This clip of Hoffman specifically has me by the throat. I can't get enough of it.
God just look at how big his tits look in that shirt


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This clip of Hoffman specifically has me by the throat. I can't get enough of it.
God just look at how big his tits look in that shirt

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Pyramid head being the absolute gentle giant that he is? Let's say reader is a little cold and suggests that they could use a little warmth. and BAM Mister Muscle cuddles the shit out of them. Love youuu
Pyramid head my sweet little man đĽ°đđłđ this ones a little short hope you donât mind
WC: 336
Warnings: not much really very soft
Pyramid Head âThe Executionerâ x gn Reader
The Nearness of You
Rain falls on the rusted metal of his great big head piece. You're not sure if he's got a head underneath it, nor do you think you'll ever know. Sometimes, he tries to take it off. He groans in pain. Long sorrowful bellows. You think of them and squeeze his hand a little tighter. His palms are hot, but not sweaty somehow. He runs so hot and out here in the rain, you cling like saran wrap. Out in the Midwich courtyard, you sit on a bench with him. His knife leaned on it, you at his side. You're not sure what makes him like spending time with you either, you realize. To be truthful you've never known much at all about him. Just that he's got a pyramid structure over his head and the body of a muscle builder. That he likes to chop things. Not much at all. You also knew he was warm.
âHow are you so warm? I'm cold out here,â
The executioner does not feel the cold. At least, he does not allude to it. He doesn't get goosebumps, does not shiver. But you, a poor, soft, mortal cant help those things. Even when your arms aren't bare like his. He is confused. You tell him this because you want⌠His warmth? Should he retrieve more fabric? You hold his hand so close to you, he knows that you do not want him to leave. Ultimately, he decides to pick you up in his gloved hands. You startle, but ease over his lap. He grumbles, you can hear it inside of the metal. Your fingers touch his chest a little and he holds your small hands in his own, tucking you under his helmet.
âThanks,â In response, he pulls you closer, as you soak up his body heat like a sponge, listening to his rumbles through his chest and up through his diaphragm. âAren't you a cuddlebug?â He grumbles, inflected almost like a question and you press into him some more.
Thanks for reading !!!! Iâll try and write some more but girl school staring soon and I wanna cry đ
heheâ okay just read the fic where reader uses the killer to unhook themselves by putting their thighs around their headâ absolutely perfect fic đŤ can we get some more content? Maybe legion (joey + susie preferably), the pig and the oni?? Thank uuuu đą
i donât wanna make susies suggestive or anything since it hasnât been confirmed if sheâs a minor yet or not so iâll try to stay on the safe side ahdhsh
got this done cause an anon threatened to suck myers off if i didnât smh
idk how to characterize amanda since iâve never seen the saw movies rip :(
âľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľâľ
Joey:
GAWD DAMN
Ngl he was kinda into it.
Of course he didnât make that known, but you knew something was up when Joey wasnât even trying to fight back. That didnât really stop you from squeezing your thighs around him anyways, which he very much enjoyed. Of course he was caught off guard at first, and was actually pretty surprised, it didnât stop him from immediately realizing just how provocative the situation is.
Mans was on the ground for a whole 5 minutes just reveling in the fact he had someoneâs thighs around him. In this realm too? Itâs like a reward for doing well in trials. Joey loved every second of your thighs around him, and he wonât be afraid to admit it. Atleast around his friends heâs not.
Silently hopes you do it again. He WILL make sure the opportunity presents itself. Like Frank, heâs a little perv. Iâm sure youâll catch onto that at around the 5th time when he just stands infront of you waiting. You ask him about it outside of trials? Heâll just say he was thinking about something else. Obviously he zoned out.. when your thighs are wrapped around him..
Susie:
Agh! Get it off! Get it off!
Susie doesnât know whatâs going on and quite frankly she does not want to know. All she knows is that your nether regions are in her face and she is not fond of it! Please get off of her!! And stop squeezing her face.. Sheâs blushing and she doesnât know what to do!
She doesnât wanna talk about what happened.. Atleast not to her friends. Sheâs really embarrassed and now sheâs scared to go near you because she doesnât want you strangling her with your surprisingly strong legs. Well atleast you get a free escape when you have her as your killer!
Miiight(?) tell her friends if itâs still on her mind. What kind of sorcery did you curse upon her? Did your legs possess some sort of power to plague her mind with thoughts of that trial. She doesnât know. She just knows that sheâs always a mix of scared and flustered when sheâs near you now.
Amanda Young:
The hell? What are you doing?!
Amanda is not impressed, nor is she happy. Sheâs lucky she has a pig head on, or else sheâd be having cooch in her face. Usually itâs something she wouldnât complain about, but when itâs in a trial? Thatâs kind of embarrassing, and Amanda doesnât like getting embarrassed. It ruins her reputation..
Youâll hear a little squeal as she falls to the ground. Alright now youâre getting it. Amanda will not let herself be used like a domino just so you can escape! Youâre going to have a trap put on your head, and you will not have a good time the rest of the trial. Yes it was just because you decided to use them thunder thighs on her. She donât not appreciate being vulnerable like that!
Honestly she really does it just to hide the fact that she kinda liked it. She just didnât like the fact that she did in the first place. And she did not want those stupid emotions taking over
Kazan Yamaoka:
Not even sure youâll have a chance to get your legs around him before his quick reflexes snatch your legs and just about snap them. There is almost NO way you will be able to pull off such a stunt unless Kazan was already distracted. Itâll take a while before you even get close to getting him to the ground.
When you do? Kazan will not be happy. He is not happy that you managed to make him feel this way. He is not happy that his body reacted the way it did. Heâs overall just not happy that youâre a snack in his eyes. You managed to get him on the ground, and now heâs kinda turned on. Like what the fuck reader?? Why would you do such a thing to this man?
Kazan will tell himself that he should make you pay, and he probably does the first time, but the second time he tries his brain just.. doesnât work?? You really disrespected the most brutal samurai known to man and he canât even bring himself to do anything about it when he knows he should. Damn you and your thighs! How did you know Kazan was weak for those??
CANDYMAN (1992) dir. Bernard Rose
This was a process lol
Iâm still in the Wano arc-

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i can't even.........
a bunch of Dan comics, pls a bonus headcannon attatched sksks
Dan wearing blue-light-blocking glasses since he stares at a screen 24/7
Dan being for real
OKAY HEADCANNON TIME- ITS KINDA CRACKPOT BUT HEAR ME OUT AND TAKE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT:
"She was always like this... but not like... like THIS..."
Yeah... Dan's quest messed me up and I'll never be the same... :'(
Also closeups under the cut:
Finishing '25 off with doodles of my fav character from this year. He and others kept me sane through the madness đ

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You arrive in Hawkins as an adult with a reason to stay unnoticed. Henry Creel notices you anyway. Heâs already huntingâbut you become a complication he didnât plan for. Henry x Fem!reader
Word count: ~2,700
Chapter contains: â high tension, â§ light fluff, â intimate moments
You didnât come to Hawkins looking for trouble.
You told yourself that as your car rolled past the familiar âWelcomeâ sign, paint chipped, letters faded. You told yourself it was temporary. A few weeks, maybe a month. Just long enough to help your sister get back on her feet. Long enough to make sure the house wasnât going to swallow her whole after everything that happened.
Long enough to leave again.
The air felt wrong the moment you stepped out of the car. Not dramaticâjust⌠heavy. Like static pressing against your skin. You shook it off, popped the trunk, and grabbed your bag.
âYou okay?â your sister asked from the porch, her voice tired but trying.
