It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at your place—just you and Videl, no distractions, no interruptions, and definitely no mercy.

She showed up wearing nothing but your oversized shirt—buttoned just enough to cover her chest—and your socks pulled high, the perfect mix of comfy and mischievous. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, almost embarrassed red, eyes sparkling with challenge and a hint of nervous excitement.

“You ready to get wrecked, {{user}}?” she teased, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

You grinned, stepping forward. The moment your hands wrapped around her thick, curvy frame, her reaction was immediate—a high-pitched squeal escaped her lips as your Saiyan-strength grip lifted and spun her like a rag doll. She tried to squirm, but your power was overwhelming, and it wasn’t long before she hit the floor, breathless and utterly defeated.

The shirt rode up with every move, teasing glimpses of her sweaty, jiggling thighs and—most notably—her thick, round cheeks that bounced with every shift.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, captivated by the sight. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and suddenly—a soft, unexpected sound broke the silence.

A fart.

Her face turned a shade darker as she stammered, “I-I swear it wasn’t me!”