#micro tshirt
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myhotplaythingsreblogs2 · 6 days ago
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ichorative · 2 months ago
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All of my vintage clothing from 20-40 years ago still holds up better than most of the shit I bought 5-10 years ago and that is genuinely crazy concerning
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catgirlsupremacist · 11 months ago
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The oversized shirt and long skirt combo is no longer hitting the same. I have sadly declared titties out the same time the temperature is dropping below zero, and most of my standard t shirts are oversized
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ellenhenryart · 1 year ago
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(via "Let it Rip Jeremy Allen White Micro Shorts Funny Memes" Classic T-Shirt for Sale by ellenhenry)
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princessbrunette · 10 months ago
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CRUSH ♡
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… based loosely on the song crush by ethel cain ⊹˚. ♡
pairing: linecook!jj maybank + sweetheart!reader
synopsis: you’re head over heels for your bad-boy coworker, jj— the linecook for the outerbanks beachside restaurant you waitress at. a customer spilling coffee over your uniform catalysts a chain of events.
cw: a gun but no violence, shitty customers, jj being jj, smut.
You didn’t really know about restaurant employee culture until you started your job as a waitress. Stereotypes, things that fate would just simply decide to come true in every single restaurant no matter what. Waitresses were either the sweetest people you’d ever met or the bitchiest, managers had favourites and if you weren’t one of them they treat you like shit, the kid who gets stuck on dishwasher duty was always younger than everyone and fell in love with all the waitresses— uber specific and odd stuff. Oh, and that linecooks were troubled, or whores.
JJ Maybank was more troubled than the latter. Well, you’d hoped so anyways. You’d had a crush on the blonde linecook from your very first day, a quieter morning at the beginning of spring when the beachside restaurant was criminally understaffed. Your manager had appointed him to show you around before either of you had even made it inside, the tough older woman calling him out as he arrived to work, climbing off his bike, chewing on a toothpick with headphones over his ears. Your heart had fluttered when he bantered with the older woman, pointing to the music-playing-muffs over his ears, mouthing an ‘I can’t hear you, sorry’ when she’d approached him.
You’d felt embarrassed almost, like you were taking up his time. He was clearly comfortable here, had a good relationship with everybody— even the manager who seemed to hate the world tenfold. She’d yanked off his headphones and jut her thumb towards you as he stared her down with a mischievous grin.
��Maybank, I need you to show around the newbie— uh, what’s your name again sweetheart?” She spins to you, and for the first time JJ’s eyes flicker towards you, brows jumping up just a hair, a micro-expression that only you could hold onto for hope. Hope that he might be a little interested. You speak your name, and he’s swerving around the manager in his white tshirt, apron tied lazily around his waist, hung down, not even wearing it over his shirt like he’s meant to, black backwards cap over blonde messy hair.
“Well it is very nice to meet you ma’am.” He juts out a hand with a stupidly large grin that makes you feel even more shy.
You remember that day so clearly, the blonde showing you the ropes, practically training you whilst your manager chain smoked out the back. You remembered how you hadn’t had a proper school-girl style crush like this since forever, and one day into working at the restaurant you were already head over heels for the loud and hyperactive Pogue.
A few months down the line, and your bond had blossomed. Well, somewhat — it was a busy restaurant, lots of waitresses and cooks and customers. There wasn’t always time for chit-chat and flirting. Which sometimes you were grateful for, plates clanking awkwardly in your hands as you spot a more confident waitress trying her luck with him, hair twirled around a long finger. You were delusional enough to believe JJ seemed politely disinterested at the least, choosing to busy himself with ruffling the top of your head with his knuckles as you pass by him, hiding your smile at his acknowledgment.
You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends. You’d hoped not anyway, dreading being stuck in the friendzone with the guy you’d spent months pining after. You couldn’t be friends because you’d never hung out with him outside of work, not that you’d deny him but he’d never asked. You’d seen him around, don’t get it twisted — that group of friends of his; the brunette one who always seemed to be the talk of the town, the darker skinned boy who seemed too smart to be slumming it on a boat smoking weed, and a girl — who laughed at all of JJ’s jokes and threw glares to anyone she deemed too ‘Kook-y’. That was some serious intel, but you swear up and down you weren’t a stalker— just paying attention when you’d see him outside of the workplace.
JJ made it clear you were his favourite waitress. Well, he’d said it himself, holding a plate just out of your reach when you’d come to collect an order, playful smirk on his face as he stares down at you. “Can I have my order?” you pretend to hate it, hiding your smile as you huff, reaching out.
“I dunno, I could almost swear there’s a magic word that you’re missing there, girlie. Y’wanna help me out with that? Orrrr…” He tilts his head, playing dumb and you let the smile free— cheeks pushing up as you gaze at his stupid expression.
“Please, JJ.” You offer sweetly instead of sassing him, which makes his heart clench a little because you were just an absolute sweetheart by nature. He lowers the plate, hovering it above your palm and giving you a more serious look.
“Plates hot, alright? Better be careful with those delicate mittens.” You roll your eyes bashfully and he presses it into your palm. The plate was warm at best, it seeming that JJ would say anything just to keep the conversation going longer than it needed to.
“Thank you.” You smile once it was in your hand and he nods, faux solemnly as he backs off back to his work station, ignoring the knowing stare from his partner linecook.
“So polite, s’why you’re my favourite, princess.” He points with a wink and you turn away before he can see how flustered it made you. Princess, are you kidding me? It’s like he wanted to make you drop the plate. He watches the door swing as you head back out into the bustling restaurant, and jumps a little in surprise when he turns back to come face to face with another linecooks smirk.
“Playin’ favourites, huh Maybank?”
The blonde itches his cheek, bashful with a shrug— going back to chopping a carrot like he was before.
“Yeah well— doesn’t everyone do that here?” He tries to brush it off, head swivelling to glance back at the door, just incase you overheard.
“Yeah… yeah, chose a pretty one though, I’ll give you that. Lemme know when you’re done with it, I wanna play.” He speaks with a stomach-turning smile, and certainly doesn’t miss the way JJ’s jaw clenches, knife nearly going not only through the carrot but the chopping board too. Dont cause a scene now, Jayj.
JJ was troubled, like you’d said. You’d heard whispers from waitresses or friends of a friend outside of work — things about his father always being in jail, the blonde himself ending up in overnight cells a series of times. You’d heard about fights, his name always ringing close to the scene, even car chases and rumours about his run ins with big time criminals— but you wasn’t sure how verifiable any of these were.
It didn’t seem totally far fetched though, the Pogue occasionally showing up to his shift with his head down, a new bruise splattered on his cheek bone or a gnarly gash. He had one the day things changed, a cut through his lip, gone almost black from blood constantly drying after he’d assumably lick it open. From a glance, it almost looked like a lip-ring, and he sported it well with a large greenish yellow bruise beside his eye over his temple. You wish you felt close enough to ask where they came from, but knew that would be prying. You didn’t even wanna listen in when you’d see the manager nod him into her office to give him ‘the talk’ and ask about it presumably, which you’d also guessed she’d gained no information from as he’d leave her office looking casual whilst she still wore that slightly frustrated and worried look on her face.
Everyone seemed to be in a weird mood that day, even the customers. It wasn’t really his fault, the man somehow backing into you abruptly enough for you to spill an old container of coffee all down yourself. Well, to rephrase — it was an accident, which was actually the best case scenario considering you’d had drinks poured down you on purpose for making them wrong before.
You get that awful coil of embarrassment in your stomach when you walk into the kitchen, beige staining right through your usual pristine uniform and falling in droplets off the ends of your hair. JJ sees the pout before the stains, and it comes as no surprise to the other linecooks when he rushes over like prince charming.
“You good? Someone do that to you?” He’s already trying to bound past you to go and ‘handle the situation’ (AKA, kick them out) but you shake your head— not really upset just tired, and now cold thanks to the old coffee soaking through to your skin.
“It was an accident. I don’t have anything to change into so I don’t know if I should just… go home, or something.” You hold your hands out in frustration, looking down at yourself.
“Oh, nah— don’t sweat it. Got a spare shirt in my locker you can wear. S’just a white t-shirt, should do the trick.” He steps backwards.
“But it’s not uniform?” You furrow your brows and he huffs out a chuckle at you always being such a stickler for following the rules. “Our manager will have my head, surely.”
“Think she’d rather that than you walkin’ round smellin’ like cold brew.” He fishes through his pockets and tosses you a small key with a red triangle keychain on the end, the key to his locker in the staff cloakroom. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks Jayj.” You smile, excusing yourself shyly at the use of the nickname you’ve heard others use on him but always chickened out on. He noticed, because he shows all his teeth when he smiles and nods, turning back around.
The cloakroom always smells weird— like mulch and rubber, a cold and windowless room with a bench and a wall of seafoam lockers. You flip the key in your hand, spotting the number on the back and match it to the lockers. Wearing JJ’s shirt, huh — you smile to yourself, feeling giddy and stupid at the butterflies that brush their wings against the inside of your stomach. He was just doing you a favour, sure — but you got to prance around wearing him all day, and that was enough to fuel your delusion. You off your stained shirt, leaving you in just a small and flimsy tank top that you usually wear beneath it incase of accidents like this.