âYeah,â you lied easily. âJust the drive.â
That night, you lay awake on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling fan as it clicked unevenly. Hawkins was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, like the town was holding its breath. Every so often, the lights flickered, barely noticeable, but enough to make your pulse jump.
That was the first night you felt it.
The sense that someone was listening.
You met Henry Creel two days later.
It wasnât dramatic. No thunder, no slow-motion recognition. Just a quiet, almost mundane moment that stuck to your ribs like it belonged there.
You were in the Hawkins public library, flipping through old newspapers. Your sister said it helpedâknowing what had happened, putting names to rumors. You werenât convinced, but it gave you something to do during the day.
âThose wonât tell you the truth.â
The voice was calm. Low. Too close.
You turned, startled, and nearly collided with a man standing just behind you. He was tall, dark hair neatly parted, eyes sharp in a way that made you feel like heâd already seen more of you than youâd offered.
âSorry,â you said automatically. âDidnât hear you.â
He smiled faintly. âMost people donât.â
Something about that sent a shiver down your spine.
âYouâre new,â he added.
âVisiting,â you corrected. âMy sister lives here.â
âUnfortunate place to settle,â he said, glancing around the library as if it were complicit in something. âHawkins has a way of⌠lingering.â
You studied him. âYou sound like youâre speaking from experience.â
âI am.â
There was a pause. Not awkwardâcharged. You realized you were still holding the newspaper open, fingers tight around the edges.
âYou looking for something specific?â he asked.
âPatterns,â you said before thinking. âI guess.â
His eyes sharpened. âCareful. Patterns look back.â
You laughed under your breath. âThatâs ominous.â
âItâs honest.â
He extended his hand. âHenry.â
You hesitated just a beat before taking it. His skin was warm. Too warm.
âY/N,â you said.
The moment lingered longer than necessary. His thumb brushed your knuckle before he let go, like it had been intentional. Like everything about him was intentional.
When he turned to leave, you watched him go without meaning to.
And when he paused at the door and looked backâjust onceâyou felt it again.
That static hum under your skin.
You ran into Henry everywhere after that.
At the grocery store, standing in the aisle like heâd been waiting for you to notice him. On Main Street, walking just slow enough that you caught up. Outside the school fence, gaze distant, unreadable.
You told yourself it was coincidence.
But coincidence didnât explain the way he watched you. Like you were a puzzle he hadnât decided whether to solve or destroy.
âYouâre avoiding something,â he said one evening, when you found yourselves sharing a bench outside the diner.
You raised an eyebrow. âDo I know you well enough for that kind of observation?â
âI know people,â he replied. âYou carry responsibility like a weight. Older sibling.â
Your stomach flipped. âThat obvious?â
âItâs in the way you look at the town,â he said. âLike youâre bracing for impact.â
You leaned back, arms crossed. âWhat about you?â
His gaze lingered. âIâm looking for⌠potential.â
The word landed strangely.
A waitress passed by, breaking the moment. When you looked back at him, his expression had softened just enough to seem human.
âYou shouldnât stay long,â he said quietly.
âWhy?â
âPeople get hurt here.â
You scoffed lightly. âBit late for that.â
He watched you closely, like your reaction mattered more than the answer itself.
What you didnât knowâwhat you couldnât knowâwas that Henry had already marked his targets.
The kids. The ones who slipped through the cracks of Hawkins, carrying grief like an open wound. They were loud in the way broken things always were.
Usually, he didnât hesitate.
Usually, there was no distraction strong enough to pull him away once heâd chosen.
But then there was you.
Your mind wasnât loud. It wasnât fractured. It was steady, layered, full of memories that werenât rottingâjust heavy. You thought of your sister first. Always. You thought of leaving. Of staying. Of wanting something you couldnât justify.
You were infuriatingly grounded.
And you kept getting in his way.
Heâd feel it when you were nearâhis focus slipping, his connection thinning. The noise dimmed when you spoke. When you laughed. When your eyes met his and didnât flinch.
