for too long. Unless you're being a brat of course.
Not into choking per say, however... Abby's hands just look so nice around your pretty, little neck. She'll place her palm around your throat to guide you to where she wants and so your eyes stay on hers, but never will she squeeze. She doesn't want to accidentally hurt you.
Loves to stretch you out with her thick fingers. The sight of her fingers disappearing in your tight hole does something feral to her and with every digit she adds, she can't help but growl.
Heavily into marking and by that I mean, you marking her. There's just something about how when she's pounding into you with her strap, the way you claw into her back...
Your nails dragging angry, red lines down her shoulder muscles and the curve of her spine to find purchase as you scream her name.
She'll admire those scratches in the mirror the morning after endlessly. Smirking at the memories of you two that flash in her mind.
Obsessed with how soft you are compared to her. Your breasts and ass, the malleable flesh she can grab on your tummy and your squeezable hips. There are times where she will be walking by you and just have to slap your ass just to see it jiggle nicely for her.
Sit on her face. It's one of Abby's favorite things and don't pull that hovering bullshit.
She will force you down onto her mouth and nose with her herculean arms and keep you there even if you protest.
Her nose bumping against your clit, her tongue expertly moving in between your folds, her hands leaving imprints upon your thighs from how hard she's forcing you to stay still on top of her.
The type to say the most sugar sweet praises while she's absolutely pounding you into the mattress.
"I love you, you know that? You're so good, so good for me, hon. Taking me so well."
Your cheek pressed against the sheets, her big arms caging around you, thick fingers kneading bruises into your hips. A handprint on your ass.
"Love you, baby. You're the best. All pretty for me, huh? So beautiful when I'm fucking you."
If she could get you pregnant, she would 100%. There's just something primal that clicks in her head when she's using her strap on you. She wishes it were a real cock and she could really fill you up.
Abby's thought about you two having kids more than she'd like to admit.
The type to have the softest aftercare ever, all traces or her dominance stripped bare.
Abby may have used you until you thought you'd pass out, never relenting despite how much you begged for a break, given you so many orgasms you thought you couldn't breathe and you saw stars in your tired, teary eyes...
But, as quick as the snap of a finger, she turns into sweet, caring Abby once more.
She'll wash you clean, smirking at how you whimper from being still so sensitive and run the calloused pads of her fingers along the bruises she left from manhandling you.
You won't be leaving her arms anytime soon. She'll engulf you in her warmth, kissing the love bites she left on your neck and whispering how much she loves you.
"My pretty girl, always so perfect. Rest up, yeah?"
She'll say in a low rasp, lips against your skin and your body encompassed by hers.
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skylarsblue · 9 months
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✦Incorrect C.O.D Quotes, since AO3 is down✦
Gaz: I wanna know what exactly your type is. Y/N: I'm not just gonna give you more fodder to throw at me- Gaz: I have an idea of it already, but I want details! Y/N: No! Gaz: Like- König! Would you- Y/N: Of fuckin’ course I wanna fuck König! He’s huge, he could LITERALLY snap me in half and my dad didn’t love me, of course I want him to fuck me! Soap: *does that weird inhale-choke-cough*
— (Dick mention + a woman’s experience of a dude making gross comments. It’s funny I swear-) Fem!medic!Y/N: most of the time, people are pretty nice and sometimes impressed when when I bring up I’m a medical professional. Other times…eh.. Soap: Eh? Y/N: Sometimes you get conspiracy theorists. Soap: Ohhhh… Y/N: Some evangelists, gross dudes. Gaz: Gross dudes? What’s the worst you’ve heard? Ghost, sipping a whiskey: This outta be good. Y/N: Uh, once I told this man hitting on me I was a field doctor? He said, and I quote. “Been awhile since my last check up, mind checking me for ball cancer.” And I- Gaz: WHAT Soap: YOU’RE KIDDING Y/N: I am not. I just- I walked away. Price: Fuckin’ hell. Y/N: It’s fine. He got shot in the dick next mission, ended up with a male doctor. Ghost: Karma at its best.
- Graves: Oh FUCK YOU Y/N: Tsk, oooo…you don’t have enough money for that. Soap: HAHA!
- Soap, drunk: Back Street’s back, alright! Do do do do- Gaz, drunk on Price’ shoulders: Dodooodo- Price: Simon, get your boy. Ghost: *picking Soap up by his belt, carrying him like a bag* Yes sir.
- Recruit: When you gonna stop giving me blue balls? Gaz: Whoa hey!- Y/N: Aight, I got my steel toes on. How bout we make’em black and blue? Recruit: I- Y/N: Shut the fuck up. I’ve already turned you down, get a hint. Word of advice? Rather than shoot for the stars, maybe shoot your shot in your lower bracket, yeah? Recruit: Gaz: Someone get a fire extinguisher, this dudes been burned. Soap: On it. *sprays recruit with fire extinguisher*
- Soap: Nice onesie, does it come in men’s? Gaz, in his pyjamas: I think you cum enough in men for the all of us. Soap: ACK- Ghost: *slides out of the room*
- Ghost: Have you ever considered, just once, using your brain first? Soap: Now why would I do that?
- (Insert random name I HC for Laswell’s wife) Kate, after being in a bad explosion and ending up in this hospital: My wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you rubbing me like that on my chest. Diana: I am your wife. Kate …. Diana: :) Heart rate monitor: BEEPBEEPBEEPBE- Kate Hi. Diana: Hehe, hi. Gaz, in the corner: Oh to be in love. Soap: This is disgusting, why can’t I have this? >:,( Gaz: Cause your type in men is awful. Soap: Hey!
- Y/N: *walks into common room* Hello, I am very upset. I feel a meltdown coming on and you are all buff men, so I would like to request being picked up and held like a baby for a short period of time, please. Soap: Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you? Y/N: Nope. König: ….*slowly approaches and picks Y/N up from under their arms* Y/N, clinging to him like a koala and hiding in his shoulder: Thank you, I appreciate you. König: *awkward back pat*
- König: :) Y/N: Bloopbloopbloopbloop- Horagi: Y/N! Y/N: What? Horagi: Tha-That is our colo-that is a dangerous man! Y/N: He’s not a dangerous man! Horagi: What are y- Y/N: We’re bloopin’! Bloopbloopbloop- König: -w-
- Price: Kid, I need you to- Gaz & Y/N: *dancing like they don’t have jobs to do* Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: Fuck it up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: That’s what’s up! Gaz: Go stink! Y/N: I’m in love! Price: AHEM Gaz: Oh shit- Y/N: HEEEYY captaaaaiinn, what’s uuupp ahaha… Price: *sigh*
- (Based on; Me if COD was real. Deadass. Full serious. I am not kidding) Gaz: So have you met the Captain yet? Y/N: No. Gaz: Are you nervous? Y/N: No no, I have a firm belief that they’re just people. Obviously I’ll respect him as a superior but that’s nnnnnnnnwho the hell is that? Y/N: *fucking breaking their neck* Gaz: Oh- Nope. No no, THAT is Captain. Don’t think about it. Y/N: I’m thinking about it. Gaz: That’s not allowed. Y/N: Ive done worse for less, if he asks I’m sucking it, you can’t stop me. Gaz: Jesus Bloody Christ- Y/N: Tell him to call me when he’s on leave. Gaz: Stop-
- König: *walks in* Ghost: ?? Soap: Oh, hey! Gaz: Y’a need somethi- König: *picks up Y/N under his arm while humming, leaving the room* König: I love stealing, I love taking things!~ Ghost: What the f-
- Colonel!König: I’m 42 so, I don’t- Y/N: YOU’RE 42?! Colonel!König: Yeah. Y/N: …it’s okay no one has to know babygirl~ König: NEIN! Nein, don’t call me babygirl!-
- (Based on this awful Gaz outfit I saw on Twitter) MILF!Y/N: *doing paperwork* Gaz: Would you date me? Y/N: Baby we couldn’t even get a drink together. You can’t buy me nothin. Gaz: What do you mean? :( Y/N: Look at your outfit! What are you wearing? Gaz: I think I look pretty fly. Y/N: For who, your mom? Gaz: :((
- Gaz: STOP DATING MY CAPTAIN Y/N: ….you know what, I’m gonna start dating him even harder. Gaz: What’s that supposed to mean? Y/N: You know what it means.
- MILF!Y/N: *shoving apple juice into a cart* They gon’ need nutrition. Laswell: How many kids do you have? MILF!Y/N: Eleven! Laswell: So I’m assuming your kids really like apple juice? MILF!Y/N: No but they looove orange juice but they’ve been bad this week. Laswell: What grade are your kids in? MILF!Y/N: Sixteenth grade. Laswell: PFFT Sixteenth- that’s not even a grade! So your kids graduated college? MILF!Y/N: No they, they- …where are my kids?
- (Her “kids” on the other side of the store) Price: Boys please- Gaz: I AM NOT LOSING! Soap, in a fuckin’ headlock with him: Yes you fuckin’ are!! Ghost: *slipping cookies under his mask, he did not pay for them* König: *looking for a fruity snack* Horagi: *grabbing as many packs of spicy chips as he can* Alejandro: This is a disgrace. *holding up frozen burritos* Rudy: These are worse. *motions to frozen tamales* Alex: Did you know you can use coke as rust remover? Farah: …and you want to drink it??
- Y/N: So. Kyle. Gaz, already afraid: …yes? Y/N: I found some of your old playlists… Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: You an emo? Gaz: I was a SCENE as a teenager, get it right.
