pompomlol

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I have a crush or whatever

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i didn’t watch love island but olandria getting a wattpad boyfriend in the form of nic after not having much dating experience cause she hasn’t dated since high school and is very shy, im so happy for her bruh, i love when a black woman is loved out loud 🥺😭❤️

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no actually i don't think antivaxxers' kids should die from a disease. i don't think gun advocates' kids should die in school shooting. children dying is bad actually, even if they're children of people you don't like.

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ugh this was so soft and sweet and lovely, i love it. 🫠🫠🥰🥰❤️❤️

DREAMER ， 𝗉𝗌𝗁

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎

𝟏𝟎𝟏𝟑𝒾──── roommate!sunghoon 𝗑 f!rea ✿ comfort fluff 𓂋 kissing skinship ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡

reblog for ！ ✶ 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 ◜ ᴗ ◝

sunghoon is going to marry you someday. he’s sure of it.

although, if he said this to anyone they would find it ridiculous — this guy isn’t even dating you. yet, he already has your entire future planned out in his head. a future where he is your husband.

for now, he’s nothing more than your roommate, a friend, even. but sunghoon wants more, so much more. he already started his three years long plan to get you to date him. there are times where he wants to skip every step and kiss you senseless.

like right now. when you are perched on the bathroom counter with your legs dangling.

“do you really want me to do this?” you ask, a white towel spread across your laps — in the utmost hope it will prevent you from making an absolute mess.

sunghoon’s stands between your knees. face freshly splashed with warm water, cheeks pink. he’s clean, hair wet and scent of his shampoo hanging in the air. he is still shirtless, a towel around his waist.

“i do,” he answers. already imagining how beautiful you’d look in your wedding dress. the music. the place. he has everything in mind already.

you smile, gentle and nervous as you reach for the shaving cream. you squirt a generous amount on your palms.

your hands approach his face carefully. you smooth the cream over his jaw with an impeccable focus and care. his closes his eyes. breathes as you touch him.

he thinks he is falling in love with you here. perhaps, he already was since the first time he saw you. it’s getting aggravating now — with how gentle you are. as if he was a doll you were scared to break.

even when you fumble, smearing foam of his lips, you gently wipe it with your sleeve, “sorry,” you quietly laugh.

“it’s fine,” he says, eyes still closed as he hums, melts into your touch, “take your time.”

he doesn’t want this moment to end. he wants to stay there, with the weight of your touch on his skin. with your face close. knees squeezed his hips.

he tilts his head obediently as your hand rests under his chin. the razor on your hand approaches his neck.

“i could kill you right now,” you giggle under your breath.

i’d still love you, he wants to say. he decides to not open his mouth. he can’t talk. not when you are so close, when he is at the urge of spilling his feelings for you — just because of your touch.

it’s surprising how good you are at this. you drag the razor down his cheek with the perfect pressure, as if you’ve done this all your life. you are so careful, in your own little world, your nose brushes his and your breath fans over his mouth. tempting.

sunghoon flinches. chasing the thoughts in his head.

“are you okay? did i hurt you?” you ask, obviously worried at the sound of your voice.

sunghoon opens his eyes. yours meet his immediately. your face is pretty — painted with worry. his stomach turns with affection. strong enough to feel like gravity.

“no—no… you’re doing good, you’re…” you furrow your eyebrows, confused. he continues, breathing out, “you’re perfect.”

your eyebrows flicker up in sheer surprise. he thinks he sees you blush, but he can’t trust his instincts at the moment. he just knows that you are pretty and is only sure of how much he wants to kiss you.

“close your eyes,” you mutter, focusing back on your job. and he does, without asking any questions.

when you are bossy like that, sunghoon wants to build you a house with his bare hands.

even more so, with how much care is filled in each one of your moves. it’s like you are a professional. not one nick on his skin, perfectly smooth and shiny— as if your fingertips were magical. just as sunghoon thinks you are.

he can’t stop staring at you, upon his eyes open. his eyes shoot pink hearts at you while you clean him up, warm towel on his face and your hands rubbing balm on his skin.

he doesn’t move. even when everything is done.

