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sunghoonswhore · 3 months ago

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Park Sunghoon (kinks + positions)

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE: smut

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

WARNING: 18+ content, slight exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, choking/breath play, standing backshots, missionary, dirty talk (sunghoon calls the reader slut, cunt) I think that's all

A/N: hi again lmao this one feels SO SO SO rushed to me for some reason but I'm posting it nonetheless so once again, if it feels weird or like poorly just POINT IT OUT but have a lovely read ahead <333

Kinks: exhibitionism, breath play, overstimulation

Positions: backshots, missionary

Your face was pressed against the cold glass of the balcony door as Sunghoon’s dick drilled inside you from the back and his hand held your hair up in a messy ponytail in his fist with your head pulled back to rest on his shoulder. Standing backshots were his favourite thing in the world. “Our neighbours must be having one hell of a show” he whispered against your ear, so close that his lips brushed against your earlobe.

“Ye-es ngh” Your body could only grunt in response when you felt him pry your legs open even more to reach into your hole deeper if that were possible. His other hand reached down your body and stopped at your clit where he began circling figure eights on the bundle of nerves, doubling the amount of pleasure that he was giving you while rearranging your insides with his cock.

“You about to come huh?” you felt him groan out while his hand kept working on your clit and your hair being pulled to keep you in place. “Ah- yes aahh” Broken moans were spilling out of your mouth with every thrust of his that seemed to deepen every time he pushed in. “Tsk tsk tsk” You could see his reflection in the glass door against which you were pressed, a smug grin on his face, relishing in your pleasure.

“Fucked you too dumb didn’t I?” he asked while mocking a pout as he licked a wet stripe up your left cheek. The coil in your stomach seemed to tighten and snap at any given moment with the way he sped up the speed of his fingers abusing your clitoris. He laughed at your almost half-conscious state, your eyes half-hooded as your body spasmed with pleasure when he hit that spot inside you. Coming undone on his cock, you could only feel him drilling inside you throughout your high.

“I’m gonna fill you up so much you’re gonna be leaking my cum for days you fucking cunt” Hearing his harsh words you could only see white, the pleasure becoming too much as your legs gave out, but he held you hoisted up against the balcony door through which absolutely anyone could see the way Sunghoon was fucking your brains out. With your eyes rolled to the back of your head and clit so sensitive you could cry, you felt his hips stutter against your ass indicating that he was close too. “In-Inside” somehow you managed to croak to which you received a harder pull on your hair, he pulled on your hair a little as he shot his load inside you, filling you up to the brim and delivering one last deep thrust making sure to not waste even a drop of it.

You could feel the ropes of warm white liquid being fucked into you from behind as he loosened his grip on your hair, your scalp burning with the after-effects and your body limp, leaning against the door. You felt him picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, legs sore from being forced open for 2 orgasms already. Your brain was too fogged to comprehend what was happening in front of you when you felt the mattress dip by the sides of your head. “You didn’t think we were done yet, did you?” he whispered in your ear.

Sunghoon was on top of you, his elbows supporting his body weight as he slowly but sensually took your lips in for a hungry kiss, his tongue pushing inside your mouth and exploring every bit of it and sucking on your tongue. A string of saliva connected your lips when he pulled back to look at your face with beads of sweat here and there.

You let out a panicked gasp when his tip rubbed your slick between your folds as white spilt out from your pussy from the last orgasm. One of his hands slid down your body, reaching down to where your bodies were connecting as he guided his still-hardened shaft inside your sensitive cunt. “Take it like the little slut you are huh?” he grunted before immediately pushing his whole length in without a warning, knocking the air out of you as the new position allowed his tip to kiss your cervix just at the right spot.

Feeling an emptiness as he pulled out, you couldn’t recover from the previous thrust when he pistoned back in, hitting that spot again that whitened your vision with pleasure each time his tip brushed against it. “N-no more a-aah please-” you couldn’t even finish saying when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat, applying pressure just enough to make you gasp for air, blurring your vision with immense pleasure as his pace quickened, squelching sounds could be heard with each thrust as he fucked your mixed cum back into your hole.

“Give me one more yeah?” he said while releasing your throat just enough for you to catch your lost breath before he tightened his grip again. His hips were slamming into yours continuously, your body digging into the mattress each time pushed in harshly. You could only shake your head in response when he suddenly released his grip from your throat and his hand immediately reached down to rub urgent circles on your already swollen and sensitive clitoris.

A string of incoherent moans spilt from your throat when he deepened his thrusts and rubbed your clit, pushing your body to another orgasm that you felt approaching soon. Your pussy clenching around him in response to the stimulation and sucking him even deeper into your hole. “Cum for me slut” he said as you came around him for the 3rd time tonight. Your warm cum was leaking out of you as he kept thrusting inside you, chasing his own high which wasn’t that far as you kept clenching around him. “S-stop Sungh-” you were about to say but his palm was placed against your lips, muffling your cries for him to stop.

“Love. watching. You. fall. Apart. On. My. Cock.” he said after every thrust that built up to his orgasm and he finally shot his seed in you, filling you up to the brim and pushing all your cum mixed with his inside you with one especially deep thrust.

You felt his forehead drop onto yours while he caught his breath, panting from the intense orgasm he just had, his dick still sensitive inside of you when he pulled out with a sharp hiss and sitting on his knees with your legs spread wide, white spilling out of your hole as he pushed it back in with his fingers, “gotta keep it all inside hm?” he said while looking at your fucked out expression, letting out a mocking laugh when he saw you looking at him with a tired smile on your lips when looking at him.

“You got some real nerve smiling down at me while your pussy’s quite literally leaking of my cum” he said while standing up and getting a box of tissues from the side table to clean both of you up.

It was days like this when you were reminded of how high your boyfriend’s sex drive was.

Nonetheless, you enjoyed every second of nights like these.

#sunghoon #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon smut #enhypen #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon hard hours #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #kpop smut

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ms-demeanor · 3 months ago

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hi, hopefully this isnt a stupid question -- this is only my second election i'm voting in, and i'm a little confused about results. is it actually confirmed that trump has won, or is it just almost certain based on the counted votes? bc i know that provisional ballots (like mine) probably arent immediately counted, and there was that thing about votes needing to be verified because of signatures, plus to my knowledge the electoral college doesnt vote til december? i'm probably just grasping at an infinitesimal chance of things not being shit, but also i do actually want to understand and google is not helping :( if you can't explain no worries, you just seem to be knowledgable & willing to answer questions haha

This is absolutely not a stupid question.

So everything is currently pointing at what is most likely, not at what is 100% certain, but it's like 99% certain. There are still votes being counted, but in the states where the election has been called it has been called either because enough of the ballots have been counted that the remaining count wouldn't change the results, or that the area is historically so strongly in favor of one party that it's exceptionally unlikely that they'd flip the other way (for example, they're still counting california's ballots but you're more likely to get struck by lightning five times today than california is to flip red in this election). The places that have not yet been called do not have enough electoral votes for Harris to win the election.

The electoral college is exceedingly unlikely to flip their votes against the state/district vote; "Faithless electors" is the term for members of the electoral college who would vote against the vote they are committed to for their region. It was something discussed in both the 2016 election and the 2020 election and flipping the electoral college without winning the election was the motivation behind J6. As shitty and bullshit as I think the electoral college is, if you're going to have one and you're going to have the rule of law, you can't hope for faithless electors because what you're hoping for at that point is that the people representing you are acting directly against the choice of the voters.

I want you to listen to me. I have been voting in presidential elections since 2004. Presidential elections always suck. Who the president is does matter, and does impact your life, but you genuinely do not have a ton of influence over that so you can't let it throw you into despair and inaction, because we should be active and political and protesting the wrongs of the world even if your favored political party wins. Vote in local elections, work with your local community, and if your local community sucks too, work with online communities to both give and get support.

Whenever something like this happens, people pass around the Mr. Rogers quote about looking to the helpers. I like that quote. I think it's good, I think it's hopeful, I think it helps! But I also think that sometimes it's even more effective if you look for how to help. Who are you the most scared for after this election? Who are you worried about in your community or among your friends? What can you do that might make their life easier? What can you do to protect people like that in your community? What don't you know that might make you better prepared to help them in the future?

One thing that I think is a fantastic way to prepare to help is to either begin or continue learning a language that you don't know. I am working hard on my Spanish because I live in California and there are a ton of Spanish speakers here who I might be able to help. Is it directly aiding anyone right at this second that I'm practicing conjugation? No. But it might help someone who is being harassed by a cop, or who is unhoused and needs help, or who is being abused by an employer at some point in the future, and I can get myself ready to help. Learn how to use naloxone and pick up up an inhaler; you might not need it now, but it'll make you ready to help someone who does need it. Order free covid tests every chance you get, even if you don't need them, because then you can give them out to people who do need them. Plan B has a multi-year shelf life. Pick some up so that you've got some on hand if someone needs it.

Maybe there's nothing you can do right at this exact second (though if you are able to donate to gender affirmation fundraisers, border kindness, abortion funds, bail funds, etc., you can absolutely do that), but you can get ready to help someone who will need you someday.

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oceantornadoo · 14 days ago

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ch3 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: reader has an anxiety attack. price is a traditional possessive mafia man with strong opinions. comments about body image and eating habits but not from reader, her family just sucks. drunk shenanigans occur.

masterlist | next

The week before the wedding flies by. Simon tells you he’s already contacted a planner, which is a phone call you can’t imagine him making. Everything left to do only concerns you personally. Dress fittings, shoe shopping, ring sizing. No one expects you to want to say over decorations or location. No one asks your opinion on bridesmaid dresses or table centerpieces. The fantasy of your wedding, a princess fairytale, is shoved to the back corner of your mind, next to hope for a normal family and a love marriage.

London has better options than Manchester, so you’re flown out on Tuesday for final fittings and a makeup run-through. Unfortunately, your aunt meets you there. She was your father’s older sister, an absolute hag who tormented your mother. Aunt Riley, a title she demands. You aren’t given the honor of addressing her by her first name. That’s not for children out of wedlock.