It wasnât supposed to happen.
It did anyway.
The night the power went out across half of Hawkins, you found Henry standing outside your sisterâs house.
You nearly dropped your keys.
âJesusâHenry,â you said, heart racing. âYou scared me.â
He looked⌠off. Jaw tight. Eyes darker than usual.
âI needed to see you,â he said.
âAt my sisterâs place?â you asked. âThatâs not creepy at all.â
A corner of his mouth twitched. âI apologize.â
You studied him. âAre you okay?â
He hesitated.
âNo.â
That honesty caught you off guard.
âYou want to come in?â you offered, surprising yourself.
Inside, the house was quiet. Your sister was asleep upstairs. You led him to the kitchen, lit a candle when the overhead light refused to cooperate.
The flickering glow changed himâshadows pulling at his features, making him look older. Tired. Dangerous.
âYou should stay away from me,â he said suddenly.
You crossed your arms. âThatâs twice now youâve said something like that.â
âAnd yet you keep inviting me closer.â
You swallowed. âYou showed up.â
âBecause you make it difficult to focus,â he said.
The air thickened. âOn what?â
His gaze dropped to your mouth.
âOn my purpose.â
Your pulse hammered. âAnd whatâs that?â
He stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet. The heat between you was unmistakable.
âTo end suffering.â
You let out a quiet breath. âThat sounds⌠extreme.â
âPain is inevitable,â he said. âBut release isnât.â
You tilted your head. âYou talk like someone whoâs tried to carry the world alone.â
Something flickeredâanger, maybe. Or recognition.
âTouching me is a mistake,â he warned softly.
Your voice came out steadier than you felt. âThen stop standing so close.â
He didnât.
You reached out before your fear could catch up, fingers brushing his wrist. Electricity shot up your arm. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes closing briefly like he was restraining himself.
âY/N,â he said, voice strained. âYou donât understand what youâre interrupting.â
âThen explain it,â you whispered.
His eyes opened. Intense. Hungry. Conflicted.
Instead of answering, he leaned inâjust enough that your breath mingled, lips almost brushing.
It wasnât a kiss.
But it was close enough to count.
When he pulled back, his hands were clenched at his sides.
âThis canât continue,â he said.
You nodded, though every part of you disagreed. âOkay.â
He left without another word.
The candle blew out on its own seconds later.
The next day, rumors spread. Another incident. Another kid hospitalized. Another near-miss that felt too close to home.
Henry avoided you.
And it hurt more than you expected.
Until he didnât.
He found you behind the old high school gym, the air buzzing faintly. His composure was goneâhair messy, breath uneven.
âI tried,â he said. âI really did.â
Your chest tightened. âTried what?â
âTo ignore you.â
He closed the distance in two strides, hands bracketing your hips, not roughâbut firm. Grounding.
âThis is a distraction,â he said against your ear. âA dangerous one.â
You swallowed. âThen why are you here?â
âBecause when Iâm with you,â he admitted, voice low, âthe noise stops.â
That did something to you.
âHenry,â you whispered.
His lips brushed your jaw. Barely. Enough to light you up without crossing the line.
It was intoxicating. Terrifying.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.
He froze.
âI have to go,â he said sharply, pulling away like heâd been burned.
âWaitââ
He looked back, eyes glowing with something unreadable. âYou should leave Hawkins.â
âAnd you?â you asked.
His smile was sad. âI canât.â
He vanished into the trees, leaving the air crackling in his wake.
You stood there long after he was gone, heart pounding, knowing one terrible truth:
You werenât just distracting a monster.
You were becoming part of the reason he hadnât finished what he started.
And in Hawkins, unfinished things were the most dangerous of all.
something truly haunting has appeared on Coldwind Farm this Halloween
It not being in season won't stop me from drawing characters in swimwear
fascinated by his farmer whimsy + semi-selfship
sorry about this one

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fragile things
appreciating the little things