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wriothesleybear · 3 months
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Best friend's Bachelorette Party
~a/n: Inspired by on the most beautiful fanart I've seen on twitter by minoru_uwuarts. Here’s a Christmas present for my fellow Wrio lovers. Probably my last fic to end the year. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! Enjoy!🥰❤️
~warnings: some plot, smut, male stripping, mentions of blowjob, cunnilingus, jerking off, fingering, squirting, consent, gentle face fucking, ends in some fluff, fem!reader, MDNI!
~summary: Being the maid of honor, you throw your best friend a bachelorette party and order a male stripper. He tells you to meet him in the guest bedroom after the party. You took him up on his offer and it was not disappointing...
~word count: 5.9k
Being the maid of honor was a very busy job. The jobs included helping prepare for the wedding, getting invitation cards ready and sent out in the mail, helping the bride choose her dream wedding dress, and many other jobs. One of them included the bachelorette party. Your best friend said anything you planned was fine for her party because she trusted your tastes. In the past, you remember she mentioned wanting to get a stripper. Being the maid of honor, you wanted to fulfill her one and only bachelorette party of her dreams, so you did as she asked.
You've never ordered a stripper before or even gone to a strip club. It was a bit of an embarrassing new experience but it was for your best friend! While searching online for the best professional strippers who had good reviews and made house calls, you came upon a website called Celestial Temptations. It was a very fancy and elegant website that had a list of many different types of professional male strippers. They showed a picture of each gentleman with a personal description below it. Scrolling through the many types of male strippers was a bit exciting and made it difficult to choose which one to hire because they all looked gorgeous and sexy. You kept in mind what your best friend's taste was in men while deciding. You came across one in particular that caught your eye. His name was ‘The Duke’. He was a buff, handsome man with black and gray hair with part of it looking like animal ear tufts. Scars littered his skin but they added to his beauty. He wore a professional business suit that was open to show his torso and chest, tie loose as he pulled on it in the picture. You rubbed your thighs together, already getting excited just from his picture alone.
His description read: The Duke. "A man of mystery who will do anything to please a woman. "
You were already taken in by the picture of this man but his description just pulled you in more. Clicking on his profile, you get more information about him like his age, height, likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs, etc. You click on the 'order services' button and put in your information and payment, all the while, your heart is pounding with excitement. You get a confirmation email, telling you that the order went through and The Duke was booked for your best friend's bachelorette party. This was going to be an interesting party..
~
The night of the bachelorette party finally came and you were excited for your best friend to have the best time of her life tonight. Deep down, you were also a little excited about the 'special entertainment'. While the soon-to-be bride and guests were busy opening gifts, the doorbell rang. You figured it was the long-awaited entertainment. "I'll get it!" You hurry to answer the door, making sure that everyone is preoccupied with the bride. You open the front door to see a tall, handsome man that looks exactly like the man from the picture that you ordered for. A charming smile graces his facial features. A smile that makes your heart skip a beat.
"y/n, right?" You lose your train of thought when you hear his deep voice but soon snap out of it.
"Um yes! That's me. The Duke, correct?" He gives you a flirty smile and replies yes. You blush. "Follow me. I'll show you where you can get ready." Opening the door wider, you let him in and close it behind him as he scans the front room of the house. He then turns to you, smiling, "Lead the way." You lead him to a spare bedroom down the hall. As he followed you, he kept checking you out from behind without you knowing.
You open the door to the guest bedroom, letting him enter first. "Here you go, you can prepare in here and we'll do the show in the living room where everyone currently is." He sets down a bag on the bed and already begins to take off his jacket. You're able to see his back muscles flex through his shirt. His deep voice breaks your daze. "No problem. I'll be ready in five." He says as he turns to you, giving you another one of his charming smiles. You quickly turn around and get ready to leave but then he stops you. "Oh, and make sure you get a front room seat. I do a little something special for those who catch my eye." He teasingly says. Instead of turning around and replying, you simply shut the door. Leaning your back against it, you try to calm your beating heart. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and also between your thighs. You're finally able to calm down and gather yourself, pushing those feelings down. He says that to a lot of women probably. It's not that special, you think to yourself.
You head back to the living room to see that everyone has finished watching the bride-to-be open her presents. You gather everyone's attention. "Alright, ladies! We have a special show for everyone, especially for the main lady of the night." Noises of excitement and curiosity fill the room. You turn the bride's chair around so she's facing towards the hallway where the entertainment should enter from. "I remember you asked for a very special entertainment for your bachelorette party. So, I did my duty as maid of honor to fulfill that wish." Your best friend gets all giddy, getting an idea of what this 'special entertainment' could be. “Would it have something to do with that metal pole you installed today?” She points to the stripping pole connected to the floor and ceiling nearby in the room. You smirk, acting oblivious. “I’m not sure. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
You grab a blindfold from your pocket and wrap it around the bride's head, covering her eyes. You dim the lights and turn the stereo on to play some sexy music to get everyone in the mood. Everyone begins to chant and cheer for the 'special entertainment' to come out, the bride especially.
Wrio hears the music play and the women calling for him so he takes that as his cue. He opens the door and walks down the hall towards the living room where the audience is waiting. All the women cheer as soon as he enters the room. His charming, seductive smile added to the sexy aura that surrounded him. "This must be the lucky lady." He walks towards your best friend and kneels before her. You remove the blindfold covering her eyes and once her sight focuses, it lands on the handsome man in front of her. She blushes as he takes her hand in his, leaving a kiss on the back of it. "I'm The Duke. I hear you're getting married soon. I better do my best to make your last night as an unmarried woman the most memorable one ever." Squeals and cheers fill the room once again, letting the man know to start the show. You take a seat nearby, grab a specialty drink, and take a swig of it.
While checking out The Duke, you notice he changed his outfit from earlier. He's now wearing a black suit with a red tie around his neck. His pants fit snuggly to his legs, accentuating his nice ass. Pulling on his suit jacket, he takes it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Oh god, how can this man make taking off a simple jacket so sexy? Next, he begins to loosen his tie and unbutton his dress shirt. Whistles fill the room when he completely removes his shirt, showing his buff body and muscles. Your eyes scan his bare upper body, admiring his chiseled abs, ripped arms, and the scars that litter his skin. He grabs the blindfold from the floor, wrapping it around his eyes and tying it.
He walks over to the bride, and grabs the bottom of her chair, moving her to be positioned right in front of the stripper pole. “Gotta have front-row seats to the show.” His hips sway to the beat of the music as he grabs onto the metal pole and swings on it. He’s able to effortlessly climb the pole to the top of it, with his back to you as you can admire his ass and back muscles that flex when he grabs the pole. Wrapping his legs securely around it, he leans back until he’s facing the audience upside down. His hands grip the pole between his legs, holding him as he slowly slides down the pole. Screams and cheers fill the room once again. A flirty smirk covers his face from hearing the ladies cheer for him. Calling out to the bride seated in front of him, he tells her to take his blindfold off. Wasting no time, she unties the blindfold, letting it drop to the floor. The sight of his blue eyes gazing intently at her while doing his signature smile would make any woman’s legs turn into jelly. He slowly slides himself down the pole, face right in front of her legs. He uses one hand to grab her leg, positioning it to the side of his head as his hand moves up her leg to her thigh, making the bride blush. He removes his hand before going any further, leaving her wanting more.
He turns his head to where you’re sitting, eyes landing on you. Winking at you, he beckons you over with a finger. You’re hesitant, not wanting to take the attention away from the bride-to-be, but she walks over to you, grabs you by the hand and pulls you over to her seat in front of him. Plopping you down, you make eye contact with The Duke, his gaze sending tingles down your body. He uses both of his hands to slide up your legs, slowly easing up to your thighs. Similar to what he did to the bride but with you, he doesn’t stop himself at a certain point. Hands move further up to the inside of your thighs, almost touching your core. Blushing and slightly embarrassed from knowing people are watching, you try to close your legs but he prevents you from doing it. He chuckles at your actions. Removing his hand, he grabs your hand, pulling it to his abs to feel it. The feel of his soft, chiseled abs does something to you. You get entranced by the feel of them, slowly rubbing your fingers up and down his stomach. He brings your hand to his mouth, leaving a sweet, short kiss on the palm. Suddenly, he pulls you by the hand so your face is near his, eyes widened with surprise. He whispers in your ear, Meet me in the guest bedroom after the show. Your thighs clench together as heat goes down to your core from his mysterious words. He releases his grip on your arm, allowing you to pull away. You’re in a daze from your small interaction with him, but a cheer of “mores” from the guests breaks you out of your trance. You gain your composure and get up from the seat, allowing the bride to sit back down to have her turn again. Walking back to your seat, you’re left wondering what he meant with his words. What would happen if you did meet him in the guest bedroom after the party? The curiosity eats at you, leaving you wanting more. He knows the effect he has on you. That was his plan after all.
~
Once the entertainment was done, the party was officially over and the guests began to leave. You close the door once the last guest leaves. Joining your best friend on the couch, you're exhausted. Your best friend tells you how much she enjoyed the party and thanks you for it while hugging you as her words are slurred. She's wasted. You laugh, laying her down and putting a blanket over her. Once she settles down, she brings something to your attention.
"I think the stripper has the hots for you."
"What?" You pause, surprised by what she said.
"Yeah, I could tell how he looks at you, especially during the special dance he gave you."
"Yeah, okay. I'm sure that's just him acting for his job."
"Nope, I can tell. I'm psychic and I know he has the hots for you. He's probably waiting in the guest bedroom for you right now. You should go in there and see." She says, her words slurring more as she begins to get sleepier. "If you don't go in there and fuck him, you're not my maid of honor anymore."