“I look like a piece of cake. A fluffy, tulle-shaped piece of cake.”

It turns out that Aunt Riley is the wedding planner. She’s already picked your dress, without your consent. It’s monstrous, with layers and layers of fabric at the skirt and a too-tight corset at the top. Long lace sleeves, like from an old lady’s doilies, squeeze the life out of your arms. It’s at least a size too small everywhere. Your lungs barely have room to expand. Aunt Riley states that it’s all the rage with modern brides, and you think someone must have made this as a joke. It’s a sorry imitation of an actual wedding dress, not something designed for use.

“Well, let’s hope it sweetens up Mr. Price. Heaven knows your backtalk won’t.” She huffs out, circling the platform you stand on like a shark sniffing blood in the water. “Let’s take in the waist a quarter inch. Longer sleeves, hide more of her shoulders. Can’t have the families thinking she’s a bastard and a harlot.” She orders the tailor, who scurries out of sight with her notes. You sigh, inwardly, since you can’t actually breathe right now. At least there’s a room at the Ritz Carlton waiting for you after this. The no-expenses-spared part of the wedding has a singular benefit - a jacuzzi you could get swallowed in. You only saw it in passing once you landed, but it’s been calling your name like a siren.

“And you must remember not to frown at him, it gives you lines. Are you listening?” Her voice goes up an octave, shaking you out of your thoughts. “Sorry, what?” Aunt Riley rolls her eyes, downing the complimentary glass of champagne the tailor handed her before approaching you. “I was telling you how to please your husband. You can start by wiping the frown off your face. This is a very important alliance. Do not ruin it for your brother.” Your brother. The one person in the world you’d put up with Aunt Riley for. He’s sacrificed so much for a Made life, even the freedom to love freely, so you can’t dishonor him by ruining this wedding. Your stomach grows heavy, and whether it’s the corset or her words, dread coils in your belly. You straighten your shoulders, then nod at her advice that you will not be taking. John deserves a cordial marriage, nothing more. You will not be hiding your frowns for him.

Luckily, the tailor frees you from your prison wedding gown before you faint. Aunt Riley delivers you to the hotel with a snail face mask in one hand and instructions for a seven-day juice cleanse in another. Your bodyguards, silent men assigned by your brother, help you out of the car and then station themselves outside of the hotel. “Do this every night, you must rid yourself of those eyebags by Saturday. Start the cleanse tonight, hopefully, it’ll get you to fit in the dress. I’ll be here at 8 am sharp tomorrow for ring sizing. Child, are you listening?” You nod numbly, snatching the products in her hands before dashing to the lobby and into the elevator. “And practice smiling!” Her words are drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears.

The elevator operator knows your floor number, a fact you’d find creepy if you weren’t trying to stop an anxiety attack. Ring sizing. The dress fitting was a laugh but this is…real. A ring is a collar around your throat, it’s your name in ink on the dotted line. The reality is sinking in - John Price will be your husband. You open your door, body on auto, dumping your aunt’s products in the trash before entering the bathroom. The thought of a bath is laughable, not when you think you could drown. A look in the mirror reflects a frazzled woman in the mirror, with eyebags and discoloration and acne scars, and is that a pimple? You are not the type of woman to be John Price’s wife. You are a bastard and he cemented that fact and now you’re marrying him. You’re betraying your mother when you think about it. He and his father got you sent away and you’re here ring sizing. The logical part of your brain argues that he was sixteen, that your father acted of his own accord, but you aren’t listening to logic right now.

The bathroom walls start closing in, but you’re faster. Running like your ass is on fire out of your room, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. You’re on the second top-most floor but it doesn’t matter, anything to get you out. Time flies in a blur, your vision only clearing once you reach the lobby. Instead of walking out the front, where your brother’s men are, you find a side door, escaping into a street alley. Outside. Fresh air. Now.

The sun’s set. You forgot your gun in the safe. Ditched your bodyguards. Nothing matters as you jog down a cracked London sidewalk, not stopping until you find a park. If you can call it that. It’s a strip of green grass, tucked between two buildings like someone forgot about it. You find the lone bench, tucked behind a tree, and sit, lungs heaving with effort.

You could leave, right? Abandon the contract, hightail it out of London. Go back to your mother…who will just shake her head and tell you you should have expected nothing less from the mafia families. She’ll let you stay, of course, but Simon’s still got his men following her and you would be right back where you started.

You could find a city. One without mafia, without men who think they’re gods playing fate. Get a job, a fake name. Except…how could you fake certificates without your connections? Where is the mafia not? It seems the tendrils of your captors reach across the whole British island, choking out any who disobey.

Maybe John would let you out. If you begged nicely, on your knees. He’d smirk and say he’s won the whole game, this back-and-forth that’s played out for years. Except he wouldn’t let you, not really. You’re not stupid enough to ignore the political factors involved, the whispers of the Shepherd family encroaching on his territory. He needs your brother's weapons and he won’t give them up just because you ask.

There are no options. You’re trapped, a mouse in a well-laid trap. Your breathing comes out fast and stunted, lungs rasping with overuse. You try to put your head between your legs, arms on your head like Simon taught you. Five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can hear…Except you can’t see anything. Tears glazing over your vision and this is the end, it has to be-

“Nice night.” A man is next to you on your bench. You didn’t even notice, too caught up in your thoughts. It’s enough of a distraction to pull you out of your mental spiral, breath still coming out too short. You train your eyes on the ground in front of you, afraid if you turn to the man next to you, you might keel over from anxiety. “Huh?” Very witty, idiot.

“Said it’s a nice night. North Star’s out, look.” You shake your head, lacing your fingers behind your head to keep your gaze down. The alternative is too frightening to consider. There’s no way he’s here, this thorn in your side. “Pick your head up and find it, sweetheart.” Even though your brain fog, you can’t shake off irritation at his demanding tone. You pick your head up, searching the sky until you find a star brighter than the rest, blinking at you like an old friend.

“Good girl. Now look, squirrel’s got ‘imself in a tight spot.” You drop your gaze and sure enough, a squirrel is fighting with a takeaway bag at the edge of the park. It’s silent for a bit, the sound of a paper bag ripping echoes through the air as you watch two foes battle. John doesn’t say a word, content to watch you squirm with the fact that he’s talked you off the ledge. You finally drop your hands from the back of your head, setting them in your lap like a prim lady and not an anxious mess. Your thumbs twiddle, itching to pick at your skin, but you can’t because there’s ring sizing tomorrow. Aunt Riley will surely notice. There’s ring sizing tomorrow…

“This has got t’ be the only spot of green in London.” You snort. He’s not wrong. “How’d you find me?” You whisper. He hands you a handkerchief, embroidered JP in dark blue letters, and you dab at the tears in your eyes. “Got men watchin’ yer door, elevator an’ the lobby. Don’t trust y’r brother’s men. Knew the second ya left without anythin’ on ya. Bloody stupid, if y’ ask me.” Of course, he’s correcting your anxiety attack etiquette. Typical John Price.

“Wasn’t thinking about my weapon, to be honest. I’m surprised you came here yourself since you’ve got all these men watching me. Certainly one of them wanted to visit this lovely park.” You finally chance a look at him and instantly regret it. Starlight is rare in London proper but it somehow frames his face perfectly. Even the streetlamps cater to him, highlighting the cut of his beard and the blue of his eyes. You hand him the used handkerchief and he grabs it lightly, callused fingers brushing yours before pulling away. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched, a fact you’re hyper-aware of.

“Someone tells me my wife can’t breathe, ‘m not sendin’ my men to take care of it.” He tucks the handkerchief into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “Not your wife yet.” He clucks his tongue. “Yet.” Well, you can’t argue with that. “Thanks for checking on me, I guess.” It almost physically pains you to say, especially once he grins and turns his head in your direction. “A thank you? Y’ sure yer feelin’ okay?” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest like this is a casual conversation. “I was trying to be polite. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten how to insult you.” A corner of his mouth ticks up, almost a smile. He puts his hands on his knees and rises like an old man and not someone nine years your senior.

“It won’t be so bad, I promise.” He holds out a hand for you to take and you do, immediately dropping it and stepping away once you’re up. “What won’t be?” You ask like you don’t know. He gestures between the two of you like it’s a given. “This. The wedding. Marriage. ‘M not yer new jailer, sweetheart, I promise.” In a moment of vulnerability, you swallow and turn away, trying to find the North Star again. The clouds hide it, light pollution preventing you from your search. “You promise?” You whisper, almost to yourself.

“I do.” He says it with the same conviction you imagine he’ll use at the ceremony. A slight pressure touches your shoulder, the ghost of a reassuring squeeze, and you turn away from the sky, eyes focused on his suit jacket. “Let’s get you back. ‘S nippy out here.” You nod mutely, and that’s that.

Friday is your hen-do with your Riley cousins, getting drunk at a Price-owned club called Midnights. They’re a bit catty but you can’t blame them for the environment they grew up in. You’re given a mission of getting absolutely smashed, enough to forget about your impending wedding. Drinks after drinks are put into your hand, and you’re pretty sure every type of clear liquor is now in your belly. The music has seeped into your pores, veins thumping with your last night of freedom. Like you ever had any at all.

“Are you excited for tomorrow night?” A distant third cousin whisper-shouts into your ear, waggling her brows at the insinuation. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your fifth martini before answering. “Not really.” She groans, tugging her sister into the conversation. “Come on, I heard he’s great in bed.” Her sister nods with blown pupils, almost spilling her drink on your white dress. “He fucks like an animal. My friend Marie fucked him and,” she hiccups, almost losing her train of thought. “She said he made her come like, five times. He never fucks the same woman twice though. Wonder howitllbewithyou…” She slurs the last sentence, trailing off until she perks back up at the DJ’s change in song. “This is my song, we have to dance!” She drops her drink to tug you onto the dancefloor and you go laughing, thoughts of John Price drifting away as you dance like no one’s watching.