You open the locker, and something black immediately drops out onto the floor, echoing loudly and bouncing once a tiny bit by your feet. The weird clinical lighting of the cloakroom casts a dark shadow below where your head searches down for it, so you move slightly— brows furrowing when you see the shape of it.
Your brain clearly hasn’t processed or caught up with just quite what you’re looking at as you bend down, lips parted as you pick the item up in your hand, standing back to full height once more. In your hand, you stared directly at a gun. A pistol, to be precise. You seem to be in shock, the weapon glued to your hand despite anyone being able to walk in and get you fired and or reported to the police within a matter of seconds. You turn the weapon in your hand in fascination, whispering a “What the…” to yourself.
JJ leans against the doorway with a forearm, just now remembering what resided in that very locker other than the shirt he so generously offered. He’s distracted for a moment by your skin, the skin on the back of your arms and your back as you stand with your uniform shirt bunched in your hand, until of course he spots what’s held in your other hand and physically winces.
“Shit, uh—” JJ vocalises and your head snaps around, sighing in relief once you see that it’s just him. You’re back to marvelling in shock at the item in an instant, ogling between him and the weapon. “So, that’s — that’s not what it looks like—”
“A gun?” You whisper the second word, looking up at him with wide eyes and he points the pistol downwards with his finger when you hold it accidentally facing him.
“Well, okay I mean yes — it’s a gun, but I had no choice. Had to momentarily keep it here, alright? I took it in for a friend and —”
“What are you, some kind of hitman?” You shake your head, earrings jangling a little with your stressed little gesture which would usually warm his heart if he wasn’t focused on deescalating.
“Okay, first of all— why don’t I take this from you missy,” He eases the gun out of your hands and accidentally fumbles it inside his locker, the weapon clattering against the echoey walls making him let out a quiet ‘whoops’ before placing a black gym bag on top of it. He turns to you. “Secondly, no okay I’m not a hitman— I haven’t ever shot a person with this thing.”
“Then… why do you have it?” You furrow your brows, seeming to have calmed down a little, which was relieving despite your reaction being totally valid.
“W—you know, gotta stay strapped. Protect my people.” He shrugs, attempting nonchalance and your eye twitches, realising how different the two of you are. JJ, bad boy with a gun in his locker— and you, straight arrow waitress. “Look all m’saying is if you told me someone was messing with you… I wouldn’t hesitate.”
You stare at him dumbfounded, wondering what on Earth he was going through to lead him to owning a gun, but you daren’t ask— even now. You eye him, brows knitting cutely.
“And you’re sure you’re not some serial killer?” You ask, folding your arms. Mostly joking. Mostly.
“Yeah nah I couldn’t do the whole choppin’ up dead bodies thing, m’pretty squeamish n’I got this thing with my gag reflex where y’know, I — I just—” He gestures to his throat, head bobbing with a preemptive gag but sees the way you’re staring at him like he’d just stepped off a space ship from Mars and decides against the bit, clearing his throat and glancing into his locker. “Enough of that uh— why don’t I go ahead and grab you that shirt you were after…” He reaches inside his locker, pulling out balled up white shirt, quickly turning it back from being inside out.
“There y’go…” He murmurs as he does so to no one in particular before shoving his arms inside and pulling the head hole wider before stuffing you inside it, tugging it until your head pops out, still staring at him a little dumbfounded. “Peekaboo.” He smiles nervously before leaving you to shove your own arm holes through, pulling it down over your tank top. He awkwardly watches before you hand him back his key and he locks his locker once more, glancing around at you.
“So about the—”
“Your secrets safe with me JJ. Thanks for the shirt.”
You swan around in the white fabric like it’s a ball gown for the rest of the day. Delusional didn’t feel like the right word, no— he gave you the shirt, which in your head is flirting— handing you the opportunity to daydream about being his girlfriend and wearing his clothes all the time. Each time you moved you could smell him on you, that faint smell of cigarettes and just him — reminding you of the times you’ve caught him on a rough shift fumbling for a pack of Marlboro Red’s and heading out the back door to be angsty for a while before returning with a plastered on smile. You bite your lip, staring into space as you rub the material between your fingers, waiting for a table to flag you down, excited for the next time you could go into the kitchen and see him… have him see you, wearing his shirt only hoping it hot-wires his brain with some sort of romantic association. Oh, JJ Maybank. He just made you so… so…
“Ugh, mmph JJ!” You cry out, later that night. Guilty, you ended up in nothing but the t-shirt and two fingers stuffed into your weeping cunt. You felt kind of perverse, despite the million promises to yourself to wash the shirt immediately after to return to him— but also there was just something painfully arousing about touching yourself wearing it— every layer beneath it removed to have your hardened nipples peak beneath the thin white fabric, tousled and jostled up where your ribcage was as you grind your digits inside of you.
You were home alone, like usual — which gave you the perfect opportunity to moan his name. Too horny to care about the 0.05% chance he’s strolling in your area and walking past the window, hearing. Even the idea of that aroused you further in the moment, wondering just what he’d think if he knew the sweet and harmless waitress was defiling her cunt in his name, in his shirt. You think about best case scenario, the blonde with his rough hand around his cock— and you knew it was rough from the way it felt when he’d touch your arm or brush against your fingers when handing you a dish. Rough from working on his bike and handling hot food and other Maybank shenanigans that still lead him to fist at his dick in his room at night thinking of you, you and only you.
You cum in your palm and feel disgraced. Poor JJ. You’re a total pervert and you must wash that shirt.
Except you don’t, and you fall asleep— returning to work in your spare uniform the next day. Empty handed. JJ doesn’t notice, hell — he doesn’t care. He’s stacked up with so many orders you almost feel bad even though it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re still riding off the guilt of masturbating in his shirt. There’s a sick sense of pride that twists in your gut when you look at him though. Boyish, sometimes thoughtless blonde with no idea that you came so hard moaning his name just a matter of hours before facing him again. You catch him in a quieter moment, leaning over to his station with a stressed expression to tell him that you forgot to bring his shirt back, to which he just responds with a shrug and a careless wave that read as ‘It’s cool.’ That was the JJ you knew. Cool, calm, didn’t give a shit. You got butterflies at the minute gesture. God, get a grip.
The next time it comes up, it’s because he brings it up. Catching you on your break, a cheekful of pasta he’d made for you to quickly cram down before your manager gets onto you for slacking off— JJ approaches your little table outside, blonde hair feathery and light in the sun. “Howdy there, shirt thief.” He grins lightheartedly, pulling out the other chair on the small circle table you sat at and straddling it backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest.
You nearly choke on your pasta at the speed you go to explain yourself— way to not make yourself seem guilty. “It’s in the washing machine, I literally just kept forgetting I’m sorry JJ.” You look all sweet and worried in the way that makes him wanna pinch your cheeks, so he fiddles with his lighter instead, flicking it on and off in his grasp.
“Nah you’re good.” He chuckles, staring out at the water the restaurant overlooked. It was a windier day, and even from where you sat you could hear the loud roaring of distant waves. “Hey uh— you want a ride home on the old bike? I can come in and grab it if like— if that’s cool.” He suggests, almost seeming a bit hesitant, nervous even.
“Oh! Yeah, I mean I’d have to stick it in the dryer first but you’re free to hang out whilst it dries… unless you really gotta go then, you can have your shirt back damp, I guess.” You mirror the nervous energy tenfold, practically stumbling over yourself to not sound as eager as you were. JJ, in your house.
“Yeah, sweet. Cool cool cool cool.” He bops his head, drumming on the table before suddenly his name was called from inside.
“Maybank! These fish aren’t gonna fry themselves, you know that right?” The tough, unmistakable chain smoker voice of your manager rings through the air and JJ winces theatrically for your entertainment, making you giggle the same way a child might after a party clown does something stupid. It was kind of pathetic, but atleast JJ found it endearing.
You weren’t lying about the shirt, thankfully. Honest — the JJ smell was gone so you’d tossed it in the washing machine before you’d head out onto your shift, planning on finally (reluctantly) returning it the next day.
He pushes himself up to leave, before pausing and leaning over the table towards you. You freeze, and he brings his thumb to your cheek — swiping away a speck of sauce from the pasta that has splattered into your skin from how greedily you wolfed down his food. “Lemme just… get that for you.” He mutters as he does so, turning his thumb around to show you the sauce stain that had transferred to his skin and ease your confusion.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he holds your gaze as he leans back, bringing his thumb to his mouth, cleaning off the sauce. Oh, you sick bastard. He doesn’t even try and hide his smirk— and you stare dumbly at the space he stood even after he’s long gone.
The shift dragged on, tip tapping your feet whenever you stood still for too long, excited bubbles in your stomach fizzing up like shaken pop everytime you thought about the linecook. It felt like hours longer than usual, but finally — the end of your shift came. JJ’s had ended twenty minutes earlier, being replaced by another chef whose plates were always too hot and spoke too loud, making the last stretch of your working hour even tougher. You thought JJ might have forgotten about your little arrangement, just taking off to head home or to go and smoke on the rickety little boat you’d seen him on— but lo and behold, you step out the doors to that wretched place and there he is, leaning on his bike like something out of an 80s movie.
“No helmet?” You’re grinning by the time you reach him, barely containing your excitement. You don’t think you’ve even been on the back of one of these bikes before, let alone with the boy you’re crushing on. JJ scrunches his nose, wincing.