Rolling your eyes and laughing at her. "Whatever you say. You're drunk. Go to sleep." She begins to snore, signaling that she's passed out. You think about what she said in her drunk rant. You can't help the thoughts of what if she's right. Shaking your head, you ignore the thoughts and head to the guest bedroom where The Duke is waiting. You knock on the door and hear his deep voice saying Come in.
Opening the door, you see him sitting on the bed, legs spread. "I was wondering if you'd take me up on my invitation." He stands up and walks over to you. Your back leans against the door as he hovers over you. He cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing on your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your lips. He thinks about how nice they'd feel against his own. Not wanting to wait any longer, he presses his lips to yours. You feel the sparks as his lips finally touch yours. Hot, passionate kisses that take your breath, making it hard to breathe. His tongue invades your mouth, exploring and intertwining with yours. You feel like you’re suffocating, but it feels so good. His kisses are addicting. His hands move to the bottom of your shirt. "Raise your arms." Raising your arms, he pulls your shirt up over your head.
Once he discards it to the floor, he pulls you back into a kiss. Rough, calloused hands explore your upper half. Starting from your hips, up to your waist, and around to your back to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor. His large hands cup your breasts, groping and pinching your nipples. You moan into the kiss. With an arm around your waist, he slightly bends down, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucks, as his free hand fondles the other. The tip of his tongue plays with the tip of your bud, hardening it. The feeling of your bud hardening under his tongue makes him moan. Your head falls back as moans leave your lips due to the pleasure. You comb your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your chest. He switches to giving your other breast the same treatment with his tongue, playing with the previous one with his hand.
Once he's done giving your breasts attention, he moves back up and kisses you while his hands move down to your thighs. He enjoys the feel of your soft, squishy thighs. If only they could be wrapped around his head. "Jump". Jumping, he catches you by the back of your thighs as your legs wrap around his waist. Not breaking the kiss, he carries you over to the guest bed, pushing you down onto it. His lips travel down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys. Your legs tighten around his hips, holding him close as you grind against his crotch, looking for some friction. "Someone's eager for my cock." He chuckles and teases.
The smirk leaves his face as your hand cups his cock through his pants, his breath hitching when you rub it. He grabs both of your hands, holding them against the bed next to your head. "Patience. I'll fill your pussy with my cock soon but first, I need a little taste." He litters kisses down your chest to your stomach. Letting go of your hands, he moves to the button on your jeans, unbuttoning it and pulling your pants down your legs. Tossing it to the floor, he spreads your legs and notices a wet spot on your panties. "Already wet for me and I've barely done anything." Fingers move to rub against the wet spot, making you moan. He leans down to lay on his stomach, switching his fingers with his lips. He kisses your pussy through your underwear, the wet spot growing. He experiments with the tip of his tongue, rubbing it against you. You groan from the little friction but it's still not enough. "More please." You quietly beg.
He moves your underwear to the side, enjoying the sight of your bare pussy. "Beautiful." You get embarrassed as he just lays there, admiring your pussy. "Don't just stare." You blush as you try to close your legs but he blocks you from doing that. "Sorry, I can't help myself." He shows his apology by rubbing his fingers between your folds, finally touching your pussy to help relieve the stress from the long wait. You gasp out at the feel of his rough fingers on your most sensitive spot. Rubbing your clit, one finger prods at your entrance, slowly teasing it. You whimper, silently telling him more. He pushes his finger inside you, feeling your tightness. He begins to slowly pump his finger, testing the pace as he rubs your clit. Moans fill his ears as he quickens his pace. You're already close, feeling the warmth in your lower belly. When you're about ready to cum, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you disappointed. "I'd prefer it if you came on my tongue for your first orgasm."
Slipping your underwear off and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, he spreads your legs wide, giving him full access to your core. It's a bit embarrassing but that soon leaves your mind once his mouth latches on your pussy. You moan aloud at the new sensation. His mouth was much more pleasurable than his fingers. His tongue licks your clit, switching between flicking his tongue and sucking. Your head falls back as you intertwine your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. You already begin to feel that pleasurable warmth again in your lower belly when the pace of his tongue quickens. His tongue moves to circle your entrance, before sliding into you. He uses his thumb to rub your clit as his tongue explores your insides. The simultaneous pleasure finally pushes you over the edge as you cum on his tongue. Your sweet flavor decorates his taste buds. He groans from the delicious taste, the vibrations of his moans, and his continuous motions helping you to ride out your high.
You begin to feel overstimulated, wanting a break, but he wants more. "Gimmie more. I know you can." He replaces his tongue with two fingers, pumping them into you at a quick pace as his tongue flicks and laps at your clit. It feels so good but too much at the same time. You're not sure if you want to push his head away or pull him closer to your core. You begin to feel the warmth again, more intense this time. "Come on. Come for me. Come on my face, beautiful." He says against your pussy as he continues to pump his fingers and lick your clit at a fast pace. The warmth finally snaps in your belly. You squirt on his face, your sweet nectar filling his mouth as he tries to devour all of it, not wanting any drop to be wasted. Your beautiful moans fill his ears as he continues, his pace unrelenting. This causes you to quickly come again, tears filling your eyes at the immense pleasure. Something you've never felt before. You want more.
He begins to slow his ministrations, helping you calm down from your three climaxes. Rubbing your thighs and leaving a kiss on your pussy, it causes your thighs to twitch and a whine to leave your lips from the sensitivity. He moves back up to your face, melting his lips against yours, making you taste yourself as his tongue intertwines with yours. "Want to taste my cock now?" You eagerly nod your head, wanting to return the favor. "Good girl." He pecks your lips and gets up to stand at the edge of the bed. "On your knees." You shakily move yourself to your knees on the bed, face right in front of his covered cock. He stays silent, waiting for you to unbutton his pants.
Your hands move over to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping. Pulling his pants down, he steps out of them. He's still dressed in his underwear but you can see the large outline of his cock. You grope him through his underwear, admiring the length of it. "Look who's being the tease now." You look up, eyes meeting his. You notice the dark lust in his eyes, silently begging you to free his cock. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock springs out as his underwear falls to his feet. You gape at the sight of his cock. Large and thick with a vein lining the bottom of it. "Like the view?" His voice breaks you out of your trance. You nod your head. "Good. Now wrap your hand around it." Wrapping your fingers around his thick length, you slowly move your hands into an up-and-down motion. You spit on his cock to make it easier to jerk him off. “Suck my cock.” You lick his tip, swirling your tongue around his head, and insert it into your mouth. Sucking on his tip, you slowly take him inch by inch. His thick girth is overwhelming but feels so exciting. He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail, moving your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you sucking his cock. “Good girl. Try to take a bit more. Show me how good you are at sucking cock.” His lustful words turn you on more. You want to please him.
You slide him out of your mouth, a pop sound is heard when you remove your mouth from his tip. Moving his cock up, you place your tongue on the base of his cock, near his balls. Keeping eye contact with him, you lick a long stripe up on the underside of his cock, all the way to the tip, and slip him back into your warm mouth. You go at a medium pace while sucking his cock, continuing the deep eye contact, causing him to twitch in your mouth. “Fuck. You really do know how to suck cock, don’t ya?” You moan in reply, the vibrations around his cock making his breath hitch. “Can I fuck your mouth?” A muffled ‘mhm' is heard as you give him consent. Holding your head in place, he begins to gently thrust into your mouth. You relax your jaw and place your hands on his thighs as you let him use your mouth.
Looking up, the view above you is glorious. He’s looking down at you, watching you intently. When you lick one of his sensitive spots on his cock, he moans. Hearing his moans makes you happy, knowing that you’re able to make this hot man feel immense pleasure. Wanting to hear more of his moans, you use one of your hands to massage his balls as you suck his cock more. Curses leave his mouth as his head falls back with his eyes closed. You’re making him go crazy. He’s never felt this much pleasure before. But it’s not enough, he wants more of you.
He pulls you by your makeshift ponytail, pulling you off of his cock. "Get on your hands and knees for me." Listening to him, you turn around, getting on your knees and hands. He rubs the side of your thighs, up towards your ass, and gropes it. Grabbing his cock and giving it a few pumps, he rubs his cock head between your folds, teasing your clit. You slightly whine, wanting more, you shake your ass. He chuckles. “Patience beautiful. I’ll give you what you want in due time. You have to tell me what you want though.”
“Fuck me, please. Make me cum on your cock.” Embarrassment has long left you, mind too dazed from the lust and want for him to have his cock inside of you. It’s more than a want, it’s a need. “For you, anything.” He prods your entrance with his tip then finally slides his head in. Slowly sliding himself inside your pussy, you flinch a bit by his massive girth. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten laid and your previous boyfriends never had a size like The Duke’s.
Once you’ve relaxed and gotten used to his size, he slides his cock out to the tip and thrusts back into you. He continues this, turning into a steady pace. The view of his cock disappearing inside of you and the sight of your ass bouncing against his pelvis causes his control to falter. Sounds of your moans, the pap pap sound of your ass hitting his pelvis, his grunts, it’s becoming too much for you. His hand wanders over the expanse of your back, slightly pushing down on it, signaling you to arch your back so his cock can reach deeper into you. He’s hitting your soft spot, the shocks of pleasure shooting up your body, making your arms jelly and causing you to fall face-first into the pillow. Your moans are muffled into the pillow when he quickens his pace. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your upper body up against his chest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear the sounds you make when you finally cum on my cock.” He says into your ear. His hand slides down your stomach to your clit, rubbing it while thrusting into you. His head moves down to your neck, sucking and licking another hickey onto your skin.