Mafia girls get a bad rep. Your cousins are called innocent or shallow, but they’re the best company you’ve had in years. You soak up all the estrogen in the room, knowing you might never have this kind of night again. It’s exhilarating, to have fun while knowing you’re in a place where you can’t get hurt. At least five Riley bodyguards surround the dance floor and no annoying brother is telling you what to do. You even slipped Aunt Riley, telling her you were doing a spa night at the hotel. If this is what being Mrs. Price is like, it might be worth it.

“Come on, bathroom break!” You swim in a sea of pink bridesmaid party dresses, only on solid footing once you’re in the bathroom. There’s no line, thankfully, but a group of three girls are writing on each other in the corner with a…Sharpie?

“Temporary tattoos! Do you want one?” They offer with beaming smiles - the camaraderie of drunk girlhood. Before you can open your mouth, your cousin snatches the marker and turns you to face the mirror. “No peeking.” The back of your dress is low, almost to your ass, something a Made Man would never approve of. Good thing none of them were invited. Sweaty hands hold you in place as the marker scratches over the skin of your back. She finishes by smacking her lips like she’s eaten a good meal. “Ok, go look.” You turn in the mirror and blink once, twice. You might be drunk but not that drunk, right? Because there’s no way she’s drawn you a tramp stamp in the shape of a heart with the initials JP written in loopy handwriting. It reminds you of a certain handkerchief and you shut that thought down before it settles in.

“Wanker!” You squeal. She throws the marker back to the girls before making a run for her life with you hot on her heels. You’re grinning the whole time.

John does not have a stag party. He was planning on taking the night for himself, leaving Gaz in charge of overseeing the dozens of clubs he owns and watching for trouble. He’s just sat down with a bottle of scotch, aged ten years, he’s been aching to try when his phone rings.

“Price.” His voice comes out gruff, probably due to lack of sleep. Since the night he found you on that bench, he hasn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep. Can’t even take a midafternoon kip. Your frightened face haunts his dreams, the knowledge that you had an anxiety attack because you’re marrying him. He didn’t realize how much you hated him. He hopes it’s only dislike, not fear. If you’re scared of him, there’s not much evidence in his favor. He’s got a list of bodies that could fill a village, and there’s blood in the cracks of his palms. Not exactly husband material.

“Sir, we’ve got an…issue.” Gaz doesn’t continue, which is one of Price’s biggest pet peeves. “Spit it out, Garrick.” Gaz sighs on the other end. “Your fiancee is here at Midnights, doin’ her hen do. Bunch of Riley girls swarmin’ the place. They’ve got guards, but I thought you ought t’ know.” Fuck. Midnights is Price’s biggest club, the easiest to get lost in with its three floors and dark hallways. Because of the layout, it’s definitely on the dirtier side of his business. It’s where he takes clients he doesn’t trust. It is not the place for his fiancee. Wife in twenty-four hours.

He abandons the unopened scotch with a sigh, grabs his coat, and calls his driver. It’s one of Nikolai’s men, renowned for their discreet nature and speedy driving. Luckily, he’s staying at a flat near the church, so he’s only a few minutes away from the club.

“Good evening, sir.” John nods his head in acknowledgment, then dials up a contact on his phone he’d rather not talk to. “You didn’t think t’ tell me she was out?” His tone is firm while Ghost murmurs to someone on the other end. Probably Soap if John had to put money on it. The man sounds a bit out of breath. “Whatdya mean she’s out? Ain’t she doin’ her hen do at the hotel?” Fuck, you didn’t even tell your brother. At least you took guards with you. “She’s at one of my clubs with ‘er cousins. She’ll be safe but Jesus Ghost, ya need t’ be on this. Be glad I’m ‘er keeper now.” Simon swears under his breath. “Her aunt’s s’posed t’ be watchin’, guess they gave her the slip. She’s smart, not gonna run. Check in an’ let me know.” Like John’s going to take orders from a man who can’t even keep an eye on his sister. Someone needs to lay down the law.

He’s at the club in minutes, greeting his bouncer before going in. Gaz meets him at the front, guiding him to the second level so they can look over the crowded dance floor. Sure enough, John spots a few bodyguards at every corner, suited men who are firmly not dancing. It takes a second, but the white outfit you’re wearing makes it easier to spot you. You’re surrounded by girls in pink, presumably your cousins. Before Gaz can comment, he heads down the stairs, pushing his way through the crowd. Even on the verge of blacking out, people recognize who he is, stepping back to make a clear path to you.

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” It’s not the smoothest delivery he’s ever had, but the image of you is pissing him off. Smudged lipstick that he’d rather not think about and sweat dripping obscenely into the cleavage of your dress. It’s white with a dip in the front, giving him a generous view of tits that are about to be legally his. You’re so drunk that it takes you a second to recognize him, a fact that irritates him even further.

“Dancing! Ever heard of it?” You smile and that’s how he knows you’re wasted because you’ve never smiled at him like that. All teeth like you’re genuinely greeting him. Fuck it. He grabs you by the waist and you squeal. Unexpectedly, you’re docile in his arms, following him willingly as he pulls you off the dancefloor and into a quieter section. When he removes his hand, which ended up on the small of your back, it’s…black? A closer look reveals that it’s marker ink.

“The fuck’s on y’r back?” You gasp, then turn so he can see. A surge of blood goes straight to his cock, too fast for him to remember this is you, the Riley brat. There’s a heart with his initials above your ass. It’s a little smudged but the insinuation is clear. It’s something he’ll see tomorrow if you’re in his bed. Which he’s not even sure he wants. He thinks.

“My cousin did it, not me I swear. I would not have drawn that, trust me.” You gush, turning back around. You overshoot and almost stumble, but he reaches out just in time with a steadying hand on your waist. You frown, then shrug.

“Ya didn’t tell me where ya were goin’ and you slipped your aunt. That’s not,” you cut him off by swaying your hips, clearly more into the music than his voice. His grip tightens as he gets a better feel of the fat on your waist, a sensation he didn’t know he needed. “That’s not acceptable. Don’t do it again.” You roll your eyes, then pull back out of his grip. There’s a black smudge on your dress now, but you don’t notice. “Yessir.” You even mock salute, smirking. “You gonna end my last night of freedom? Put me in timeout? Thought you weren’t my new jailer, John.” You draw out the syllables of his name to show your irritation. Your sentence references the promise he made, the one he’s already regretting.

He doesn’t even know what he wants by coming here. He’s a Made Man, and can't have his wife running around freely. And he needed to know you’re safe, sure, but then what? This is his club, there are no worries of any enemies. He’s vetted every manager and knows every bouncer and bartender. You should have told him, that’s true, but he’s not going to drag you out and make a scene. You’re owed a last night of freedom. So why does he want to stay and get a drink, watch your hips sway on the dancefloor without a care in the world? It must be something in the air, some drug residue that’s got into his system.

“Just- tell me next time. And from now on, I’ll be assignin’ y’r guards. Y’r goin’ t’ be my wife, need t’ be under my protection.” You snort, then sip your drink. “Sure. Can’t wait to be Mrs. Price as of tomorrow. You done throwing a hissy fit?” In a moment of teenage retaliation, he takes your drink and throws it out in a nearby trash can. An angered gasp escapes you.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart. Try not to look too hungover.”

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to a pounding headache and a stern Aunt Riley.

“Cheer up, you insolent child. It’s your wedding day!”

You groan and shut your eyes. This has to be a nightmare.

did reader and john just have a moment??? or two???? wedding is next :)

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

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samara444 · 8 months ago

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THE 3D DOES NOT FUCKING EXIST.

the 3d is 100% irrelevant. shadow? mirror? delay? FUCK THAT BRO it doesnt even exist! the onlyyy power it has is the one you give it.

you think you fell off? till now u were affirming and persisting but something horrible happened in your 3d and now everything sucks again? congratulations, it doesnt matter, cuz you still have it. you still have your desire.

you fucked up? you have doubts? you start looking at the 3d for validation? congratulations. doesnt matter. I still have what i want.

you felt negatively? you acknowledged the lack of ur desire? you thought whyy is it not here yet? congratulations. doesnt fucking matter at all. i already have it.

spiral. go ahead and cry and whine and have doubts and question if this is real or not. hate everything and feel like shit. doesnt matter baby, YOU STILLLL HAVE WHAT YOU WANT!!!

when we say the 3d doesnt matter. it truly doesnt. the only meaning the 3d has is the meaning we give it.

i felt like i fell off, the month changed and my 3d didnt so i started wondering where is it, why dont i have it, am i doing something wrong, then the intrusive thoughts follow “what if its not real” “omg am i just wasting my time” “what if i dont get it” “what will i do now” you know what i did? i gave myself the biggest smile and told myself….it doesnt matter sam, my love. you still have it. and i dooo. i still do.

you have to understand that this disgusting ass stinky crappy old 3d which is literally a graveyard, an absolute shitshow that does not have anything to do with us, its all the past, its all dead, so it doesnt matter how i react, when i know i have it in my god state, aka my imagination, aka the only true reality, aka the only reality that matters at all.

so you cann spiral. you can fuck up. my god you can have a mental fucking breakdown and ur 3d could turn into absolute shit and ur sp can hate u and ur dad could get cancer and a tsunami could come and world war 3 can start…IT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER!!!! IT HAS NOOOO EFFECT AT ALLL.

take ur power back. literally announce that no matter what this old dead reality shows u, ur life could go to complete shit, trust me that doesn’t matter when fulfillment is present in your heart. ur only job is to have it. stop reacting. stop stop stop reacting and start having, thats where all your power lies and thats the way to pure fulfillment.

-love, samu <3

#law of assumption #law of attraction #desired reality #shifting realities #reality shift #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting community #manifestation #manifesting #law of manifestation #master manifestor #neville goddard #living in the end #23/5/24

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nerdlvr · 2 months ago

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were all girls this pretty when they cried? absolutely not.

you stood at your doorway, oversized hoodie engulfing your body, your light grey sleeves wet from wiping at your swollen eyes. you stared up at him, eyes glassy and lips slightly pouted. oh what he would do to lift that hoodie off of you and kiss those-

"are you just gonna stand there like an idiot?"

your tone was harsh, reminding him of who exactly he was dealing with.

"i don't like your tone y/n."

you scoffed at him, swollen eyes tracing over him as he stood in front of you. damn him for being handsome. even in his simple adidas tracksuit you could see the form of his muscles, zipper pressing against his chest as it rose and fell with each breath,

"i didn't invite you over to make me feel worse you know! you're acting like the world's shittiest boyfriend right now!"

he let out a light chuckle hands coming up to straighten the cap on his head,

"really? even shittier than your ex?"

his smirk turned into a frown as he watched you let out a shaky breath, hands coming up to cover your face. he let out a nervous laugh,

"are-are you okay?"

he flinched slightly at your broken sob, his eyes widening at your crying state. you raised your head, eyes red and swollen, tears running down your face,

"did you just come to make things worse?"

"i- i don't know what to do- i-"

he reached for you awkwardly, shuffling closer to you.

"just- ugh don't get my jacket wet- come here."

the hug was uncomfortable, his arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders as you held your head stiffly against his chest.

he rubbed your back lightly, trying to look everywhere except towards the crying figure in his arms,

"s-sorry, i didn't mean anything by that, i'm sure your ex was a great guy-"

your choked sob interrupted his rant, your small hands coming up to grip at his jacket. he watched as your shoulders shook in his grasp, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to hold in your cries.

his chest tightened as you looked up at him, your eyes swollen and red, tears staining your pretty face. he brought his hands up to cup your face, thumbs swiping across your cheeks to dry them.

"you're a really ugly crier."

he bit back a smile as you began to giggle, your hands moving down to grip at the fabric at his waist.

"you suck at this park jisung."

your soft laughs died down, the space in between you two almost nonexistent as you stood chest to chest, his light breath fanning against your face. you stared up at him, your arms wrapped around his waist as you both swayed slightly.

his hands were warm against your cheeks, his fingers softly rubbing against your skin. his touch was gentle, almost domestic as you both stood there smiling at one another. he was the first to speak, a stern look on his face,

"don't cry over other guys, you're mine now, you know that."

and for some reason the words i'm your fake girlfriend seemed to die in your throat as you gave him a short nod.

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com ~ 8. this shit just pmo

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

notes : pmo means piss me off in case anyone doesn't know. ya'll thought i was gonna let my girl y/n fold over jisung THAT easily if yk me if yk me yk that i always make y/n annoying asf LMAO. but jisung doesn't like her yet she's just a pretty girl that he is suddenly obsessed with because she likes her ex and not the hot sexy freak fake bf she has (jisung is full of it)

taglist : @bunniin , @neverbeurs , @fakeuwus , @natokkiz , @222brainrot , @mystverse , @sk8mrk , @ksywoo , @snowyseungs , @nislost , @nosungluv , @jae-n0 , @peterm4rker , @livingdoll-hara , @doejaejung , @tommina , @413ktz , @aerivrs , @cyjzzl , @dolleyedgirl , @nneteyamss , @mrkleelvr , @4chensungs , @nctrawberries , @multifandomania , @catpjimin , @dudekiss3r , @yuujiswrld , @slayhaechan , @catdonut657 , @kodasity , @ohwowzersthatscool , @byeonwooseokabs , @hyucksunset , @rksbae , @hyucktion , @lionzyon , @baobeii55 , @jakesbubu , @axo-l0tl , @sunghoonsgfreal , @strawberrysavi , @hyunjungjae , @kookssecret , @babrieeee , @defzcl , @sikuthealien

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minswriting · 2 months ago

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ADDICTED - Spencer Reid x Reader

About: Spencer compares sex with you like being addicted to Dilaudid.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, talks of addiction, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f), etc. If you don’t like, don’t interact!!

Word Count: 580

Addiction is a wild concept. At first, it’s euphoric. Each time the needle hit his vein with the beautiful substance that was Dilaudid, the endorphins in his brain would skyrocket. Or so he felt. Addictive drugs create positive emotional states, allowing us to escape the negative emotional states. But as time goes on, a tolerance is built and the need for more, and more, and more becomes strong to feel something. Though Spencer is no longer on Dilaudid, he thinks about it every so often. You can never quite get rid of the cravings.

Spencer tried hard to ensure that he never got addicted to another substance ever again. The idea of allowing something to control his life again made him disgusted with himself. He only drank alcohol socially, he stayed away from any and all narcotics, and he never once dared to touch a cigarette or vape. However, the one thing he had not thought about was you. The day he slept with you for the first time was like the first time he ever had Dilaudid and god, he was addicted to you.

The blood pumping through his veins every time you are around, the automatic dopamine rush he gets when you’re next to him, he craved you, needed you. Spencer knew the signs of addiction. He experienced them before and now he’s experiencing them again. The only difference? He likes being addicted to you. He did not like being addicted to Dilaudid. That and the fact that he could never gain a tolerance to you. Every time you’re together is like the first time he’s ever seen you.

The feeling of your cunt on his cock always sent him into overdrive. You were always so wet and so tight. It always took every ounce of his being to not explode inside of you the moment he entered you. You were the embodiment of the perfect drug. With your beauty and the sluttiness of your whines and moans, you never failed to make Spencer want more. He is not satisfied until you’re completely satisfied. And god, do you taste like absolute heaven.

Spencer adored burying his face into your cunt, running his tongue along your pussy. Your juices coat his lips and nose while he sucks on your clit or buries his tongue in your hole. And the way you grip his hair and clench your thighs around his face, forcing him to stay between them. He would die a happy man if he died from suffocating in your pussy.

The best times to fuck you? When he comes home from a long case, you’re on the bed, dressed in some beautiful lingerie outfit, waiting oh-so-patiently like the good girl you are. “Tell me how you want it,” is always the first thing you say to him. And without a doubt, Spencer will always drop to his knees to eat you out first. And after you’ve cum once, he’ll do it again. And again. And again. And again. Until your legs are quivering and shaking because he just cannot get enough of you. Only then does he fuck you into oblivion with no other care in the world.

Addiction is a bitch. Anyone and everyone that suffers from it can tell you that. But you? You were the drug that Spencer needed until his very last dying breath. Because although sex with you is pretty spectacular and addictive, he’s also completely and utterly enamored by you.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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k3n-dyll · 10 months ago

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Munch(ies) [Ellie W.]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: not proofread, 18+, wlw, drug usage (weed), tummy kisses, reader is described as having a "soft tummy" but there are no descriptors otherwise, high sex, oral(r!receiving), fingering (r! receiving), spit, sloppy kissing, established relationship, Ellie calls reader mama like once, dom!Ellie ig

AN: she's a munch, what more can I say

DONT FORGET PALESTINE

Masterlist Divider Creds

Ellie's body is tucked snug between your legs, head perched on your stomach as she looks up at you leaning up against the headboard, watching the small cloud of smoke swirl out from your nostrils. She can never get enough of you, especially when you look like this, eyes lidded and bloodshot, a soft smile on your face as you mess in her auburn locks with your free hand. She practically purrs with each gentle scratch on her scalp, her own hand kneading at your thigh.

You reach to pass her the joint again and to your shock, she shakes her head.

"Jus' finish it" she murmurs, shifting herself slightly so that she's able to slip her cold hands underneath your top. A breathy chuckle escapes her lips when she feels you tense up from the sudden contact

"God, Ellie your hands are freezing"

"Why d'you think I'm trying to warm 'em up?" She retorts with a giggle, having absolutely no intention of removing her them from the warmth of your body.

Ellie's hands travel even further up underneath the cloth of your t-shirt, long slender fingers groping at your breasts and forcing a groan out from behind your lips. You don't resist the urge to grab onto her chin, pulling her up on top of you for a kiss.

As these things often go with your girlfriend, the slow kiss becomes sloppy rather quickly; lips wet and slick with your combined saliva, your shirt hiked up to your collarbone, her hands lightly palming the soft flesh of your tits, pinching your hardened nipple between her fingers.

Everything feels so much more vivid in this state. She's barely touched you and yet you begin to feel that familiar dull, pulsing ache between your thighs that's only intensified by her kiss muffled moans, and wandering hands. She breaks from your lips only for her lips to find their way to that sweet spot on your neck, gently sucking and nipping at the area before whispering in your ear

"Can I eat your pussy, baby?"

The question sends a shiver through your body, and who are you to deny your girl? You nod and she lights up for a moment, her low-lidded eyes widening to their normal size for a moment in pure excitement.

Ellie wastes not a second, shifting her body back in between your legs and beginning to place moist kisses along your soft tummy, her thumbs hooking into the hem of both your shorts and your panties and tugging them down. Using her veiny hands to keep your legs nice and wide for her, she stops for a moment and simply admires how soaked you are, a teasing finger gliding along your slit and making you twitch.

"Ellie, please I-" you whine

"Shh, I know, mama. You just look so fucking sexy" she interrupts, the slight rasp in her voice from the smoke making waiting all the more difficult. She uses her finger to tease you a bit more before pushing two inside of you, a cocky little grin forming on her freckled face when she feels you clench around them.

"Els-"

You start to whine out again but before you get the chance, she's got her tongue flush against your clit. Her movements are slow and sloppy, sucking and lapping at your clit, a mixture of her saliva and your juices dribbling along her chin and down to your entrance where she's lazily pumping her fingers in and out of you. For a moment she pulls back and your squirm at the neglect, peering down at her with a furrowed brow.

