#no-more-womens-black-tshirt

[n1kk11-blog]

https://www.zazzle.com/z/aogzm6v8?rf=238378723538093137

FANTASTIC

[depresseddepot]

god I love good thrift stores with changing rooms

[thegoldiehanson]

Mommy/adopted son interracial fantasy (per request) ❤️

My husband and I adopted our son, who is Black, as a baby. We were overjoyed to be raising him in a loving, caring home, and had so many fun memories from his childhood. Unfortunately, when our son was 12, my husband was diagnosed with cancer, and died the next year shortly after our son’s 13th birthday. This was right around the time when he hit puberty, so it was difficult without his dad around anymore. I had to teach him all the things to expect as his body changed and he grew into a man. I also had to teach him the basics of sexual education, how to give women pleasure, and about consent.

One day when my son was almost 18, I came home from work early. He didn’t hear me come in, and his bedroom door was open. He had just taken a shower and was completely naked. I caught a glimpse of his tall, strong, chocolate body, and realized just how much he’d grown up. He was very muscular now from working out, and I watched his muscles ripple as he started to pull his shirt and pants on.

As I walked away, I tried to remember the last time I saw a naked man. Ever since my husband died, I hadn’t dated much, instead I focused on raising my son. Had it really been 5 years already? Seeing my son naked had affected me more than I realized. I was suddenly very horny. I closed my bedroom door and immediately got into bed to use my vibrator.

After I finished cumming, I put on just my silky robe, nothing on underneath, and went out to see what my son was doing. I sat down next to him on the couch, my robe parting just enough to show some cleavage. My son told me he didn’t hear me come in, and asked if I saw anything since he’d left his bedroom door open. “Yes, I saw you. But don’t worry honey, you don’t need to be embarrassed of your mom seeing you naked. It’s perfectly natural. Besides, I changed your diapers, I’ve seen you naked before!” I said. “That’s true. But not as an almost-grownup. But I guess if it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me, mommy,” he said.

That night, I turned up the heat. It was so warm that I slept naked, and wondered if my son did too. Early the next morning, I put my silky robe on again over my naked body, but left it open this time. I was blessed with curves, big breasts, but an even bigger ass. I loved it so much - plump, round, bouncy, juicy…my son’s friends would call me a PAWG! It always jiggled when I walked, especially when I wore tight pants or leggings. I often caught his friends ogling me and whispering to my son that his mom was a MILF, which I always took as a compliment.

I crept down the hallway with my robe loosely thrown around my shoulders, my bare breasts out and my ass jiggling without any panties on. I felt a rush of excitement as I noticed my son’s bedroom door was open again. I peeked in and saw him sleeping naked, with no blankets on. His morning wood was on full display. It was long, thick, and it was standing straight up into the air. I had a perfect view of his huge black cock. I had an urge to go over and touch it, but I controlled myself. I went to the kitchen and started making breakfast.

A little while later, I heard my son coming down the hall to the kitchen. I loosely tied my robe around my waist, just enough so that my nipples were covered but showing a LOT of cleavage. My son was in just his underwear. Usually he wore a tshirt and pajama pants, but he must’ve been too hot and less embarrassed of being underdressed around me, thanks to our talk yesterday. I hugged him and said good morning, feeling his warm bare chest against mine. I noticed his hands wandered to my ass a little bit this time. Was he just feeling the silky fabric? Or was he feeling mommy’s thick ass?

After breakfast, my son had a shower and came out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist. He helped me put away the dishes, but as he was bending over, his towel fell down. He picked it up but didn’t bother putting it back on. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, right mommy?” he asked me. “That’s right sweetie, and that goes for mommy too,” I said, and untied my robe, revealing my bare breasts and ass. I noticed my son’s cock twitch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but you’re hot, mommy. You have a perfect body and you’re so beautiful. You’re the best mom ever,” he said. I smiled and hugged my son again, this time feeling his growing boner on my thigh. I took my robe off completely and we spent the rest of the day watching tv and snacking together, both of us completely naked.

For the next few days, my son and I didn’t wear clothes at all. He told me it was a liberating feeling, just being able to relax au natural in our home. And it was a welcome change for me, to finally see a naked man again. It had been so long… and being naked all the time made me feel extra horny. My pussy was constantly soaking, and I’d often leave wet spots on whatever surface I sat on. I had a sneaking suspicion that my son could see me dripping any time I bent over, cause I knew he was staring at my ass. I also noticed my son often had a boner around me. More often than not, actually, his huge black cock would enter a room before he did.

The next week, my son had his 18th birthday party. He celebrated with his friends at our home, and then after they all left we both got naked again. He thanked me for letting him throw a party, and offered to give me a foot massage as a thank-you. I lifted my legs into his lap, positioning them so that his penis was against his stomach. He rubbed my feet and I felt so relaxed. Then he started moving his hands up my legs, massaging my calves, telling me how smooth they were. Gradually he worked his way up past my knees and massaged my thighs. I told him it felt incredible, I even closed my eyes and let out a few moans. I could feel my pussy getting wetter with every rub. I watched his big dark hands work on my milky thighs, then I looked at his cock. It had gotten soooo hard!!

“Sweetie, you’re hard…do you like touching mommy’s legs?” I asked him. “Yeah mommy, I can’t help it. You’re just so sexy. And you’re the first woman I’ve ever seen naked in real life. The last few days I’ve been so horny. It’s taken me so much willpower to not grab your ass or tits. But I am 18 now mommy, so I was wondering…would it be okay for us to touch while we’re naked?” he asked.

“Honey, it’s been so long since I’ve been naked with a man, I’ve been missing a man’s touch. The last few days I realized just how much I missed it. I’d love for us to be more intimate with each other.” I said.

His strong hands moved their way up to my hips, he was being so gentle with me. I think he must’ve remembered what I taught him years ago about pleasing a woman. He slid his hands up my waist and held them there. His fingers rubbed my sides and my stomach as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I moved my hands up his arms and squeezed his big biceps. My son had grown up into such a fit, sexy man. He slid my legs off his lap and lay beside me, moving his hand around to my back and then grabbing my huge ass. His giant black cock pressed against my hip, impossible to ignore.

I looked up into his dark sexy eyes. The same eyes that looked up at me as a baby were now looking down at me as a grown man. Our faces leaned in closer together, our mouths only an inch apart…we both paused, knowing this was the moment we were about to take our relationship to the next level. It should’ve felt so wrong to be lying naked with my son, but it didn’t. I felt so secure in his arms, like how I felt with my husband. I held my son tighter, closing my eyes as I waited for his lips to meet mine…

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Epilogue

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment and panic attacks, the power of fluff ]

[ description: Aemond and Wright have a year of their relationship behind them, full of joy, but also difficult situations for them, related to demons from his past. Despite this, they find their own ways to live normally and happily. Aemond, jealous that Cregan is now her professor, decides to find out if the girl who changed his life still loves him. Sexual tension, childhood traumas and sweet fluff. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place one year after Glass Cuts Deepest Series. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

When a year had passed since he and Wright had officially announced that they were together, he was relieved to find that his panic attacks had almost disappeared, and if they did occur, they no longer involved vomiting and convulsions, causing only discomfort and a feeling of tightness in his stomach.

