#Ripping wedgie

[shawedgie]

Day 28 of wedgietober was a ripping wedgie. Imagine seeing me in your headlights 😉

[jocks-wedgie-bitch]

The Football Jocks gave me a Ripping Atomic Wedgie, ripping my Tighty Whities for not doing their part of the group project humiliating me infront of the entire school. Thats what I get for being assigned partners with the Jocks

The Football Jocks gave me a Ripping Atomic Wedgie, ripping my Tighty Whities for not doing their part of the group project humiliating me infront of the entire school. Thats what I get for being assigned partners with the Jocks

[jocks-wedgie-bitch]

I declined the quarterbacks offer on being his nerd, doing his homework, and getting him the grades he needs to stay on the football team. The quarterback gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse by turning my Tighty Whities into suspenders crushing my nuts with a ripping shoulder wedgie, ruining my chances of ever having children in the future. The quarterback relentlessly flossed my ass with the mere g-string threading holding my Tighty Whities together forcing me into submitting to being his nerd for the rest of the year before ripping and gagging me with my skidmark stained Tighty Whities as punishment for refusing his offer in the first place.

[theveryworstthing]

to all who Eat today, i hope you Eat Well and your family doesn’t send your mental heath into a death spiral.

to those who Don’t, i get it.

[boxerbriefs4me]

Here we have the victim, the start, during, and aftermath. All great pics and so embarrassing in front of the whole family! 🤣

[kitnita]

i can't get over sorority squat delly & otter 🫶 (via the rangers)

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalley100

Prompt: Breathing Room

Pairing: YasMoon

@karatecaulfield some angst from their S1 fallout because we barely got to see it </3

***

In her pictures, Yasmine looks pleased with herself.

Standing on a Parisian apartment terrace with her signature scowl, a cigarette she’s probably not supposed to have is clutched between her fingers. Her mom probably doesn’t know, out drinking somewhere her 16-year-old daughter isn’t allowed.

Moon sighs, putting her phone down. Yas is breathing the aroma of crepes, roses, baguettes, and strawberries 5000 miles from the mall they ditched class at. From the parents’ liquor cabinets they used to raid.

Her heart twists. They always said if they went down, it’d be together.

Last spring, Moon watched Yasmine go down alone.

***

We You were staying in Paris To get away from your parents You look so proud standing there with a frown and a cigarette Posting pictures of yourself on the internet Out on the terrace We You breathe in the air of this small town On our own, cutting class for the thrill of it Getting drunk on the bus, we were livin’ in

If we go down, then we go down together They’ll say you could do anything They’ll say that I was clever If we go down, then we go down together We’ll get away with everything Let’s show them we are better

[boxerbriefs4me]

In series, we have the victim, the target underwear, and the result/embarrassment! Don’t show off your Calvin Klein tighty whiteys around your friends!

[devil-in-hiding]

Bully soap who started fucking you in doggy with your thong pulled off to the side but he's using the waistband like a handle and the more worked up he gets the more he yanks until you're crying about the wedgie which ofc only works him up more

- @pricegouge

oh my god i love you

its honesty a miracle the fabric doesn’t rip under his rough touch, but any and all arguments are literally fucked from your brain as he bounces you back on his dick, yanking up on your thong on a particularly harsh thrust, watching the way your thong digs in between your cheeks, relishing in your pathetic wail

“k-knock it off!” you weakly try to push at his hands, but he presses you back down from the center of your back, adjusting his position so he can plant on of his feet in the bed, grip tightening on your hips as he grinds, smirking at the strangled gasp that you let out, feeling his cock kiss against your sweet spot

“what are you gonna do it about, hm? gonna push me off lass?”

[nobelisha]

since no one is in my asks or dms detailing the dirty things they’d do to me, I’ll tell you all about my first exhibitionist experience.

i haven’t been horny lately, so i decided to rub a bit while on tumblr for about an hour but that wasn’t enough. I gave myself some hanging wedgies (ripped two pairs of underswear) before deciding to go the library. I stuffed a bluetooth vibrator in my cunt (not on yet) and headed a nearby building with my work. I did some of my work before going to the bathroom.

These bathrooms stalls have floor length doors, so no cracks or anything. I locked it and turned my bluetooth vibe on before putting it back in. There, i gave myself another hanging wedgie, but the hook was too low, so i gave myself a bra strap wedgie. I stroked myself a little bit before I stripped down to just my bra and underwear.

