#I’m so tired of reporting and blocking

[sengad-apollo]

I wish the bots would ignore accounts who report them

[thetreethatspeaks]

okay these porn bots need to LEAVE ME ALONE!!! STOP FOLLOWING ME!!! i leave for like FOUR DAYS and there are SO MANY OF THEM!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

[purplbear]

I do not wish to play “block-a-bot” anymore.

[lemon-lime-deodorant]

all my life it was ‘i don’t feel the cold aha’

no. you just had fat to warm you.

this year winter will finally be cold.

[scrimple]

the empty floaty feeling is like i’m being hugged. it’s so warm and cozy and i feel like i’m not as alone when i cut myself

[izuizzy]

they’re also on instagram reposting a lot of art from @/miijiu (idk if they wanna be pinged) and they just recently posted art of talia that I have never posted on ig on there…. It’s so disrespectful.

@/malak2008627 is there handle on ig

^^^WARNING^^^

Don't interact with this person, they're notorious for stealing and reposting art of sonic OCs, Nymph included. They've been doing this for years and just now made a tumblr then tried to interact with me here. PLEASE BLOCK!!!!!

[reasonsforhope]

"Democratic Gov. Andy Beshear banned the use of “conversion therapy” on minors in Kentucky on Wednesday, calling his executive order a necessary step to protect children from a widely discredited practice that tries to change a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity through counseling.

The governor used his executive powers after Republicans who control the state legislature repeatedly blocked efforts to enact a state law banning the practice. Beshear said he would no longer wait for others to “do what’s right.”

“My faith teaches me that all children are children of God,” Beshear said during the signing ceremony at the Kentucky Capitol. “And where practices are endangering and even harming those children, we must act. The practice of so-called ‘conversion therapy’ hurts our children.”

It was the latest action in a national debate over conversion therapy and the rights of LGBTQ+ children and their families.

The Kentucky event stirred many emotions. Activists for mental health and LGBTQ+ rights cheered the governor, but as he prepared to sign the ban, someone nearby shouted, “This is a denial of affirmation therapy!” Supporters drowned out the protest.

Among those in attendance was Zach Meiners, a 34-year-old filmmaker who said he wants young people to be spared the anguish and harm he endured during four years of therapy as a teenager, which caused him “anxiety and depression in ways that I’m still unraveling.”

“I can speak firsthand to how devastating it can be to someone’s mental health,” Meiners said in an interview. “And I consider myself very lucky to be a survivor.” ...

Nearly half the states and the District of Columbia prohibit conversion therapy on minors, Beshear’s office said. In Kentucky, 21% of LGBTQ young people reported being threatened with or subjected to conversion therapy, according to the Trevor Project, a suicide prevention and crisis intervention organization for LGBTQ+ young people."

-via AP News, September 18, 2024

--

Note: That last paragraph puts in perspective for me just how far we've come, even amongst all the hate. Fifteen years ago, not a single state banned conversion therapy for minors. Ten years ago, only two states banned conversion therapy. As of this law, 24 states now ban conversion therapy for minors, plus DC, with another three having some restrictions on the process.

I remember how amazed and relieved I was, when my state (California) became the second state ever to ban conversion therapy for minor in 2012. Now those protections apply to almost half of the states, and probably well over half the US population (I'm too tired to do the math but blue states tend to have significantly more people.)

They can't close the barn doors on this. It's too late. We're already out the door, and our rights are breaking out alongside us more and more every year.

[rebornrosess]

has anyone else been getting an obscene amount of bot followings in the last few days? i'm not even exaggerating when i say i've had to block and report over 300 of them in the last week alone. i've been getting nearly 50 a day pls help it’s starting to feel legitimately hopeless. ))):

[reidrum]

i cannot stop thinking about reader giving jesus hair spencer a blowjob, and him using the hair tie he keeps on his wrist to put her hair up

hair tie | s.r

a/n: hey so this made me insane. also i wrote this really fast if it seems rushed that’s why. may we all be manhandled by jesus reid in the near future amen

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, blowjob, softdom!spence lowkey, reader has hair long enough to be tied up, can be read as gn!reader but lmk if i missed something!

wc: 888

——————————————————————————

spencer’s long hair was definitely a choice. he grew it out to his shoulders purely because he couldn’t make it to a barber, and simply because he didn’t really care. it did become a hassle when he’d be hunched over his desk finishing reports and strands of hair would fall forward and obstruct his eyesight.

he found that he would waste so much time when he paused to push his hair behind his ears (two minutes and thirty seconds slower, he counted). he’d come home to you and complain wondering how all women dealt with the long hair if it just always flew in front of them. how did you get anything done?

then one day when spencer came home from work, you had a small surprise for him. a pack of 100 black hairties.