Wright was perfectly capable of recognising its symptoms, spotting instantly when he froze or turned pale, not touching him at the time, just asking quietly if he needed a moment alone or if he would like her to embrace him.

More and more often he wanted to simply cuddle up to her, so he would then ask her to let him, but not to touch him herself. He would then draw her close and sink his face into her neck, taking in her wonderful scent, listening to her breathing until he calmed down.

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled then, ashamed that, as usual, he thought he had got it over with, that it was so good after all. He fought then against the grim thoughts that he would never be normal, that she had to live with someone who didn't cope, who was constantly afraid.

"− don't apologise −" She whispered softly, resting her cheek on his head, playing with the fingers of her hand, waiting patiently for him to be able to function normally again.

"− I'm glad that now when you feel unwell, you don't feel discomfort when I'm close − it's very important to me −" She said warmly, kissing his hair, and he felt his muscles relax slowly − the fact that she never made sudden movements, never tried to embrace him against his will, made him feel safe.

She respected the fact that he knew for himself what was good for him and what he needed, and she never forced him into anything − on the contrary, she always carefully studied his barriers.

Once when she showed him a picture of a nightgown, finding it lovely and pretty, white, lacy and strapless, of slippery, shiny material − he turned pale and shook his head quickly, looking away, seeing her enter his room then, what she was wearing was all too similar in his mind, a cold sweat on his back.

"− oh, I'm sorry − I won't show you this kind of things anymore − I just − I'd like to buy myself some nice pyjamas − the kind you'd like −" She muttered, looking up at him, turning on the couch − he sighed quietly, rubbing her bare legs that rested on his thighs.

"− I like it when you wear my Tshirts − nothing turns me on more −" He hummed, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her blush as she lay dressed in his black shirt covering her thighs − he knew she had nothing but panties underneath, just the way he liked it.

"− oh −" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed, pretending to scroll something further on her phone.

Since he had left the university and focused on his own studio, he felt that the immense frustration that had been with him all those years, of having to deal with strange women, having to constantly explain his decisions and apologise for the way he was, had left him.

In his new workshop, more spacious and brighter than the one he had worked in before, he felt free, and the only girl who was allowed inside was Wright.

Sometimes he couldn't help himself and would ask her how Cregan was doing in his job, seeing that she was progressing more and more each month, jealous that now someone else was her professor − she was spending a lot of time in class which was hard for him to come to terms with after they had spent so much time in each other's company up to that point.

"He is a really good teacher. He has a lot of patience and explains complicated things so that they seem simple, or he shows us something by doing it himself and we can watch." She said lightly, standing beside him, helping him cut out templates for his new commission, which he was working on with some of his former students he had hired. He hit the side of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, impatient for some reason.

"That's good." He replied dispassionately, feeling her cast him a quick glance upon hearing the tone of his voice, leaning lower to bend forward and look at his face.

"Are you jealous, Professor?" She hummed softly and he pressed his lips together, recognising that he hadn't given a shit, that he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around facing the backlit table − his hands slid her panties down in a swift, sure movement, leaving her in a state of shock, his hand on the nape of her neck forced her to bend over. The material of her dress lifted slightly, revealing her naked buttocks − he noticed out of the corner of his eye her puffy entrance, glistening from her wetness.

She was his Eve, and although neither of them had ever completely undressed, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do so or endure such a sight without the memories overwhelming him, the sight of her partial nudity no longer frightened him, for her body was his temple, pure, warm and safe.

"− I've been thinking about this ever since I met you − you don't even know how many times I've stood over you barely restraining myself from fucking you good on a table like this −" He breathed out, quickly unzipping his trousers, lowering them a tad once with his boxers, not waiting a moment, forcing the swollen head of his cock between her swollen, weeping folds.

"− wider − that's it − fuck − are you okay? −" He muttered, casting her an uncertain look after he thrust deeper into her, sliding all the way in, her tight walls resisting him as he hadn't prepared her for this as well as usual.

"− y-yes − keep going − just − take it slow −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed under his breath, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of her on the backlit top of his table on which he usually cut glass, his lips pressed against her long, perfumed neck as his hips began to rock slowly inside her, barely sliding out of her without any rush, letting her walls get used to his size.

"− so warm − fuck, baby −" He gasped out, hearing her first shy moans, feeling his cock slide into her with increasing ease, slick with her moisture, her muscles began to throb around him, squeezing him − he looked down, watching as he opened her wide with deep, sure thrusts of his hips.

"− please, Professor − please −" She mewled and he sighed loudly; she knew how it affected him, she knew how much it aroused him − he involuntarily picked up his pace, his thighs began to slam against her buttocks with loud splats, all around them just their panting and the sticky clicks of her leaking wetness.

"− you have no shame − begging for your Professor's cock − is this how you got good grades at university? huh? − you like it when they fuck you well? −" He sneered, clamping his hands over her bare buttocks, letting go of control completely, allowing his subconscious to take over him and his movements, his pushes faster and more aggressive, rubbing her where she needed it. She leaned back on her palms against the table top, responding to his thrusts by rocking her hips, her hot, wet muscles sucking him inside with her moans of delight.

"− n-no − I work so hard −" She muttered frightened, as if some part of her really believed he could think that about her − he chuckled under his breath, running his hand through her hair, pounding into her so fast and deep that he was no longer sliding out of her with loud slaps of skin against skin.

"− I can see how hard you're working − how much it costs you to fit it in −" He scoffed, and she whimpered at his words, responding more and more eagerly to his thrusts, his knee spreading her thighs wider, forcing her to bend over again with her loud gasp of exertion.

"− I-I'm sorry − I promise I'll be good already, I promise, I promise, I promise −" She mewled, moaning low as he felt her muscles begin to throb in orgasm, her body arching backwards. He embraced her around the waist, his other hand gripping her cheeks, his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, greedy, hot kiss as, after a few sloppy, messy thrusts, he came deep inside her with a heavy sigh of delight.

"− I know − my sweet little girl, am I right? −" He gasped, panting loudly along with her, embracing her tightly from behind, nuzzling his cheek against hers, her hands clasped around his arms, stroking them steadily, his half-hard manhood still twitching deep inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled, burying her face in his cheek, as she always did after their rapprochement, needing his closeness and the tenderness he never denied her.

"− you don't think of him that way, do you? −" He asked quietly, ashamed of his insecurity, of his own fear and imaginings, of the fact that someone else, someone better could easily take his place at her side when he needed her so much, loved her so much.

"− oh, no, silly − I never felt anything like that before you − I think I was in love with you long before I realised it −" She said warmly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, a sweet, girlish smile full of tenderness on her lips that melted his heart, his confirmation that all was well.

"− yes − yes, me too −" He murmured, leaning lower, placing warm, wet kisses on her face. He began to wonder intensely if the ring he had chosen for her, which lay tucked deep in one of his drawers where he kept his designs was still there, and if he would be a complete idiot to propose to her now.