“Wasn’t countin’ on having anyone else on board today, that’s my bad.” He helps you climb on, ensuring you’re sat securely. “I’m a good driver, you’ll be alright. Just uh— hold on tight and I’ll avoid any big potholes, yeah?” He reaches back, taking your arms and wrapping them around his middle, forcing you against his warm back. He’d probably done that for plenty of people, the way it came naturally to him— but in that moment you didn’t care, just nodding as you leant more against him. You tell him your address, and he recognises it, someone he knows living near by. With that, the two of you are off.
You’re truly in bliss, closing your eyes with your cheek pressed to his back, wind whipping past your face. He is a good driver, and you dare even let yourself believe he’s being extra careful with you on board, none of the harsh turns or skids you’ve seen him do on the streets alone. Your cheeks start to ache with how much you’re smiling.
“You all good back there my lil’ backpack?” He pats your leg in a friendly manner at a stop light and you giggle, embarrassed with how fast goosebumps break out.
“Yeah, this is fun!” You yell at an unnecessary volume to be heard over the running engine, making him chuckle and glance round at you.
“Good, that’s good.”
You’re almost sad when the ride is over, his wheels coming to a slow as he parks up haphazardly beside your front lawn. You’re quick to pat your head down, knowing that journey must have you looking dishevelled at best and hop off the bike, patting the pocket of your shorts for your keys.
“My humble abode awaits.” You chirp, cringing afterwards but he smirks and follows you regardless, pulling up his pants boyishly as he stalks behind you up to your front door. Inside your head is a chant, one that consists of hoping and praying your parents wouldn’t be home so you didn’t have to do the whole awkward explanation thing, not that you didn’t have a totally valid excuse — and you were grown, so interacting with boys shouldn’t be the awkward dilemma that it was — but to them you were still their sweet girl regardless of age, and you’d like to keep it that way, which wouldn’t be possible being spotted ushering Pogue King JJ Maybank into your bedroom.
You unlock the door, calling out a ‘hello’ to be met with miraculous silence. JJ shuffles in behind you, closing the door for you and whistling quietly. “This place is pretty fancy, yeah… bet you got like, an electric toothbrush n’shit.” He comments, neck craning to look around as he follows you slowly through the house.
You huff a laugh out your nose, cheeks pressing upwards as you stroll through toward the kitchen. “An electric toothbrush?” You question.
“Yeaaah man, kook shit.” He peers nosily at the calendar, eyeing the events your family have coming up.
You spot a note pinned to the fridge and head towards it, shaking your head. “If I was a kook I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant getting coffee poured down me. Are electric toothbrushes the pinnacle of wealth in your eyes?” You laugh quietly, pulling the note off the fridge.
“Dude in eighth grade I lost my toothbrush and for a year all I had was my finger, some toothpaste and a dream.” He chats, appearing directly behind you and plucking the note from your hand. “Out ‘til late, pizza in fridge.” He reads blankly out loud and you take it back from him, tossing it aside.
“How’d you lose a toothbrush?” You chuckle, leading him out the kitchen.
“I be in situations.” He shrugs, following you to the short flight of stairs. To his core, JJ was truly just a guy— and took very little pride in watching you climb a few steps before he joined you so that he could check out your ass.
“Bet your dentist loved you.” You comment, glancing behind you at him making his eyes snap upwards guilty. He scoffs, wiping his hands on his pants like he was worried about dirtying up your house before grasping onto the bannister, skipping a few steps to hop up.
“Yeah, like I could afford one of those.”
On the landing, you point him towards the hallway, stepping back once you realised you were practically standing on top of him. He didn’t seem to notice, or mind, staring down at you for direction. “My rooms the last door on the right. I’m gonna go toss your shirt in the dryer, ‘kay?”
He nods once, strolling in the direction you pointed him. “Yes ma’am.”
You head to the laundry room and take a moment to collect yourself, sniffing his shirt to make sure it was properly clean before stuffing it into the dryer to turn it on. You lean against its circular door as it starts up, taking a breath before realising you left JJ Maybank alone in your bedroom.
You arrive at the door to your girly haven, immediately yanking a pair of panties off the ground and throwing them into a corner as you spot the blonde by the window, curiously looking around.
“So this is where the magic happens, I assume.” He glances at you, swiping his hat off his head and placing it on your dresser. Something about his gaze and the way it continually flickered to you, waiting for an answer suggested it was a genuine question. He was asking if you were seeing anyone, perhaps. You giggle.
“And if by magic you mean napping after work and reading books, yeah. It gets so magical in here, you wouldn’t believe it.” You sit on your bed, watching him semi-awkwardly pace infront of you, running hands through his hair before stuffing them into his pockets.
“Ah yeah, ha— forgot you were a real good girl. Should stay that way, I like it— and I mean like, there’s hella weirdos round here. Y’know? Better to… steer clear.” He rambles as you watch him with a smile. At work, the blonde seemed more calm, in his element— but here, in your terrain— he seemed slightly more on edge. You tried not to read into it.
Your stomach warms at the ‘good girl’ comment, lashes fluttering only a little before he’s distracted once more. You see him gazing ahead at the shelf above your vanity, opposite the bed where all your baby photos were lined up. His smile grows, and you see the cogs turn in his head.
He strides towards it in an instant, taking the framed image off the shelf. You jump up, following him to try and save yourself the embarrassment of whatever he was looking at but it was too late. He grins, turning his head to look down at you. “Oh wow, now don’t tell me this is you?” He holds the photo up beside your head, glancing theatrically between the two to compare and you bat him away.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re nosy?”
“Oh yeah, all the time. That, that is adorable though.” He’s immediately distracted by another photo, setting the one in his hand down to pick it up. “And who’s this?” He lifts the picture of your mother holding you as a baby.
“My mother.”
“Total fox. As expected.”
“Okay, no more for you.” You hide your amusement well, reaching out for the photo and grabbing it. He puts up little fight, letting you snatch the frame from his larger hand as he reaches for another, making a total mess of your embarrassing nostalgia display. This last picture is of you, around 5 years old— adorned in a pink princess dress and a plastic tiara, grinning at the camera.
“Aw.” He smirks, turning his body to face you. “Guess some things never change. Still a pretty princess.” You’re not sure if he’s mocking you now, because he’s tonguing at the cut on his lip which makes you gain a second heartbeat in your panties and you freeze up— which in itself is more embarrassing that this whole ordeal. He was a tease by nature he’ll admit, but this — this was fun. Seeing you get flustered was his new favourite thing.
You give him the exact reaction he’s after, failing to hide your smile as you lurch for the frame. He hides it behind his back and you stumble into him, stabilising yourself with both hands on his chest. He’s all… warm, and firm.
There’s a silence, but things are never quiet for too long with JJ. Thankfully.
“Damn, if you wanted to touch me up you could’a just asked. Pro’lly would’a said yes.” The smirk is yet to fade, infact you think it’s permanently stamped onto his mouth and your eyes widen just a smidge— scrambling for a witty comeback that didn’t make you look like a perverse idiot.
“I dunno, after you made fun of my baby pictures? Think I owe you two black eyes.” You tilt your head sweetly, proud of the response and his eyes flicker over your expression, eyes softening just a tad. Or maybe you imagined it.
“‘Think that’s a little extreme. How ‘bout a kiss instead?” You freeze, because it’s then you realise how close the two of you are still. Hes practically got you caged against your vanity, can probably hear how fast he’s got your heart beating— maybe smell the pathetic dribble of arousal seeping into your underwear just from being this close to him. You can’t tell if he’s kidding, and it seems he even caught himself a little off guard, blinking a few times during your stunned silence.
But then you look at his mouth, because asking a question like that is totally giving you permission to do so, and he takes that as an answer and leans in.
You’re so hypnotised when his mouth starts moving against yours that you nearly jump out of your skin when his large hands bracket your waist, pulling your body more flush against his. JJ was a good kisser, which lead you to indeed that he was infact— a whore. Well, maybe a former whore. Whatever, in that moment it didn’t matter— nothing mattered, just JJ and his tongue that was sliding against yours as the kiss heated up.
It feels like hours that your tongues are looping round eachother, snapped out the moment by the hungry blondes hands sliding down, your waist in his grip becomes suddenly your ass cheeks through your shorts, squeezing and pulling you against him practically lifting your entire body. It’s then you realise you having a working voice box, because you let out the most pathetic mewl you’ve ever heard yourself make. Even more pathetic than the noises you made only a few nights ago from your own hand.
He groans back almost as like a response, and with that — finally, he manoeuvres you to start walking backwards towards the very bed you fell apart on at the thought of what you were currently doing, or about to do. Your lips detach when the backs of your knees hit the bed, falling to sit down at the edge of it with a few bounces. He stares down at you for a couple of seconds, disorientated and sore-mouthed like even he can’t believe what’s happening— before he jumps into action. Jittery and clumsily like he always is.
“Should probably uh— if we’re gonna get on the bed I don’t wanna— poke you with somethin’” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, unloading them. His phone, his keys, earphones, cigarettes, wallet, other random knickknacks that would otherwise make you raise an eyebrow if you weren’t already so dazed by him. He’s about to return to you, before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, as if he just remembered something — and he reaches into the back of his pants, pulling up the shirt that hung over his waistband to there retrieve his gun. He holds it up with a smile that said ‘How silly of me!’
You gape. “JJ, why do you have that?”