“i finished,” you giggle.

sunghoon blinks, eyes fluttering upen when he opens them after a millisecond. during that short period of time, he imagined himself getting on one knee, with a tiny box in his hand.

when you get married, he’ll ask you to help him shave all the time.

“i know,” he breathes out.

your voice is barely above an whisper, yet it sends chills down his spine, “you look cute, sunghoon.”

and he’s a strong man. a very strong individual with a great height and big muscles — but not that strong. not strong enough to not be moved by the sound of your voice complimenting him with that teasing grin.

is it him or you who leaned in first? he doesn’t know. but he’s glad someone finally did.

he feels it, your grin, when he gets a taste of your lips. he doesn’t regret skipping his elaborated plan when your warm hand touches his naked shoulder. or when you cup his smoothened jaw.

sunghoon holds onto the bathroom counter for dear life, your legs wrapping around his hips making his knees go weak. he’s too shy to reach out, to put his hands on your precious skin.

until you wrap your arms around his neck. only then he allows himself to press his palm against your back.

he has never dreamed of something better than this feeling right there. never craved anything more than finally kissing you.

“i did a great job,” you say between a kiss. shamelessly complimenting your work.

his lips are attached to yours, barely letting you pull away in the slightest to speak. even when he answers, “yeah, you did,” it’s against your mouth.

and god, not only you are perfect but the way you kiss drives him crazy. give him a few months. he’ll put the prettiest ring on your finger, he can promise that.

분지 ܃ for my tam and hana who i love so much 🎀

taglist open 。

[pompomlol]

And if I said that the more interesting conversation is how interesting it is that Sabrina had been in the industry for 10 years had been putting the work in but only really like astronomically blew up when she started making the overly sexual nonsense outros? How the more into the blonde nymphette aesthetic she leaned into the higher she climbed specifically on the more sexual aspects of her persona. How the more interesting conversation is that society likes and actively encourages celebrities to sell them sex but only ever up to a point. Only until the imaginary arbitrary line is drawn in the sand and suddenly it becomes too sexual.

Same thing happened with Sydney Sweeney she rose to fame on Euphoria you love Anyone but you with all the bikini shots and sexy scenes and then didn’t engage with her character in white lotus or anything else Society was determined to turn her into a sex symbol and now she’s leaning into the joke of it it’s a problem. Same with Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B they came out the gate talking about how much they love sex we loved how sexually aggressive they were but then W.A.P comes out and suddenly you’d swear they have never mentioned sex before the way people reacted. Same thing with Ice Spice I don’t think at any point people really thought she was a good rapper but it didn’t matter cause she was fun and sexy but now she’s no longer fun so it’s bad that’s she’s sexy. It’s a tale older than Marylin Monroe.

And there’s the problem society wants female celebrities to sell sex as long as it’s fun and wink wink and we get to be in on the joke. But the moment it’s not the moment that it might seem that they actually like it or want to play into it, then we cant have that.

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women are genuinely the greatest thing ever created, you’d be crazy not to adore them with your whole being

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Friend: Don't you want to have a romance?

Me: I'm good, I have romance at home.

Romance I have at home:

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i need to get off twitter, why am i arguing with someone over whether kiss of life was right or wrong??

[pompomlol]

stop the ending made my heart melt 🥰🫠

Love Talk ๑

• Park Sunghoon x Reader | Wc: 2K+ | Slow start, Smut, Fluff | MINORS DNI ༻

𝜗𝜚 Gildie’s Note ៹ I hope i delivered . I am still new to writing smut so pls don’t drag me TT . I tried my best fr fr. If the Korean is fucked up… my fault y’all .

༺ Masterlist

The university library was the last place you expected to meet someone who’d completely flip your world upside down, especially not someone you couldn't even have a basic conversation with. It was late, the kind of late that blurred the edges of concentration, and you were wrestling with a particularly dense economics chapter when he walked in.

He was... striking. Tall, with shoulders that looked broad even under a simple t-shirt, and hair that fell just so over eyes that seemed both intense and incredibly gentle. He carried a stack of books and scanned the room, finally settling at the table directly across from yours. Sunghoon. His name was on a notebook peeking out of his bag.