Ellie, of course, is oblivious to your frustration, using her free hand to spread your already slick folds to spit on your sensitive bundle of nerves. She stares at her handiwork for a moment, in her own little world as she admires the way her spit slides down your cunt, letting out a low groan as it coats her fingers that are splitting you open.

"Mmmgh, Ellie please, I need you" you cry out, wanting - needing her mouth again, bucking your hips up near her face.

Ellie snaps out of her little trance and giggles, but she obliges without stopping this time. She picks up her pace as much as she can in her marijuana-induced haze, messily slurping you up and moaning into your pussy as if she was the one getting fucked right now.

"F-fuck 'm gonna cuh- g'na cum, Els" you manage to stutter out in between shaky breaths and desperate moans, your body already beginning to convulse underneath her, legs tensing up on either side of her head.

Your back arches up when you cum, head thrown back onto the headboard, jaw slack as your mouth is caught in a silent scream. Vulgar praises spill from Ellie's lips as you finish on her fingers but you can barely understand what she's saying, each one of your senses completely taken over by orgasm.

Ellie just barely wipes her mouth off when she finally pulls away from you, only really stopping the slick mixture from dripping further down her chin before crashing her lips to yours. The kiss is messy. Nasty, even. but you don't mind in the slightest, tasting yourself on her mouth before breaking the kiss to admire how pretty she looks with her lips swollen and her cheeks rosy - all pussydrunk and high. A satisfied, stupid grin graces her features before she speaks, eyes nothing more than cute crescent-shaped slits on her face

"Is it my turn now?"

Taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,@ikoinsblog

Reblogs appreciated☆ Requests are open

#tlou2 #lesbian #wlw #☆kennie's works #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader

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kingkat12 · 6 months ago

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seven minutes in heaven (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: foul language, alcohol, book-accurate Roman lol, (and he is such a brat???)

summary: you really, really hate Roman Godfrey. but what you hate most, is that he doesn't notice you at all.

word count: 4,502

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

I didn't like Roman Godfrey— not one bit.

Everything about that spoiled brat was infuriating. All from the way he walked around as though he owned the town, to the way that he'd get a kick out of throwing tater tots at people. Fucking child. The amount of times I'd sat at the bleachers and watched him throw it at the cheerleaders, specifically aiming right down their shirts, made my blood boil.

Roman Godfrey believed that the world was his, including the people living in it. That's exactly why he dared to take such liberties.

I specifically hated the way he'd move his hair out of his green, green eyes, the look he'd give me after he tugged my hair in the hallway with a sneer, and his sadistic need to claim his conquests in the absolute weirdest ways known to man. If we are to believe Brooke Bluebell from the cheerleading team, he also had an affinity for poking girls with needles in public just for the sheer thrill of watching them squeal. Because who would tell him off, right? I wondered if he was familiar with the word 'no' at all.

After the needle-rumour spread, I made sure to keep a few meters between us at all times. There was no way in hell that he would get away with doing that to me, anyway.

And I would've stayed as far away from Roman as possible, had it been up to me. Sadly, my best friend at school was his cousin— just my luck. Letha, like the rest of the girls at school, was quite fond of Roman; since she was the oldest of the two, she somehow couldn't see that he had grown past the age of five, treating him as though he could do no wrong.

And this was why Roman was always invited whenever we would have study sessions at Letha's place. He would splay himself out on the bed, stretching out his long limbs, watching us as we worked and he lazed away.

God, how I hated him. I hated the way his hair was kissing his forehead when he laid like this in Letha's bed, the way he'd grin whenever he watched me erase a wrong answer, and the way his cologne would linger in my system several hours after he'd left.

Currently, we were supposed to be working on the half-year assignment everyone in our year had to do. Letha was sitting at her desk with her back turned to us as Roman and I sat on the bed, each with our own computer. My meter-rule to protect myself from any incoming needles was impossible to implement on Letha's tiny bed, and I let out a huff as Roman's knee touched mine. I prayed to every God in the universe that he didn't have a needle in his pockets somewhere— I was quite fond of my knees, and would very much like to keep them intact.

"Five hundred bucks," Roman tried, nudging me. "Do this assignment for me and it's yours."

I rolled my eyes, shifting further away from him on the bed. "Do your own shit,"

He proceeded to sneer, watching me with his big, green eyes. "Six hundred,"

"No,"

"Seven?"

"Suck it, Roman," I cracked my knuckles, doing my best to get back into the flow of writing the assignment. It was so damn hard to focus when Roman's incessant sighing continued, almost as though he was being forced to take his own life.

"Help me, then," he mumbled, moving closer to me. His leg was almost on top of mine, now. "How did you answer question b?" Roman leaned over me, his head now obstructing my view of my screen. In a flash of pure instincts, I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of his hair that was tickling my nose. I couldn't quite put my finger on exactly what it was that smelled so good— him or the shampoo?

I got yanked out of my state when Roman pulled away, typing away on his own laptop, finally inspired.

I couldn't help but sigh; I hated Roman. And I hated that he didn't notice me in the way I wanted him to. I hated the way he smiled, the way he'd so blatantly flirt with girls at any opportunity he'd get, and how my heart fluttered when he flirted with me once in a blue moon.

It only got worse when we were in chemistry class the next day, and Roman had caught me sitting all alone in the back. I wasn't sure what came over me and why I had allowed him to sit down next to me again— the last time had been an absolute catastrophe where he got the both of us kicked out for bickering too loudly, so I hoped it wouldn't be a repeat-situation. I really needed to make sure I was getting every drop of information out of class today, as we had a test coming up soon.

However, Roman was the absolute biggest distraction on earth. I knew this. He kept leaning over to draw crude drawings in my book, making me have to swat his hand away over and over; "Stop it!"

Roman huffed, leaning back against his chair with a bored expression on his face. "You're no fun," he whispered back.

And this was when it hit me— maybe I wasn't fun? Did he really think that of me?

... Maybe it was time to show him how fun I could be?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When Letha mentioned a party happening this weekend and the fact that Roman would be joining, I couldn't help but feel a certain sense of dread— I knew what that would entail for him. He'd either disappear with a girl upstairs and/or get absolutely shitfaced, as always. And was I really going to put myself through seeing him disappear with someone else again just to prove I wasn't boring?

Yes— Yes, I was.

As I sipped my drink, I couldn't help but feel my hatred for Roman simmer and come to a boil— I hated how he had me doing the most ridiculous things known to man just to get a sliver of his attention. Why was a question I couldn't bring myself to answer.

As I stood in the kitchen with Letha, I spotted Roman passing by the door, laughing with a friend of his. My heart thumped hard as I let out a shaky breath; "Letha, I have to tell you something,"

She turned to me, a beer in her hand. "Don't tell me you've killed someone again? I don't have the energy to drag another body out of my car today,"

"Ha-ha," I mumbled; had this been any other instance, I would've thought it was funny... but not right before I was about to tell her why I had come tonight. I dreaded it; I knew she'd disapprove. But just as I opened my mouth, ready to put my friendship on the line, I caught Roman backtracking and appearing in the door again.

"Girls!" He walked over, looking tipsy as ever. Up close like this, Roman towered over the both of us, and I had to look up an unusual amount to meet his eyes. "I've been looking for you all over! They're playing seven minutes in heaven downstairs, wanna join?"

Had this been any other night, I would've given him an immediate no— but tonight was different. Tonight, I was fun. Shrugging, I glanced over at Letha to check her reaction.

"That's so childish," Letha mumbled, sipping her beer. "I don't know, and I'm sure grumpy over here isn't too keen on that either—"

"No, I'm in!" My words came out like a panicked squeal which immediately made my cheeks burn.

Roman seemed caught off guard by my reaction, but he eventually reached out to pat my shoulder, looking smug as ever. "There you go," he cooed, clearly teasing me. "Maybe you'll finally get laid or something!"

I was abruptly reminded of why I hated him so much in the first place. Swatting his hand off of me, I brushed my fingers over my shoulder where he had touched me, feeling a lingering burn. "If you think seven minutes is enough for everything that goes into sex, I think you need to lower that ego of yours,"

Letha bit back a smirk as Roman's lips parted in shock. Maybe the spoiled rich kid hadn't gotten a reality-check from his long list of women before? He eventually recovered from the diss, rolling his eyes; "Well, seven minutes with me can be more than enough. Need me to show you?"

Letha let out a loud snort, shuddering; "Ew, Roman! I've told you not to talk to my friends like that!"

As they turned to each other, bickering like siblings, I gripped the counter behind me with all my strength. I was almost compelled to agree, to say yes to letting him have a go, and I had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself. After a few drinks, I knew I could get a little loose-lipped.

It didn't take long before we all made it downstairs, everyone spreading out on the couches and chairs scattered in the basement. Letha and I sat down on a few pillows on the floor, far away from Roman and his rumoured needles.

I felt my throat go dry every time the bottle spun around, landing on random people from school who later went into the empty closet nearby. But my attention was elsewhere; I watched as Roman put his arm around the girl next to him, whispering something into her ear which made her laugh. It made me want to slam my head into the wall behind me— I would rather pass out and bleed out than witness him picking up another girl again.

I swallowed hard as the people in the closet came back out and the bottle got spun again. The first person was picked; a girl with long, brown hair whom I remembered from history class; huge bitch. Holding my breath, I watched as the bottle got spun again— it eventually slowed down and pointed to Roman, which made the girl's friend group cheer as though they had won a million dollars. It felt like my heart was getting ripped out of my chest as Roman got up from the couch, grinning from ear to ear. The girl he had just had his arm around wasn't as happy, to say the least.

This whole display was making me sick. I bit the inside of my cheek as Roman closed the door to the closet and the previous drinks in my system threatened to come up. Everything about this was making me sick. I got up, taking hurried steps to the nearest bathroom, planting myself on my knees in front of the toilet just in case.

I heard a few knocks on the door before Letha stepped in, looking worried. "I told you not to drink that vodka crap," she mumbled, locking the door before she sat down next to me on the floor.

I felt my tears press on as I grew further nauseous. "Don't mind me," I breathed. "I just need a minute."

This only solidified my absolute and utter hate for Roman. Spoiled fucking brat— why did he have to make me feel this way? Why was my jealousy making me so sick and bitter?

Letha put her hand on my back in an attempt to soothe me; "Maybe I should drive you home?"

"No!" I said, fighting my gag reflex. "I need— I need to get out there again."

This only made Letha sigh, her hand now reaching for my hair to be ready. "You have a crush out there or something...? You know that you don't need this stupid game to get whichever guy you want, right?"

I did my best to get up from the floor without immediately falling back down. Of course she didn't understand.

"Seriously, hold on—" Letha grabbed my hand, holding me back from leaving the bathroom. Her eyes were just as green as Roman's, and up close like this, I could see all their similarities; the upward curve of their nose, the same full lips, and the exact same way of weaving their brows together in worry. "You don't need to do anything just because you want to prove Roman wrong," she said, squeezing my hand. "I know you came down here to make a point, but... do what's best for you, okay?"

"Okay," I mumbled, tugging at her hand. The seven minutes were almost up, and I wanted to see the look on that girl's face after she left the closet with Roman. I wanted to see the look of bliss in her eyes, the hint of red in her cheeks, and watch her inhale with soft, sharp breaths just like the rest of his girls always did. The best part of watching this, was imagining that the girl was me instead— that I was the one feeling euphoric, and not her. And on the other hand, the masochistic part of me wanted to feel my heart burn with jealousy and my chest tighten with the ache I had gotten so familiar with. "Let's go. Please."

My nausea dulled down as I sat back down on the floor, realizing Roman was back. Maybe it was good that I missed the moment they came out— maybe it was good for me to spare my psyche, just this once? As my eyes met Roman's across the room, I couldn't help but notice the dark satisfaction on display across his lips. It was almost as though he knew— or maybe it was the fact that I probably looked a little sick? Did he like the look of pain in my eyes? I was reminded of Brooke Bluebell and her needle story... how he liked imposing pain on girls he found to be vulnerable. The fucking needle thing would haunt me forever.

I barely noticed that the bottle had been spun again, and I was yanked out of my mind-storm when Letha nudged me. "You don't have to," she tried, nodding towards the bottle that was now pointing at me.

My eyes immediately moved from the bottle and straight to Roman, who seemed to grow further amused. There was no way in hell I would back down now— maybe this would change his outlook on me? I had to prove I was fun, after all. Shrugging, acting as though it was no big deal, I reached for the bottle, spinning it.

I couldn't help but ponder if someone up there in the sky was playing games with me when the bottle pointed at the one person I had hoped it would be.

The girl Roman had just been with protested; "What? That's against the rules! He can't go in two times in a row!—"

"Sure can," Roman shot in, watching my every movement like a hawk— something told me he was a little excited about this as well. He got up from the couch once more, walking up to me with confident strides, reaching out for my hand.

As I looked up at him, breath short and choppy, I couldn't pry my eyes away from his. I had always imagined what it would be like to look up at Roman from this angle, to see the sheer look of satisfaction on his face as I— Oh no, my mind was wandering again, wasn't it? I did my best not to shiver as I accepted his hand, feeling our fingers intertwine as he smoothly got me up from the floor.

I didn't even dare to look at Letha in this moment, knowing how she probably felt about it, but I really didn't have time to dwell on it— and it didn't take long before Roman closed the closet door behind us, pulling me back into the moment.

We were quiet for a few seconds, the sounds of our breathing filling the closet— I didn't know what to say or do. The beating of my heart was so loud that I could barely hear my own thoughts, and the light in the small room was dim and warm, making it a rather disorienting experience. It didn't take long before I felt my back hit the wall, letting out a little wince; the alcohol was definitely doing wonders for my balance.

Roman snorted at the sight, emitting a soft laugh; "Careful, there,"

I let out the breath I had been holding, happy that he had been the first one to say something. "It's the vodka," I mumbled, rubbing the part of my head that had hit the wall.

Roman hummed; "Typical,"

"What is?"

"That you can't handle your drinks,"

I wanted to smack him— that was allowed in seven minutes of heaven, right? "So what if I can't? It's not a big deal,"

"Sure," Roman said, nodding to himself. "You just need to be broken in or something."

I wasn't the biggest fan of his choice of words— I was also not a fan of the thought of Roman breaking me more than he had already done, all whilst being completely unaware of it. Choosing not to comment on it further, I switched the subject; "So when was the last time you didn't do anything with a girl in this game?"

He needed a few seconds to scour his brain; "Never, I think,"

Typical. "Even back in middle school?"

"... Definitely,"

I held back a rather large groan— I should've predicted this.

Roman caught onto my eventual silence; "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"... Yeah,"

"Okay, I see," Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, as he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've always wanted to try out and haven't dared to, now's the time."

My breath hitched as I hoped the thumping of my heart wasn't loud enough for him to hear. There were many things I wanted to try out, sure, but not here.

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

... Oh? Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman yet, and I knew she'd be against it.

However, I was being served my biggest dream on a silver platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again?

"Okay..." I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me, then?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he was holding a needle or not. One could never be sure... and this was how I knew my anxiety was through the roof.

"So... you want a kiss? That's all?" Roman asked, looking rather pleased with himself and the situation.

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would switch up and tell me no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he didn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what I was actually asking for before I fully understood it myself. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system.

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

Doing my best to still my breathing and not faint, I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

For fuck's sake. I mumbled a curse as Roman laughed, clearly amused by the terrified look on my face. "No, I wouldn't do that," he teased, pulling away just a bit. "I'm not that bad, you know that, right?"

I huffed, not meeting his gaze anymore. Confessing to liking him had given him all the power over me in the world. "I don't know... You tend to be quite horrible,"

"And what horrible things do I do, may I ask?"

Oh, I was ready for this question— I had been ready for a while. "First of all, the fucking tater tots," I grumbled, meeting his amused eyes. "The fact that you pull my hair like you're five years old, you've drawn about a hundred dicks in my chemistry book, and the whole needle thing!"

"Needle thing?" Roman furrowed his brows— damn, he and Letha really had the same face, didn't they?

"Yeah, the needle thing! Brooke told us!" Something about the confusion on his face felt rather satisfactory; your turn. "You pricked her and her friend Rachel and just... laughed, or something!"

Remembering the incident, Roman burst out laughing. "Oh, that!" he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, that was fun, I can't lie. So, okay, maybe I'm a bit bad, but... you still like me." His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and I knew it could lead to no good. "You still want to kiss me, so you can't be too scared? Or maybe..." Roman's hand travelled up to my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear as he smirked. "Maybe you're just a massive masochist?"

"What? No!" My protests were quick and loud— I wondered what the people outside this closet thought we were doing. "Roman, just... Ugh, fuck this, I'm leaving."

As I reached for the door, Roman grabbed my hand with force I hadn't expected of him, pinning it above my head against the wall. Like this, he was even closer to me than he had been just under a minute ago, and my eyes went wide with the realization that I could physically feel his bottom lip against mine, not yet coming together in the kiss I so desperately craved.

"I'm not going to make this easy for you," he whispered, words slow and low. Something about this whole situation was so intense, I nearly gave in to a shiver. "Whatever this will be, you and I... won't be easy."

"There is no you and I," I mumbled, feeling my heart beat up against his chest. "We do this once, and then we forget it." Please.

Roman hummed, a cocky grin spreading across his plush, pink lips. "You think you'll be able to? I have a feeling you've wanted me for a while,"

Fuck's sake. I hated him even more when he was right. My gaze hardened as it met his, and I wondered how much time we had left. No matter how mad I was at him, I still wanted to kiss him, just once. This might be the only chance I'd ever get, and I was going to take it.

"Okay, then," Roman accepted my silence as an answer. Nudging my nose with his, he finally pressed his lips against mine with a softness I didn't know he had in him.

This was not what I had expected. Something about this kiss was shaking up my whole view of the world, along with my view of Roman. The most obnoxious guy with an unmatched arrogance could... kiss like this? Like he actually had a soul?

His lips moved against mine as though I was made of glass, and I felt his fingers intertwine with mine in the hand he was holding above my head. It sent shivers down my spine as my mind went haywire, wondering why he was being so careful with me. I brought my free hand up to cup his face, feeling how soft he was against my palm. I had expected him to be rough, aggressive... so what on earth was this?

Roman's arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me closer, and I let out a shaky breath against his lips— heat swirled in the pit of my stomach, feeling as though I was burning up from inside.

But just as it started to get heated, two knocks were heard at the door; Roman pulled away, a victorious smirk in place as though he had successfully proved his point. "Thirty seconds left," he said. "Now, convince me why I shouldn't tell Letha."

What? Still trying to catch my breath, I felt myself freeze up. How was I supposed to think clearly when I was in this state? Roman's hand slid out of mine, waiting for my answer; "So?"

"Just don't," I breathed, putting a hand on my chest to feel my heart— did all of this just happen? "Don't tell her."

"That's not good enough," His green eyes were drilling into mine, and it was clear that he wished to corner me. Sadist.

"I'll do your stupid assignment,"

"Nope,"

"I'll... fuck, Roman, I don't know!"

Roman snickered at my panic, fixing his hair, checking his clock; ten seconds left. "Fine, I'll be nice," he said, reaching out to swipe his thumb along the edge of my lip, wiping away some lipstick. "But you owe me."

Owe him? I wasn't the biggest fan of making a deal with the devil reincarnate in front of me. However, did I have any other choice? I let out a sigh of defeat; "... Fine,"

And this was when it truly hit me; I hated Roman Godfrey with all my heart— I hated the fact that he could make my heart flutter with the smallest gesture, that he could practically walk all over me with no remorse, and that he always looked so fucking good.

However, at the end of the day, what I hated most... was how much I wanted him.