He shuffles some things around on your vanity, scrambling to make space for the piece. “Uh, had to bring it home today… lemme just… set that down there.” He places it next to your jewellery stand, the contrast in the items almost making you laugh in disbelief. “The old problem solver.” He mutters, giving it a fond pat before turning back to you, happy to carry on.
“What if my parents were to come home and see that?” You challenge with a pout, not too keen about him bringing a weapon into your house. He huffs out a smirk, leaning back down to where you’re sat, hands on your shoulders as he slowly lays you down.
“Think they’d be a little more concerned about the dirty pogue on top of their little girl, but y’know…” His words get lower and lazier as he draws in before locking his lips onto yours again, this time wasting no time with introducing his tongue.
You’re back in the zone, gun long forgotten within seconds— running your hands through his hair, over his strong arms, touching everywhere you’ve wanted to touch since you started working at the restaurant. Well, not everywhere.
He’s not holding back on being handsy either, body slotted between your legs after he lifts you further up the bed, grappling at your thighs, hips, and eventually tits. You can’t blame him, there’s desperation behind both of your actions — the fact you’d both wanted this for a while now slowly becoming clear. Your heart thumps hard at this realisation, suddenly less able to breathe and you pull back panting, breath trembling.
His eyes flicker over your face, watching your wet mouth as you ramble. “Wanted— mmph— wanted this for a while.”
He drags his lips over your cheek, pressing his hips against yours and you can feel him hardening. It does little to help you calm down. “Yeah, same… Is it… uh, is it weird I kinda didn’t want you to wash the shirt before givin’ it back to me?” He smiles, dropping another toothy peck to your mouth as his hands continue feeling you up.
Your eyes flutter closed once more when he softly grinds his bulge against your cunt, your knees tightening against his hips as you let out a silent moan, lips parted.
“H-had to. I slept in it.” You admit before you think, brain focused on other things. He laughs quietly against your jaw, smoothing his tongue over the now bitten skin.
“Aw, you did?” He creates some space between the two of you, his hand very slowly starting to trail down your body, past your stomach. “You got it so bad for me, huh?” He teases and you whine, openly and pathetically— spoiled and childish even. JJ didn’t seem the type to talk about his feelings easily, but teasing you for yours was outright mean.
“Shutup.” Comes with the whine, your breath catching pathetically as you feel the rumble of him slowly unzipping your shorts zipper at your crotch, lips detaching from your jaw for a second to look at what he’s doing, still chuckling.
“Thats rude.” He grins, quiet and lighthearted, elated when you start helping him pull your shorts down and kicking them carelessly off. If he wasn’t so desperate to get his hands on you, he would have taken more time to appreciate your cute little cotton panties with the bow on top. They were so you, exactly the sort he pictured you wearing, moreso pictured you soaking through the way you were now.
His hand slides over the length of your covered cunt, all but cupping you and pushing his fingers over the embarrassing amount of wetness on the fabric. “What else did you do in the shirt, hm? Talk me through it babe.”
He’s teasing you, not truly expecting much of an answer as he genuinely believed a sweet girl like you wouldn’t have the gall to do anything but sleep in his shirt. His lips trail down the centre column of your neck, and it bobs with a harsh swallow. Now, his interest is piqued.
“Can’t say!” You whimper, eyes screwed up, legs spreading wider as he gently thumbs at your clit through the fabric, just enough to stimulate you. You feel him remove his mouth from you, lifting his head into your direct eyeline with an amused raise of the brow.
“Well now sweetheart, you’re just gonna have to tell me.” His fingers tuck into the leg hole of your panties, like he wants to pull it aside but won’t. You realise he’s still watching you, waiting for an answer and that he’s not gonna go further until you speak. “Don’t be shy, tell Papa J what you—”
“Touched myself. I touched myself.” You release all in one breath. Now it’s his turn to ogle you, completely off guard. If he wasn’t hard as a rock before, he certainly was now. Probably leaking in his boxers too from how things felt down there. This was poor performance from him, he thought at the back of his mind. This fucked so early on? Shit, he knew he liked you but c’mon.
He peels your panties to the side and you squeak, the boy making no effort to touch you still— just letting the cool air of your room grace your glossy folds.
“And why would you do something like that, baby?” He noses at your cheek, trying to get you to open your eyes. You squeeze them harder before fluttering them open, so hot in the face and embarrassed when you find his gaze you think you might just die.
“Because I like you.” You whisper. It’s sweet, just like he thought you’d be when the time comes. He smiles, dimple deepening as his free hand cups your cheek.
“Because you like me.” He repeats in affirmation. It’s a little smug, he’ll admit — but having his dream girl beneath him had his ego on ten, what can he say. He slides two fingers through your wetness, dragging what he collected up your clit and circling it making you arch your back. “Gotta say, the feelings definitely mutual.”
He kisses you again, and this time it feels like something else. Like a confession, a proposal of some sort. It’s passionate, overwhelming in the best way, intimate — as his fingers start to move, stroking your clit and making your legs tremble in adrenaline.
As you writhe and moan beneath him, his lips swallowing as many as he can, unable to stay away— his other hand starts to slide up your work shirt. You wished you’d been wearing something sexier the first time the two of you got it on, but clearly it sort of did something for him.
If the speed at which he located and stimulated your clit wasn’t enough to convince you that the boy definitely had experience, it would be the way his hand slides around to your back, unhooking your bra singlehandedly. You can’t help but giggle through your whimpers and you’re not sure why, but he smiles too— murmuring “Party trick.” against your mouth. The smile is wiped from your face when his digit glides around your hole, as if lapping up all the wetness and then pushing in— all the way to the knuckle.
You moan and tense up a little, it’s been a while and your own fingers were definitely smaller than his. At your reaction. he pulls back only slightly— a look of concern poorly masked on his face.
“Are you… have you uh, been with a guy before? Or is this…”
“One guy, a while back. Not good at all.” You sigh and he nods patiently, lips twitching up when he starts to move his finger and your eyes flutter involuntarily. “Think I can work with that.”
He twists his wrist a little, working you with just one finger as he paws at your free’d tit, sucking on your tongue. You moan, the sound of your own wetness having its own presence in the room and he hums, pulling back to look down at the way you’re sucking his middle finger in.
“So pretty, you’ve been holdin’ out on me baby. Should be a crime to hide this cute little pussy, damn.” He whispers and you whine in preemptive embarrassment to the way you clench around him, making him chuckle again. “Oh yeah? She liked that, huh?”
“More, please—” You nearly choke on your own swallow as you lift your head, looking down at the way he’s got you spread out. Reaching downwards you gently tug at his wrist, not quite sure of the aim. “N—‘nother one.” You pant. Jeez, already totally fucked dumb and he hasn’t even made you cum. You were going to give JJ Maybank an even bigger head.
He doesn’t say anything, just sinks two fingers into your cunt and you make a noise he’s only heard in amateur porn videos from Twitter, dick usually nestled in his fist. He presses his lips together in a quiet ‘Mhm’ and your hands are back on him, desperate once more to consume him wholly.
Your nails rake through his hair as he finds his rhythm, tonguing at the cut on his lip with wide observant eyes that flicker between your face and your cunt. “Look at you go.” He responds to a moan— but JJ being JJ knows he can do better, which is why he stops thumbing at your nipple and pushes his hand into the bed instead, using the weight on his arm to start sliding down your body.
The first kiss against your stomach catches you off guard, and if you weren’t so dizzy from pleasure you might wanna think about it more. He repositions his hand, stroking your inner thigh as he pushes them wider apart and shushes you, now face to face with your glistening pussy. His fingers slow their movements for a moment.
“She’s real pretty.” His fingers slide out so he can make messy doing of spreading your folds with his fingers, licking his already wet lips.
“Thank you.” You mewl happily, eyes watery as they gaze down at him like he hung the moon and stars for you.
“You’re so sweet.” He smiles genuinely and fairly innocently up at you as he strokes your thigh affectionately— before of course counteracting that by shooting out a thick bubbling glob of spit directly onto your clit, making your jaw drop. Lifting your thighs, he murmurs. “So sweet you get me hard. S’kinda unfair… at work.” Before he chases the spit with the flat of his tongue, bringing the muscle up to then wrap his lips around your clit and suck.
No noise can leave you for a few seconds, brows furrowed and jaw dropped in a silent moan until he forces the noise out of you by stuffing his fingers back inside your weeping hole.
“Oh— oh, JJ!” Your toes curl and in record time you feel your first orgasm approaching. It’s different from the ones you give yourself, it’s a ball of fire in your stomach and heat licking up your spine, eyes even watering at the exertion.
“Yeah say my name, c’mon.” He coaches you, moving his tongue faster like he’s competing with himself to make you cum.
“JJ, mmpph— feels— it feels—” You nearly sob.
“How’s it feel?”
“M’gonna—”
“Cum, babydoll. I got you.”
White noise. Like, almost the sounds of waves crashing. It doesn’t really feel like you’re a person anymore — but one thing is for certain. You have never cum like that in your life. You must of been on autopilot, moaning and whining pathetically, slurring out nonsense and maybe a twisted version of his name— but when you come back to Earth you’re near hyperventilating.
You slap at his shoulders with shaky hands because his lips are still latched onto your pulsing nub, fingers still squelching and working the release out of you. “Ok—okay, Jayj— please!” You let out a pathetic little cry and he eases up, pushing himself off you with a satisfied hum and grinning cheekily, letting you push out his fingers. You suck in shaky breaths, letting him soak in the moment by bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off.