I humped the automatic sensor on the toilet for a while before getting the idea to unlock the door so anyone could walk in. About 30 seconds after I did that, someone walked into the bathroom and I locked my stall door, before continuing to hump the sensor while someone was in the bathroom. I felt to so dirty, but i wished i had bought more toys with me so I could be even dirtier.

When no one else was in the bathroom, I gathered all my stuff and in just my shoes and my bra strap wedgie, I opened the bathroom stall and moved to a stall two doors down. There, i stuff toilet paper in my asshole to make it feel like i had a tail and I humped the toilet sensor again, while rubbing my bare tits against the cold wall in front of me, with my tongue out.

When someone came in the bathroom, i stopped humping and started to rub my dirty, soaked clit and I came so hard.

After this whole ordeal, I took the vibe out and had to go without any panties because they were soaked and I put my clothes back on.

I felt so guilty and dirty. Anybody could’ve walked in and my life would’ve been ruined. I said I would never do it again, but my cunt’s so wet just thinking about it and i’ve never cum so hard before.

[esoterictboy]

girls wearing thongs while their junk falls out, girls who are shy but wanna show off their pussy, girls who want you to see how fat their pussy/bulge looks in their underwear, girls who bend over so their g-string doesn’t cover their asshole, girls who like being wrestled to their ground and having their panties ripped off, who like getting wedgies cause the fabric rubs against them in all the right places, girls who like their underwear shoved in their mouths with their shirts rucked up so you can see them bare from the neck down, girls who like having their thighs spread so their underwear doesn’t cover anything but their clits and tips, who are leaking just from how bad they want you inside, need I say more ?

[coralphilosopherarbiter]

Part 3 of 3 of roommate wedgies. Again, this dude is getting his tighty whities demolished by his roommate. I love how crisp the ripping sounds are when this dude’s tighty whities are being destroyed. 😈

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 10 - lingerie

ghost x f!reader | 1.6k words cw: con->dubcon/noncon elements, mean!Simon, degradation (repeated use of the word ‘whore’), wedgies summary: what sort of man have you taken home? banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

“Careful. Hey, I said be careful…Simon!” 

Your date hook-up clearly isn’t listening to you. Hasn’t since he wrenched the keys from your hand and insisted on driving your car. Since he wedged a hand between your legs, dragging two thick fingers over the seam of your jeans the entire ride, ignoring the grip of your fingers around his wrist.

His hands are worn and calloused. The kind you want on your skin, not ripping off your shirt. The stitches pop and strain, breaking easily under his frenzy. Hips pinning you in place against the back of your couch. No niceties, no teasing. You squeak as he yanks the shredded cotton off you and tosses it over your houseplants.

You suppose, in a way, you’re getting what you wanted. Going on the hunt, wandering alone. Deciding to approach the roughest looking man at the bar in search of a memorable lay, settling on the scarred mammoth holding court with three of his friends. He had nursed the same glass he had since you walked in, and watched you polish off four. His attention carried weight, as did his latent approval each time you brushed another man off. 

Yes. This is what you want, you reassure yourself. You certainly won't forget this anytime soon.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he mutters under his breath, eyes darkening at your little surprise. A wine-red bra holding up and accentuating your chest, each cup overlaid with a sheer floral motif, the solid pad cutting just above your nipples to leave some things to the imagination. “Look at ya.”

You feel his hardening dick twitch against you. Tentatively, you release his forearms, hoping this is where his brutal crusade against your poor clothing ends. “Just thought I would…try something new.” You’ve no reason to explain this to him, a veritable stranger, but the longer he looks in silence, the more you feel the need to justify the choice.

“Yeah?” He finally says, licking his lips, and leaning in. His hands move slower, but their grip is still a hair too firm when he takes handfuls of your tits. His thumbs stroke over your nipples as he assesses the weight. “You do this often? Dressing all frumpy, ‘idin’ how much of a whore ya really are?”

The words punch a gasp from your lungs. Your eyes seize on him and go wide as saucers. “I’m not–I’m not–”

“No?” He chuckles, lips touching the curve of your jaw, hands squeezing meanly. Two fingers press into the lace, pinching and twisting until you physically fuss against him. “What kind of bird wears jeans,” he derides, emphasizing his distaste by wedging a knee between your legs. “When she’s lookin’ for a bit of rough? An’ dressed like this underneath?” Sharp teeth skim the underside of your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with a laugh at the way the sensation makes you shiver.

His knee lifts and presses. It presses the halves of words out of you.

“Si–you–I-I–oh, shit.”

He pulls back, smirking. “Stutterin’ already? We’ve barely started. Not a very good whore, are ya?”