It started small. A shared sigh of exhaustion over textbooks. A tentative smile across the table. One night, your laptop died and you didn’t have your charger, and he noticed your groan of frustration. He rummaged through his bag and held up one that looked like it might fit.

"Oh my god, thank you!" You breathed, reaching for it. "You're a lifesaver."

He just tilted his head, a soft, questioning look in his eyes. He said something back, the words melodic but utterly foreign. Korean.

Your smile faltered. "Uh... thank you? Charger?" You held it up.

He nodded, smiling kindly, but his response was another stream of Korean. It hit you then. He didn't understand you. You didn't understand him.

"Okay," You chuckled awkwardly. "Okay. Language barrier. Got it." You mimed charging the laptop, giving an exaggerated thumbs-up.

He seemed to grasp the action, smiling wider and nodding. He said something again, slower this time, pointing between himself and you, maybe asking if it worked?

"Yes! It worked!" You said, after plugging it in. "Perfect! Seriously, thank you so much."

More Korean. He watched your face intently, maybe hoping you’d suddenly understand through sheer willpower.

Over the next few weeks, this became your routine in the library. Silent study sessions punctuated by attempts at gestures, shared snacks (he always offered you something from his bag, and you reciprocated with whatever junk food you had), and smiles that did more communicating than any words could. You tried translation apps a few times, resulting in hilarious, nonsensical phrases that made you both laugh until your sides hurt. "My learning is the pigeon of the park," one app declared confidently when he tried to tell you he was studying hard. "The weather contains the sadness of my sock," was your attempt to say it was raining and you were sad you forgot your umbrella. You quickly abandoned the apps.

Despite the complete lack of verbal understanding, the attraction grew undeniable. His quiet focus, the way his eyes would drift over to you, the easy way he smiled... and the sheer physical presence of him. Your heart did stupid little flips whenever he was near. His seemed to, too, if the slight flush on his cheeks when your hands brushed or the prolonged eye contact was anything to go by.

One rainy evening, still in the library, the power flickered and died. The room plunged into semi-darkness, lit only by emergency lights. There were a few startled yelps from other students, but your eyes immediately found Sunghoon's across the table. In the dim light, his gaze on you was intense.

He stood up slowly, walked around the table, and stopped in front of you. Hesitantly, he reached out and cupped your cheek. His thumb stroked gently just below your eye. Your breath caught.

He leaned down, and his lips met yours.

It was tentative at first, a soft question. You answered with immediate, fervent assent, kissing him back with everything you had. The language barrier didn't exist here. This was primal, undeniable. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer. His other arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you slightly out of your chair to press you against him.

You stayed like that for a long moment, just kissing in the semi-dark, the quiet chaos of the library fading away. When you finally broke apart, chests heaving slightly, his eyes were dark and searching. He said something, low and husky, in Korean. It sounded like a question, pleading.

You didn't understand the words, but you understood the look in his eyes, the feel of his body pressed against yours. "Yes," You whispered, hoping your single English word, coupled with the look in your own eyes, was enough. "Yes."

He seemed to understand that. A wave of relief mixed with fierce desire washed over his face. He took your hand, his grip firm and warm, and led you out of the library, out into the still-falling rain, towards the dorms.

Neither of you tried to speak on the walk. The pitter-patter of rain, the distant city sounds, and the heavy pounding of your own hearts filled the silence. You reached your dorm building, and he followed you inside and up the stairs to your room. Your roommate was thankfully away for the weekend.

The air in your room felt thick with anticipation. He closed the door softly behind him, and you were alone. The silence between you wasn't awkward; it was charged, expectant.

He just looked at you, that intense gaze raking over your face, your body. He took a step closer, reaching out to touch your hair, then letting his hand slide down your arm.

"Sunghoon," You whispered, just saying his name.

He said yours back, or maybe something that sounded like it, low and rough in his throat. Then he was kissing you again, more urgently this time. His hands were in your hair, pulling gently, tilting your head back as his tongue swept into your mouth.

Fingers fumbled with buttons, with zippers. Clothes were shed quickly, discarded in a trail on the floor. In moments, you were naked, pressed together skin to skin. His body was warm and solid against yours, smooth muscle under your hands as you explored his back, his shoulders.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down gently before following you down, his weight settling over you.