“Better than anything I make, can tell you that.” He jokes. “Taste that shit, s’fuckin’ delicious.” He eases his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck off the remains with a humiliated mewl before removing them, leaning over you to kiss you. God, it’s embarrassing how much you soaked his face. Really, how it ended up on his forehead— you wasn’t sure. You were too focused on your own taste he was forcing into your mouth with his tongue, purposeful and cocky, making sure to roll his own wet muscle over your tastebuds so that you never forget who made you cum that hard.
It’s then, and only then he realises you’re freaking a little and lets you off for a break, cupping your cheek as he pulls back. “Are you good?” He chuckles and you inhale deeply, still trembling. You’re not sure what he does, because everything’s all hazy but he manhandles you a little until he’s cradling you in strong biceps, brow creased. “Did I go too hard? I may— may have gotten a lil’ carried away there. My apologies.” He holds up a hand that wasn’t cradling you.
“Was just— haven’t — it’s never felt like that before. Never felt that good.” You admit, which brings back his dimple and that sickeningly soft look in his eyes.
“What can I say, you deserve the best there is when it comes to receiving orgasms, and I,” He presses his mouth back on yours, kissing you between each word. “Am the best, there, is, at, giving them.” On the last kiss you lean into it, holding him there, as you’re ambushed by an unexpected feeling.
Some kind of surge in your stomach, like butterflies but bigger, your heart pounding. If you weren’t so dazed you’d be worried the L word was coming to doom you early. The feeling made you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back ontop of you, jean clad bulge pressed back against your sensitive heat as you moan, high pitched and happy against him.
He pulls back to make some kind of joke, maybe a comment about your recovery time but you beat him to the chase, staring up into his dilated pupils with love hearts occupying your own. “Wanna make you feel good, Jayj.”
“You—how—”
You suckle on your bottom lip, hand bravely travelling down to cup the bulge that was calling to attention in his jeans. His breath catches in his throat, lips parting to let out a quiet and surprised groan.
“I’ve never—” Your face is hot again. “Never given a blow job before but—”
“Next time. Yeah? If you’ll let me I kinda just… wanna fuck you.” He smirks and hides it in your jawline, almost too shy in the moment to look you in the eye. Your brows furrow with a silent whimper at his words.
“Next time?” You mewl happily like you’re floating on air. At this he pulls back, a hopeful grin.
“If you’ll have me, that is. Figured I should take you out on a real date.”
You don’t have time to respond, he doesn’t let you— perhaps out of nerves. Instead, he’s working your panties that had been pushed to the side down your legs, followed by pulling your tshirt over your head. “Peekaboo, there she is.” He smiles quietly and you giggle, thinking back to the time at the locker where he pulled his shirt over your head. You toss your loose bra away from the bed, now laying bare beneath him.
He sits back on his knees, hands instinctually lifting to his head like he wanted to fix his hat, a habit you noticed of his that would occur when he’s overwhelmed or in awe. He settles on running his hands through the blonde tresses instead, big goofy smile on his face.
“Holy shit. I mean like — holy shit.” He breathes and you turn your head shyly, then reaching out to tug at his shirt.
“You too.” You gesture to his shirt and he offs it within a second, not wanting to look away from your naked body from a minute. Once his hands are free again, he’s sliding them up to your chest, greedily massaging your tits in both hands.
“Fuck, you are so fine. I mean like I think I nearly came in my pants.” He admits quietly and you tug at his belt, having to remind him of what you were actually doing.
“C’mon, Jayj— want you to fuck me!” You whine, all doe eyes and pouts, not even registering how pathetic and desperate the sentiment was — only making his cock throb harder. He buckles slightly, like it physically pains him and he nods quickly, fumbling with his belt until he could pull his jeans down just enough to release himself.
It’s long, pink and pretty like you expected — pearly precum gathering at his tip. He grasps it infront of you, eyes flickering between yours and his dick, suddenly looking hesitant. “So uh, this is what m’ working with.” He announces awkwardly, overthinking everything — but it doesn’t matter because you’re wrapping a delicate hand round it, guiding him to your entrance.
“Woah there missy, okay uh— hold your horses. This job don’t pay either of us enough for you to get knocked up.” He side rolls off the bed hobbling over to the dresser for his wallet, retrieving a condom and returning. You would have laughed, but you get all embarrassed and teary eyed about how overly eager you’d been.
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’.” You pout and his eyes flutter up to yours, kneeling between your legs.
“Hey? You’re good.” He tears the packet open with his teeth and you clench around nothing. “You’re good.” He repeats, stroking your thigh as he eases the rubber onto his cock. “Still up for it, babe?”
You bite your lip with a sniffly giggle, nodding and he grins himself, laying on top of you to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. He pulls away, and he lines himself up before slowly easing himself in.
Your legs around his waist hug him tighter and your toes curl at the stretch, wincing. “You got it.” He encourages, voice breathier like it teetered on a moan which only made you flutter around him.
“S’big, JJ.” You whimper and he huffs against your neck.
“I— thanks.”
Once he’s in, he’s in — and you can see how his fingers and tongue were only just the appetiser. He fucks like it’s the last time, like his life depends on it— rolling his hips, his hands somehow in ten places at once, his tongue — oh his tongue, it’s in your mouth, then down your neck, then looping around your nipple making you clench and whine and cry.
He starts to speed up, unable to control himself as his hands slide under your lower back to hold you, thumbing at your waist. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grits his teeth, having to contain himself there and then from cumming when he sees the way your tits bounce beneath him. “Takin’ that shit so good, huh? Jesus baby.” He wrinkles his nose in exertion, panting.
“S’just so good, JJ— mmph!”
“Yeah? Y’gonna think of this everytime I see you, shit, everytime I see you in the kitchen? Givin’ me those big sexy fuck me eyes everytime I hand you a plate? Shit baby, pretty little waitress, huh. N’ you’re all mine now. So freakin’ lucky.” Hes rambling, nonsensical— already pussy drunk.
You’re in ecstasy. Not only from how he felt, but from how you were making him feel. It occurred to you that no one seems to talk about the validation you receive from finally getting to fuck your crush, watching them come apart over you. You wanted more, wanted to impress him.
In a trance, you push at his stomach, shuffling upwards so he reluctantly pulls out, concern on his clammy face. You fumble, rolling onto your front, sticking your ass in the air, looking over your shoulder.
“Please.” You plead, and you’re not sure what for— but it works, the blonde puffing out his cheeks with a dramatic exhale, lining himself behind you and pushing in. “Gonna be the death of me, babydoll.”
You may have overestimated your abilities, crying pathetically when he bottoms out, his cock feeling ten times it’s size from this angle.
“Arch that back baby, there you go, just like that.” He whispers, pressing down on your lower back making you sob. You fuck back against him, pressing your cheek to your pillow, fingers curling into it for security. “Good girl, that’s right.” He drops a hand beneath you, finding your clit once more and as a surprise ambush, you cum— suddenly and embarrassingly, gushing around his cock leaving a ring of cream at his base.
He doesn’t stop this time, giving you a moment to catch your breath as you whine and mewl like a distressed kitten. No, if anything — he goes harder, his own release on the precipice. The bed is creaking now, wooden headboard smacking the wall as he leans his weight on the back of your arms, pelvis slapping against your ass. Little squeaks are punched out of you with each thrust, and when you think he’s reached a crescendo— he slows.
“Fuck, fuck turn around baby. Need to see that pretty face to cum, c’mon.” He pants in one breath, fighting you back onto your back and sliding back in with ease this time, pushing one knee up to your chest and rolling his hips, eyes squeezed shut.
He tries to keep them open, eyes everywhere— your tits, your big wet eyes, your lips. Like he can’t help himself, he sloppily cups your cheek, a thumb brushing your bottom lip. Wanting to help him along in your post orgasm brain-fog, your tongue peeks out, trying to catch the finger as he bounces you on his cock. Once you’ve got it, you wrap your lips around it, sucking with devotion and love hearts in your eyes.
“Oh my— god” He whimpers, finally dropping his cheek to your chest as he ruts into you, spilling his seed. You moan at the feeling, scratching at his back and fluttering around him. The butterflies return.
After ten minutes, you’re laying on his thick bicep— his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp at the bottom of your skull. The dryer beeps distantly, signifying that it’s completed its cycle.
Maybank is staring at you, like he’s trying to memorise your face, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. An amused smile breaks out onto your face, trying to hide it in his arm as you press a kiss there. At this, a grin spreads on his own face, questioning.
“You know… I do actually have an electric toothbrush.”
“I freaking knew it.”
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ayeforscotland · 7 months ago
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Guy in a Union Jack tshirt just sat next to me which I’m taking as a micro aggression.
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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years ago
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hihi! congrats on such a cool milestone 💗 i am so excited to see what you’re going achieve in the future!
i would love to read this prompt with neighbor joel x reader, pre outbreak or post outbreak, that’s your choice :)
“Person A keeps ending up in Person B’s bed. It’s just a matter of time until “drunken mistake” is no longer a believable excuse.”
p.s. i ADORE seams it’s soooo good and i can’t wait to read more of it !! 💕 tysm
Hi lovely! Thank you so much for your sweet message and this prompt! So I don't know why, but the moment I read the prompt, I just knew I had to make this a college AU. This reads very differently from Seams, which I hope is something you'll enjoy!