“so you can just put your hair up in a little pony or man bun and keep working!” you’d exclaimed.

he was so endeared by the gesture, he rarely ever tied his hair up but he never left the house without a hair tie on his wrist. he liked having the option if he needed it, plus it always reminded him of you when he saw it.

the few times he’s used it are during intense heat waves in dc, when he’s dealing with toxic chemicals and such, and when he’s with you.

when he goes down on you, his hair would never stay in place. and it irked him to have to remove his fingers from you in order to fix it. you found it so hot though. he was deathly hot, but he really didn’t understand what it did to you when he was on his knees tying his hair up for you.

until it happened to him, of course.

he had come home from work, tired from the day at the office. you led him to the couch and told him to sit and relax while you took care of him. he spreads his legs open and leans back onto the couch, his arms fanning outwards to rest on the ledge, “you’re too good to me, baby.”

you were down on him, moving your head and back and forth on his length. you traced the underside vein with your tongue, getting as much as you could down your throat. the sight of you dribbling spit all over his cock sent him into another orbit. it was messy, lewd, and outright fucking hot.

but that hair of yours kept falling down your cheeks and blocked the beautiful view of him fucking your mouth. he rakes his hands through your hair, but as much as he could hold it on his own, your ministrations were too good for him to keep a good grip on it.

in a haste move, he removes his hands and you look up at him in confusion at the loss of contact. you watch intently as he rolls the hair tie off his sleeve, the one that you got him, and watch him tie your hair up in a haphazard ponytail.

jesus fucking christ.

you whimper at the gesture, overwhelmed by the feeling of him tying your hair up. he feels you falter for a second, before you raise both hands to the remaining of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth and hollow your cheeks out.

“fuck, angel, that’s so good—oh my god,” he mewls, “you like it when i tie your hair up? like when i—shit— use my own hair tie on you?”

you moan around his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body which he responded with a long groan, “bet you didn’t think this is what i’d use the hair ties for huh?”

he stares down at your face, tears streaming down both sides as you keep him in your mouth, as he twirls the ponytail in his big hand and tugs.

“baby, oh my god, fuck i’m gonna come.” he lets out, and soon he releases himself into your mouth as you swallow every last drop. you pull your mouth off his cock, leaning your cheek on his inner thigh as you stare up at him trying to catch your breath.

“holy shit.” you breathe out.

he laughs, “holy shit is right,” he strokes your hair gently, “was it actually hot when i tied your hair up?”

you look at him incredulously, “are you joking? the fact that i bought it for you to use, that you keep it on your wrist all the time, and that you used it on me when i was sucking you off, i could outcompete the sun right now.”

he pulls you off your knees to sit on his lap on the couch, “i’ll make note of that, my love,” he softly kisses you. cuddling further into his chest, you both end up falling asleep on the couch tangled all up in each other.

later down the line, spencer realizes that those cheap black hair ties aren’t all that great. they break easily and he finds it pulled out his hair, and probably your hair, a lot.

to solve this, spencer buys a pack of baby pink scrunchies that he keeps on his wrist at all times. he read somewhere they’re easier on the scalp. morgan makes fun of him for it, and while spencer rarely uses the scrunchies for himself, looking at the pink on his wrist always made his cock twitch a little no matter where he was.

[benevolence-divine]

I’d like to stop seeing bot posts every time I scroll through a tag on this site.

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

I’m so over these porn bots 😩

[fluentmoviequoter]

Yelling at Cops

Part 2 of Flirting with Cops

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: After you are injured, your fiancé Tim yells at you and treats you like a boot. When Wade and Nyla find out, they tell him what really happened.

Warnings: canon typical danger and action, explosion, r is injured and goes to the hospital, yelling/arguments, fluff, teasing

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Bradford,” Nyla whispers from the other side of the shop. “Tell me this-“

“Do I have to?” you ask.