His kisses trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He found the sensitive spot behind your ear, making you whimper. His mouth moved lower, suckling at your collarbone, his hands exploring your sides, your waist, your hips.

Then his hand was between your legs, fingers finding your heat, stroking gently, expertly. A gasp escaped your lips. The frustration of not understanding him was completely gone, replaced by the overwhelming clarity of physical sensation.

He shifted, spreading your legs wider with his knee, settling between them. You felt the hard heat of him pressing against you, ready.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire, his jaw clenched. He said something, a low, guttural sound that vibrated in his chest where it was pressed against yours. It sounded like a plea, or maybe a question, thick with need.

You didn't need words to respond. You arched your back, lifting your hips, silently begging him.

And then he was inside you.

It was a deep, full stretch, a feeling of being completely filled that made you cry out. He paused for a second, letting you both adjust, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your ear. He said something again, his voice rough, the Korean words tumbling out in a breathless stream.

Then he began to move.

Slow at first, establishing a rhythm, a deep, grinding rub that built incredible friction. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful. Your hips instinctively rose to meet him, matching his pace.

He picked up speed, his breath growing heavier, the sounds he made changing. And the Korean started again, not just a few words, but a torrent.

"아 씨발," he groaned, thrusting deep. "존나 좋아."

You didn't know what any of it meant. But the sound of his voice... it was raw, animalistic, pure feeling. Rough around the edges, edged with urgency and a deep, throbbing pleasure.

He buried his face in your neck, his words muffled against your skin as he pounded into you. "더," he gasped, his hips driving forward harder. "더어."

His hands gripped your ass, lifting you, tilting you, adjusting the angle to go even deeper. "여기," he grunted, hitting a spot that sent shivers down your spine. "느낌 와?"

You couldn't answer in words. All you could do was moan, arch your back, dig your nails into his shoulders. His dirty talk, untranslated, became a part of the rhythm, the sound track to the incredible physical sensations. A low growl as he pulled back, a sharp exhale as he thrusted forward again. Short, clipped phrases when he was particularly deep; longer, more drawn-out declarations when the feeling was overwhelming.

He flipped you over, maneuvering you onto your hands and knees. He repositioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back onto his hard length.

"하, 이 자세..." he breathed, starting to pound again, faster now, harder. Each thrust felt like it was hitting your core, shaking you apart in the best possible way. "진짜 미쳤다."

His voice behind you was rough, guttural, filled with a desperate need that mirrored your own. He leaned forward, burying his face in your hair, his body close against yours, the sounds of your skin slapping together loud in the room.

"괜찮아?" he suddenly asked, his voice slightly softer, though still rough with exertion.

You didn't understand the question, but you felt his body momentarily hesitate, felt his concern radiating off him even though he couldn't voice it in a language you knew. You responded by pushing back into him, whining low in your throat, urging him to continue. “Please… don’t stop.”

Understanding dawned in his actions. He groaned, a sound of pure pleasure and relief, and resumed his relentless pounding. "착한 아가," he praised, maybe? Or just a sound of satisfaction. "내 꺼."

His pace quickened, the thrusts becoming shallower but faster, building towards a peak. He was talking faster now, a rush of urgent Korean, punctuated by gasps and groans. His body was tense, coiled, vibrating with the intensity.

You felt yourself coiling too, that familiar tension building low in your belly. You cried out, loud and unrestrained, as the climax hit, waves of white-hot pleasure washing over you. Your body shuddered, clenching around him.

He groaned your name, or something close to it, a guttural roar following seconds later, his body going rigid above yours as he pumped one final, deep thrust into you before collapsing onto your back, heavy and spent.

You lay there for a long moment, breath heavy, hearts pounding in sync. The only sounds were your ragged breathing and the gentle rain outside. His weight on your back was comforting, grounding.

After a while, he stirred, shifting off you and pulling you back against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Your head rested on his shoulder, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. You were slick with sweat, intertwined, the language barrier momentarily forgotten in the aftermath of such intense physical connection.