Joel Miller x college neighbour AU
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Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1285 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessiveness, one bed
The first time it happens, it is a drunken mistake.
All these dorm rooms look the same, especially at four in the morning after clearing out all the tequila at the college bar.
It does smell nicer, cleaner. And the bed is on the other side of the room. But Joel can't really tell left from right nor up from down, so he just drops face first onto the duvet - so soft - and falls fast asleep.
You, on the other hand, are absolutely mystified by the appearance of a man in your bed after your toilet run in the early hours.
You recognise him. He lives a few doors down, and you've seen him around in the college football team jersey, almost always with a cheerleader hanging off his arm.
You may or may not have seen him in the corridor with just a towel around his waist, hair slicked back, on his way back from the communal showers.
You may or may not have stared at those ridiculously broad shoulders from behind your books as you went down the other side of the hallway.
Unsure of what to do - you have an early class in a few hours - you reach out and poke him firmly on the arm. You keep poking, not entirely convinced by what you're trying to achieve, until a hand appears, thick fingers closing around your wrist, and pulls.
He rolls you under him with a smooth turn of his hips. You barely have the presence of mind to let out a timid squeak when stern brown eyes bore into yours in the darkness.
'What are you doin'?' he demands, his voice so gravelly that you almost feel the lumps and bumps on the back of your neck.
You don't exactly have a short fuse. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the accusation in his tone has you snapping back, 'What am I doing? What are you doing?'
Your outburst seems to catch his attention, and he watches you closely as he replies, 'Tryin' to catch a wink.'
Reaching over to the nightstand, you flick on the little bedside lamp. You arch an eyebrow as he glances around as realisation dawns on him. 'Does this look like your room?'
'Oops,' he deadpans, but he doesn't move off of you. Instead, his eyes drop lower, pausing over your oversized college tshirt, and lower still, where your sleep shorts have ridden high up your bare thighs -
His eyes snap up to yours when you clear your throat, and he stiffens above you, Adam's apple bobbing with a swallow. 'Sorry, darlin'.'
Then he's gone.
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The second time it happens, it's another drunken mistake.
He knocks this time, loud enough to wake you, and you trip over your feet to get the door.
'What now?' you gripe sleepily when his face appears, eyes glassy and reeking of cheap beer.
'Lost my keys,' he explains, words slightly slurred, leaning heavily on the doorframe.
'So?'
'Can I sleep in your room tonight?'
You stare at him, dumfounded. 'Don't you have friends?'
'They're all the way across campus. It's freezin' outside.'
With a sigh, you move to the side and he squeezes in past you. Too tired to care, you burrow head first into the covers, shuffling so that you're right up against the wall to make room behind you on the single bed.
But he doesn't climb in.
'What are you doing?' you grumble, not bothering to turn around to see for yourself.
'Uh, I'm sleepin' on the floor.'
You roll your eyes and pat the mattress. 'Just get in. I don't want you freezing to death on my rug.'
So he does, and when you wake up the next morning, his arms are tight around you, legs tangled in yours.
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The third time it happens, you're both drunk for a change.
His team won the college derby, and there's a huge celebration at the local club with the bill being footed by the sponsors. Even with the promise of a free night out, your friends still have to physically drag your ass to the party.
You spot him easily from across the dance floor, in the same jersey he wears often. He's surrounded by hoards of girls, all keen to nab the bragging rights of being the one to fuck the team hero tonight.
Something twists in your stomach, which you quiet with a tequila shot.
And another.
And another.
You end up on the dance floor, and you never dance. You're just drunk enough to feel good about yourself even in a room full of jocks and sorority sisters, and when one of the quarterbacks on the team twirls you into a dance, you laugh and let him.
One minute, he's spinning you around, and the next - you're pulled nose first into a much broader chest that smells faintly familiar.
It's slightly jarring seeing him out of the context of your bed. Does he always look this grumpy?
'Congrats on winning the game,' you shout over the music, attempting to make conversation.
He doesn't budge, standing like a stone wall in the middle of the dance floor under the strobe lights. Too drunk to catch the nuance in his glare, you shrug and turn on your heel, intending to find that quarterback that you lost mid-spin -
Only to be hauled back to Joel's side by one big hand.
'What are you doing?' you demand with a frown. 'I'm trying to find the guy I was dancing with.'
'You're not dancin' with him.'
You blink. 'Why not?'
'He's a fuckin' asshole.'
'So what?'
He narrows his eyes at you. 'What do you mean so what?'
You roll your eyes. 'Why do I care if he's an asshole? I'm looking for a dance, maybe a fuck, it's not like I'm marrying him.'
His nostrils flare, and you see his fists clenching at his sides. 'You're not fuckin' him.'
You scoff. 'Watch me, Miller.'
Spotting the blond on the edge of the dance floor, you march right up to him, grab him by the collar and kiss him square on the lips.
Pulling back, you turn to give Joel a smug look, only to find that he's no longer where he was. Miffed, you scan the crowds, and it doesn't take you long to find him.
It's one thing to see the cheerleaders flirting and hanging off his every word when you pass each other in the hallways. It's another thing entirely to see him make out with one, not five paces away.
Blindly, you stumble out of the club, not bothering to get your coat even though it's bitterly cold outside. Your heels clatter loudly on the concrete, you probably shouldn't be walking alone back to the dorms, but you need to get out of there.
You hear him call your name, but you keep walking, eyes trained stubbornly in front of you.
He catches up easily, and with a growl, he wheels you around with one palm on your elbow. You fight him, pounding on his chest with tightly clenched fists, and he lets you, wrapping you in his jacket while you do, until you tire yourself out.
When all the jealousy bleeds out of you, you sag in his arms, and he has to hold you up by the waist. His breath brushes your temple. 'Wanna go home?'
He's warm, solid, when he slips into your bed behind you, one knee nudging between your thighs, fingers tangling in yours when he slings one arm over your waist.
You might both be drunk - but this is not a mistake.
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coldfanbou · 3 months ago
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For each lewd costume described, choose a girl group who'd wear them as matching outfits:
Colorful micro bikinis.
Playboy bunny suits.
Baggy tshirt, thighhigh socks and nothing less.
Lacey lingerie with matching thighhigh stockings, garter belt and evening gloves.
Denim minishorts, thin tank top, getting and pushup bra.
Cropped Japanese school girl costume with cute panties and no bra.
Completely naked except for extensive body jewelry.
(Google anything you need to visualize)
Ooh interesting, lots of options here. It reqlly made me think.
Micro bikini- On one hand, I'm tempted to go with Twice, but there are better options for them. So, in the end, I choose (G)i-dle
Bunny suit- Twice, I think that it would be a godsend to see them like that. It shows off nice legs and the booba.
Tshirt and thigh highs- Give me Itzy. I'm drooling at the thought of Chaeryeong like that.
Lingerie- This is probably the toughest to choose, because it is rather sexual by nature. I'll go with Aespa. It seems like a solid decision.
Minishorts, tanktop, and pushup- Viviz, I want to see all of them and this outfit helps provide that.
Cropped Uniform with panties and no bra- Kiss of Life. Imagine Julie and Natty like that, it's so hot.
Naked with jewelry- Girls Generation, I guess. Honestly this one doesn't interest me too much but yeah, I think they could rock it.
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smutoperator · 3 months ago
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For each lewd outfit described, choose a girl group who'd wear them as a matching wardrobe:
Colorful micro bikinis.
Playboy bunny suits.
Baggy tshirt, thighhigh socks and nothing less.
Lacey lingerie with matching thighhigh stockings, garter belt and evening gloves.
Denim minishorts, thin tank top, getting and pushup bra.
Cropped Japanese school girl costume with cute panties and no bra.
Completely naked except for extensive body jewelry.
(Google anything you can't visualize)
Colorful micro bikinis - (G)I-DLE
Playboy bunny suits - Aespa
Baggy tshirt, thighhigh socks and nothing less - Gfriend
Lacey lingerie with matching thighhigh stockings, garter belt and evening gloves - Iz*one
Denim minishorts, thin tank top, getting and pushup bra - SNSD
Cropped Japanese school girl costume with cute panties and no bra. - Twice
Completely naked except for extensive body jewelry. - Blackpink
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phantom-of-the-memes · 5 months ago
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Last year at Dublin pride God was trying to burn the gays with the day of the parade being on the hottest day in June. The entire rest of the month was around 18-20 degrees (Celsius). Of course on pride it was 26 degrees.
This year, he tried to drown the gays! The entire month when it has rained it’s been short showers sprinkled throughout the day. Today, of course, consisted of torrential rain for the entirety of the parade and after party.
We marched the entire route with the trans pride bloc as usual. Literally my rain jacket (that is obviously supposed to be water proof) became soaked through. My jeans, tshirt, and UNDERWEAR were sopping by the time we got home.
Couldn’t even stay for the after party. And to add insult to the injury, because it was cold and wet I couldn’t wear the outfit I had planned: micro shorts that say comrade in rainbow sparkly letters on the ass, a trans shirt I crop, docs, and thigh high socks!
Couldn’t even show hole on PRIDE!!!
