c-h-a-r-n-i-k
c-h-a-r-n-i-k
charlotte.
362 posts
23 // hey handsomes!!
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 4 months ago
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 4 months ago
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So like real quick-
Soap x PT!reader
Something something has leg issues something something Johnny finds a physical therapist to help something something after the stretching and some light exercises you get him on the table, belly down, massaging his thigh.
And he is MOANING like a cat in heat
"Aye right there-"
"Fuck, bonnie, those hands"
"Tha's right, dig in"
And like the professional you are, you ignore it.
But you cant ignore it when you flip him on his back to massage his quads.
The faces he makes and the eye contact when his eyes arent shut tight in pleasure.
You cant deny his attractiveness but you do see how unprofessional it is. So you finish the massage and tell him he can leave.
"No, I cannae, bonnie." You turn back to him, confused. "I think the issue's in my adductors." Johnny sits up on his elbows and spreads his legs.
You raise one eyebrow at him. "Then book another session, braw."
He's in love.
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 4 months ago
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the way i went
“awh :)”
“oh.”
“WOAH?”
like come on it would be disrespectful of you to leave so soon
Something something Ghost invites you to a family reunion and you're so excited to meet his people. He never talks about them so you know NOTHING about his parents or if he has any siblings, so you agree in a heartbeat without asking any questions or doing any research.
Something something you end up face down ass up in the dirt, fingers clawing at a thin gravestone as Ghost fucks you into the ground and tells you to say hi to daddy.
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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good LORD
i just stumbled upon this
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“CAMERAS / GOOD GHOSTS INTERLUDE”
PAIRING: Ghostface x Reader Reader and Ghostface are men. KINKTOBER CW: SMUT, filming, #1 warnings: ghostface and his casual degradation, blood mention, blowjob (receiving), humiliation kink, teeth-kiss to your d., mild praise
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“Look at the camera, baby. Look. At. The. Camera.”
Ghostface huffed in response, his arms obediently staying behind his back. He angles his head in a way that portrays he was staring into the lens, and you catch a glimpse of his chin just below his eternally screaming mask. With the instrument in the palm of your hand, you had evidence of his haunting arrival.
Actual blackmail against the cold-hearted, driven-by-bloodlust killer.
But you think you won’t use it any time soon. Not that it’s currently necessary.
You could barely fathom the whole ordeal, down to the tiniest detail. It was unbelievable. Ghostface was on his knees, his lips curving into a pout as his snark dies on the very tip of his petulant tongue. Additionally, his mouth was inches away from. . .your cock. Fucking hell, have you gone batshit?
Receiving a nasty, sloppy blowjob from him out of everyone you could’ve chosen past midnight wasn’t exactly ideal. Mostly due to how blood spatter clung to his wear, and who knows if it’s his or someone else’s—
The flat of his tongue drags a looong stripe along your weeping tip. “At least pay attention to me. Is my mouth not enough for a filthy thing like you?” He’s speaking as though you’re bringing him physical harm, but you figure that’s the way he is.
Wrenching your hand into the fabric surrounding the back of his head, you yank him forward until his lips were stretched around the top of your cock. “Shut up,” you command lowly, letting out a shaky gasp as he swallows you in repeatedly in an attempt not to gag, “Look good for me. C’mon.”
That’s the resemblance of a warning you give him, not even close, before the recording begins. Ghostface swears his heart unlocks an unknown door and flees his mortal body at the familiar click, a feeling he’s unable to identify crawling up his chest and sinks into his cheeks. Almost suffocating him with the feeling and by all means, he’s so fucking turned on.
It’s embarrassing. He couldn’t be caught like this. You won’t seriously have that file uploaded. Right?
He redirects his attention towards breathing properly. Then, he runs his tongue up and down a vein, easing himself into the taste of you. The scent of you.
Shit, what is he doing? He barely knows you—a surprising first occurrence—and yet...
Ghostface squeezes his thighs shut, trying to chase after some relief. Drool piles in his mouth, acting as a lubricant for him to take in more of your pulsing dick. He groans, sending vibrations that makes you accidentally stop the recording. It had went on for two minutes—that’s something.
You click on for the flash, letting it spring upwards in place, then you take a picture. He’s startled by the light, and you suddenly feel his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. You have half a mind to jerk, but you definitely don’t need him biting you.
Instead, you simply put on the record mode again. It certainly doesn’t take long for you to feel him slowly sucking you as an apology, his own cock throbbing in his pants when you don’t react to the pain. He probably appeared as some useless slut to you, something that he isn’t. The thought alone has a whine creep into his throat, but he’s not going to let you hear that.