When the immediate haze of post-orgasm bliss began to fade, you wanted to talk. You wanted to tell him how incredible that was, how amazing he was, how crazy it felt that you could have something so profound happen despite not being able to truly speak to each other.

You stirred, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him. He was watching you, his eyes soft and warm.

"That... wow," You started, your voice raspy. "That was... really, really good. Like, unbelievably good." You searched his face, wishing he could understand. "Thank you."

You saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes as you spoke, the way his brow furrowed slightly. He listened intently, trying to grasp something, anything, from the tone or your expression. He recognized the 'thank you', maybe through previous interactions.

He smiled gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He said something back in Korean, softly, his voice still a little rough. It sounded fond, maybe appreciative.

You tried again, wanting to bridge the gap even just a little. "It's just... it's so strange, isn't it? We can't talk, but... that..." You gestured vaguely between us. "That felt so... connected."

He watched you, a hint of melancholy touching his eyes as the words flowed over him, unintelligible. He still couldn't understand.

But then the melancholy cleared, replaced by that familiar intense gaze. He didn't need to understand your words. He understood the look on your face, the desire to communicate, the fundamental barrier between you.

Instead of trying to respond with more Korean, or reaching for a phone, he just smiled, a slow, breathtaking smile. And then he leaned down and kissed you.

It wasn't a frantic, passionate kiss like before. It was soft, deep, silencing. A kiss that said, I don't understand your words, but I understand you. Right now, this is our language.

He kissed you thoroughly, sweetly, pressing you back into the pillows. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing softly. He didn't say anything in Korean this time. He just held you, his arms wrapped tight around you, his body a warm, comforting weight against yours.

You chuckled softly, the absurdity of it all mixed with the profound intimacy of the moment. "Okay," You whispered, not needing him to understand. "Okay. Kissing works too."

He didn't understand the words, but he must have understood the sound of your voice, the feeling of your breath against his skin. He just held you closer, pressing another soft kiss to your hair.

Maybe you’d figure out the words someday. Or maybe, for now, this was enough. The touch, the heat, the sounds your bodies made together, and the quiet, silencing language of a kiss.

𝜗𝜚 Silkies ៹ @betda @nithxhoon @heesunghooney

[pompomlol]

this is so cute omg 😭

ex-bf trope? how about ex-husband 🤭 you and oikawa tried your best to make things work, but even throughout your high school days things were always on again and off again between you two. you’re both stubborn and prideful and full of ambition, and it’s the ambition that drives the two of you apart. even after getting married, it’s not even a year ‘til you two decide to divorce and go your separate ways. you to america, him to argentina. when your work takes you to the olympics, the two of you get a chance to reconnect again. this time, you’re both older and wiser — and just dumb and reckless enough to maybe try giving your relationship another chance.

NO because i actually have a very specific scene i want. people find out that oikawa used to be married and when asked abt his wedding day, oikawa answers honestly: “i can’t recall much. not the people who attended or the decorations or how the cake tasted. all i could focus on was her. all i remember is her.” AND HE’S NOT LOOKING AT THE INTERVIEWER AS HE SPEAKS. he’s staring right at you, but you’re completely unaware and he’s doing the interview in spanish so you have no idea what he’s saying !!!! just, exes still in love and second chance romance !!

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i work retail and yesterday when i was trying to tell these two ladies our deals and im walking back to register and i hear one of them go “oh my gosh she’s adorable” like go die

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now what kind of wattpad bf did i find on tinder?!?

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ik whoever’s in megan thee stallion’s close friends is so lucky, whether she shaking ass or doing shit posts, i wanna see

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Being a black KPop stan can be so hard sometimes. You’re expected to react with calmness or indifference whenever racist or insensitive things happen. You’re just supposed to smile through everything like it’s fine but fuck all that. It’s okay to feel hurt and upset by things that artists or the community as a whole do sometimes.

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naw y’all my bf’s a freak. we were smoking last night and he said one night we should go to the park and have a midnight picnic with snacks and blankets and we can watch a movie on his laptop and smoke and FUCK!! and i’m like “bruh we’re gonna get arrested” and he’s like “for the weed or fucking in the park” and i’m like “BOTH”

truly the man of my dreams i swear 🫣🥰