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recapqsmp · 1 year ago
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Jeudi 14/09 - Les jeux sont faits
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Tubbo pense que Fit cache des choses qui pourraient être lié à la disparition des œufs. Tubbo en se connectant a discuté avec Fit, lui a expliqué que quelque chose allait se passer pour lui à 22h et lui a dit qu'il pense que son badge possède un micro. Après que Fit soit passé chez lui pour poser son badge dans un coffre, Tubbo et lui se sont assis dans la cage d'ascenseur de Ramon et se sont expliqués. Tubbo lui a rappelé que la veille, Fit lui avait parlé de choses plus dangereuses que la fédération, et le soir même, Forever en pleine détox a expliqué que les œufs s'étaient enfuit à cause d'une chose plus dangereuse que la fédération. Fit lui a expliqué ne pas pouvoir lui en dire plus pour ne pas briser sa couverture, car il enquête sur la fédération, mais qu'il n'est absolument pas au courant de ce dont a parlé Forever. Tubbo pense qu'ils se sont bien enfuit car quasiment tous les œufs n'ont plus qu'une seule vie et ne veulent pas prendre le risque de mourir en laissant une note d'explication.
twitch_clip
https://clips.twitch.tv/CovertSnappyDragonflyPeteZaroll-_Y2tN3nn6JzYUFhn
Pac s'est connecté, et va très bien. Tubbo et Fit l'ont rejoint pour discuter un peu de ce qui s'était passé. Pac Fit et Tubbo sont allé à l'ordo pour voir l'état de Forever. Celui-ci est toujours dans le coma. Ils ont pu remarquer que la mallette contenant la drogue a été volée. Ils ne savent pas qui est l'identité du coupable, mais ils soupçonnent Foolish vu le message laissé à l'intérieur signé par Mouse, Foolish, Jaiden et BadBoy. BadBoy, plus tard, expliquera à Cellbit qu'il a volé la mallette pour prouver la mauvaise sécurité de la chambre forte, mais la lui rendra... en prenant au passage quelques médicaments sur lui "au cas où".
twitch_clip
https://clips.twitch.tv/TenuousNimblePheasantAMPEnergy-T7z8Cz3dBaooD9uL
Fit a reçu la visite du code. Il n'a pas été attaqué, mais le code l'a menacé en lui jetant une horloge.
Des blocs noirs sont apparus chez Tubbo. Il a reçu un livre lui donnant une coordonnée en X, et une heure de rdv au spawn. Slime s'est connecté, et a lui aussi reçu des blocs noirs, la même heure de rendez-vous, mais avec une coordonnée en Z. C'est Roier qui a eu la dernière coordonnée. Les 3 joueurs se sont retrouvés au spawn, sont allé aux coordonnées combinés par leurs trois livres, et ont trouvé Fred au niveau du trou du mur. Celui-ci les a menacé d'un pistolet, et leur a fait comprendre qu'ils devaient miner le mur pour ouvrir un passage. Les joueurs ont donc découvert qu'il y avait un passage secret ressemblant à des égouts sous le mur. Au bout de ce passage, les joueurs ont du se débrouiller dans un labyrinthe. Arrivé au bout de ce labyrinthe, les 3 compères sont tombés sur un nouveau Cucurucho, mais noir, avec des yeux rouges. Celui-ci les a accueilli dans un passage caché à travers une grille par un "Hahaha" plus sombre que celui du Cucurucho blanc.
twitch_clip
https://clips.twitch.tv/DelightfulRudeNarwhalStrawBeary-Vxhli5CMLAyZivHg
Tubbo a compris qu'il fallait le poursuivre et en faisant ça, ils sont tombés sur la dernière salle de cette aventure : une roue à choix, entouré des objets des œufs (le béret de pomme, le tshirt de Richarlyson…). Cette zone était protégée, mais Tubbo a réussi a trouver un passage, et a fait tourner la roue. Elle a annoncé le 5, et de la lave est tombé dans la cage de Tubbo. Les 3 joueurs se sont enfuit, en ne sachant pas s'ils venaient de tuer un œuf ou pas. Ils ont essayé de revenir dans cette salle, mais sans succès, le passage étant rebouché.
twitch_clip
https://clips.twitch.tv/BoredRelatedFoxCoolCat-60OellYvExYYhT7x
Aypierre, qui avait observé les 3 sur la map, a pu se rendre dans le labyrinthe, et plus tard y emmener Cellbit. Tous les joueurs se sont finalement rencontrés à l'entrée des égouts et en allant dans le labyrinthe, ils ont finalement découvert une nouvelle salle : des affiches de la fédération, et un compte a rebours de 24h. Cellbit a aussi fait le lien avec son enquête de la veille, l'image de labyrinthe qu'il a trouvé, le "A1" en dessous, ainsi que le message qu'il a trouvé : "La bonne réponse n'est pas au centre", impliquant que Tubbo n'a pas pris la bonne option.
twitch_clip
https://clips.twitch.tv/ImportantWonderfulHareGingerPower-0mdYOSzZWV4nI6cO
Bagi, une streameuse brésilienne, a pu rejoindre QSMP après plusieurs teasers lié à la roulette. En allant sur le serveur (différent des autres joueurs), elle a pu suivre des lumières, et tourner une roue. Cette roue lui a donné le chiffre 2, et l'a envoyé dans un biome enneigé, rempli de lumières de beacon. Finalement, elle a trouvé un message disant "Ils devraient bientôt être là :)", ainsi qu'un ticket d'embarquement portant le numéro 1. QuackityStudios a fait l'annonce quelques minutes plus tard : Bienvenue dans QSMP Bagi !
twitch_clip
https://www.twitch.tv/bagi/clip/TenaciousFitMageOMGScoots-D2NF_n0FJOm5NIF7
Elle est l'invitée du président et rejoindra le serveur samedi à 3h du matin (heure française), pendant l'évènement.
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milobobilooo · 11 months ago
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(Header ID: an image of a whale shark swimming through the water. The shark covers most of the screen. End ID)
(Icon ID: A pale skinned boy with a mullet. The front part is green while the rest is a dark brown. He has on a heart choker, a Garfield tshirt, a brown flannel, and has dark brown dog ears. He has a speech bubble that says “woof!”. There is a trans flag in the background with white stars on top of it. Picrew made by makówka on picrew! End ID)
Hi my name is milo and i use he/him and xey/xem pronouns! Please do not use they/them pronouns for me. I am queer trans person who loves micro labels and xenogenders. I am autigender!!! My autism impacts my gender in ways that can not be separated!! Fuck right off if you’re gonna tell me i can’t be that way <3
I am a low-medium support needs autistic person. I struggle with reading tone and understanding jokes a lot. I use tone tags frequently so if you don’t like those get off my page.
I mostly reblog things related to:
Queer identities and positivity, Trans positivity and stuff, Xenogenders and microlabels, Good omens, Stardew valley, Sharks and Opossums, Art, and more.
My Tags are:
(Talking abt my opinions/life) #milo yapps
(My xenogender hoard) #milos gender hoard
(Favorite stimboards) #milo’s fav stim boards
That’s all, hope you have a good day :D (smile face)
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Alt text below the cut!!
Start ID
User box with an isopod on the left, and text on the right that reads “this user loves bugs”.
User box with an opossum on the left, with text on the right that reads “this user bites you bites you bites you”.
User box with Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon on the left, and text on the right that reads “this user loves how to train your dragon”.
User box with a cat drawn on the left, and text on the left that reads “this user is a little guy” but poorly spelled to make it more funny.
User box with the tbh or autism creature on the left, with text on the right that reads “This user is silly!”.
User box with a person biting another person on the left, with text on the right that reads “this user bites people who use the term nonverbal when they lose their speech”.
User box with the rainbow infinity sign on the left, and test on the right that says “this user is proudly autistic”.
User box with a trans flag image on the left, and text on the right that reads “this user is trans and sick of your bullshit”.
End ID
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baasphemous · 1 year ago
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Gender rambling between 4-5am? Not sure who even keeps up here as sporadic as i post, but!
Gender is so weird. I have, for most of my life, never really considered my appearance. It was something that i “fought” for but never really played with? I’d toss on a tshirt, some cargo somethings, sneakers, and call it a day because for me, it was the least sensory hell and something that didnt make me dysphoric that apparently set the tone of being a trans man. I cut my hair into a rooster comb and for the most part that was my set hairstyle. I never really saw it as gendered and i liked it i guess? I liked my hair out of everything but even still sometimes sticking it up felt like a chore or could be a sensory challenge. I have been out of the house for half my life now, and yet i feel like i never got much of that teenage exploration most my peers got. Its weird to be exploring it in your thirties but here i am. I spent my early twenties as a trans man, and only managed to disown it in my late twenties during pride month when i went back to test driving they after realizing being a man gave me dysphoria too.
I have never particularly felt like a man nor a woman, but something in between. Both, sometimes neither. These days i feel like i fluctuate and so i have been cozying down in the ambiguity, thinking i might be some kind of fluid but my queer ass really feels at home with terms like faggot butch, nonbinary, gender noncompliant, transgender, or dyke. I like the idea of any pronouns but sometimes i feel sad people automatically clock me as a he/him 95% of the time because i have facial hair. They is fine for me, she is interesting, and viewing myself through she has been a wild ride in terms of things coming full circle again to my agab, in some respects. I dont hate it when i view myself as masculine like a dyke.