“Yes, because I am your TO. I’m, like, a goddess in this shop. I have the power to-“

“Have me fired or make me a rookie forever,” you finish with a chuckle. “I know, ma’am.”

“Tell me this,” Nyla begins again. “Does Bradford call you boot?”

“No.”

“Never? Not even when he gets upset?”

“He hasn’t gotten super upset with me yet. Raised his voice once because I almost got hurt, but nothing serious. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did at some point, though.”

“7-Adam-19, there’s a reported 215 and 245 at Olympic and Burnside Avenue,” control alerts.

“7-Adam-19, show us responding,” Nyla radios.

“Carjacking and assault with a deadly weapon?”

“Welcome to Los Angeles,” Nyla jokes.

As you approach the intersection, you see a man with a large automatic rifle ducking behind a car. There are civilians on the other side of the road and an injured man on the driver’s side of the car.

“Control, 7-Adam-19 requesting backup. One armed, one injured,” Nyla informs. “Block this lane.”

You pull around with your side of the shop toward the gunman. The car is facing you, so he can’t escape unless it’s on foot. Nyla opens her door and slides out before staying low to go around the back of the shop. You watch the man beside you, and when he turns quickly, you lower your window and pull your gun from your holster. He has a different weapon when he twists toward you, and when he aims it toward the back tire, you know he’s going to hurt Nyla. You don’t think before acting, not like you should, at least.

You throw the door open and begin firing as you move back toward Nyla. She yells at you to get down, but you turn toward her instead.

“Run!” you yell.

As you run behind Nyla, trying to get away from the shop, the man shoots the new weapon, and the shop explodes behind you. You fall to the asphalt, and Nyla stumbles ahead of you. Ignoring the pain in your leg, you push yourself up and rush behind a parked car. Nyla’s eyes widen when she sees you, and she pushes up to look through the windows of the car to locate the man.

“Control, this is Harper. Where’s my backup?” she yells into the radio.

“ETA two minutes,” control responds.

“What do we do?” you ask. “He’ll run.”

“You don’t do anything,” Nyla snaps. “Control, send a R/A to my location.”

“Harper, he’s moving again,” you say.

“Not your concern,” she replies.

You look toward her, and she’s looking between your leg and the car across the street. What’s left of the shop is aflame in the middle of Olympic Boulevard, blocking part of the man’s location from view. When Nyla turns toward you, you finally look at your leg. Your pants are darkened with blood, and when you bend your knee, you hiss in pain.

“Don’t move,” Nyla demands.

You don’t listen and gently push your fingers against the side of your thigh. “It’s just a bunch of glass.”

“Shrapnel in your body is not just anything!”

“Harper, we have to do something or he’s going to hurt the other people.”

Nyla exhales deeply before nodding. “Bradford is going to kill me,” she murmurs.

“He’ll come for me first,” you say with a small smile.

“Alright. You go around the shop and I’ll come up from behind. If you have a shot, take it.”

As you limp around the far side of the intersection, you raise your weapon and look for the shooter. Nyla’s gun fires before you see him, and you rush out to cover her. When the man sees you, he drops the rifle in his hands and raises them.

“Nice work,” Nyla tells you. “Now sit down and wait for your ambulance.”

On cue, the ambulance pulls up and two paramedics rush to your side.

“I’ll alert Sergeant Bradford,” someone says.

“No!” you and Harper yell together.

“This is related to his case,” the officer argues.

Wade slams the door of his car and cuts off the rest of his sentence. “I’ll fill in Bradford,” he states. “You, though,” he says to you, “have a lot more to explain.”

“You’re going to tell him?” you ask him.

“Would you rather he find out over the radio?”

You shake your head, and the paramedics move your gurney into the ambulance.

“I’ll try to calm him down, but… good luck, kid. I’ll be by in a few.”

“Thank you. You too, Harper.”

“You saved my life. Sorry I yelled at you,” she offers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve just been moved to a private room after a painful hour of having shrapnel removed from your leg when Tim’s voice echoes through the hallways. He yells your name before his footsteps near your room. When he stops at the door, his chest is heaving, and his nostrils are flared.