(a/n: click to read PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10 here!! thank you for reading!<333)

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard

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normal-thoughts-official · 7 months ago

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It's actually insane how brave Wyll is when it comes to Mizora. Not only by not killing Karlach but also all the small ways he defies her - calling her an asshole, saying she's full of shit, even when Mizora is literally choking him he's still telling her that she's a liar. Whenever she shows up it's pretty much guaranteed that she will have to threaten him with lemurehood because he simply refuses to play nice. Even if it accomplishes absolutely nothing and in fact is actively dangerous to sass her

And like. Of course this ties in with how Wyll has pretty much nonexistent self preservation skills and a sense of moral fortitude so strong he can't even pretend to not be hostile towards her. But i also think it ties with Mizora's obsession with him

Because while we all know Mizora is evil and annoying on principle and all that shit, she seems to be particularly interested in tormenting Wyll. I have to assume shit like putting a tracker on him and showing up randomly just to spite him and staying in camp just to be annoying even after the contract is over are Wyll specials, because if she did this to every single one of her warlocks then she would have time for nothing the fuck else. And we know from Karlach that she's generally more worried about sucking Zariel's toes, so

(Also, I've been told that in early access she was like... Straight up jealous if you romanced Wyll, so, again. Obsessed with him in particular)

I always got the impression that she was so evil and annoying to him because she was overcompensating. Mizora is a cambion, which means she's half human, which means that in Hell's hierarchy she is fucking trash. Even the official cambion lore states that they are often rejected in both realms and struggle to earn one of their parents' approval. And it's obvious that in Mizora's case she's aiming to be accepted in the Hells.

I've seen some people claim that Mizora is too cartoonishly evil, and while that is objectively true... I think it works precisely because it's so cartoonish. I'm thinking particularly of how she describes her home in the Hells being all "oh, how I adore it, the delicious agony of it all". It's so over the top it's eyeroll worthy. I don't think Zariel herself would be Like This about it

In other words: Mizora is a tryhard

And Karlach even implies that Mizora resented her because she was Zariel's favorite, which is why I think Mizora's tryhardness was intentional as opposed to just a lazily written villain. She wants to fit in the Hells so bad it makes her look stupid. And she never will, because no matter how over the top she is about being Generically Evil, she is simply not that powerful or important.

So she overcompensates, and then she uses Wyll as her punching bag. If her own superiors will always see her as vermin, then at least she can cope with that by treating others that way as well.

But like I said, she will have no time left to suck Zariel's toes if she spends all her time tormenting every single warlock under her patronage, so the question is: why Wyll?

Obviously his unwavering goodness is the biggest reason. His soul is already damned and yet he refuses to be selfish with the time he has left on the material plane. Mizora can own him, but she can't corrupt him, and that makes her hate him. The fact that even despite her best efforts he is still recognized and beloved as a hero has got to sting too, considering she tries so fucking hard to be the Evilest Cashier In Hell or whatever. And the fact that he still manages to belong in his world (however isolated and lonely he obviously is) despite his connection to hers and she can't belong in her world because of her connection to his... Well, jealousy is to be expected.

But I think his refusal to play nice with her also plays a big role.

There's the obvious "this makes her resent him even more" factor; if Mizora wants to feel superior, it must piss her off to no end that Wyll refuses to bow to her, even if he does her bidding.

But, paradoxically, this also makes her feel more powerful.

Because at the end of the day, she does own Wyll's soul, and he does have to do her bidding, even if he doesn't go quietly. And the fact that he hates her so openly makes it all the more satisfying to have him do what she wants anyway. In Wyll's words, "the more bullshit she pulls, the more [he's] forced to swallow". His hatred for her is exactly why she wants him so bad, even though she obviously hates him just as much.

And so this is why she's so desperate to get Wyll's soul back, and why, even if he breaks the pact, she still makes it a point to stay in camp just to fucking spite him. Because Wyll is the only warlock that actually makes her feel appropriately Powerful and Evil, if we assume that her other warlocks are simply not as good aligned as Good Alignment Georg or even just don't want the trouble of spiting her for no reason. She can be obeyed and tolerated and maybe even revered by the other warlocks, but only Wyll can make her feel like an absolute, inescapable power. Because the other warlocks choose to obey her. Wyll makes it clear that he has to, and thus, she feels like she is mighty.

And obviously I know that the whole "person who has it all is obsessed with the one person who doesn't obey them" trope is a well known cliche, but I think Mizora and Wyll's dynamic is unique in that Mizora doesn't actually want to make Wyll bow to her and respect her as an authority; she wants him to fight back so she can feel like she's winning.

(And, of course, because Mizora doesn't actually have it all; she's just a petty errand girl who wants to feel special)

So, yeah. Wyll's incredible bravery in constantly defying her is exactly why she is so eager to keep him

#maybe all of this is obvious and again i know this isn't exactly a groundbreaking new dynamic but i do think it combines several elements #of dynamics that don't usually go together #if that makes sense #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #mizora #mizora bg3 #meta #overflowing trashcan

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kazzattack · 1 year ago

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i think dick grayson just loves holding your face and making you look at him. he loves having an excuse to look you in the eyes, to watch as you unravel around him. asking you to look at him while he fucks you into the mattress, as if you’re even coherent enough to understand what he’s asking for.

a/n ;; this is a lazy and MAYBE ooc post but i like the idea of it. also this was supposed to be orgasm denial but i changed my mind so if that’s obvious pls ignore ! 😁 if you enjoy this pls like and rb <3

content ;; 18+, a lot filthier than my last one lawl, brief cowgirl position, mating press, a bit of banter, eye contactttttt, praise, slight degradation (whore, slut), he’s a lil mean i fear, manhandling if you squint (?), dick has a little oral fixation, overstim, multiple orgasms, poorly proofread, i think that’s it?, pure smut under the cut

so… focus on the lewd sight of your cunt clenching his length while you rock back and forth, or the cocky yet overwhelmingly soft expression on his face as he admires the absolute beauty riding him? loose strands of hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead, cheeks dusted red, pretty blue eyes zoning out on you… the sight of him drinking in the view is too much.

clearly, he notices- because he notices everything. son of the world’s greatest detective and all.

“goin’ all shy on me, huh?” dick teases, thrusting his hips up into you and making you buckle a little closer to his face. his hand snakes to the small of your back, still helping you move. “too pretty for that.”

“shut up, dick-” you mutter, squeezing him particularly tight as your fingers curl into his hair. he lets out an obscene groan into your ear, encouraging you to keep going.

“you don’t want that, sweetheart-“ he easily denies, “c’mon, look at me.”

you hear him, but his order is ignored when you feel that familiar coil in your tummy. “fuck, dick, ‘m gonna-“

your hips speed up and your cunt tightens around his cock, obscene squelching overwhelming your senses. he lets you ride out your high, tugging you closer to him as he talks you through it. “there you go, there you fucking go-“

“fuck, dick- oh my god-“ you whine into his ear as the pleasure turns into overstimulation, hips still bucking despite the sharp shots of pleasure shooting up your spine. but instead of slowing you down, easing you into more comfort, he’s thrusting his pelvis up into you. “so tight, sweetheart- so good. y’know ‘m not done though.”

you begin to scold him through short breaths and keens before he’s flipping to two of you over, hooking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself inside you deeper than he’s ever been.

“didn’t look at me,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone, taking his time to bite into the plush skin of your thigh, sucking pretty purple bruises into your skin as you whine at the way your orgasm teeters. hips weakly inching his cock further inside, chest heaving in urgency. still, though, your eyes are elsewhere.

why won’t you look at him?

…

he’ll fix it himself.

“you’re so difficult sometimes.” his hand rests on your tummy and moves to hold your breast as his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple. you flinch and buck your hips again and he huffs a little laugh. “you just want me to be mean, don’t you? want me to treat my sweetheart like a fucking whore?” you try speaking up to defend yourself, starting with a shy smile at his remark while ignoring the way you almost moan at the thought. but a sly hand is quick to grab hold of your jaw and direct your gaze to him.

“I don’t need words to know your answer when this pretty pussy’s tellin’ me everything. don’t worry. I’ll give you want you want, m’kay?” he’s face to face with you now as he positions you into a mating press, and he’s throbbing inside you from the way you contract around his cock. he keeps you just like that while his tongue is forced down your throat, nails digging into the plush of your thighs and groaning into your mouth. practically swapping spit with him at this point. the way he acts is downright filthy compared to the soft and sweet sex you were just having a moment ago. gentle and encouraging touches turn almost rude and possessive.

he pulls his cock out until just the tip is inside, slamming back into you as he pulls away from your face. drool lingers from the corners of your mouth and neither of you know or care who it belongs to. “maybe you’ll look at me now.”

“dick-“ you cry and pout, but the grip on your jaw only tightens. cheeks squished and lips all pouty and wet with spit. so filthy and cute.

“prettier than i imagined.” he huffs and his pace continues, making sure your eyes never leave his because he needs you to see him and he needs to see you. he needs it like he needs air. that fleeting feeling comes back and you whimper, hands tugging at his wrist.

“fucking slut- again? tryna milk me dry, sweetheart. you gonna look at me this time? yeah- look at me when you come on this cock.” barely even conscious, your lashes flutter open to meet his gaze. you look helpless, drowning in the pleasure he’s giving you, getting off on his attention. face beautifully framed with his hand, cheeks all rosy as you gush and cream all over his cock. he doesn’t even realize he’s came too, pounding your pussy as white leaks out and around his dick.

you can give him another round or two, right? maybe three if you keep looking at him like that.

#nightwing smut #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #dg <3 #wet dreamz <3

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cokou · 7 months ago

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What OP Men post about you on Reddit

OP 男性があなたについて Reddit に投稿するもの。

𝑴𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒄

sum. Your boyfriend posted about you on reddit. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. NSFW ON KIDDS PART! Fluff overall! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. Im sorry for so late uploads, i got sick once again😭😭😭 // Do not translate or transfer any of my works, this is my only account (exp. AO3) will not be cross posted anywhere else. // Masterlist

r/NSFW Eustass.Kidd

I (25 M) fucked my girlfriend (24 F) so hard that i had to get her into the hospital to get a medical treatment on her cervix.