One of your hands holds onto the arm that’s stimulating your clit while the other goes to his head, fingers interlocking with his hair, pushing his head into your neck. Your nails dig into his arm, but he doesn’t care. It excites him. His free hand grips your jaw, turning your head to face his own, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. The softness of his kiss compared to his hard, deep thrusts makes your head dizzy and pussy tighten around him. You break the kiss, crying out as you cum on his cock, juices leaking down your thighs. Your legs shake from the exhaustion of being on your knees so much. He’s unrelenting. The pace of his actions does not falter one bit. You already want to cum again, and you don’t mind. You don’t want him to stop, lust taking over your mind, making it hard to think straight.
He’s getting close as well. The tightening of your pussy around his cock with the melody of your moans filling his ears edge him closer and closer. Until he suddenly pulls out. You’re confused and disappointed as you’re denied your next orgasm. You turn your head to look back at him, whining for more. You’re about to ask him why he stopped, but the question is unable to leave your mouth as his hands grab you, flipping you over on your back. He crawls over you, pressing his chest into yours as his weight pushes you into the bed, making you unable to escape his intense gaze. Hands grab your wrists, pinning them to the bed on each side of your head. Sliding himself into you, he doesn’t hesitate and continues his quick pace. He looks into your eyes, intent on watching your facial expressions as you fall over the edge once again. “I want to see your expression when I fill you up.” He whispers against your lips before connecting his own with yours. Your moans are muffled in a passionate kiss as his thrusts get deeper and slower. Every time he thrusts in and out of you, his groin rubs against your clit, adding to the pleasure. He breaks the kiss, giving you the ability to speak. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum again. Don’t stop. Please.” He smirks as he pushes his hips down against yours, moving his hips in a circular motion, sending more pleasure to your soft spots.
You cry out as you release your nectar on his pelvis and cock. You twitch and shake under him as he continues his thrusting, whining from the overstimulation. You feel him twitch inside you the closer he gets to his orgasm. Wrapping your legs around him, you urge him to cum. He loses his self-control and grabs your thighs, pushing them to your chest, and pumps into you quickly. Tears fill your eyes from the sensitivity, conflicted about whether to tell him to slow down or speed up more. He grunts and moans above you. His beautiful, addicting moans. He moves his hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles. When you once again cum on his cock for the nth time, that finally sends him over.
He quickly pulls his cock out of you and moves to hover himself over your belly, straddling you as he vigorously pumps his cock. His head falls back, sensual moans fill the room as his seed spills over your breasts, covering them in his sticky, warm liquid. Once he finishes emptying himself on you, he topples over on the bed, lying next to you as you both try to catch your breaths.
“I thought you were going to cum inside.” You sheepishly say, trying to hide your disappointment. He turns his head to look at you and he notices the slight disappointment on your face, making him chuckle. “I don’t do that on the first meet. But if you really want me to, go on a date with me.” He turns onto his side and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You gonna pay for me this time?” You tease, smirking. “Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a pretty lady like you pay.” You chuckle in reply, but a thought nags you in the back of your mind. “Do you say this to all of your clients?”
“Nope. I usually don’t sleep with clients. It’s a rule in my business contract.”
“Oh no, are you going to get in trouble then?” You ask, slight worry in your voice. He only chuckles, leaving you confused. Cupping your cheek, he kisses your lips. The kiss only lasts a few seconds but it portrays his feelings. “I don’t mind breaking the rules if it’s for you. There’s something about you that makes me addicted to you. Plus, the sex was mind-blowing, don’t you think?” You gently slap his chest. “Such a sweet talker.” Drowsiness and exhaustion start to consume you, making your eyes heavy and yawn. He tightens his hold on you, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Once settling down, he notices his own exhaustion due to a very busy night. Both of you soon fall asleep, satisfied.
~
Sun rays peak through the crack in the curtains, shining on your face, causing you to stir and slowly open your eyes. Groaning, you rub your eyes to ease the sting of the sudden blinding sunlight. You move to turn away from the sunlight, but you notice that something is blocking you from doing so. You feel a solid build against your back and a strong, heavy arm wrapped around your hip. It takes you a second to gather your surroundings, the memories of last night a slight blur. You remember some moments from the bachelorette party. Playing games, opening gifts, serving drinks, then the entertainment part of the party. You slowly begin to remember what happened after the party ended. Accepting the invitation from The Duke and meeting him in the guest bedroom, then having your face shoved in the covers as he pounds into you from behind. You blush once you finally remember everything.
You slowly turn your head to look behind you and your questions are answered when you see The Duke is the one lying behind you. You carefully try to remove yourself from under his arm, trying to avoid waking him up. Suddenly, he wraps both of his arms around your waist, hold tightening as he pulls you close to his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" He whispers in his deep morning voice, nuzzling into your neck. “Um-m I need to get ready for my friend’s wedding.”
“There’s no rush. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit more rest. Or we could get a little session in before you have to leave.” Littering kisses down your neck, his hand gropes your body, making you excited. “As tempting as that sounds, don’t forget, I’m the maid of honor so I have a lot to do on the day of the wedding.” You move to sit up in the bed, pulling away from him to stop yourself from falling into the trap of being ravaged by the handsome man again.
He grabs your wrist when you try to get up, moving your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on it. “When can I see you again?”
“Well, since you do owe me a date, how about you come to the wedding with me as my date?”
“How could I deny a request from a beautiful lady.” He teases, inching his face close to yours. When he goes to kiss you, you stop him by putting a finger over his lips. “Best we get ready then.”
“Not even a small kiss, especially after how close we are already.” Smiling, you move your face close to his, lips slightly grazing each other. Just as he thinks you’re about to kiss him, you pull back. “Later. After you get ready.” Disappointment is shown on his face this time, making you giggle. Getting up, you start heading towards the guest bedroom bathroom. You turn back to look at him. “Come on, let’s shower.” He throws the blanket off of his bare body, getting up to follow you. You can already see his cock is hard again, causing heat to shoot down to your core. While lost in your thoughts, he picks you up, getting you out of your daze. “Come on. Didn’t you say you have a wedding to get ready for, maid of honor? You can admire my cock in the shower while getting ready.” He says, his signature flirty smile graces his face. Geez, he was going to be the death of you.
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brawltogethernow · 7 months
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I dreamt the other night that there was an extremely mid live action Murderbot TV show adaptation. That's not my retroactive assessment in the daytime. In the dream I was like, "This has multiple very avoidable or outright comedic flaws. I am going to binge all of it." (I'm aware that this is very meta.)
It had a "life on a starship" structure in the style of Star Trek, though it may have technically been set on one of the satellites orbiting Preservation.
The core relationship was SecUnit and Mensah, which was executed with absolute sincerity that couldn't not be charming, and was also where a lot of the more narmish moments were centered.
SecUnit would hack devices by focusing on them, cuing the camera to zoom in on the relevant machine—then the zoom in would continue with a transition to aggressively average CGI of the inside of the machine, which would animate it...being hacked or whatever. I got the impression that happened at a pivotal moment at least once an episode.
Some of the canon characters were present and were well-cast and characterized. However, the "crew" had also been padded out with a handful of original side characters. There was a gruff ship's doctor type (more Kelso than Bones though), a cook SecUnit had an arbitrary rivalry with, and for some reason two teenage boys who were BFFs. The cook existed to facilitate interpersonal comedy, the teens to have sci-fi concepts explained to them, and the doctor to solve like a third of the one-off plotlines at the end of the episode once whatever emotional arc they'd been facilitating was concluded. The new characters were almost all played by white guys like after they cast the canon characters thoughtfully and considerately they ran out of energy/wanted to work in people who were already on the lot.
I dream-watched three random episodes, but unfortunately the only one I remember specifically is the last one, where the plot was Murderbot getting amnesia (because of sci-fi reasons) to back when the company owned it before it hacked itself. The emotional climax was it deciding to help Mensah even though it didn't remember their friendship, by disabling a machine that was harming her—which it did by triggering the hacking animation by slamming its hands against it several times. Like you do when you hack stuff. The amnesia was fixed after this by the medical doctor administering a liquid for it to drink that reportedly had nanomachines in it. I'm pretty sure the prop was one of those plastic cups dentists give you stuff to swish around your mouth in with water in it.
Murderbot was played by a tall and gloriously buff...enby woman...? I don't exactly recall. —Who in behind the scenes content had a startlingly sweet demeanor and higher vocal register than the character.
10/10 dream I am laughing my socks off. I miss the fake show.
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missing2socks · 6 months
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My Miguel O’Hara Headcanons! (18+)
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fem!reader, 18+
CW: descriptive talk of kinks & body stuffs, pure smut and lewdness, sex, more sex, and my darker hcs at the bottom.
You’ve been warned :-)
Oh Miguel where can I even begin
Tall, strong, and handsome. In his younger days he’s buff and muscled, peak physique with dark brown hair and a smooth complexion. Thick brown hair slicked back, every chiseled part of his face visible to everyone around him.
When he’s an older dilf he’s got a little bit of a dad bod, still buff but he’s still got it. Hair still slicked back and dark brown eyes that could melt your heart.
Sure he’s stoic and comes off as crabby and rude but we don’t care :3
I never see any tomboy representation so I like to imagine his type is a strong willed tomboyish type of woman. Does it matter how she looks? No! But me personally I like to think he loves women with short hair, an attitude, and boyish mannerisms.
It doesn’t matter how tall you are— he’s always taller. You could be petite or curvy and he’ll still toss you over his shoulder and make you beat at his back to put you down.
Now into the NSFW 😏
Miguel, the thick man he is, has a fat cock— just difficult to stretch to his size. It’s not impossible but somehow it feels impossible when it’s stuffed in those guts mmmhhhh and it goes so deep it’s delicious
His dick stands proud at 7 and a half inches long, and is thick like a mf. I like to imagine he’s uncut and it’s slightly darker than the rest of his body. Thick veins that you can trace with your fingers or your tongue, his cock swollen and slightly redder at the tip than the rest of the member. Tilts downwards for the best gspot stimulation and slightly tilting towards the left…
Don’t think his sack won’t do anything because when he has you bent over in doggy the way those nuts hit the clit is so !!!
In bed he’s dominant and mean, having you helpless in his arms while he makes you a whining, whimpering mess under him. Soft dom, only a hard dom when he’s had a bad day at work or is pent up and angry.
He will fuck anywhere, anytime, and he has a ridiculous amount of energy. It’s actually unfair how he can go round after round without getting exhausted. Both of your sweaty bodies laying on the bed, you’re sore and used and you feel him stiffen and slowly push back into you, kissing you to hush your whines as he quickly picks up the pace again.
Predator/prey dynamic 😋 as a vampire he loves marking you up and leaving hickeys and love bites everywhere visible and invisible. He’s yours and you’re his, his precious little mami.
Service dom 100% AND a praise kink that drives you wild. Showers you with praises as he bullies his thick cock into your pussy. He loves to make your orgasm, never having the heart to deny you the pleasure of cumming for and on him.
“Mi nena, you’re doing so good taking it all, mm, t’so good amor,”
“Give me one more, baby, jus’ one more cariño, don’t cry just let me use this perfect pussy tonight…”
Breeding kink. Round after round of rough fucking and he’s still not done— being his universe’s spiderman gives him an unfair amount of stamina during sex— filling you over and over with his seed until you’re slightly bloated and dazed.
And when you get pregnant he’s all over you, showering you with love and affection for the baby in your belly. And he has a deep carnal desire to fuck you deep and sensually while you’re swollen with his child, his mouth latched onto your leaky, milk-engorged tits.
My Darker Headcanons below!
CW: somno, CNC(?), free use, more edgy fantasy but not necessarily dead dove do not eat (idk)
Turn back now, you have been warned
I fantasized that Miguel just wants to take reader captive & use them as a toy, to fuck senseless even if they’re whining and protesting and clawing at his back it’s just so hotttt
You’ll beg and whine and plead for him to go easy, take a break, and he shuts you up with passionate, sloppy kisses before he cums deep inside you. So deep, you’d think he’s trying to get as much of it as possible directly into your womb.
And he’ll fuck a baby into you trust me, he’ll be so happy that he can’t help but give you more after the birth of your first baby, just a few more, he loves stuffing his loads into you and seeing you slowly grow his baby.
Definitely into the free use kink or even somno…
When he comes home from a rough day of being spiderman, he sees your soft sleeping body in one of his shirts and he can’t help but nestle behind you, pulling his half-chub cock out and lazily dragging it between your folds. You wake up to the feeling of him pushing his fat cock inside you, and he covers your mouth before you can make any noises.
He’ll sink his fangs into the soft flesh of your neck, groaning as he hears your soft muffled cries, stretching you around his girth and slowly rutting inside those slick walls.
Or for free use maybe you’re spiderwoman from a different universe and he sees you and he can’t help but feel horny and aroused seeing you in your spidersuit but you love being bratty and misbehaving… also goes back to the predator/prey dynamic
He’ll track you down and corner you in a dark alleyway, throwing your small body on the ground, tearing off your suit and having his way with you, rutting into you and forcing you all the way down on his cock while his claws dig into your skin. Your helpless moans and cries go unheard as he groans filthy words in your ears, snarling at you to shut up and take it.
And when he’s done he’ll leave you to pick yourself up, of course after giving you feverish kisses and love bites to your neck to remind you that you’re his and only his. But he’ll leave you, pussy swollen and his cum gushing and pooling between your legs, thighs twitching and body trembling from the orgasms he ripped from you.
Oh but I’d still give him a bit fat sloppy kiss :-)
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science-lings · 8 months
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okay this has been going through my mind for days and I have to get my thoughts out before I explode
Disclaimer, this is not talking about a specific artist/person and would never condone or participate in anon hate or online bullying for any reason but especially this one. 
I get why people are mad about Link being portrayed as this buff, hypermasculine, tall guy. I am too (again don’t fucking attack people over it though) and it seems like such an infuriating way to change the character just to fit into some ideal of hypermasculine attractiveness or to make a ship fall into a more hetero lense by making him a decent foot taller than whatever girl he’s being paired with. 
The world of video games and action movies and every form of media ever is extremely saturated with male characters that are swole and manly and whatever other descriptors people are trying to push onto Link that don’t fit into his actual character. There are so many characters out there that already fit this male standard and having a clearly androgynous elf guy was like a breath of fresh air. 
Link was literally designed to be a character whose lines on gender were blurred, ‘a girl with a masculine touch or a guy with a feminine touch’ so that anyone could project themselves onto him. His physical design in botw/totk was specifically made to be feminine enough to wear a certain outfit to pass as a woman (which includes a nearly mandatory cutscene where he puts on the clothes and blushes after being called pretty, like you have to be blind to think that its an experience that he doesn’t like at all) and in totk there are a bunch of outfits made for Link that are blatantly gnc, ones that are practically dresses, include nail polish and lipstick, you can even dye his hair bright and vivid colors and that’s half way to giving him new pronouns. The whole reason Linkle isn’t included in more mainline loz games was because her existence would force Link into a gender dichotomy, if there's a clearly female version of the main hero, that means the main hero has to be a man, and they would rather abandon a potential reoccurring character than make Link conform to a gender binary. 
So pardon me when it feels disingenuous and even malicious for him to be morphed into these clear masculine ideals, where he towers over any female romantic partner (even when in canon he is regularly depicted as noticeably shorter than her) or even in m/m fanworks he’s really beefed up, perhaps to make the scene feel more gay or something. 
Perhaps it’s because his more twink-y/ femboy body type is so heavily sexualized (though obviously when people are sculping abs on him it’s totally not because they’re horny about it) and that’s an issue in itself that bothers me. But it’s just so tiring to see one of the very few popular main characters who is short and feminine and androgynous be molded into just another bland muscle-headed action hero over and over and over again. 
I’m not mad at the creators for portraying him differently than how I like him portrayed, I’m mad because we really do get so few characters like him in good popular media, and to be honest, I really like him the way that he is. I love that he’s tiny and has long hair and has the option to dress any way the player likes. It seems a little distasteful to make him taller than a female love interest just because that’s how straight couples have to be, there’s just never been a real straight couple where the guy is shorter than the girl, that’s just Impossible! (/s) 
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gay-wh0re-slut · 4 months
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I have a request...Dom!Rhea x Fem!reader in which the reader is caught masturbating and Rhea punishes her by causing many orgasms and overstimulating her
AAAYYYOOOO this is hot yall have some of THE best ideas i can’t thank yall enough for feeding into my slutty writing hehehe
i hope you enjoyyyyy
Wait
rhea x fem!reader
content: thinking about ur hot buff gf so you get busy by yourself but she catches you 😌 (masturbation, vibrator, oral, fingering, choking, strap, degradation and praise, super overstim and multi-gasms, slight sub!rhea)
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Monday nights were always so lonely because Rhea was in a random city and you had no clue when she would be back home. The weeks she was gone felt like forever, luckily, sometimes she was only gone for a few days and was able to come back home for a day or two before flying off to somewhere new.
The two of you weren’t shy about sending some spicy pictures when you were alone in bed, the only rule was that it had to be over instagram so that they couldn’t be saved and potentially be leaked, for both of your sake.
Tonight, you were lying in your large bed that you shared with the wrestler, watching Monday Night Raw.
“Here in Orlando, Florida!” said the announcer.
You were grateful that she finally had a show in her home town so you knew she wasn’t far away. As the show went on, she was looking especially good tonight in her gear and makeup. The way her top accentuated everything just right, and her shorts were a little cheekier than normal. Her makeup was more eccentric than her normal purple eyes and her hair was thick with sweat from her match. The way she ran her hand through her hair as she stared down her opponent made you feel some type of way.
You didn’t notice you were constantly shifting and squirming in the bed until she finally pinned her challenger staring hungrily right into the camera. She threw the woman to the side and you couldn’t help but wish that you were the one being thrown around.
Finally giving into your cravings after the show ended, you send a sneak peek of your hand under the waistband of your pajamas shorts with the caption ‘you look so good tonight baby’.
She sends one back of her biting her lip, ‘you better wait until I get home’. You huffed at her response. You were getting more and more turned on as you thought of the many things she could do to you.
‘Hurry, please, I need you bad’ you sent her a pic of your hand out of your pants to prove you were waiting.
The next pic she sent was in her car, ‘don’t worry baby I’m coming’. Her makeup still on and her hair messy from her night. You loved her no matter what but you loved getting to mess up her makeup more than it already was; you also didn’t mind the black lipstick marks she would leave on you.
Although you knew she was coming home soon, you truly did try your best to keep from pleasuring yourself, but you couldn’t help it. You tried reading, you tried watching the show that came on after RAW, you tried every social media platform but everything reminded you of her and the ache you needed to soothe.