“Are you out of your mind?” Tim demands loudly. “Harper should have you fired for that little stunt. I would! You are not here to be a hero, boot, and endangering lives – including yours – is not what being a cop is about!��

“Sergeant Bradford,” Wade says from behind Tim. “A word?”

“With me?” Tim asks. “Why don’t you remind the rookie in here about a little thing called procedure!”

“Tim,” Wade interjects. “Hallway. Now.”

Your eyes drop to your hands as they leave. Tim has never yelled at you like this before, and his insults and threats to have you fired do little to calm your nerves. Harper seemed mad when she first noticed your injury, but that was nothing compared to Tim’s reaction. You wait nervously for Tim, or at least Wade, to return from the hallway.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim begins to speak, but Wade raises a hand. He takes a deep breath to calm down before explaining everything he knows to Tim.

“I-“ Tim begins.

“No!” Wade says. “You don’t get to make an excuse about not knowing. You have known from the beginning, I told you from the beginning. When you came to me and said you were dating a rookie, I made an exception for you on one condition. I told you that if anything happened to her, it was on you. Not because you’re her superior, but because she is yours. This situation is unique, but you led me to believe you could handle it. Now, I’ll be honest, I did that hoping you’d back out and decide to wait to start a relationship, but once I saw the two of you together, my concerns became about what would happen if the two of you were separated by something or injured. That speech I just heard makes me think you’re just here as a cop. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll listen.”

“Why us?” Tim asks angrily. “Why are we worth the special treatment and personal attention?”

Somewhere along the way, Wade became like a father figure to you. When he agreed to let Tim continue seeing you without alerting IA, he threatened to demote, fire, or kill him if he did anything to jeopardize your career, life, or relationship.

“Because I care, Bradford. Is that so hard to believe? And right now, I’m wondering if you should go back to patrol or find a new station?”

“You can’t fire me for hurting her delicate little feelings, Wade!”

“And how would your feelings be if you were going to her funeral?” Wade snaps. Tim’s face drops and Wade adds, “Harper just filed her official statement. Their backup was two minutes away, and she would have been dead if your rookie hadn’t stepped in. They would both be dead, and I don’t know about you, but I think some glass shards to the leg is a whole lot better than a funeral.”

Tim’s eyes drop as he nods. “I messed up.”

“You did. Now do something about it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You look up immediately when the door opens. Tim walks in first, but Wade is close behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Tim begins. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you or threatened to have you fired, especially when I didn’t know as much as I thought I did. Are you okay?”

You nod, but Wade jumps in before you can say anything.

“I’m sorry, too. I went behind your back to keep Tim in line, or so I thought, from the very beginning. I should have been open with both of you, but I’ll do better now.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper, looking at Tim. You turn toward Wade to add, “And thank you for whatever it is you’ve done already.”

Wade nods and smiles before stepping back toward the door. Tim goes in the opposite direction and stops beside your bed.

“You’re really okay?” he asks as he takes your hand.

“Just sore. And I have to buy new pants.”

Tim sighs and pulls you into a hug, bending over to pull you close. You smile against him and rub his back. He’s tenser than you are, and he wasn’t even blown up.

You know that your relationship with Tim will never be easy, but it will always be worth the time and effort. Plus, your friends understand what you are going through and are there for you every step of the way.

“Visitor,” Wade alerts.

Tim steps back as Nyla walks in with a bag of your favorite snacks. Despite her original tough act, she does like you as a cop and as a friend.

“I heard someone yelled at you,” she says with a quick look toward Tim.

“He apologized. Didn’t bring me snacks though. Thank you!” you reply.

“He better keep apologizing,” Nyla adds, talking directly to Tim.

“I will,” he promises. “Glad you’re both okay.”

“Wait, does this mean I can’t help with the Metro case that I almost died for?” you interject.

“Not for a while,” Tim answers. “Gotta heal, first.”

“What was it you said? ‘Just some glass’, then walk it off,” Nyla says with a shrug.

“I wanted to ride with TO Bradford, the scariest in station history.”

You pout, and Tim shakes his head while Nyla laughs. Wade thinks about you and Tim riding together and wonders if you’d manage to get anything done.

“One cop is more than enough in my relationship,” Wade sighs. “I don’t know how you two do it.”