After a moment he decided that yes, he would be a complete idiot and sighed quietly, smiling involuntarily under his breath, sliding out of her gently. He helped her put her panties back on over her buttocks, then zipped up his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye − she turned to face him, all red from exertion, her eyes big, her breathing still slightly accelerated.

"Take me today to the church where you first saw the stained glass windows. You told me that story once, I think you mentioned that your father took you there." He said softly and she blinked, curious, cocking her head, leaning her palms against the edge of the table.

"Alright, why not, Professor. Where did you suddenly get this idea?" She asked cheerfully, excitedly, and he snorted under his breath.

"You'll see."

[doberbutts]

The stud article you just posted reminds me of a funny story from my baby queer days:

Basically, I was going to some like Amazon warehouse hiring event, that I had mistakenly thought was more of an interview thing than it actually was. Being very newly out of the closet, I got all dressed up in my newly bought, rather poorly fitted suit obtained specifically for job interviews.

So I arrived to this powerpoint presentation with like 30 other people there, most of whom were in tshirts and jeans or at most like polos and slacks. The whole thing was just like. Let us explain what this job is and then you need to do a drug test and if you pass you can put down your availability and we'll get back to you if it fits with an opening we have. I am seVERELY over dressed for this whole experience and feeling pretty awkward.

Then this very handsome, kinda masc, Black woman walks up to me and we start chatting and actually found out we lived fairly close to one another. Anyway, towards the end of the conversation she asks if I'm "a stud". I, being both a very baby gay and also white, don't quite know what this means and assume it's something closer to "hunk" or lady's man kinda thing. So I was like "lol I'm trying??"

We chatted a while longer and then she had her turn to go sign up for the schedule. I didn't wind up taking the job and tragically never ran into her again, but i still think of that little meeting with fond amusement

Handsome black women my beloved. Truly they make the world go round

[leslie-lyman]

Election Night

A Euclidean Geometry drabble

Summary: Election night 2024 does not go as they’d hoped.

Pairing: modern!Pero Tovar x Frankie x Jack x nameless!OFC/f!reader (written in third person, reader is only referred to as she/her/their girl, with no physical descriptors)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: G, just some election-related angst/hurt/comfort

a/n: Trying to work through my feelings about the 2024 election results. Would like to have three large Pedro boys comfort me. Had a breakdown. Wrote this.

Masterlist.

———

She hadn’t wanted to stop watching the results come in.

Not even after the swing states had started to fall, one by one, like red dominoes. But at some point the hands she’d pressed tightly over her mouth had begun to shake, tears spilling down her face, breath catching in her throat with each shallow inhale.

Frankie had finally turned off the tv, slipped her phone into his pocket, and carried her to bed. They’d pressed in tight against her as she sobbed, soaking the front of Jack’s tshirt as he held her against his chest, crying so hard she nearly made herself sick.

I don’t understand, she’d said, over and over. I don’t understand. This can’t be happening again. I can’t do it, I can’t face another four years of this…

In that moment the worst thing is how helpless they feel. The three of them are smart, strong, capable men, men who are trained to protect, to figure out how to get out of impossible situations. And if they could they’d burn the world down if anyone or anything caused their girl to hurt like this. But there’s nothing they can do to fix it.

She’s scared for herself, yes, but they know she’s far more worried about the three of them. The horizon of possibility stretches terrifyingly wide before them.

Pero has his green card, but will that matter? How careless and indiscriminate will the promised deportations be? At the end of the day, being a tan-skinned, Spanish-speaking immigrant may be more than enough to put a target on his back. Frankie and Jack are citizens, but neither has to branch out terribly far in their respective family trees to find relatives who are undocumented.

To say nothing of the fact that the four of them live together in a queer, polyamorous relationship. Where even now they have to be vigilant in public, wary of how obvious they are, always aware that simply being who they are out loud could result in unexpected attack. How much worse will it get? How much harm will be caused?

And as they do their best to soothe the woman they love, they know this reaction isn’t just about fear, or frustration, or anger.

It’s grief.

It feels like suffering through a death because that’s what it is. The death of a hope, of a dream, of what could have been and what should be if there was any justice or common sense or decency in the world. And even though this grief inwardly pummels them black and blue too, they know they will never truly feel it the way their girl does. The unique pain of women, who hope so much for so little, for even just the opportunity to be equal, and to be denied so resoundingly. To have gotten so close to a woman president and to have that chance ripped away by a man as odious as he is dangerous not once, but twice? It’s just cruel.

They do what they can for her, holding her close, letting her cry it out, murmuring soft words of reassurance.

It’ll be okay, sweetheart. Just let it out.

We’re here. We’ve got you. We’ve always got you.

I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m so sorry.

Tears roll down their cheeks and they try to muffle their sniffles for her sake, but the looks they share with each other are pained and haunted.

At last their girl quiets, having cried herself into a fitful doze. The clock on the bedside table reads 1:37am.

Jack, Pero, and Frankie all lie awake, ingrained military instincts refusing to let them sleep when they have something precious to keep watch over.

Jack breaks the silence.

I’ll call our lawyer later today, he half-whispers. Make sure we have all our paperwork in order. Wills, power of attorney, that sort of thing. So we’re as protected as possible, legally speakin’, should anything happen to one of us.

Frankie and Pero nod in silent agreement.

We should sit down with Robert soon, Frankie adds, mentioning their financial advisor. Reassess where we’re at, have a contingency plan in case we decide we need to move.

She’ll want to increase where and how much we donate, Jack adds, looking down at their girl with her head on his chest, one first curled into his shirt.

This is good. This is a plan. This is what they need.

We should go away for a bit. Pero’s voice is low and deep in the dark. Take some time somewhere remote, just the four of us.

I can think of a long weekend in January when I wouldn’t mind be disconnected from the rest of the world, Frankie quips humorlessly.

There’s an old Daniels family cabin in the U.P., near Mackinac, Jack says. Snow-covered trees, big roaring fireplace, little to no cell service…

Their girl shifts to blink sleepily up at him, just awake enough now to interject.

What about someplace warm, Jack?

Oh you’d be kept plenty warm, sugar. Don’t you worry about that.

He softly brushes her hair back from her tear-stained face, placing a delicate kiss to her forehead.

How are you feeling, querida?

She reaches for Pero’s hand to anchor herself before she answers him.

Sad. Scared. Angry.

That is how you should feel, Frankie murmurs, and the validation is strangely reassuring.

And tired, she says, tears starting to clog up her throat again. Fuck, I’m so damn tired. Tired of fighting, of resisting, of feeling like I’m screaming at the top of my lungs to have my and others’ basic humanity recognized by people too devoid of empathy to care. I’m so, so tired.

I know, querida, I know you are. And it seems overwhelming right now. But the alternative is giving up. And that is the only thing that truly feels impossible to do, no?

Her hand squeezes Pero’s as she nods, reluctantly conceding that he’s right.

But not at this moment, Frankie says. We should rest. There’s nothing else we can do at this moment.

Their girl turns to face him, making sure she’s still touching all three of them before closing her eyes and snuffling down into the pillow.

Should call our lawyer, she mumbles, starting to slip away into sleep again. And Robert…make sure we protect ourselves…as much as possible…

The three men share an amused look.