You felt a bit guilty but you did it anyway. You slipped your hand down and onto your throbbing center. Grazing your fingers over your folds, you felt how wet she made you without even being here. You started to gently draw small circles over your clit causing a small moan to come out. As you continued, you closed your eyes and imagined that it was her hand, pleasing you, making the pressure in your stomach rise, thinking about how she knew just what to do with you and how good she made you feel.
You were so immersed in this fantasy that you didn’t hear her come through the garage door calling for you, mainly because the TV was loud but you were so far gone already that it didn’t matter.
Unfortunately for you, you were making just enough noise to where she could figure out what you were doing before she walked into the bedroom.
You were going full force, your pace was fast but steady as you were arching your back, whining for the release. The pressure was close to its breaking point.
She crept into the bedroom watching you squirm under the covers until she could tell you were about to cum and she ripped the covers off of you, “What did I say?” she growled.
You screamed in shock, “SHIT!” you immediately pulled your hand out, “don’t do that! I thought you were a murderer!” you scrambled up onto the pillows muting the TV.
“You didn’t do as I said,” she stood over you.
“I know, I’m sorry,” you whined, “You just look soooo good tonight I couldn’t help it,” your center was aching for a release.
“You will definitely be sorry,” she said in a low voice before throwing off her tshirt and sweatpants revealing she still had her gear on.
“So you wanted me to take it off, huh?” you poked the bear.
Ignoring your question, “You couldn’t even wait for me to drive the thirty minutes to get here,” as she climbed on top of your straddling your hips.
“I’m so sor-”
“God you’re such a slut,” she put her hand over your mouth to stop you from saying anymore. “I was thinking in the car about all the things I could do to you…”
Your eyes were wide and your breathing was labored but you didn’t dare try to speak.
“…but you’ve just made it so easy for me,” her voice was deep and calm which scared you and turned you on at the same time. “Mmm,” she snapped the fingers of her free hand, “you were gonna be treated so well. I was going to take my time, really take my time, make you feel so good,” she leaned over you coming face to face with you, “but you don’t deserve the princess treatment,” she whispered.
If she barely grazed your core right now you’d be done for, immediately. She forcefully let go of your mouth as you took in a deep breath, still not saying anything.
“Since you want to be a whore,” she bent over you opening the drawer to the nightstand, “you’re gonna be treated like one,” and she pulled out the vibrator.
You knew you would be here for a while when she pulled that out. Your heart was in your ass but you couldn’t be more turned on. You gulped in response watching her situate herself on top of you to get the best position. Once she was comfy, with your legs spread and her kneeling in between them, she turned it on. It automatically starts at the lowest setting which you were grateful for. You were also grateful that she decided to keep your pajama shorts on…for now.
Placing the wand just barely on your already swollen clit, you immediately moaned at the touch.
“I’m gonna get you so close over and over until you’re crying to cum for me, then maybe I’ll let you,” the australian accent barked.
“Fuck,” you whined as she pushed it harder onto you, “p-please don’t,” you lied.
“If you listened in the first place, we wouldn’t be here,” as her free hand glided up your leg.
You were fisting the sheets below you, breathing heavily as you whimpered quietly. Because of the event prior to her walking in, you were already close so it didn’t take long for the familiar feeling to creep back up again. And she could tell too, your breath gets shallower and faster and your legs tense up just before.
She left her hand on your thigh, waiting for the signal and there it was. As soon as your legs twitched she pulled the machine away from you.
You growled in frustration, slamming your fists down.
“Aw, someone’s all worked up,” she mocked.
She let you catch your breath, eyeing her smirking devilishly at you. Once your legs became relaxed again, she placed the vibrator back onto you, with more pressure this time.
“Oh god,” you moaned, arching your back and the process started all over again.
Heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.
Replace the machine, heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.
Replace the machine, heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.
Replace the machine, heavy breathing, clenching fists, legs tense up, remove the machine.
Your legs were shaking so badly now it was hard for her to determine if you were tensing or not so she decided to finally take off your shorts. As her tattooed hands peeled them off you, a pool of your wetness seeped out onto the bed below you.
“Look at the mess you’ve made,” she smiled evilly, “all because you couldn’t listen,” she sighed dramatically.
“Please let me cum,” you whined, “I can’t do that anymore, please.”
“Don’t worry babygirl, you’ll get there,” she finally turned it off and set it aside. The wrestler easily scooted herself back towards the foot of the bed using your legs as leverage.
You groaned in response but it quickly turned into a moan when her tongue pressed against your wet folds. She lapped up as much as she could before she began to suck on your tired clit.
“mmmmRheaaa, please,” you breathed.
“You know the rules,” her voice was deep as she stared at you with those sapphire blue eyes.
One of her hands that was holding your legs open, moved to your entrance, asking to go in. Without much warning, she easily slipped two fingers inside of you slowly, letting you feel her the whole way.
Your back arched as soon as she did, slamming your eyes shut. “F-fuck,” you whined as she slowly began to pump in and out of you while her tongue continued to work. You could feel her smiling into you which drove you crazy.
Not too long after, your walls began to clench around her fingers and your legs tensed up once more, but in a matter of a second she pulled out and sat up.
“Fuck!” you yelled in frustration covering your face. Tears were forming under your hands but you didn’t want to let her see. You quickly wiped them away but avoided eye contact.
All she did was chuckle as she slinked off the bed. You didn’t want to know what she was doing because you were too upset so you closed your eyes and tried to drown out any noise.
After a few minutes you felt her climb back on top of you so you finally looked at her. “Damn it,” you sighed as you spotted the strap she had put on.
“Aw, come on now, princess. I thought you loved this,” she said mockingly.
“Yeah, when I’m not mad,” you shot back.
She immediately lunged forward and gripped around your neck with her hand, your eyes widened as you held onto her wrist trying to catch your breath.
Her eyes turned dark, “a slut like you should be grateful I’m even here to begin with,” she snarled. “You’ve been doing so well,” her eyes softened, “don’t fuck it up,” her voice was deep again. She held on a little longer to get her point across before she let go.
“I-I’m sorry,” you forced out, “I won’t.”
“Good girl,” she held out her hand, cupping it in front of your face, knowing she didn’t have to say anything for you to know what to do.
So you spit in her hand then watched her spread it over the strap. She readjusted herself to get it positioned just right. She basically folded you in half before leaning on her hands that landed beside your chest. Her thighs held your legs open as best she could. She looks down at your wet center as she guided in the fake dick.
“Oh god,” you gasped gripping onto her large biceps.
Ever so slowly, she watched it move in and out of you. Once she was satisfied with how it was going, she finally looked at you, “Since you’ve done soo good for me, I’ll let you cum…”
“Thank-”
“Over and over and over,” her thrusts became more frequent.
You groaned at her but didn’t want to make her more mad so you opted not to say anything. Her pace quickened and it didn’t take long for the pressure to build up again seeing how it had been there since the beginning.
Your nails dug into her arms as your legs began to shake again, your breath was leaving your lungs but you managed a quiet, “please.”
The black lipstick smiled devilishly at you, “do it,” she commanded.
And so you finally did. Your back arched as best it could, your legs shook vigorously, your hands slammed onto the bed, and you screamed in pleasure. You came so hard you were seeing stars.
Her hips kept plunging into you letting you ride it out but she had no plans of stopping there. In one swift movement, she pulled out, flipped you over, hiked your hips up and shoved it back into you.
“Holy fuck…yes,” you whined as she continued to wreck you.
She was gripping onto your hips, slamming you back into her, going as deep as possible. “Again,” was all she said.
After about a minute or so, the pressure was right back where it belonged. Hearing her labored breathing and small grunts helped you over the edge. The next one came unexpectedly but you didn’t mind and neither did she. You screamed once more as you bit down onto the sheets. Giving you a slap of satisfaction on your ass, you slid off the strap when she pushed you to the side.
She laid down next to you on her back and pointed at her hips, “sit.” When she was determined and in a mood she didn’t speak much, but she didn’t need to.
Weak and sweaty, you slowly sat yourself onto the dick. You grinded against her, feeling it swirl around inside you. You threw your head back, “mmmm,” as you leaned yourself on your hands that were stationed on her thighs.
She gripped your shirt that you forgot you had on and pulled you forward. She finally gave you a sloppy kiss, moaning into the sensation which sent shockwaves through your body. You loved hearing her. Letting go of the kiss, she held your hips and guided them up and down, making you bounce on the strap.
You tried to hold yourself up on your hands but you were too weak so you laid on top of her resting your head on her shoulder. You whined and moaned with every bounce into her neck.
“Mmmfuck…baby,” she breathed. This made you notice that she was getting off on this. You weren’t exactly sure how but you didn’t question it. Hearing her moan gave you a second wind, so you sat up, braced one hand on her thigh and cupped her face with the other, grinding and bouncing on the dick determining what she liked best.
As you rode her, the hand on her face moved to her neck and gripped as best it could but it wasn’t even close to her strength. She didn’t mind though because she moaned loudly at the feeling, sending her eyes rolling back into her head.
“God,” you growled, “you feel so good.”
She whimpered in response, and dug her nails into your hips.
Finally focusing back on yourself, you realized that the familiar knot was back. It wasn’t much longer until you released once more, doubling over her, shaking and crying out in pleasure.
And she followed soon after. “OH FUCK,” she screamed as she arched her back pushing her stomach into you. Her hands flew to your hair and back gripping and clawing their way through it. The two of you rode it out as long as possible.
You slowly got off of her and slumped beside her. You were both breathing heavily with your eyes closed taking in the moment. Neither of you could speak, you were so drained.
After a minute or two she slipped out of the strap and dropped it to the floor with a thud. “Was I too harsh?” she said weakly.