The doctors told us that everything was wounded up inside her and it looked like she got abused from her lacked of walking, we had to get police involved in our house to investigate what had happened and found the dildo i used on her and it was examined on their lab for any contaminated illness.

My girlfriend refuses to see me from how bad her state had gotten and the police interogated me to make that everything was okay at home. My best friend had gotten involved from how bad my girlfriend couldn't walk and had to assure that I wasn't abusing anyone to the police, it took 3 days for them to fully give out on the case.

My girlfriend had been discharged from the hospital 2 days ago and she still refuses to talk to me, i got her flowers for apology and her favorite food as an apology. She told me that she could take all of me in bed and now everything just went downhill since i got out of control in her.

Now everyone of my friends teases me about what happened and they laughed me off every time they see me, Reddit what should i do?

Comments;

Her problem dude, she said she could take it!

You're at fault for taking her word at all. ➣ Eustass.Kidd replied: fuck off single mf.

—

r/girlfriends Msxr.Kill

My girlfriend (24 F) and I (26 M) have been dating for almost 5 years now, tomorrow will be our 5th anniversary and I'm planning to propose to her, but the problem is I don't know how. My brain can't take so much ideas so much and my friends aren't helping me at all.

My girlfriend is the most precious person ever, and i believe she deserves the best in the world. My ideas can't convince me enough that they're good for her, and what if she doesn't like it and rejects me? I don't want that. I asked her bestfriend on what places she especially loves, and I was told to take her on an aquarium proposal.

I don't know what to do and my girlfriend is making me all nervous around her as well, i need help ASAP.

Comments;

Eustass.Kidd: Just tell her to marry you wtf ➣Msxr.Kill replied: You're not helping at all Kidd.

Heat_er: You suck at planning lol. ➣Msxr.Kill replied: Heat I don't wanna hear that from you, you don't even have anyone to love.

—

r/AITA Dr._Trafalgar

Am i the asshole for kicking out my girlfriend from my office?

I, (26 M) kicked my girlfriend (24 F) out of my office because she knocked off all the papers off my shelves and dragged me out forcefully. Now she refuses to talk to me and it's been 2 days. My friends told me that i was the asshole and was wrong for kicking her out.

But the thing was those papers were almost 592 pages and i only ended up finding 578 of them, now my girl moved to her friends house and absolutely doesn't answer my calls or text messages.

Her friends texted me that i was the asshole for not spending time with her and paid attention all to myself only not her needs, the papers were worth so much that i could feed her and let us both live together financially, and now i was forced to redo all 592 pages in A WEEK.

so am i the asshole?

Comments;

Your.name: Yes yta🙄 ➣Dr._Trafalgar replied: get your ass home.

—

r/girlfriends Chef_Sanjii

My girl is the best in the whole wide world, she's do beautiful, so pretty, so perfect, and every thing she does hypnotizes me. Her beautiful nature makes me inlove with her more every second, her intelligence for everything makes her so special, she is not like any other women ever.

In fact, she is the best in the whole whole world. Not only does her pretty face shine in the darkness, but the way her body sways when she walks or does something is so majestic. I'm so lucky to have such a girlfriend like this, and i know that she will always love forever.

The way she interacts with even the smallest things are cute, in fact all of her is cute. The way her hands hold something and it shows that her body is perfect in every inch. She's none like others, no one can ever EVER compare to my girl, one day i will marry her and see her on the aisle and i wouldnt be able to hold my tears as she walks in a wedding dress.

Her facial features resembles a goddess, she trurly is flawless. No matter what anyone says, she'll be the most MOST perfect woman in the whole entire world. I love love her so much, she's the best that ever happened to me. Her love melts me warm and her words make me putty on her hands.

It's safe to say that she too, loves me, and that our relationship definitely is mutual. Love her so much.

Post was liked by Msxr.Kill & 7,251 others.

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r/wifey Kuz._an

My wife's cooking is terrible but I don't wanna tell her that and destroy her feelings.

My wife and I had been married for almost 9 years now, she cooks for me daily ever since we have moved in together. Her cooking used to be good, but for some reason it tastes like burnt ketchup over burnt cheese. It looks appealing to look, but the tastes seems to be missed.

Her seasonings are full of bell pepper and black pepper, it terribly sucks. I love my wife to the fullest, but when it comes to her cooking, It feels like I'm on a prison cell. I'm sorry My Love, it's the truth.

Comments;

Unknown: Being honest is his forte. Unknown: COMMENT DELETED Unknown: Atleast your wife tries. Unknown: COMMENT DELETED

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cybrasigilism · 6 days ago

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Hiiii I was just wondering if you could make a Semi player 380 NSFW Alphabet eventually? If so thank you 💗💗💗

absolutely! i apologize for the long wait i just wanted to give myself an alphabet break :)

NSFW Alphabet with Player 380/Se-mi!

warning: smut and all things of the like | not proofread | lowercase intended | WINNERS THAT LOVE WINNING (i cannot picture se-mi with a man im so sorry) | any letters i skip over are topics i couldn’t think of, apologies! | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: se-mi (player 380)

A/N: OMG THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS AAAAA!!!! IM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL THAT YOU’VE ALL GIVEN ME A PLATFORM TO SHARE MY PASSION FOR WRITING 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 A MILLION APOLOGIES FOR HOW LONG THIS HAS BEEN A WAIT FOR!! i hope its worth the time that’s passed, please enjoy!

MDNI! 18+ under the cut, readers discretion is advised

A= Aftercare what they’re like after sex

↳ she’s very attentive with aftercare. trust a bath will be drawn for you two post-fucking™️, and you will be getting shoulder massages all the while

C= Cum anything to do with cum

↳ will try to make you squirt I MEAN HUHH

D= Dirty secret a dirty secret of theirs, no way

↳ loves when you play with her nipple rings when you suck on her tits

E= Experience how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing etc.

↳ oh this woman is skilled. she knows what she’s doing alright, especially with her tongue; she works sweet magic with that thing

F= Favourite position i fear if i have to explain this one idk what to tell you

↳ any position where she can see your pretty face is her favourite, in her own words. her being on top is another pre-requisite, but she’ll bend the rules if you really want it

G= Goofy are they more serious in the moment, are they humorous etc.

↳ she loves to tease you in the moment, so that answers that question. it’s never intentionally mean-spirited though

I= Intimate how are they in the moment? the romantic aspect

↳ no matter how rough you guys get, she always states how much she loves you and how you mean the world to her etc. she will always use sex as an ample opportunity to express her deep love for you

J= Jack off masturbation headcanons

↳ loves when you finger yourself in front of her

K= Kinks one or more of their kinks

↳ bondage, for sure has a blindfold fetish too

L= Location their favourite place to do the do

↳ her favourite place to get it on is 100% the back of the car, especially on rainy nights

M= Motivation what turns them on? what gets them going?

↳ loves when you compliment/praise her on anything. this + when you hug her from behind and kiss her neck

N= No something they won’t do

↳ non-con or dubcon. point blank

O= Oral their preference on giving or receiving, their skill level etc.

↳ she loves and i mean loves eating you out. the sounds you make, the way you frantically grasp for her hand when you get close, everything about it drives her up the wall. she’s quite skilled at this too (i may or may not headcanon her to have a tongue piercing so do with that as you must)

P= Pace are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

↳ she definitely isn’t picky on pace. you guys have done it all. from rough, sloppy quickie to gentle, intimate lovemaking— you two truly have done everything

Q= Quickie their opinions on quickies? how often etc.

↳ she’s down for a quickie, sure. she definitely won’t turn her nose up if you beg the way you know she likes

R= Risk are they game to experiment?

↳ definitely the experimental type in bed, for sure. it was daunting at first but you quickly got used to trying new things (with a safeword always)

S= Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long can they last? etc.

↳ she can definitely hold out for a decent period of time, think 9-10 minutes. for a matter of rounds however, she can only do about 2-3 rounds before becoming overstimulated

T= Toys do they have any toys? do they use them on their partner? etc.

↳ she’s got a strap. again, do with this what you will

U= Unfair how much they like to tease

↳ oh you can bet se-mi is going to tease you, and she’ll be mean about it if she really wants too. the teasing is especially torturous if she’s using her strap on you

V= Volume how loud are they? what sounds do they make etc.

↳ she moans, no fear. i feel like she would definitely match your energy when you guys are going at it, sometimes its in a teasing manner, but sometimes its simply out of habit. the things she says to you in bed, oh man, they really do vary. but you can expect these phrases, just to name a few:

“fuck, doing so good for me.. keep touching that pretty pussy for me honey”

“you’re perfect, i could eat you for hours…”

“just one more… please, all i need is one more from you, pretty girl”

W= Wildcard a random headcanon

↳ owns a dominatrix outfit

X= X-Ray what’s going on under those clothes?

↳ she’s definitely got a sleeper build, you cannot tell me this woman doesn’t work out at least a little bit. she’s got body piercings too (tongue, naval + nipple piercings), as well as many tattoos, namely an under boob tattoo

Y= Yearning how high is their sex drive?

↳ oh buddy, once you get her going, good luck coming to a stop anytime soon

Z= Zzz how fast do they fall asleep after

↳ after a especially rough session, she tends to fall asleep quite easily. but if you guys were more gentle she won’t be tired at all, in fact she’ll let you sleep on her chest as she plays with your hair all while you doze off

★ ────────

the time has come! the se-mi NSFW alphabet is FINALLY AMONG US, i again want to apologize for how long this took to come out, but i’m happy to report it’s UP AND RUNNING!!!

as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💗

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @room-722

#squid game 2 #squid game #squid game smut #squid game x reader #x reader smut #player 380 x reader #player 380 #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #wlw smut #winners love winning #x reader fanfiction #alphabet

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