[scrimple]

what’s the point in living if i will always feel this depressed and suicidal

[lucyandalexiafan]

blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything. 

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms. 

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed. 

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl" 

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body. 

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want. 

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin. 

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me" 

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut" 

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact. 

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

[shitsndgiggs]

„my boyfriend reacts to my instagram dms“ with kenan? 👀 i feel like that would be fun 😭

INSTAGRAM DM’s - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan reacting to your DM’s

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I set my phone up on the kitchen counter, hit record, and turn to face Kenan, who is sitting next to me, looking curious yet slightly suspicious.

I have a grin plastered on my face, excited to see how this is going to play out.

“Alright, babe, I hope you’re ready for this,” I say, barely containing my laughter.

Kenan’s brows furrow, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile. “Ready for what?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, already sensing trouble.

“We’re doing the ‘Boyfriend Reacts to My Instagram DMs’ challenge!” I announce dramatically, making sure the camera catches every second of his reaction.

His eyes widen immediately, and he chuckles nervously. “Wait, what? Your DMs?” he repeats, like he didn’t quite hear me the first time.

“Yes!” I reply with a giggle. “Your job is to just… react.”

Kenan’s face breaks into a mischievous grin. “Alright, alright, hit me with it. I’m not scared,” he says, though I can see his curiosity mixing with a hint of nervousness.

I scrolled through my phone, picking the first message that had caught my eye. Clearing my throat, I read, “Here’s one: ‘I’d swim across the ocean just to meet you.’”

Kenan snorted, unable to hold back his amusement. “Yeah, well, I hope he knows how to swim really well because that’s a long way to go for a rejection,” he quipped, shaking his head with a grin.

I burst out laughing, and he can’t help but grin. “Okay, okay,” I say, trying to compose myself. “Here’s another: ‘I’d love to see what’s under that pretty dress of yours…’”

Kenan’s face turns from amused to downright indignant. “Wow, okay. This guy… Just no. That’s a solid 0 out of 10, report and block. Like, does he think he’s smooth? Nah, dude, keep dreaming.”

I can’t help but laugh harder. “Alright, alright, calm down. Next one: ‘If I were your boyfriend, I’d never let you out of my sight.’”

Kenan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that’s real healthy. Stalker vibes, much? And newsflash, buddy, she already has a boyfriend who’s got a perfect balance between protective and giving space. Unlike you.”

I’m laughing so hard I almost can’t speak. “Alright, this one’s kind of spicy… ‘You should be with a man who knows what to do with you.’”

Kenan’s jaw clenches a little, and he huffs out a breath. “Oh, please. First of all, I’m that man. Second, what’s he gonna do? Take you to McDonald’s and tell you you’re special? Amateur hour.”

I laugh, nudging him. “You’re getting so riled up!”

Kenan smirks but there’s a protective edge in his eyes. “I’m not riled up. I’m just stating facts.”

I continue with the next DM. “‘I don’t usually do this, but I’d make an exception for you.’”

Kenan rolls his eyes dramatically. “Wow, you’re so special that he’s willing to break his ‘mysterious rules.’ How romantic,” he mocks. “Dude, get in line with the other guys who think they’re original.”

I shake my head, biting back more laughter. “Okay, here’s a bold one: ‘If you ever get tired of that guy you’re with, I’d love to show you a real good time.’”

Kenan’s face darkens with jealousy. “A real good time?” he echoes. “Listen, man, her idea of a good time is binge-watching series in her PJs, with snacks and cuddles. And trust me, I’m the best at that.”

I giggle, loving his serious expression. “Alright, last one. And this one… oh boy. ‘‘I’d give up my whole life just for one date with you.’”

Kenan’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned forward, his expression full of mock concern. “Oh, buddy,” he said, pretending to look sad. “That’s… that’s just sad. I mean, at least aim for two dates. Show some confidence!”

I giggle a little at that, smiling softly. “Okay, you survived… barely.”

Kenan grins, still a little worked up but leaning back in his chair. “Oh, I did more than survive. I won. And these guys… they don’t even come close. Not even in the same universe.”

I lean closer, feeling the warmth in his voice, and he mirrors my movement, his lips brushing mine in a soft, sweet kiss that seems to erase all the silly DMs from memory.