“Not at all,” you finally opened your eyes to look at her but she was already looking at you.
She gave you a sly smile, “so you liked the look tonight?”
“Ffffuck yes.”
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cherubispunk · 2 months
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NEPHILIM - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader
summary: the disturbing comforts the disturbed.
a note from Lucy: I swear there is fluff! I swear, I swear, I swear! You just have to squint *reeeeaaaalllly* hard. Yes, I read the book of genesis and the book numbers along with some extensive Wikipedia deep diving for like…a paragraph of lore. But is it really ever enough?
playlist | moodboard
wc: 2498
Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, I tried to keep her body type as generic as possible but he might be slightly skinny coded so please let me know and I’ll change it in edits, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, rough sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit)
series masterlist | m.list
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Genesis 6:4 The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown.
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The reality of it was, you and Joel were two people who lived in the same small town. Who’s paths crossed once to save your life, and the others when coincidence would grant you that small pleasure. He carried you to the care of an old man with blue eyes now milky in cataracts. Jude. Who nursed you to health in a metal framed bed of an old family home— now the town clinic. The knife that sliced open your side had been dirty, and sepsis soon spread in the bloody gash. Only with Joel finding you in the snow, and Jude delivering you antibiotics, did you recover back to health.
He wouldn’t visit you directly. He would visit Jude and glance at you through the doorway as he passed the hall to the elderly Man’s office. To distract from the man you read stories when bedridden. Parts of biblical scripture; Read the book of Genesis; Read the book of Numbers. Jude being a religious man who had the fortune of holding God in his heart, kept them among his medical journals and books. And the former was far more interesting than the later in your opinion. For in them were mentions of anthropomorphic creatures born of flesh, blood and divinity. Towering tall over common trees and temples built in the name of Lord God. You were no religious woman, but you found comfort in the fables of the Old Testament. And likened Joel to the Nephilim in all ways.
Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there. If he was all that bad…why did he save you? You saw his need to care, protect, understand. Not be understood. But just understand. You would let yourself dream of taking his rough edges to the smooth plane of a whetstone. People claimed you cannot buff brass into gold. That it will only be as such in your head. That it was a fools game, but the fool is rich in content, and poor in sorrow. For the fool has little to worry about while they live in ignorant bliss.
What wasn’t written in any of the books of the holy scripture was this; ‘The disturbing comforts the disturbed.’ But it might as well have been. It was practically the way god intended life to be. You are shaken, and you are weaned on being shaken, until stillness is a discomfort and your body begs to be rattled again. But harder.
You took a while to find your feet. Joel took it upon himself to wordlessly help you with any medial or manual task. You were given a house on the edge of town, up a hill in some remote street that was always quiet. It seemed the less social souls resided there. Not that you minded. It was jarring to say the least. Being cast out into the hostile wild. And then brought back into the warmth. Here you had clothes, food, a roof over your head, and community. It stung in the same way it does to run your hands under a scalding tap after labouring out in the cold. It made your fingers numb before they regained feeling. Stiff. And a trouble to flex them back and forth, closed fist, open palm; Closed fist, open palm.
It’s how you earned ‘Bambi’. A name only Joel would ever call you. Dear doe on her wobbly, spindly legs. He’d keep you upright. Despite being a good thirty year sicker than you. Dirty old man. Ditsy little girl.
Your time together was silent. And while he never said he cared, he showed it. By waiting for you each time you were in the stables. And he would walk through town with you a safe distance from his side, up to the top of the hill your house was on. The snow would crunch under his heavy boots and he wished he was lighter on his feet like you. Not a large bulk of a man with heavy feet and even heavier hand. Maybe Joel wasn't large by the world's standards, but he was still a giant to you- muscular, and broad shoulders. With hands that could engulf yours, or cradle the entire crown of your head with a single palm. His arms were strong, and large from manual labour, and tightly knotted with tendons and grizzly muscle like thick twisted ropes that held up sails. What you liked most, however, was his softer belly. Perhaps the only soft thing about him from what little you had seen, or heard, or assumed. You felt an intrinsic satisfaction in knowing he was well fed. And Joel didn't mind it either. It was a reminder to himself what he was in fact as safe as he could be. Anything to not go hungry again. He still kept his brawns either way. Kept his hands and mind busy with patrols and the odd job around town. Fixing roofs, garden sheds, building tables with spare lumber from the woodhouse, and chopping firewood for the colder months. At the beginning of winter he would spend most of his free time ensuring you had enough. He spent hours out in his backyard, swinging that axe down on log, after log of wood. Then carry it up the hill in a wheelbarrow to your front door. He did it for nothing. Nothing but the peace of mind that grew from the seed of knowing you were warm. But he was greeted with something you had baked, or sewn, or knitted, or grown in your empty hours alone. Apple and rhubarb pie, thick woollen gloves, sourdough bread with crunchy, thick crusts that crunched when he broke his bread.
“It’s nothin’.” He would say, and shrug, hands on his hips while he looked back at the finished product of whatever work he’d slaved over that entire afternoon. Be it a pile of firewood, raised garden beds, or a fixed gutter. “Just…do me a favour?” He asked.
“Yeah?”
“Keep that smile on y’face, Bambi. Don’t let anyone take it away from ya.” His face was stern. As if he was telling you, not asking you. But if you were to ever stop smiling he thought he’d keel over and die a little bit inside. Or part of him would anyway. The part of him you now had in your chest unwittingly.
You watched the mountain of a man, Big Bad Joel Miller, warm up. Day by slow day. He was on the threshold of it. Right there. But the toe of his thick winter boots never ventured onto floorboards. He stayed out in the cold. After a while you dared Joel to touch you. Tired of him only meeting halfway. He was a man of few words, but a man of so much action. And when you challenged him with your tongue, he countered with his touch. That night was hell under the guise of heaven for his restraint.
“Y’so bad for me, Bambi.” Joel grunted, his entire weight smothering you against the mattress of his bed. His cock dragging in and out of you slowly. “Old sinner like me ain’t made for you.” So slowly the anticipation ached in the joints of your toes that curled. His grip on your hips casting his handprint in a watercolour bloom. “That’s it, fuck– takin’ me so well.”
You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, back arching in a deep curve off the bed while his hips altered their pace. Just a tad quicker as you bucked up into him. The two of you climbing in tandem to the high. “That's it,” He repeated in a hiss, followed by a growl into your neck, “Keep archin’ that back for me.” You did just that, holding onto his forearms for leverage as you curled your spine a little deeper. A word came to mind. One you’d heard once before. Only once. But I held such a comfort to be able to label it. Hiraeth. He was that. And what you felt was that. A longing for a home. He treated you like you wouldn't break. But spoke as if words would lacerate you. One punctuated thrust, aided by your own slick was all it took, a moan for him deeper. A tear slipped from your eye and you let gravity do its work, pulling it from you. It slipped from the corner of your eye, and down your temple. “Good girl, Bambi.” He crooned, splaying both of his palms over your hairline and sweeping the hair that stuck to your forehead in the sheen of sweat atop your skin. His large hands dragged over the top of your skull to the crown of your head, down the back of your neck, and gripped. That soft fleshy part at the base of your skull and the top of your still curved spine.
It hurt. It deeply hurt. His calloused fingers, textured by the trigger of a gun, or the handle of an axe, pressing into your malleable skin. But you’d let Joel drag you to hell if it meant he would hold your hand. You didn't care how he touched you– how he was inside you. He could be buried to hilt in your cunt, or knuckle deep in an open wound. As long as he was there. You'd give the heavens, and the earth, and rot in hell if it meant he stayed. Joel swore you had the space for his heart next to yours. But you didn't have the stomach.
You gripped the skin of Joel’s back. Searching for a part of him to hold that would turn off the cynic in him. Or at least try. You gave up on that idea. Because the man that fucked you— the man that loved you in action and not words— was not kind. He was not gentle. He was bold, and sharp as broken glass, and blunt all in the same being. You knew the crease of his brow. You had it memorised.
He hooked a leg over his shoulder, opened you up to his greedy eyes. They misted into dark hickory at the sight of you taking him so well inside of you. Messy little cunt for him to play with whenever he pleased. His nostrils flared as he pressed deeper. And your reaction was as he planned. A cry of his name. Your sex drenched and accommodating every inch. “A cunt made for me.” He gritted through his teeth, leaning forward to sink his teeth into your bottom lip and lick into the wet cavern of your mouth; Take the taste of you back with him when he retreated again; Righting his hips and the angle he fucked you in.
“Made for you.” You agreed in a garble and a slur. As if drunk off the last dregs of his kindness that lay at the bottom of the bottle. Licking it dry for all it was still worth.
“Say it again.” Joel grunted, demanded.
“Made for you.” You repeated.
“Good little Bambi.”
From there it was the crescendo. And it came broken in two halves of two separate waves. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And the second was the one that broke you. Had you shattering. It tightened in your womb, behind the mouth of your cervix, and then released in slow flutter; Your walls relaxing and then contracting. And he came after with a groan and spilled inside of you.
He was no gentle lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. When he fucked you that night…it felt like he was trying to love you— but couldn’t. He was too conditioned to violence. It showed the ache he left behind. Nevertheless, you would take more than he was willing to offer. But what he dropped in your palm you stored away and hoarded like a greedy magpie with shiny little trinkets. He was warm. But not warm like a campfire. He was warm like hellflame. And you were okay with that. You would take your time with him, and slowly pry open a gap in his ribs to slip past. To love him to the marrow. Even the mangled parts. Find him at his very worst — The part humanity suffocated in. And love him there. Silently.