Those are great ideas, baby, Frankie praises her quietly, pulling a blanket up to her chin. We’ll do that.

And maybe…find a place to go…a beach somewhere?

Muffled chuckles break out around her.

Whatever you want, darlin’, says Jack.

It doesn’t matter where they go. And whatever happens next, they can face it, as long as they’re together.

[poppy-metal]

cannot think about the wedding night with mafia!jordan or I'll simply pass out with overwhelming lust. btw.

please you're so terrified because you know you're meant to have sex and people in the mafia are so grossly obsessed with marriage and the semantics about it - needing to know jordans taken your virginity.

you're shocked when jordan takes one look at you curled up and trembling on one side of the king sized bed and just rolls their eyes. "I'm not gonna fuck you, churchmouse. fucking relax, shit."

you'd be more flustered at their crude words if you weren't so suprised by the meaning of them. unfurling your legs and feeling worry slide through you. "but..." you remember all the talks your mama gave you, "but its expected!"

jordan, in fem!form now, shrugs out of their suit jacket - and you quickly avert your eyes as they undress.

"yeah, I'm not into forcing myself onto women, though. n'with the way you are - your pussy would probably snap my dick in half anyway."

you look over then, flushing a little when you catch a glimpse of their tits - flushed nipples and, you think a little dazed, pretty - before they're yanking a black tshirt over their head.

you shake your thoughts away and furrow your brows, "snap - oh, i dont have teeth down there or anything! my mama showed me a book on vaginas one time - I'm, uh." you look down at the blanket. "im built to take you - in um. in your other form, of course. you obviously couldn't take my virginity as a woman."

you say this so confidently jordan snorts. looks at you like you're stupid.

"i know how vaginas work, idiot. i have a cunt." again with the vulgar language. "and no, you wouldn't cut my dick in half, but pussies are dry and tight as hell when you're not turned on. it would be fucking miserable for us both. and-"

they smirk now, pulling back their side of the covers and sliding in, keeping a healthy distance from you. they slide out their iPhone, not looking at you as they start texting before continuing on -

"i could totally take your virginity as a woman. I'd be offended if i didn't know you were raised as a fucking nun."

you blink. "you.... but... sex requires - penatration-"

jordan, again within looking up, raises one hand and wiggles their fingers. you jerk back, scandalized.

"you'd! but - that's not what i meant. i mean. typically. b- between a man and a woman - theres a." god, the earth should swallow you up. "p-penis..."

jordan looks up at you then. looks at you for so long you squirm on the sheets.

in jordans mind - they're thinking about how ridiculous this conversation is. how sheltered are you? to think sex as only a means of penis and vagina penatration is fucking sad - though, they do think about it, splitting your virgin cunt open on their dick, that kind of sex definitely isn't bad - and they consider opening their drawer and showing you their 8 inch black dildo and accompanying harness, telling you all about how if you wanted a cock so badly, then yeah, they could still fuck you as a woman, but they know that'd probably make you fall of the bed or pass out from sheer shock alone.

the thought is funny, you're already so worked up. but you've had enough earth shattering information thrown at you for one day, they think.

"uh huh." they say plainly. "whatever - look. its not happening tonight, either way. I'll just tell them we're waiting to make it special or some shit, so you can stop looking at me like im going to assault you."

you relax a little. "o - okay."

jordans eyes return to their phone. texting cate about what a fucking joke this all is. god, they want to be high.

"but - will we - eventually -" you start up again. "i mean. we'll need an heir...."

ugh. 'this bitch is talking about me being a baby daddy already.' they text cate.

"cross that bridge when we come to it. trust me, churchmouse. if i can avoid touching you for as long as fucking possible - I'll do it."

little do they know not so long from now, just the thought of not touching you will make them want to pull their hair out.

[v-eee]

jungkook x you

warning: smut : this content is intended for mature audiences.

Jeon Jungkook knows he should stop meeting you.

But he can't.

He had try many times to not coming here looking for you.

Again and again, he failed.

You are beautiful. You are mischievous. You are cunning. You are not his ideal type. His type is someone who will submit and loyal to him.

But not you.

You are one of the famous hostesses in this club. Maybe that’s why you hardly listen to his demand because you can choose any client you want to serve and accompany their drink. You choose anyone who can pay you more.

When he first spend the night with you he was shock knowing he is your first but he also shock seeing you don't act like he is your first at all. And the morning after, you left him…as the night before is nothing for you.

“They looks good on you…” he praised from the bed after seeing you change into the black lacy bra and panties he bought for you.

Jungkook was mesmerized by the sight of the tiny panties covering your crotch and ass.

“Really?” You chuckle as you climbed on top him and straddled his hips.

“Mhmm…” Jungkook mumbled. His hands pulling your waist so that you could sit on his bulge.

Then he reached out to touch the panties, his thumb rubbing the slit through the lacy material.

You moan “Mhmmm…”.

Jungkook press his thumb along the slit.

You moan again as your hip arch to get more friction from his thumb.

Jungkook bites his lower lip as his eyes looking at your expression and the way you began moving your hip in circular motion on his bulge. You are too beautiful and enchanted to his eyes.

He slide the lacy material to the side to expose your wet labia lips. He rubs your labia with his thumb. His cock inside his pants was rock hard as he continued to rubs the lips.

He removed his hand from your panties and placed his wet thumb to press on your right nipple. His upper body raised as his mouth take your left nipple into his mouth and sucked it gently.

Jungkook's tongue flicked over the erect nipple, making you moan louder. His tongue stick out and swirl around your nipple, he looked at you and smirked as you smile down at him before grinding harsher into his bulge.

His cock inside his sweat throbbing. He needs to be inside you.

In a few seconds, he flipped you until your back lay on the mattress.

He get up from the bed to remove his tshirt, sweatpants together with his underwear.

Your eyes widen seeing how big and hard his cock down there.

Jungkook's cock stood straight up, pointing at the ceiling. He climbed back on the bed, moving closer to you. He grabs both your ankles and wrap your legs around his waist until his cock gently nudging against your wet lacy panties.

"Ah," you gasped at the contact.

"Don't act like this is the first time we do this…" He chuckled. He knows that it feels so good for you. He slowly pulls your panties off, leaving them around your ankle. He looks down at your pussy. It's so wet, he can see your juices glistening in the light.

He rubs the head of his cock along your wet labia lips.

"Mhmmm," he hums as he began to press the head of his cock on your clit.

You let out a soft moan as he teases your clit with the tip of his cock. "Mmm…" Your squeeze your right breast. Jungkook smile before leans down and kisses the nipple in your hand.

You are not the first girl he ever have sex with.

But after the night he spend with you, ye had stopped meeting other women. He's craving to feel only you.

You tightened your legs wrapped your legs around his waist to let him know you wants him inside you.

And he understood.

Jungkook moves his hips forward, sliding his cock between your pussy lips.

You gasp when his throbbing cock slid inside you.

Jungkook slowly pushes his cock deeper and deeper into you until his heavy balls touching your ass.

He slowly pulls out, then pushes himself back in.

His balls slap against your ass.

You and him moaning each other name as the feeling is incredible.

He repeats the same action a few times before his hips start to thrust faster and deeper into you.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to an orgasm, so you pull on his broad shoulders, circling you arms around his neck.

Jungkook leans down, pressing his bare chest against yours as he kisses you deeply.

"Jungkook..." you pant against his lips.

"I know..." he replies, hips thrusting harder. He knows he is not going to last much longer too. His tongue slips back into your mouth and kisses you passionately.

After a few thrusts, he feels you cumming on his cock and a second after that he releases his own load deep inside you. His hips still moving as he pumps his load into you.

Finally he stopped.

He looks at your eyes, "You are mine." His voice breathy.

You chuckle. "I am yours?"

"Yes," he said, serious. "Let stay like this..." he moves to the side with his cock still inside you. His arms hug you close against his body.

Jungkook doesn't want to let you go. He knows if he pulled out his cock out of you, you will leave the room.

[thelesbianpoirot]

Talking about boy moms for a bit because a post hit close too home. My mom never hugged me as a kid. I still find it strange to give and receive physical affection because she never showed me much. She cared for all my needs but she was so distant. Our bonding included her taking me to a women's clothing store for a couple days every summer to berate me about my weight and refuse to buy what I actually wanted, a black tshirt and jeans. She'd get me to a salon to get my hair painfully braided for school or permed, and badger me for complaining about pain and discomfort the whole time. We briefly watched a few movies and tv shows together, but then she was just so critical of me that I couldn't stand being around her. She'd remark how terrible I was at being a daughter she wanted, and comment on envious she was of other mother and daughters. As if I was to blame.

When my little brother was born and my big step brother came to live with us, I saw her making their favorite foods when they wouldn't eat the main dinner, buying them video games, not letting them clean, hugging them, calling them her princes, etc. She was no where as affectionate with me and my sister, yet she comments on how sweet and affection the boys are, and how all the girls want to escape her, my sister moved out at 16 (for a boyfriend's place) and I left at 17 (for college). I know there are many girls with close relationships with their mothers, but so many more with like coldness or hatred between them. Do you think the homosexual taboo is why some mothers prefer sons and some father prefer daughters. Is it just easier to give affection and love to the opposite sex child because that's what society trains you to do?

[beyondthesefourwalls]

The Double Negative Effect

Summary: Javy knows deep down after he goes into G-LOC that he’s not going to be selected for the mission. He goes to a bar on his own to drink away some of his sorrows, and while he’s there, he meets someone who is having just as rough of a time as he is. Misery loves company, and together, they cancel out the bad day the other is having, replacing it with a night they’ll remember for all the right reasons. 

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: mentions of almost dying/being lucky to be alive, language, mentions of blood and injuries. 

Notes: Written as a little gift for @roosterforme. I’ve been itching to write another Javy fic, so I hope you enjoy this one, babe! Thanks to her and @mak-32 for reading over it for me, as per ushe💚💜

----

---

Quite honestly, Javy had never felt sorrier for himself in his whole Naval career. Perhaps even his whole entire life.

It was irrational, he knew. 

G-LOC wasn’t something that an aviator could ever really stop once it set in. He had done everything that he could to prevent it from happening. He had relied on his training and was keeping his breathing as regulated as possible, he was tightening and releasing all the right muscles to keep his blood flow moving normally. But the higher g’s he was sustaining proved to be too much. He didn’t even realize what had happened until he was snapping out of it and seeing the mountain side coming at him with alarming speed. 

He was lucky to be alive, and he knew that’s what he should be focusing on. But he couldn’t get over how of all times for this to happen, it had to be now. 

There was no way he was being picked for the mission. The actual event would be so much more intense than the training route, and his body had proved that it couldn’t handle it this time. He should just consider himself honored that he was one of the twelve that had been called back to be into consideration for it - one of only four solo pilots in the entire Navy. He knew that later on, he’d be able to appreciate all of those facts. 

Now, though, he was going to enjoy his pity party, attendance of one, ignoring his phone as it dinged in his pocket with Hangman checking in on him. 

He knew all of the others were at the Hard Deck, but he hadn’t been in the mood to be surrounded by the rest of the squad. So he had ventured a little further from base and found some nondescript place near a strip of corporate offices. It was mostly full of men in suits and women in heels, grabbing a drink after work. He knew he stood out wearing dark jeans and a black tshirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Javy sat alone at the bar, nursing his bottom shelf whiskey. It burned his throat when it went down, but he welcomed the feeling. 

“Work, family, or your love life?” 

His eyes, which had been staring into the dark liquid in his glass, snapped up at the sudden voice. When they met yours, he sucked in a breath. 

You were sitting a few seats over from him, and he truly wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed you when you sat down, because he definitely would have noticed had you been there when he got here. You were one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and you were talking to him. When you raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, he realized he was staring, with his mouth open nonetheless. Embarrassment heated his cheeks and he cleared his throat. 

“Sorry?” 

You shrugged a shoulder that was covered by the silk of your dark green button down shirt and took a sip of your own drink. You crossed a leg over your opposite knee as you turned more toward him, and he couldn’t help but track the movement with his eyes. Even with black dress pants and sitting down, he knew you had to have amazing legs. He had always had a thing for legs.

“You’re alone at the bar, staring into that glass like it might have the answers, looking like someone kicked your puppy. Oh!” you exclaimed once you realized what you had said, pretty eyes widening, “was it your dog?” 

Javy let out the first laugh he had been able to muster since regaining consciousness in his F-18. He shook his head, informing you that he had never owned a dog in his life. You let out a sigh of what looked like relief, before raising both eyebrows at him again. God, you were so cute. He could practically feel some of the tension he had been holding slipping off his shoulders just by looking at you, and how you were looking back at him. 

“Work,” he told you. 

“Ah. I was betting on your love life.” 

Your tone was playful, and there was a glint in your eye that had him smiling. With another chuckle, he motioned toward the empty barstool directly beside you. “May I?” 

“Please,” you said, and Javy stood and carried his glass a few steps until he settled into the seat next to you. He held out a hand. 

“Javy,” he introduced. You told him your name, slipping your hand in his to shake. Your skin was soft against his, and warmth spread through his whole body at your touch. He repeated your name softly under his breath, and realized he liked the way it tasted on his tongue. 

“What about you?” he asked, gesturing to your own drink once you had pulled your hand away. “Work, family, or your love life?” 

You tilted your head slightly, a teasing smile on your lips as you seemed to consider his question. You tapped a finger against your chin in thought. You took another sip of your drink, your eyes never leaving his face. 

"Well, let's see. Work is demanding, family is complicated, and love life... Well, who really has time for that nowadays when you have the first two taking up all your time?" 

"Tell me about it," Javy replied, a hint of wistfulness in his tone.

“Wanna talk about it?” you offered, waving your hand in front of you. “Misery loves company all that.”

Javy hesitated, contemplating whether or not he should. The whole situation had been weighing on him since it happened, consuming his every thought as he went over it time and time again. He was surprised when he found himself not as worried about it now all of a sudden. 

“I was…in consideration for something at work,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Something really big. But I had a bit of a setback, and it most certainly messed with my chances.” 

You hummed at his words. “That sucks.”

He huffed out a laugh, nodding in agreement. He finished his drink and motioned to the bartender for another one. When he looked at you with a silent question, you finished your drink off as well, nodding to the bartender. 

“What about you?” Javy asked. 

“Asshole clients. Even more of an asshole boss. Plus parents who say I’m not living up to my potential.” 

He winced in sympathy. “Ouch.” 

The bartender set down the fresh round of drinks, leaving quickly to tend to other customers. You lifted yours in his direction, a small, intriguing smirk on your face. “Here’s to bad days and strangers.” 

Javy tapped his glass against yours with a smile before bringing it to his lips. For a moment, the rattling sound of ice and the sound of the bar around you were the only things filling the silence, but you never looked away from each other. 

Once you set down your drink, your eyes twinkled in curiosity and you leaned toward him. “So tell me, what do you like to do when you’re not sitting alone in a bar?” 

Conversation flowed effortlessly after that. It was like once the two of you started talking, neither of you could stop. He barely noticed how much time had passed. You traded questions back and forth as you got to know one another, swapping stories and hobbies and beliefs. The dimly lit bar offered a temporary escape from the rest of the world, and you were the best company that he didn’t even know he needed to get lost with. You exuded an air of confidence as you talked, your voice pulling him in like a magnet. Javy found himself completely captivated by you. 

He noticed that you tended to talk with your hands, something he found absolutely adorable. As you animatedly spoke about a book you had just finished, you knocked into the glass you had been drinking from. Your reflexes had you reaching out to try and stop it from falling, but you were just a millisecond too late. It shattered on impact, and a jagged shard from it scraped your palm. A sharp gasp escaped your lips. 

Without hesitation, Javy grabbed a napkin and grabbed your hand, applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. When he looked at your face, your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly open, and your breathing was coming quicker. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It doesn’t look too deep.” 

You didn’t seem to hear him, or if you did, you didn’t acknowledge his words. He said your name again, and then once more. This time, you met his eyes. You swallowed thickly and took a shaky breath. 

“Um,” you began, voice unsteady, “now might be a good time to tell you I am…not great with blood.” 

“Oh. Shit.” 

Despite the panic on your face, you managed to muster up a weak laugh at his reaction.  “Yeah.” 

Javy quickly scanned the bar, spotting the bartender who was just returning from grabbing a crate of glasses from the back.  

“Excuse me,” he called out, trying to get his attention. The man looked over, eyes widening at the sight of broken glass and him holding a wad of flimsy bar napkins to your palm. "Do you have a first aid kit or something?"

He nodded and went to the other end of the bar, grabbing something from under the counter. He returned with a small first aid kit in his hands. Javy thanked him as he took it. Glancing around, he noticed a few pairs of curious eyes looking in their direction. 

“Hey,” he said gently, waiting until you met his eyes to continue. “Let’s go sit over there, okay? It’s a little more private.” 

You seemed to catch on to what he was saying, and you nodded jerkily as you slipped off your barstool. You thanked him under your breath as he led you to an empty corner booth, gratitude clear in your voice. He let you slide in first before he slipped in next to you, angling his body to keep you away from prying eyes. 

Opening the, admittedly dismal, first aid kit, he grabbed some sterile gauze and adhesive tape.

"I'm sorry about this," he said, voice filled with sympathy as he reached for your injured hand again. "Just look at me, okay?”

You still looked a bit shaken, but you seemed to trust him. He couldn’t deny that the notion filled him with warmth. He gently pressed the gauze against the wound, applying steady pressure. Despite your unease, you managed to keep your focus on him.

As he cleaned and taped you up, Javy spoke softly to try and keep you distracted. He told you about flying in the Navy, and shared that ironically, he had a bit of a fear of commercial airplanes. The look you gave him in return was completely incredulous and full of disbelief. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not,” he assured you with a laugh, “A fighter jet is completely different. I’m one person, manning a very small aircraft. A plane that can hold hundreds of people and cargo, and only be flown by one or two people? Just doesn’t make all that much sense to me.” 

“That…might be the best contradiction I’ve ever heard. Wow.” 

Javy grinned at your bewilderment. He didn’t care if it took spilling one of his more embarrassing secrets, because you were smiling too, the panic in your eyes having almost completely faded. 

Once he finished with your hand and made sure it was covered properly, he rubbed his thumb over the dressing.  

"There we go. Should be good as new in no time," he said. 

You nodded, releasing a deep breath as you briefly glanced down at your injured appendage. You assessed the bandage before looking back at him. "Thank you, Javy. Really.”

"It was no problem," he replied sincerely, enjoying the way his name sounded on your lips. "I'm just glad I could help."

You stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything. He swore you were starting to lean toward him when a loud cheer sounded from across the bar. It seemed to break the spell and you coughed, looking away. He groaned at the missed opportunity.  

You both seemed to realize how late it had gotten after that. Javy had an early flight tomorrow, and you mentioned a meeting first thing for you, too. He picked up both of your tabs despite your protest before he offered to walk you to your car. He didn’t want the night to be over quite yet, so he was glad when you accepted eagerly. 

“This is me,” you told him, stopping beside your little blue car. Javy cleared his throat, swallowing down some of the nervousness he was suddenly feeling.  

“I’m glad you asked me if my dog just died.” 

Your eyes widened and you let out a loud, surprised laugh. Javy knew his grin was spread out across his whole face. “Well I’m glad that wasn’t the case. But I’m happy I did, too.” 

Javy gazed at you, taking in your radiant smile and the way your eyes sparkled under the harsh glare of the parking lot lights. It was shocking how his night had turned around, all because of you, and he somehow knew deep down that it was meant to be that way. 

A soft breeze rustled through the air. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He traced his finger down your cheek and you shivered. 

“I want to see you again,” he stated. Relief flooded him when you nodded immediately.  

“I’d like that.” 

You exchanged numbers, and once his phone was back in his pocket, your eyes locked. There was a heat in the air between you as you stared at each other, more intense than what it had been sitting in the booth in the bar. When Javy took a step forward, you didn’t step back. Instead, your small hands came up to rest on his chest. He took that as his silent permission and leaned down, pressing the gentlest of kisses against your lips. Electricity shot through him, just like he seemed to know it would. He thought he could kiss you all night and not get tired of it. Still, he didn’t linger, pulling away after only a moment. Your eyes fluttered open, and with a wink, Javy reached behind you and pulled open your car door.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” 

You smiled shyly at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth before you nodded. “Goodnight, Javy.” 

As he watched you drive away, he couldn’t help but think that there would be other missions, but he would never have the opportunity to meet you for the first time again. Somehow, it made it all worth it.

----

Notes: Oh, Javy. I love you so much, you sweet underrated man. As always, feedback is appreciated 💚

Masterlist

[n7punk]

i'm bored and was trying to hunt something down (spoilers: i didn't find it) so i present to you: amazon POD she-ra merch that actually pops off a little bit. what i'm looking for is not just the plain key art, preferably with some kind of dynamic silhouette. there's 27 pages of this shit and it's a lot to slog through for the average person when most of it is boring, so here's my highlights. also, i'm tying to link every version of a specific design i notice, but some designs only look good/interesting on certain pieces so stuff definitely slips through and if you see one you like, you should search its keywards to make sure you get all of its designs. also these default on white or black but if you open that specific item (hoodie, etc) you can try it on multiple base colors on that item. you can also select various mens, womens, youth, etc sizing options.

the horde:

horde logo: baseball, pullover, shirt, tank, hoodie, tank, .

the horde (lineup): shirt, shirt, shirt, vneck, hoodie, longsleeve, sweatshirt, . there's a variant of this design that is instead a square, but i hate it.

the horde (squad): tote,

okay by character now:

glimmer:

glimmer orb: shirt, tote, shirt, hoodie, vneck, sweatshirt, tank, longsleeve, raglan, shirt, pullover, . idk she's just cute!

adora: yeah slim pickings here almost everything is she-ra

split adora: shirt, sweatshirt, pullover. i don't like just slapping a rectangular graphic on a tshirt, but i do think this art is pretty cool and unique and it's like the ONLY time adora herself shows up.

catra dorito: pullover, shirt, tank, longsleeve, raglan, sweatshirt, tote, shirt, shirt, tank, raglan, longsleeve,

she-ra:

"fierce she-ra": shirt, tank, v-neck, sweatshirt, hoodie, longsleeve, pullover, longsleeve, raglan, . more debatable inclusion but i like the colors

for the honor of grayskull: shirt, hoodie, tank, tote, hoodie, vneck, raglan, longsleeve, tank, . this style of shirt isn't so much my thing but if it is yours then it's well-done.

rainbow circle she-ra: shirt, tank, sweatshirt, vneck, hoodie, vneck, longsleeve, . i didn't actually like this one until i saw it with the blue background and i still hate that the logo is the wrong color?? but here it is anyway.

honorable mentions: only hunting down one link example of these, you can search the rest.

entrapta, scorpia, mermista, angella, bow, catra, sea hawk, glimmer, perfuma, netossa, spinnerella, frosta. this "line" series is just the character key art with some color palette-apropriate lines in the background, plus their name. i'm not grabbing all the variants of these since there's so many, but see some examples below.

there's also a variant of the same concept where they just change the shape of the background lines/image size

scorpia, hordak,

also honorable mention: this weird series where they're in a geometric shape surrounded by a line with a circle in it that i feel like is supposed to emulate the first ones language aesthetic?

catra (triangle), she-ra (circle)

things i don't like but are unique and i think kids would like:

she-ra sts, girls never quit, kind heart.

dishonorable mention: whatever the fuck is going on with this eyes thing

catra, glimmer, mermista, scorpia, bow, frosta, perfuma, netossa, angella, spinnerella, entrapta, sea hawk,

also if you want just the logo on a shirt you can do that too ig.

[elsweetheart]

hi kittie!!

i literally love the way u write ellie, and i have some questions abt for u abt her.. just outta curiosity 👐🫶

what do u think her phone case would look like? if it’s clear, what would be in it 🧐

what kinda bathing suite would she wear?? like shorts and a tee?? 🤤

what do u think her closet would look like? 👕

what do you think her top 5 favorite movies would be? 🎥

thank you so much !!

1. she’s a clear phone case warrior for sure. but, she’s a sentimental lil sap so wedged in the phone case would be a photo booth column you guys took together on one of your first dates !!

2. i feel like she is a shorts and a tee kinda gal. and if you guys are at a beach, she’ll go to the gift shop and buy the wackiest hat she can find to protect her head. either a cheap cowboy hat or a truckers cap that says something like “women love me fish fear me” on it, sometimes she’ll even buy a dumb tshirt too that says something obnoxious like “ I ❤️ BAD BITCHES” on it and just wear it around 😭

3. i feel like a lot of neutrals, muted colours, foresty tones. majority of her clothes are black and grey, especially if it’s just basics, sweatpants, hoodies etc. she has a couple of khaki items, like jackets and pants, and some dark reds maybe in the shoe department with her converse and t-shirts, and probably some faded dark blues too — sweatshirts, sweatpants, waterproof jackets, sneakers. she thinks her wardrobe is pretty boring but you love it bc it’s so her.

4. she’s a star wars girl til she dies i know that for sure, probably favouring the original trilogy bc she’s nerdy like that. i’d say that’s number 1, then of course not to be cliche but the jurassic park / world series at number 2. i think number 3 would be something more niche, gritty and gory like Nightcrawler. at number 4, i’d say it would have to be her sexual awakening movie which she watched on a tape she found at her uncle Tommys when she was younger, Wild Things (1999) — probably rewinding the pool scene one hundred times. at number 5 i think she’s a spiderman fan for sure — most likely toby maguires spiderman specifically. i think she’d like spiderman 3 the most !!

[verdemoun]

hi im back on my "overlooked things" bullshit

the gang and clothes. oh god that must've been chaotic. What the fuck do you mean you don't have to wear a union suit. What do you mean you??? Just??? Get to dress however you want??? Hello whY IS THERE SO MANY WOMEN WEARING PANTS WOW???

Comfort clothes. Kieran and clothes was already mentioned once, but I'm thinking about others. Some stick to their style, probably. I see Hosea as such a guy. John is living out his emo dreams /j

Charles, his newfound hobby of (insert vague gesture here) you know, and special clothes for this sort of thing. And protection. Good gloves, goggles, all that. Mate's in heaven. You cant tell me otherwise.

The first shopping trip is a fucking journey every time a new person appears. The availability. Prices. The materials. PRINTS. (I work with prints on fabric and lemme tell you. That shit is wild even for me. Let alone 1899 people.) The vast amount of styles and all that.

And, dumbass designs of course. The weird ones you can get from AliExpress or whatever and it's a fucking trip every time. As much as I wanna say it's Sean who discovers those first, I'd say it's Arthur. My guy wasn't too quick to learn tech and stuff so he saw a nice tshirt for a low price, ordered it, and he didn't look at it what was written.

His 1899 mindset of "i have it therefore it cannot be thrown away i can't afford more" wins out and he keeps it. You can't tell me otherwise.

welcome back always get the happiest hand flapping stim getting to long asks

absolutely assuming every woman who wears pants is a lesbian for the longest time

wearing pajamas for the first time. clothes being so plentiful they have a designated for sleep. and sleepwear being so much more comfortable than a union suit or ye olde undergarments the first time most of them wear flannel is a life changing experience.

bessie accidentally bought hosea clothes whenever she saw something she thought her husband would like it was her way of coping with him being gone for so long. he is rocking the brown loafers looks like he owns a yacht the beige pants but also coziest old man sweaters

john and arthur both just wear slightly modernized versions of their regular clothes they are dorks. john has the black leather bikie jacket with stupid fashion belts and buckles he looks amazing like generic punk outfit

CHARLES bordering on hoarder with the gloves. guilty of buying gloves in different colors just because he likes the color even though he already has 3 pairs of the same glove. most of the time enjoying the comfort of looking like a southern dad with the plaid and jeans but also work pants with the extra knee padding and a dozen pockets a different tool in every pocket walking down the street need a screwdriver? tape measure? wrench? electrical tape? timber screws? always on hand.

lenny and sean are the temu fashion disasters. bird shirts floral prints galore. the technicolor because it's so new to them!! the most hideous busy patterns but somehow making it work

sean accidentally bought a blue lives matter shirt and lenny had to draw the line and explain sean no. he started wearing it inside out instead of throwing it out and attempted to bleach the crappy iron off

arthur is so self conscious and so convinced he is ugly he is hyperaware of not sticking out in modern era he went through plain shirt and unremarkable pants for months. guilty of having a hoodie he won't leave the house without until he eventually settles on just modern era gunslinger outfit. owns 4 versions of the same outfit because he has npc energy in modern era can fit every piece of clothing he owns in a backpack.

[x-choutenchan-x]

Hi! I wanted to ask a question about Jirai kei <3

For a bit, I've wondered if I'm a jirai kei girl. I've been doing my research, gotten some girly kei clothes, been making some of my own in fact (I'm in America and my parents don't trust most websites I can get girly kei clothes from), but I'm aware that Jirai Kei girls have been wearing more of a punk type style. I wanted to know if I can be a jirai kei girl even if I wear girly kei clothes, even if the style is changing? Also, I wanted to know if I can even be a jirai kei girl. I'm an indian living in america, and my skin is darker than most (ik it sounds silly), and i do live some of the jirai lifestyle (sh, and bpd, no drugs yet), and I really wanna know if I qualify. I couldn't ask on your jirai kei blog, so I hope I can ask here. Please feel free to delete this, but if you do respond, thank you so much!! <33

thanks for the ask! and i will say: anyone can be a landmine—though it is a subculture primarily in japan, it is also a subculture that has become rooted in the internet as well. otherwise, i myself would likely not be jirai kei. the only thing that really matters in labeling yourself under this term is that you are aware of the nature of the subculture, and label yourself as “jirai kei” knowing it is not supposed to necessarily be a good thing. the term is derogatory for a reason, this kind of suffering should not be sought out.

this also brings me to say that jirai kei isn’t the clothing you wear, despite it being a subculture related to certain kinds of clothing trends. though it has become less common, girly kei is still sometimes worn among landmines. and, if it’s what you like wearing, then wear it! just like how wearing girly kei doesn’t make you a landmine, not following clothing trends doesnt really mean anything as to whether or not you are a landmine.

to clarify the current trend, to my understanding the “punk” look is more of just an alt fashion:

something sort of like this (after a lazy google search that’s the best picture i could find)? i personally am not completely confident in my understanding of current trends, but i believe it focuses on the look of a baggy print tshirt/hoodie, leg warmers and arm warmers, fishnets, etc. and both twin tails and jellyfish haircuts are popular. of course, black is a common color but platinum is another choice. heavy piercings on the ears and face still are common, and skirts can be worn underneath the shirts (usually pleated). once again, i could be entirely wrong on this and would encourage you to do your own research on this if you’re curious.

and, once again, anyone can be a landmine. jirai kei is determined by the person’s mental health—hence the “landmine type.” if you’re going to emotionally explode, you pretty much fit the bill. of course, the other big factors in the subculture is the pien and booze, but drugs, sh, and of course the bpd like you mentioned are also all factors. the tokoyo kids are one big part of jirai kei’s history, and i’d encourage you to learn about them if you can. there’s also the kabukicho stuff with the men in host clubs taking advantage of vulnerable women and eventually putting them into sex work under the guise of a “romantic relationship,” and even the jirai kei not directly involved with these groups have their own turmoil that they suffer with. whether you “qualify” to be jirai kei is really up to you, and if you decide to take this label, then i hope you find comfort here.

i will reiterate, it is good to do your own research and take everything i say with a grain of salt. however, i would ABSOLUTELY avoid tiktok at all costs when it comes to information on jirai kei. from anything ive ever seen, tiktok is invaded by fashion landmines who would absolutely harass you if you were to tell them any of the info ive said here. they view lifestyle landmines as insane, and insist that jirai kei is only girly kei fashion. there are various accounts on tumblr that discuss jirai kei as a subculture, and one of the best people ive seen for this info is zirazyo (hello if you stumble across this post btw), and they probably have better sources than i do for a lot of this. i am only one person in this community, and i absolutely do not know everything. but, i hope that i was able to answer your questions well! ♡

also, thanks for letting me know that my inbox isn’t open on my jirai blog—i’ll make sure to go fix that!

[pink-evilette]

I rly want to understand the coquette subculture. It seems neat! but I'm so confused. I thought I got it, but the more I look into it, the less coherency I see (at least, in a way I understand). I don't see any consistent color palettes, textiles, topics, ideology, makeup, hairstyles, music, community language or signals. I can see ballgowns & lace w/ glitter & then tshirts and flannels in a dingy laundromat. I've seen people recommend Little Women & American Psycho in the same breath w/ no further elaboration. Celebrities w/ completely separate style influences are often grouped together. I see a lot of idealization of wealthy femininity ("old money", luxury brands, mostly rich celebrities, preppy vibes, heavy amounts of skincare/selfcare/"wellness" routines which cost $$$$) but also lots of depictions life's struggle w mental illness, substance abuse, & others things commonly associated w poverty & lack of class/femininity (Cigarettes, sweatshirts, the aforementioned laundromat, not eating, pills, speculating about Anya Taylor Joy's coping mechanisms??). What is it that unifies y'all? What is it that I'm missing? I feel so lost & I want to figure it out :/

this is a great question and I can totally understand your confusion! the way I see coquette/faunlet is more of an attitude than a specific style/aesthetic but I still call it an aesthetic if that makes any sense. it's about reclaiming your own girlhood in whatever way that looks to you, we all look and dress differently but have the same sorta energy that connects us as a community.

it all began with nymphet, which was all about classic americana, lolita, lana del rey, gingham, coca cola, diners, priscilla presley etc. but the tag got censored by tumblr because many kink blogs were infiltrating this innocent subculture with sexual material. in this era girls were feeling connected to dolores haze from lolita through their own experiences and related to her as a tragic figure.

the community was revived many times but the current home of the community is with @coquette-club which was created by @lovesickbrat and also used by @bbabyyy ♡ there is a lot more to our history that I'm missing out on but if you look on my blog you will find more explanations.

there are many subtypes of coquette which is why you see so many conflicting aesthetics within the tag, from coquette noir (which is like an expression of French new wave film stars, 1920s aesthetics, Betty boop, mainly black outfits etc.) to bubblegum coquette (all things pink and girly, electra heart era marina and the diamonds, barbie etc.) and many coquettes on here either fit into these substyles or blend some together to make their own personal style!

the old money aesthetic is popular but controversial due to its implications, and I'm personally more into the thrifty side of coquette, and using pieces that I've had for years in my looks.

as a community we usually try to distance ourselves from the pro-ed/pro-ana communities as they can be harmful to our vulnerable members, since they promote eds and make them look glamorous which is something we don't want associated with our subculture.

I hope this answers your question - in short, coquette is about being authentic to yourself, reclaiming girlhood, community and sisterhood, incorporating your own aesthetics and interests (e.g. horror coquette) and expression ♡ if you have any more questions I'll try my best to answer them!