You bring the camera closer to his masked face, capturing the way his saliva coats your length. “There we go,” you sigh, watching him sink more of you into his pretty little mouth, “That’s a good boy, Ghost. Mnn, hhfuck, that’s a good boy.”
The sound of your voice. . .he wonders how you’ll feel inside of h—oh, he’s hooked.
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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once again: soap.
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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I'm glad that people are still having fun on tumblr even after we found out about the frightening ghoul that reblogs posts but doesn't say anything
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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Whoever wrote this, slayed so hard with all these statements, truer words have never been spoken
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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fuck yeah you do that
Why do people keep reblogging that photo of a goth chick in a combine harvester
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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A 4th century CE statue of Aphroditos. Her cock wards off evil spirits. Reblog to rid your blog of evil spirits.
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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look i know it’s generic but GOOD GOOGALY MOOOGALLYYYYY
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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ᨖ
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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EVEN THE BUS DRIVER??
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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dude i always thought getting drunk on the weekend of st patrick’s day was a myth
like yknow black cats and fortune telling
no youre telling me that an entire bus full of drunk green people just got pulled over outside my house and now they’re all getting loaded into cop cars
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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please
someone .Sedate me
i ‘m Frothing at the mouth Over this song
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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So. Highly inspired by this series
Imagine dying next to Ghost. Alongside him. In bed, asleep together, and it’s no one’s fault. It wasn’t a targeted attack. A gas leak. There was no pain, no panic, nothing. Tragic, before your time, and wrought with the impotent agony that can only come about when there’s no target for revenge.
There are worse things, than being a trapped spirit with the man you loved in the house where you loved him. Despite how all of the world has gone quiet, you can still feel him, and he can feel you.
You can still make love.
But every so often, when he takes you from behind, you feel this sharp, burning pain in your back. You know it’s his doing, but something about him has been so… hard to read, since you both died. Even though you don’t have anything left to lose, he holds you tighter than he ever did before. Won’t leave you alone for a moment. There’s terror in his eyes. You don’t understand it— he died in peace. None of the things that haunted him in life can follow him here. But you don’t have the courage to ask him.
He’ll die a thousand times over before he tells you that he’s ripping the feathers from your back because god is trying to take you somewhere he can’t follow.
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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Instant Checkmate.
Bug Fact: A species of Male Sea Snail, Solenosteira macrospira, carry female eggs on their shell. Not all of these eggs are fertilized by the one male though. It's theorized that the fatherly instincts, to care for eggs not of his own, are a desired trait by females. Pictures Below
V2 First || Prev // Next...
Volume 2 Masterpost
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Not the Step-Father. The Father that Stepped Up 🥺 🐌
The male Solenosteira macrospira is on the left and is carrying snail eggs on its shell. 
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c-h-a-r-n-i-k · 5 months ago
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oh my god this is adorable wghh
raising your kids right >>>
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Dad! Price + pregnant! reader
John Price wasn’t a man prone to sentiment. But lately, he’d caught his son watching him with that quiet, studious expression that five year olds wore when they were trying to understand something big.
It started small. A look, a tilt of the head when John helped you ease onto the couch, one hand steady at your back, the other adjusting the pillows just right. Then came the little imitations—a small hand pressed to your knee when you sighed, a too-big glass of water pushed into your hands before you even asked for it.
Yeah. The boy was watching.
John saw it in the way his son trailed after him, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was trying to map out the rhythm of care he has always provided for you.
He didn’t just follow orders; he anticipated. When John pulled out a chair for you, the boy did the same at breakfast the next morning, brows drawn in concentration as he dragged the heavy thing across the floor. When John pressed a hand to your lower back in passing, the kid reached up later, tiny palm resting there for half a second before scampering off, satisfied with a smile that he made his mother feel comfortable.
And when you winced one evening, shifting uncomfortably, it was your son who slipped off the couch without a word, returning a minute later with one of your small heating pads from the bathroom. He set it down beside you, nudging it toward your hand before looking up expectantly.
John, sitting across from you, just huffed a quiet laugh.
Smart boy.
He didn’t tell him to do any of this. Didn’t have to.
The kid was simply learning straight from him. Picking up on the way his father moved around his mother, how he noticed things before you had to say them, how care wasn’t in grand gestures but in the easy, natural rhythm of love.
John caught his son’s eye, tilting his head just slightly. The boy straightened a little, waiting.
Good lad, he thought, with a small nod of approval.
He was going to turn out just fine.
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