Joel ran a hand over the flank of your ribs and then curled around your navel to pull your back to his chest. Then kissed the crook of your neck in a silent apology to your skin for each mark or tender bruise he may have left. One that wasn't really needed, but you accepted it by reaching behind you and running your fingers through his thick greying curls. In times like these after it all, in the clot and space in between, you came to realise loving him was like loving being hungry. It felt good to want things. To feed yourself you swallowed your fear instead. You lay there, exhaustion heavy in your bones, a hand of his slipping between your legs to feel the evidence of him being there inside you. His spend sticky and thick and warm between your legs. You couldn't fight the impulsive twitch that jolted your spine when he pressed on your swollen, slick clit and drew lazy circles. “Mine now, Bambi.” He murmured into the skin of your shoulder. He didn't kiss the skin there, but rather trailed his chapped lips over your flesh in such a light touch it felt like it was hardly there. More a trick of the sex hazed, lust crazed mind. “Understand that?” And you nodded in silence with a small smile, watching out the frosted up window pane as the dawn stained the sky a burnt orange and angry red. It refracted and smeared in the crystallised ice. A thin sheet that obscured the image of the sycamore tree outside his bedroom window. The bare branches looked far more like the bones of skeletal fingers than a tree bare of leaves. Its bleach white bark only emphasised your image of it. Your vision. Nevertheless; The blackbird would sing, once again on its branch, a morning song you knew by heart.
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bylertruth3r · 1 month
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i was rewatching a heartstopper reaction video and i noticed this
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like Mike being obsessed with Superman? (and there's a superman actor who's gay)
and him having a shirtless man poster and a buff male dragon poster (because his type is Will, he's not really buff but he's broader than Mike) and you can see Mike looking at Will's arms during some scenes
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while Steve, B*lly and the tigers had posters of women in bikinis (because they like women)
y'all could say "there's also a woman there" but that movie was full of men showing off their muscles and like.. Mike? he also likes the Outsiders which again full of men with muscles
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(this is not against bi Mike truthers this is just what i think)
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while in his room Will has a poster of a skinny pink panther with a weight on the floor (like Mike) so i thin they added those details to show their type in men
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found the 2 pictures here
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youryanderedaddy · 4 months
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Are you still writing about Edgar?
Yeah but I yassified him (he's evil now) (well, more evil)
tw: female reader, non - con, cockwarming, snuff (watching), threats, captivity, abuse, hinted murder (not reader), degradation
My Ko - fi <3
You shudder, leaning back against his hard shoulders. You can feel the hot sweat sticking to your skin and you want to scratch at your body in a desperate attempt to feel yourself clean and proper again - but this isn’t an option when you’re so stuffed you feel like your insides are going numb. Of course this doesn’t stop the killing machine taking the appearance of a man from pounding into you even harder, short staccato thrusts that leave you breathless. You’re starting to notice the pattern - he’s slow in the beginning while you still have energy to keep up and gets meaner and meaner, bullying his way into your cervix as you get tired and sloppy.
“Keep your eyes on the fucking screen.” Edgar hisses in your ear with one meaty fist wrapped around your throat tight like a leash. Your legs are spread as far as they can go without dislocating, and despite all his hushed threats that leave you gagging, you still want them intact at the end of the torture session. You blink through the thick tears glued to your eyelashes and make an effort to focus on what’s happening on the small black and white TV. There is a girl. She’s screaming. She’s bleeding. A big buff guy with a chainsaw is taunting her - and you tell yourself it’s just a movie; it’s all fake. The blood, the cruel laughter, the scorching screams, the shivers they send down your spine. Such good actors, you think. Certainly better than you would be had you been in their shoes. 
“That’s the best part.” The killer whispers down your ear as his hand tightens around your neck, cutting your air supply for a good few seconds - and while you’re choking on your own spit, you can feel his member throb inside you, wet with pre - cum. Suddenly your heart starts beating faster inside your chest as if trying to break out of your ribcage, and you make the mistake of looking up. Perhaps you’re looking for some type of human warmth, for a smile, a reassuring glare, a dimple or even an automatic twitch of approval at the corner of his lips - but all you’re met with is the same old black porcelain mask along with a pair of cold dead eyes staring back at you, completely empty. Devoid of anything, but sadistic animal pleasure at your expense. 
“You’re not fucking looking, slut.” The man growls, agitated, reaching to slap you across the face. It stings, but you barely feel it, too overwhelmed to care about pain at this point. But eventually his deep, domineering voice registers in your head and you obey automatically, turning your head back at the screen. “That’s a good girl.” He coos at you, but such gentle words sound unnatural coming from him - he twists them. He fucks with them and messes them up, making a mockery out of the sweetness, manipulating intimacy in the way he knows would hurt the most, so when he hits you again, you can actually feel it.
On the tape you can make out certain blurry moments - there is a rather artistic close - up of the woman’s eye being torn out, making her chapstick - red lips curl up in an almost theatrical fashion, and if you didn’t know the creator of the film yourself, you would have fully believed it was just an overdramatic slasher movie meant to scare over - curious teenagers, locked in their mom’s basement. You can recall a long forgotten essay you had just started way before you were stolen away never to be seen again, about the objectifying sexual gaze in old horror flicks. You want to laugh, because it’s funny - but you don’t, because it’s also incredibly fucking sad. 
In the next moment his left hand is entangled into your shaggy, loosened locks, pulling at your scalp, and you moan, even when you know that to Edgar pain and pleasure mean all the same, look the same, sound the same - so how could he ever make out a difference? So you don’t blame him when he sinks his teeth into your throat and pumps himself inside you, bouncing your body up and down on his cock just like a toy, only slightly more human than a fleshlight. You can feel yourself growing wet and you look down just to make sure you’re still capable of such devine human feeling, but it’s yet another trap. 
It’s his fingers. They’re long and bloody, curling up inside your tight slippery hole. You hold back the sigh of relief, because it’s obviously not your blood - yet your eyebrows narrow. You can’t help but wonder who was the miserable fucker who died for you to not have a painful dry fuck for the first time in weeks, but you don’t let yourself dwell on the topic, because you’d rather die than let your captor see you cry for the second time.
“K-keep looking.” The murderer groans, short of breath, growing soft inside you - but of course he doesn’t pull out or even move away like the sadistic fuck he is. You’re not sure if he’s looking at you looking at the woman with her head decapitated and the knife sticking out her naked chest, or if he’s just blissed out and dissociating into space. Edgar pulls on his sweaty white shirt, and the only evidence of his humanity left - his lust, manifests as redness on his neck and white stars in his empty eyes. 
“You just twitched.” He purrs with a certain boyish giddiness to his usually husky voice, letting his hands grope at your open trembling thighs, caressing the old healed scars on your battered skin. “It’s because I’m fucking scared–” You try to argue, but the panic settles at the back of your throat like a massive, sticky lump of fear and you just can’t continue with whatever you wanted to say. Your voice is hoarse and tired anyways - why even try at this point? It always ends the same. 
“That means you’re getting used to it.” Edgar grins, stroking his chin as if he is deep in thought. Then he laughs with that nasty little chuckle that you now associate with pink razors and pins, and sometimes needles. “You used to fucking piss yourself at those helloween movies for kids.” He kisses your neck, pulling you closer into a bear hug, and you wonder if he’s intentionally squeezing all your vital organs in. “Now you’re getting off to my old tapes like a fucking snuff bunny. I’m proud of you, baby.” His mask falls on the ground, revealing his face. It’s the same as usual - evil and bloody. 
“Just don’t get too used to it, m’kay?” The killer smiles coldly, but his eyes remain just as lifeless as five seconds ago. He pinches your nose playfully, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Because soon enough you might just find yourself at the other end of it all.” He squints, his sides heating up with perverse excitement. “And I’d hate for you to make a boring actress.”
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grimmcheems · 3 months
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Buff Chichi😤💖
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Just thought it’d be funny to draw this, but at the same time I’m so mad we were robbed of a buff Chichi. Like….Miss Ma’am was the world’s strongest woman at some point and you’re saying she had no muscle mass whatsoever?!!?!?!asiwybfuheu
There is no way she wasn’t able to have that body 😭 I can understand maybe losing some of it when she was having Gohan, but to lose all that FOREVER?!?! Nahhhh. GOKU WOULD’VE BEEN ALL OVER HER TOO, don’t lie. Punching the air rn. This originally didn’t even have all the other doodles, it was just gonna be a meme art of Chichi carrying her man but it evolved during the second phase of the sketch 🗿
either way it’s a crime that we never see much of her to begin with, much less for her to actually have a body that could hold up to her old title. I’ve seen other buff chichi arts on here and they make me laugh so much bc y’all are wild so that’s why I made this😎. Anyways, if you are part of Chichi nation please rise up bc I don’t see many who appreciate her character, our queen was lost to bad writing and lack of screen time.😢
Also toddler Gohan is-aeljnfwljnf. He would def tell some bully that his mom can “beat their a$$”, though she would flip for just hearing about him using that language by his teacher and would more likely monitor him around Goku’s friends there on out lmao.
HC that OX King very much treats Chichi like a “daddy’s girl” therefore he always keeps mementos of her milestones growing up, hence the photos of her being ripped while going to tournaments or just training in their villages’ dojo. He got into scrapbooking when he got into taking more photos of her and definitely commissions or makes borders for them and adds stickers to them for funsies. :)
Goku may or may not also be a thigh type of guy, idk he would fr go wild with it if he had a more sculpted chichi but that could just be me🤷🏽��♀️
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