NAWT The Gymnastics Oscar Lookalike Breaking Containment And Getting To Oscar Himself 🫣

I knew from the moment he sang “és mais linda do que ao sol” that it was an Algarve melody.

“Laurinda”, this unexpected partnership between Vitorino (who’s 82!), Iolanda and Karetus is gold. I’m so glad we get to listen to traditional Portuguese music with a modern twist.

I’m also dying with happiness because it’s a song from the Algarve 🍠🍊🐟 and the region, my region, is incredibly underrepresented and misrepresented in media.

Karetus are amazing, shout out to them for making absolute bangers while revitalising Portuguese folcloric culture. Also, using an already popular theme sang by a very famous singer and have him work with you is just genius.

Goodfellas (1990)

Could you please write a Price x wife! Reader where they have a really hot make out session?

because you asked so nicely... of course, darling.

nsfw! 18+ below! not sex but a lil sm sm... i'm ngl i can't write just a kiss.

i'm too nasty i think

You and your husband had never really enjoyed attending dinner parties. But because you were both so polite, the two of you had never missed a single one. Well, neither of you were ever in the mood to have your ear chewed off for saying 'no' to an invitation.

Your friend would only whine, anyway, say "But John's always away on call. We've all got to make memories together when we can!"

As if you weren't blatantly aware of your husband's frequent absences already.

"You know, we could be doin' this at home," John chuckles, following you into the bathroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

Immediately, you pounce towards him - making an accidental, louder-than-intended thud as you pressed him into the door and wrapped your arms around his neck. You both giggle like mischievous children.

"Mm, you're right. We've been saying we'll stop coming for years," you say, as his forearms encircle your waist. "I don't think we're posh enough for them, love."

"Fuck 'em."

Your lips meet soon after, in sloppy and lazy pecks as neither of you are in a rush to get back out there and converse. John's arms have a vice-like grip around your waist, but they loosen as your kiss intensifies so he can cuff a hand at the back of your neck.

You squeak at the sensation. He squeezes the spot lovingly, before he slithers his fingers upwards and scrunches at the base of your hair. When he uses your hair to tilt back your head, he leans over you further as if it would help him explore deeper with the tongue he presses into your mouth.

Your hands are no longer locked behind his neck, sliding down his chest as you weaken under his grasp and succumb to the warm feeling of your battling tongues.

John pinches at your butt with his other hand then, chuckling cheekily when you pull apart momentarily to catch your breaths. And you respond by slamming your mouths back together, teeth almost clashing against one another in your desperate movement.

The hand on your ass doesn't shift, and you reach to pull John forward by the shoulders and hook your leg around his waist. It causes you both to stumble, but you knew your skilled husband would always catch your fall. He does, but soon taps at your leg for you to put it back down, before he walks you towards the bathroom counter and lifts you onto it with little to no effort.

Situated between your legs, he connects your lips once again and uses a hand to caress your cheek.

The pooling heat between your legs slowly becomes more and more evident, and you squeeze John's hips between each of your plump thighs in search of a shred of relief.

When your mouths part, he speaks low, voice hoarse and gravelly with arousal. "Fuck, sweet. We can't keep doing this..." You watch the risks being weighed in his face, before he shakes his head and makes his decision. His eyes flick onto yours, whilst he presses three of his fingers to his tongue and coats them in saliva.

You quickly widened your legs, biting onto your lip as his hand slips beneath your dress and hooks beneath the lace covering your pussy. Fingers press between your folds and immediately find your clit, which Johnny begins to rub with desperation. You know he needs to make this quick, doesn't want to make you both look suspicious, but you can't bring yourself to give a fuck about anything outside of the four walls of the bathroom, not when his skilled fingers are stroking at your spit-soaked cunt the way they are.

John kisses you once again, swallows each sound you make as he uses the hand on your cheek to graze over your cheekbone with his thumb.

"Guys? Hello? Are you in there together? I need to piss!"

Fuck.

You were never going to another fucking dinner party again.

BLah

I thought that I was really in love with you.

But, lately I found out that it was a temporary feeling. I never loved you. You've always left me disappointed, confused and obsessed.

Why obsessed?

Because, I have never loved you. I don't know you. I love the idea that I created of you. It's hard to realise it, in fact, I took too long to understand this. I could have ended everything since the beginning and I wouldn't have been here worrying about stupid feelings. I'm obsessed with the idea that I created of you. The you that doesn't exist. A dangerous guy, with anger issues that hates everyone except me.

And I told him: Look, I've been playing with you from the beginning and I don't love you.

I didn't talk to him from that day. But I think of him even if I don't know him. Does this have an explanation? Is there a philosopher who has got theories that are going to help me discover what I'm feeling? I've studied for years philosphy and psychology but I never seem to understand myself. I am a big mess.