Simon continues to take what he wants, smothering another volley of stuttered protests. His teeth clash with yours, fighting for every square inch before you give up and let him suck your tongue. The soured taste of tobacco and liquor acts as a strange reviver, peeling back the paper-thin veneer of his person. Lifts the veil like fog thinning from a field at dawn. The brief bit of banter you exchanged at the bar, which had felt gruff but charming in a homespun, rugged way, now feels fractured. More hollow than before. The haze gradually recedes with every nip and grope, leaving you with a creeping, uncomfortable clarity.

He pulls back, a string of spit snapping between you.

What sort of man have you taken home?

Your lips quiver as a hand roams south and yanks the button fly of your jeans open. His fingers dip beneath the waistband, only to retract.

“Knew it.” He takes half a step back, jerking your jeans down over your knees in one go, before settling his hands on your hips. He strokes greedily over the arches of the matching panties, fingers deft and impatient. They worm over and under the fabric, seemingly mesmerized by the same elaborate lace. “Such a fuckin’ tease.”

He kisses you again, bends his arm around your head, and tilts you backward. He keeps you on the backs of your heels, cupping your pussy over your panties, middle finger digging a trench against your wet seam. Your jeans fall and bunch around your ankles until the toe of a boot steps onto their cradle, and he helps you step out of them.

“Can–Can we please slow down?” You ask, holding onto his arms as you kick your jeans off.

Simon smiles, not too wide, just enough for the corners of his mouth to lift in what looks like an attempt. There’s something in his eyes—something dark, careful, and restrained.

“Alright.”

Simon swallows another request for him to take his shirt off and licks into your mouth. His arms band around your middle, mashing you together where you sit astride his lap. Chest to chest, belly to belly. Your stiff nipples chafe against the flowery broderie of your bra, its removal another ignored plea, and the gusset of your panties clings to your pussy, conforming to every fold. He rolls his hips up every so often up and into the wet spot or the cleft of your ass. Lazy but decisive, like he sits with you on a throne instead of your secondhand couch. Slow like you asked.

His teeth gradually nip sharper and sharper at your bottom lip, startling whimpers from your throat. Not enough to break the skin, but every scrape of his teeth pairs with a mean knead of your thighs and ass. Blunt fingernails prickle along the trim of your delicates and toy with the elastic, sending little zaps of a wary pleasure to your stomach. You attempt to inspire the same by raking your fingers through his buzzed hair, then intertwine them at his nape.

Your breath hitches when one of his hands leaves your bum to slip over the crux of your legs. 

“Mm, you’re soaked through,” He grunts into your mouth, adjusting your position to grind his shaft more precisely. “Such a filthy little thing you are. Drippin’ just from a bit of attention.” He croons mockingly, chasing after your lips when you duck your head shyly. He sucks a point on your jaw and presses a digit over your clothed hole.

“Touch me.” You gasp, clenching around nothing but the possibility of being filled by something of his.

“Touch you?” He echoes with a taunting lilt in his gravelly voice. “What ‘appened to takin’ it nice and slow? Decide you’re a whore after all?”

Your cheeks smart hot, but the sparks of indignation fizzle under a wave of need. He hasn’t rendered you completely brainless yet. You’ve done the math and felt the sheer size of him under your ass. If ‘whore’ is the worst of it, you can tolerate his piss-poor dirty talk, catch the dick of your life, and kick him to the curb after.

Simon’s fingers flatten to your sex, rubbing four fingers across with his thumb pressed to your clit. He pulls back, watching your eyes flutter as you leak into the fabric and onto his palm. You imagine the stretch, coming hard and wet around his fingers first. You think about his cock, how hot it’ll feel spearing into you like this. You sink so quickly into fantasy you don’t notice his fingers, instead gathering the front of your panties until the edge scratches your skin.

Your eyes narrow, drifting back to reality. “What’re you–?”

His grip tightens, then he gives a sharp tug upwards. 

A yelp flies out of you, and your hands immediately shove his chest, then grab for his wrist. He catches yours instead, interlocking them in one broad palm, and heaves them high like your panties. You cry out again as the material draws taut and mean over your clit and slips into your folds.

“Si-Simon! Stop!”

He holds on, chuckling as you try to arch out of his lap, hoisting your panties along so they stay firmly seated in and on your cunt.

“Nah, you’re too much fun like this,” Simon laughs. He toys with you, fingers squeezing your twitching wrists, yanking every few seconds. With each tug, he adjusts the angle slightly, seemingly keen on finding new notes for your pitchy warbling to hit. The elastic digs into your hips, the fabric rigid on your swollen clit. 

“So fuckin’ useless like this. Helpless. Jus’ a little doll for me to play with.” 

The seams stretch, audibly straining to the point you hope they rip. Hot and stinging tears bud at the corners of your eyes. He lowers his hand for a few seconds, providing momentary relief. His knuckles bump and brush through your bush, eliciting a low growl from him.

“How’s that for touchin’?” Simon reels you in, gaze flicking down. “Cunt’s practically eating these.“

It makes you look. It’s like he says. He saws the lace slowly, too unforgiving of a pressure to be anything but cruel. And though it does nothing for you, in fact, the opposite—he looks monstrous even through his clothes. You whimper at the sight of your tortured pussy next to his bulge.

“If you want me to stop…Then admit what you are.”

He lifts your panties, and you whimper. Tears drop onto his lap and more fall as you tremble uncomfortably. He leaves you dangling like that, occasionally bouncing his grip like your cunt’s a marionette. Stars burst and die behind your eyelids.

“C’mon.” He urges. “Say it—what are you?”

The sudden, searing, and thick presence of a sob lodged in your throat makes you hitch. It’s difficult to breathe around it. Shame and humiliation dig you further into a pit.

What sort of man have you taken home?

“A...whore.”

A thread snaps.

“That’s a good girl.”

[boxerbriefs4me]

Here we have the victim, the wedgie, the continued pull, and the finishing product. Everyone seems very proud of their work, but he is sad he lost his egg boxers 🤣🤣

[allurilove]

lmaooo recent henry and yan! husband cracked me up 😭😭😭 i need more of them fighting over reader /her attention PLSSSS PLSSS PLSSS

“This is my seat.”

“This has never been your seat, kid.” Your yandere husband mumbled and he already put the headphones over his ears.

Your husband wasn’t going to move from his spot. He wanted to sit next to you for the entirety of the flight, and he’ll be dammed if he had to sit with strangers. It’s a packed plane, and sadly the family couldn’t sit together.

He made sure you got the window seat per your request, and he was sat right next to you. All while Henry was forced to sit a couple rows behind you two, and he was pouting.

“It would be safer for Henry to sit next to me.” You chime in and you tried to usher your husband out of his spot. He scoffed.

“You afraid that he’ll get kidnapped or something? We’re on a plane. There’s nowhere to go.” Yandere husband makes a show of how much he wouldn’t get up, and he even starts to rip the plastic bag and pulled out the blanket.

—

Henry loves the water. He splashed around, jumping up and down, and he purposefully got his father wet. “Henry stop that.” Your husband frowned and he ran his fingers through his hair. The water droplets went down his chest, and it went down the lines of his abs. Despite how much he doesn’t get along with his son, and he still wanted to wear matching swim trunks with Henry.

Henry wanted to wear a bikini like his mom, or a one piece. Yandere husband was confused when Henry grabbed the exact same one as his mother, and instead of stopping him, he lets Henry try it on.

Henry had the biggest wedgie of all time.

So, wearing the same navy blue swim trunks with starfish on it wasn’t that bad. Henry rolled his eyes, “I’m having fun.”

“You’re annoying me.”

“Where’s mom?” Henry splashed his father again.

Yandere husband let out a groan of frustration. “She’s tanning. I’m here, play with me.”

“You don’t know how to play mermaids.” Henry deadpanned. His hands now on his hips and he glared at the older man. “And you always try to be over powered.”

Yandere husband looked offended and he pouted. “I— I don’t want to be a weak mermaid, and I’m a better swimmer than you. It’s not my fault Im faster.” He crossed his arms and he wasn’t about to back down.

“Ugh, mom!” Henry called for you, and he rushed to your side the moment his father started to argue back.

Yandere husband quickly pulled him back, his hand gripped the child’s shoulder. “Hey- you said I could spend time with your mother. You got to sleep in the same bed as her, and that’s already not fair.”

“I’m a kid-” Henry grimaced. “and you’re an old man. I have the most priority.”

“We got a room with two queen beds, just take the other one! Then you get to have the whole bed all to yourself.” Yandere husband snarled and he pinched the kids cheek. He really tried to be mad at his son, but he looked really adorable. Plus, they were matching! Practically twins at this point, and yandere husband scooped up Henry and hugged him tight.

“You’re such a little cutie~” Yandere husband cooed, and he gave his son a bunch of kisses on the cheeks.

Henry tried to fight back, and dodge the attack from his father, and he covered his face with his hands. “This… this is abuse!”