As we pull back, Kenan gives a playful smirk. “You know, I think next time we should go through my DMs… just to be fair.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No way, I’m not ready for that kind of drama.”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Good. Because I have nothing to hide. And besides,” he leans in closer, whispering just for me, “you’re the only girl that matters.”

[coco-loco-nut]

We Can’t Be Friends

Pairing: George Russel x Reader

Summary: George’s girlfriend, a former child actor, is not well liked by the public

TW: mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, implied child exploitation

A/n: going off of the more popular interpretation of the song (ari vs the public)

requests open!🫶 masterlist

———————

You just finished filming a short interview in a docuseries with some of your former colleagues, those who fell into the same trap and downfall as you did. You prefer not to air everything out, but you knew your statement would support the others.

The industry basically forced you into a drug and alcohol addiction, one that you thankfully beat, but you went from someone who was once loved to someone hated, just from how the media spun your name.

You met George at a hospital event -you now work as a biochemist and bioengineer- and he immediately recognized his childhood crush. You dated for a year before feeling strong enough to go public, but ever since he posted a very cute picture of you, the hate has started again.

“I’ll make a statement asking them to leave you alone,” George offers but you shake your head no. He hates seeing you upset, but both of you didn’t expect the backlash on you.

“They won’t understand, they could never even try. They will never know what it was like to grow up like that, even the docuseries won’t help,” you start to dismiss the thought.

“We can’t do nothing,” he tries to reason, wanting to protect you.

“I don’t want to tiptoe around the public, but I don’t want to hide, either way I’m feeding this fire,” you groan, running your hand through your hair as you pace the room. You had to call off of work today, the entrance to your townhome being blocked by paparazzi.

“The story is gonna die, and we’ll be alright,” George stands up and pulls you into a hug. In your mind you picture the public liking you again, waiting for their love again.

A few days later, George drags you out of the house for lunch, you had only been leaving for work. The two of you step out, a reporter immediately coming up to you. You ignore the first few, sitting in your silence.

“It’s just me and you, Baby girl,” George whispers to you, supporting you however you choose to respond.

“Y/n, is it true that you have been in and out of rehab for the past year? You are in and out of hospitals,” one reporter, who always hounds you, asks causing you to whirl around. You don’t want to argue, but you don’t want to bite, so you choose a confusing answer.

“You’ve got me misunderstood, but at least I look this good,” you smirk, watching their face scrunch in confusion, gripping their paper and pen, before continuing your walk.

The next day a clip of one of your short interviews drops, taken while you were in college, as a trailer for the docuseries release the following week.

~-~-~-

I don’t like how this industry painted me, but I’m still here hanging, just not what they made me. It’s almost like a daydream sometimes, finally leaving that world. I feel so seen, I am everything that I defined myself as, not all that the industry made me be. My truth and I may always sit in silence, but one day I hope I am brave enough to say it out loud. For now, it’s only me on the road after recovery, but maybe that’s all I need.

~-~-~-

buzzfeed.com/uk

A list of every child actor we need to apologize to after watching “Drugged: The Truth Behind the Lives of Child Actors”

1. Y/n Y/l/n

~-~-~-

“Are you sure you want to go out there?” George asks, looking at the crowds of journalists. You nod, tired of being silent and waiting for things to be better, not caring about feeding the fire anymore.

“Let’s go,” you release a shaky breath, stepping out behind your boyfriend as he walks you to work.

“Y/n! Anything to comment regarding the documentary that’s been released and the allegations made by your former colleagues?” A journalist asks, the rest hoarding, pens at the ready.

“Actually, I do. You owe us an apology. Villainizing children who needed someone like you to expose how awful our working conditions were, that’s sick and cruel. You wrote lies about us, and instead of apologizing, you want to ask us for statements and exploit our names more? You’re sick. We can’t be friends,” you chem them out before continuing on your way to work. A part of you will always wait for their love, but you are tired of waiting for them to like you.

“You’re a badass. I hope they will see you are the biochemist and bioengineer, not the child actor. You’ve come so far and I’m so proud,” George says once your breathing steadies from the adrenaline.

“Thank you, Georgie,” a small part of you wants to flip them off behind you, just like you would’ve done ten years ago, but you don’t, finally moving forward.