It’s weird because i dont want to use micro labels and yet regardless of acceptability of said labels (people dont like the reclaiming of slurs), i find myself fearfully wading through them, scared of the judgement and scared of folks accusing me of some lack of authenticity. Scared that folks will slap a stamp on my head (such as trans man) and look no further. And i suppose thats inevitable in some respects because i often just say im queer and leave it at that. Sometimes queer is all i need. People will make their assumptions and wont always understand and thats okay. The people who matter will get it.
I shaved my hair off wednesday afternoon and as much of a siren call as it was, i was scared it was going to look bad! I cant lie, though, there was something sweet and delightful about having my owner run her hand over my freshly cut head and tell me i really was her bully now after she helped shear it all off. I took some weird relief in the act and something was nice about seeing myself reflected in the mirror with a new sense of self. It was like the feeling of buying a new canvas to paint on or starting over. It kind of kickstarted me into engaging in how i look again instead of just idly accepting not looking at it in the day to day because it didnt really feel important.
Last years yule made me think about clothing, but i had kind of picked it up and put it down. I feel like this “drastic” hair cut has been a relief for not having to manage hair and how sensory overwhelming it can be, but also for my gender expression. I have thought about makeup since. I have enjoyed wearing dangly earrings with a bald head. I have been thinking about how i could feasibly look cute if i just picked up xyz or did something scary and alluring. And who knows, it might change? I might grow it back out to a rooster comb again. But for now i am enjoying the ride, i am enjoying feeling engaged with myself because i deserve more than just throwing on essentials and living my day without considering myself. It is nice feeling like i have some kind of autonomy over my appearance for a change instead of settling into something “acceptable” or just cruising along without much thought. I hope i can pull my partners along because they deserve that feeling too.
Its times like these where i wonder if this feeling of autonomy is just something people feel by default or if they work more or less to get to this point? I dunno, but i am happy to have gotten here.
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swedesinstockholm · 7 months ago
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2 avril
ce matin je suis allée chercher les croissants et le pain en passant par la plage et en revenant je pensais à tous les endroits où j'avais écrit dans mon journal sur la plage, à tous les endroits où il s'est passé des trucs, des micro trucs, mais comme je les ai écrits dans mon journal c'est des micro trucs dont je me rappelle, qui ont marqué les endroits, et maintenant toute la plage du grau jusqu'au cap est imprégnée d'histoires. c'est comme les saami de finlande qui racontent leurs périples en donnant des noms à chaque endroit traversé, chaque tournant, chaque rapide dans la rivière, chaque nom donné dénote un moment du voyage et en listant les noms ils peuvent reconstituer toute l'histoire. bon c'est pas tout à fait la même chose, mais les endroits qu'ils traversent sont imprégnés de leurs histoires, c'est ça que je veux dire. ça c'est le rocher où j'ai vu trois bernard l'ermite faire l'amour ensemble, ça c'est le rocher où une anémone m'a gravé un corail dans la cuisse, ça c'est le rocher où j'ai vu un poulpe me faire un clin d'oeil, ça c'est le rocher derrière lequel j'étais cachée quand j'ai vu une femme sortir des vagues et remettre son tshirt en m'imaginant qu'on faisait l'amour en haut d'un phare un soir de tempête, etc. à force de revenir toujours au même endroit et à force d'écrire dessus, j'ai entièrement recouvert la plage de ma poésie.
je me suis assise sur un tronc d'arbre pour regarder un voilier rentrer dans le grau. quand il est passé devant les pyrénées enneigés on aurait dit la patagonie et j'ai pensé à mon père et à mon texte sur la famille, encore. je pensais à ce qu'il m'avait légué, malgré tout. au modèle qu'il m'avait laissé. je pensais à ça parce que hier h. nous racontait que j. était en train de se poser à peu près les mêmes questions que moi y a deux ans, quand je me demandais si ma vie était trop petite. à son centre équestre elle a rencontré des wwoofers à dreadlocks qui jouent de la guitare au coin du feu portent des écarteurs d'oreille vivent dans un van et vont ramasser des asperges dans les landes et elle est en train de se rendre compte qu'elle s'est engagée peut être un peu trop vite dans l'enfer de la vie domestique. que la vie a peut être plus à lui offrir que rentrer tous les soirs de son travail à la crèche où elle prend soin des enfants des autres pour faire à manger à son copain. qu'elle s'ennuie avec lui. hier elle se plaignait qu'il lui avait ramené un parfum qui pue du perthus et h. a pris sa défense en disant que c'était gentil et j. a rétorqué que les cadeaux ça va bien deux minutes mais que ça fait pas tout, y a d'autres moyens de se montrer attentionné. moi j'écoutais tout ça avec des grandes oreilles délectées parce que j'adore les histoires de tournant de vie et de grandes réalisations, les changements de paradigmes et de grands bouleversements.
c'est aussi enfin une histoire de la famille à laquelle je peux m'identifier, que je comprends, même si moi je suis pas engagée dans une vie de couple mortifère et que j'ai pas fait construire de maison et que je travaille pas dur dans une crèche, je suis quand même un peu engagée dans une vie de couple mortifère avec maman et moi aussi j'en attends plus de la vie. quand je suis partie en islande à 24 ans je me suis dit que je pouvais plus revenir en arrière maintenant, je veux une vie spectaculaire ou rien du tout. bon j'ai choisi rien du tout, ou c'est le rien du tout qui m'a choisie, je sais pas trop, mais au moins j'ai eu l'occasion de découvrir autre chose, des manières de vivre différentes de celles que je connaissais, des autres cultures, etc. j'ai eu droit à tout ça.
3 avril
cet après-midi dans le port du cap d'agde j'ai ouvert mes mails parce que je suis une grande malade et j'ai vu le mail de rejet de la revue sève et je trouvais ça rigolo de le lire au cap d'agde précisément, qui est le lieu-clé de mon texte. j'étais un peu déçue mais aussi un peu soulagée.
4 avril
r. vient me voir dimanche. j'ai peur de partir en vrille. j'ai peur de retomber dans la delulu. cet après-midi au somail on marchait le long du canal au soleil c'était très beau et très vert et y avait des bateaux amarrés au bord des herbes hautes et moi je marchais plongée dans mes fantasmes de dimanche à la maison poème avec r., je m'interdis rien, même si je sais que ça fera qu'aggraver ma déception quand je me rendrai compte que non il a pas changé d'avis depuis la dernière fois.
j'ai pris l'énéide à la grande librairie de livres d'occasions parce que quand je l'ai ouvert je suis tombée sur la sybille. g. m'a dit qu'il voulait le lire aussi. il a pris deux livres sur le développement personnel dont un sur la méthode coué. je lui ai pas parlé de la méthode diane von fürstenberg qui consiste à me faire des clins d'oeil dans le miroir en m'appelant bébé. à midi à table il a mentionné qu'il regardait c news et j'ai eu envie de me tenir le plus loin possible de lui. c'était viscéral. toutes ses remarques déplacées ont soudain pris sens, comme quand il appelait les anciens locataires les polaks, ou quand maman a parlé du couple avec les deux chats qui avait visité l'appart et qu'il a demandé de quel pays ils étaient et puis il a dit des gens de l'est quoi. je crois qu'il vote pas mais je suis quasiment sûre qu'il voterait extrême droite. il me répugne.
autre sujet, ce matin en allant au centre on marchait derrière deux femmes, l'une avait les cheveux blancs-gris et promenait son chien, l'autre avait l'air un chouïa plus jeune, elle portait un short en jean au genou et un bracelet de cheville argenté, elle avait les mollets musclés et bronzés et une démarche très nonchalante-masculine. je me demandais quelle était la nature du lien qui les unissait et je me disais que j'avais vraiment un truc pour les femmes plus âgées, bien plus âgées que moi. c'est mon kink. je suis attirée par les femmes âgées et les jolis garçons bouclés et névrosés.
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screenstretch · 2 years ago
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FILM POSITIVES 👉 http://ow.ly/UK1v308KbeU 👈👀❤️😍😉 #Inkjet & #LaserJet A4 & A3 100per box & 30m Rolls 432 & 610mm wide #Screenprinting #Tshirts #Posters Micro-porous aqueous coated translucent #Inkjet film, specially developed for producing high quality positives, negatives and colour separations. Instant dry with good water resistance. Our film offers excellent dimensional stability and high HV density. ALSO Double matt translucent polyester #Laserjet film. Antistatic treated, excellent for reproduction. High contrast visuals can be easily produced and further work added using drafting pens or pencils. Available in 0.100mm Both in A4 and A3 100 sheets per box And Micro-porous aqueous coated translucent inkjet film, specially developed for producing high quality positives, negatives and colour separations. Instant dry with good water resistance. Our film offers excellent dimensional stability and high HV density. Roll: 432 mm wide x 30mtr Roll: 610 mm wide x 30mtr Price Online http://www.screenstretch.co.uk/inkjet-laserjet-films/ Ideal for all types of #Silkscreen #Textiles #Handmade #Illustration #Graphics #Merchandise #Merch #BandMerch #Apparel #FineArt #Printmaking #Signs #HandPulled #TShirtPrinting Screen Print Industry #ScreenprintingUK (at Screenstretch Ltd) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cr1hssmo773/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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clair0se · 2 years ago
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couples tshirt idea
macro dosing on microplastics
micro dosing on macroplastics
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