I've went to different psychoanalysts but they found no way of comforting and helping me.

I've read thousands of books, specifically romance books, but do you know how bored they have made me? They annoy me now. But I continue reading them. They're full of fantasies and utopic worlds but I so believe them, I don't know how to get out of that illusion.

How do I turn off my reasoning and consciousness? I want to disappear. I want to be free. I want to live with someone that I truly love.

How do I learn how to love? Is there someone that teaches this? Are there theories or books that talk about this?

I want to know how to actually ,love someone with all my heart and to get to know that person for everything they have and possess and follow them till they die because that's what my mission needs to be. I want to be there for someone till the day I die. Is there a way to find this? Is there a way to believing in love? I'm desperate to know.

But you know what puts me in a crisis? That is understanding love. From what I've understood about myself, I am a person that views love as a love with violence and aggression, sacrificies and problems, imperfections and perfections, optimistic point of views and cosy touches, physical connection, spiritual connection, sexual touches, sweet words and harmful words that push you to hate the person you "love" and finally hating yourself for loving them.

How can I think this way? Who do I think I am? A goddess?

What if I got to know this guy and actually fell in love with him, what would really happen?

I would be desperate and heartbroken and hate myself for falling for somebody that I don't deserve and that I shouldn't waste my time with and not waste my life for neither energy. I would hate myself for falling for someone who isn't who I idealised. This is unacceptable.

I wanna be free. I wanna love someone and suffer forever. You know what I want to suffer because that's what I live for. That's how I've learnt to survive. I have been raised with violence and anger issues and problems. I need someone that treats me how I think he should treat me.

I don't know how my idealised man is. I have no idea how he is. I literally don't know. Like can you imagine that I wrote this whole story and bullshit for something that I don't really know or believe or think or reason about, oh my god I am truly crazy. I talk noonsense. I am a bullshiter and I accept it. Thank you for today.

K.M.

oh, fuck off 🫠

trying to ride simon but failing miserably every time. he'll never request it from you, no, but what man doesn't love to have his beautiful girl bouncing on his veiny cock, your breasts at perfect level to be squeezed and nipples sucked? to feel himself impaling your pussy, abusing your cervix but you're too fucking desperate to care about the dull ache in your stomach.

you're working yourself so hard, puffy clit rubbing against his pelvis with each bounce, his blond pubes leaving teasing kisses that threaten to drag you over the edge. but simon is greedy, he needs more of you, faster and harder. he needs to control you.

you know as soon as his legs spread apart on the bed, it's over for you, control is immediately gone. he plants his feet down on the mattress, his hips propping you up, pushing his leaking cock even further than you felt was possible, his full balls pressed against your plushy ass.

his strong arms wrap around you, pulling your upper half down onto him so your chests are pressed together, locking you into place as he fucks you. your mind is foggy, the sense leaving your brain at the intense pleasure he gives you, tight walls strangling his throbbing dick, a silent plea for him to destroy your insides. cream dribbles out of your pussy, trailing down his balls to the sheets, leaving a damp stain in its wake.

hot tears are pouring out of your eyes, pure bliss enveloping you as he uses you as his cum dump. the only words you can blabber out are "fuck simon!" and even then your tongue struggles to work properly, senses overloaded as your orgasm washes over you, the pressure in your head so intense black dots line your vision.

you can't hear or think, only feeling the vibration of simon's chest against yours with his low groans, probably praising how good you feel and that he's right there but you're too fucked out to understand. you can only feel the sweat dripping down his chest, his skin sticking to yours as he fucks you into oblivion.

his thighs stutter as he finishes, filling you as deep as he can go with ropes of hot, thick white cum. it fills you to the brim, dripping out of your pussy and down your inner thighs, only adding to the soiled sheets beneath you. slowing his thrusts to a stop, he pushes you up by the shoulders, taking a good look at your flushed face. drool is pooled in the corner of your mouth, red cheeks stained with tears, looking as wrecked and beautiful as ever.

his dark brown eyes dance along your body, as if taking a mental video of your chest rising and falling rapidly, attempting to catch your breath while looking at him with that glossy look in your eye.

so yeah, you may fail to ride him to orgasm every time, but fuck is it worth it.

I suddenly forgot how to beathe

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen

// read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

!! description.

When your commander -- Phillip Graves -- turns against the Los Vaqueros and Task Force 141, you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between your own morals, and your duty to serve the man you can no longer idolise, a choice must be made.

Do you help the two operatives you know deserve to live? Or do you fight with your unit -- the men you swore to stand beside?

The decision is made when you find yourself stumbling, quite literally, into one Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish; and, effectively, the 141's entire lives.

!! characters.

simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

!! warnings.

nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence