#nude woman and ice cream

[nudeartpluspoetry]

from Dreamstime

the naval is enchanting

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)

Chapter 1: This child needs me

[part 0, here, 2]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)

Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.

If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.

Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.

It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.

And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.

He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.

Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.

(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?

Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."

Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."

(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.

It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.

Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."

The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.

Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.

It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.

"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.

Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."

The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.

"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.

"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?

The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.

It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"

".. No."

".. Are you a boy?"

sigh "No."

"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"

(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.

"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.

He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"

The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).

"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"

"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."

(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"

"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.

"I think I'll prefer Mom."

They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?

"Do you know what I am?"

Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?

Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"

"What is that?"

"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"

(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'

His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"

"Six."

Older than I thought..

(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.

An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.

His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.

"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"

"Ye-"

"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?

Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"

"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.

The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"

The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."

"Any medical issues I should know about?"

"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.

"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"

The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?

No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.

"I do."

Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"

The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.

He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"

It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.

"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"

"Look are what she's wearing-"

"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"

"Still I think-"

"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."

The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.

"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."

"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."

"Someone you could call..?"

"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.

Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?

Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."

"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."

"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."

The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.

It was peculiar.

Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.

This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.

Avery was clinging to (Reader).

[herotome]

Devlog #151

Hi-ho, Wudge here. Back from a week-long break!

Wow! I uh, think I really needed that. Yesterday was my first day officially back to work, and I was able to accomplish a lot more with a lot less energy required. I even had to remind myself to pump the breaks and not work through the night...

While I don't feel "refreshed" per se, there is a notable absence of general weariness and fatigue.

Anyway. For fun, I drew Myster as an milkshake man.

A happy compromise between milkman and ice-cream man... I probably could have closed his vest without compromising the visibility of his tie details. Oh well!

(The face censor effect is prrrrobably not canon, just something I threw together last minute.)

Additionally, I did some outfit concepts for the OTHER secret LI...

And I'm much happier with where she's at!

For a while now I've been challenging myself to design a more butch woman - or at the very least, someone decidedly less femme when compared to the other women in the main case. It took a while, but I got to thinking about what sort of masc fashion I really enjoy, and eventually tried to take more inspiration from classic, heart throb celebrity gentlemen thieves, like Kaitou Kid.

I was doing everything in my power to avoid putting her in a cat suit too. >:| Catsuits are lovely but I want to be original gdi.

She did end up looking a bit like a magician, which, uh... I'm not entirely opposed to. I'm still feeling it out. Even gave her a feathery top hat.

Open disclosure, the nude base is by rox0ah - sometimes I'm when designing outfits, if the character does not yet have a sprite, I'll use a random nude base with roughly the correct proportions so that I can start on the fashion right away without first fretting over human anatomy.

Before my break, I also wrote a few special choices for Griffin... Edited in a few extra expressions for Daeng..

Updated Warden's open mouth..

And the eternally-incredible REMNANTATION finished rendering Mia's superhero outfit!!!

Look at that! Look at that!!

I still have to design some sort of helmet for her but I loveeee itttt. Rem also rendered a tank top for Warden but I'll show that off another time >:)

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[marias-island-of-visitors]

//Closed Starter

@a-fantastic-time

To say Raven was nervous about all of this would be an understatement. The Gothic spellcaster had agreed to do this little trip with Starfire to try and get to know the girl a bit more. She had expected maybe an ice cream date or maybe some pizza. What she didn't expect was a nude beach surrounded by cute women with their asses clapping away. She had half a mind to turn back and go home, but she had agreed to do this with Star, and she wasn't going to back out of it now. She just had to think of it as training. Training to keep her emotions from going out of line. Once she did that she was able to lower her hands and go to her usual self, even if she was still blushing at the sight of all these naked women.

'What's taking Starfire so long... I couldn't bring my communicator with me because I'm stuck naked. Hopefully, she's ok... ugh why am I even worrying, Star could handle a whole army by herself and still come back with that cute smile... ugh God damn it. Keep it together Raven, this is your teammate, your friend, you've been able to keep your emotions in check this long while she flies around in her mini skirt and tube top. You can survive it now' Raven thought to herself as she tried to keep her emotions in check, eventually hearing the alien woman fly towards her.

"There you are... Star...fire..." Raven stopped as she looked towards the woman, seeing her stunning body in all of its glory, her thick hips, her massive tits, her alien dick... wait... alien dick?

[sunflowersteves]

Sending hugs and wishes for a speedy recovery!

Prompt: “surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse” with Marc Spector

thank you, love!!! heheh I hope you enjoy <3

warnings || nudes, SMUT THEMES, dom marc, 18+ only

Marc makes his way into the small convenience store near your flat. After his patrols as moon knight with Steven and Jake, he always made a routined last minute stop to the store.

He picked up a couple of items that you needed, and making sure to grab some of your favorite ice cream that you had forgotten on the list.

His lips curled slightly at the long list of different chocolates and caramel on the label, affection blooming inside his chest.

His concentration stops when he feels the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He picked it up, immediately knowing it was you.

He expected some kind of message saying that you forgot something on the list or telling him to get home faster. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was a picture of you—brightly smiling—with a perfect view of your breasts.

His eyes comically widened, and he felt himself choke on air. “Jesus fucking—” He fumbled his phone, grabbing it quickly and smacking it against his chest.

He was breathing heavily, before practically sprinting to the checkout line. He stops, hurriedly placing the items onto the conveyer

belt. He impatiently thumped his index finger against his thigh as the old woman in front of him. She shakily, and at a snail’s pace, scans one of her items. His eyes flickered to her basket and sees that there’s still about nine more items.

He sighs, a hand over his mouth as the ache of his raging hard on sets in. He felt his cock twitch at another vibration of his phone.

Bed’s getting cold, Marcy :(

Oh, fuck. Another picture of you. This time, you were spread out on your shared bed. You wore his favorite lingerie—a deep red that caressed each and every curve.

He could feel his chest spark, a flush of lust against his cheeks. His eyes flickered once again to the woman filling ip her basket, just now on item five.

“Fuck this.” He muttered, taking the object out of the woman’s hand and scanning it quickly. She gasps, but he pays no mind, scanning all of the items at lightening speed.

“Thank you, kind sir.” He nodded, short and sharp. He scans his own items, cursing left and right before bolting out the door.

By the time he got home, it had been well over fifteen minutes. You were perched on the bed, patiently waiting for Marc to burst through the door.

You smirked to yourself as you pictured his disheveled figure, hands running through his raven hair—eyes wild with a certain gleam in them as he sprinted through the streets of London.

You hear the jostling of keys and a certain click of the lock before Marc busts through the door. His face was in a usual frown, maybe one a bit deeper than normal.

"Hi, baby." You say, almost purred it out of your plump lips. Marc doesn't say anything back, just pants. His chest heaved up and down as he took in your almost naked for.

He made long strides across the flat and onto the bed, not wasting any time to put his arms around you. "Did you think you could send that and get away with it, sweetheart?"

His voice was dripping in anything but sweetness. Instead, it was drowning in a promise. He presses a harsh bite to your collar bone, making you jump. "Marc—"

He doesn't give you time to react, hands squeezing your breasts and his lips kissing every part of your supple skin, making his down to your aching core.

He laughed at the high-pitched whine that escapes your throat. "You shouldn't have done that, sweet girl." He looks up at you, a stray curl springing in front of his face.

He knew you weren't sorry what so ever, despite the sheepish look that you conjured on top of your face. It was cute, that he'd have to admit.

He pried open your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clothed center. You gasped, jolting your hips forward. You could feel the wet patch almost becoming more as he rubs small circles against your clit with his thumb. "Marc!"

"God, are you getting dumb on me already?" He chuckled, already knowing the answer.

"I'm gonna eat you out until I say so, okay?" He paused for a only a second, running a hand up and down your thigh, "I mean it, sweet girl. I don't think i'm going to be able to stop."

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, head dizzy from the quick contrast of Marc barely even touching you.

He smirked, "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He shoved your lingerie aside, relishing in the glistening of your sweet pussy. "I should get started then, shouldn't I, sweetheart?"

God, Marc could be such a cocky asshole sometimes, but you would be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.

[t4kalcvr]

So based on JJK, can you write a oneshot featuring Gojo and Suguru with public nudity please? In the fic, Suguru makes a challenge with Gojo where he has to navigate the city while completely naked and without using his powers. Gojo agrees but doesn't know that Suguru sets him up at different points to humiliate him or make his nudist run harder. What do you think?

[ A CHALLENGE ] — jjk!Gojo x jjk!Suguru

GENRE : nsfw

WARNINGS : public nudity, oral, implication of throat fucking, masturbation (gojo), ass grabbing, plenty of male x male touching, teasing, voyeurism??? (ppl watch gojo masturbate) , a lil bit of noncon ig?? (suguru makes someone touch gojo without gojo’s consent), humiliation, cursing, groping, lmk if i missed anything!

WC : 2.0k

Honestly, Gojo has no idea why he agreed to this.

“Oh, Satoru” Suguru chirped joyfully.

Gojo flicked his eyes up at the mention of his name. He hummed a response as a pulled his spoon out of his mouth, enjoying the refreshing chill of dairy on his tongue.

Suguru threw a scoop of ice cream in his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue before speaking, a little hint of mischief following in his tone. “Wanna make today a little more fun?”

That had caught Gojo’s attention entirely. He gave another, longer hum. “And what are you thinking?” Gojo did NOT miss the way the corners of Suguru’s mouth twitched upwards.

“How about” Suguru trailed off, forcing Gojo’s eyes to follow his spoon and watch him scoop the creamy treat off with his tongue, “a little challenge?”

Gojo closed his eyes before taking deep breaths, he removed his last piece of clothing. His boxers.

“What kind of challenge?” he spoke coolly, avoiding showing signs of intimidation.

Suguru let a chilling sigh escape his lips before scooting forward. “I was thinking something like,” he placed a pause and faked a thinking face before staring deep into Satoru’s eyes, “you running around naked.”

Gojo groaned at the memory of how this all began.

Here he was. Completely nude in an alleyway. He was supposed to look for Suguru while walking around the entire town, naked. Suguru promised to snap a few photos for hints to lessen the embarrassment, especially since he couldn't use his powers.

He would truly murder him if he didn't keep his word.

With a large sigh, he peeked around the corner. The streets were far more crowded than usual.

That's probably why he suggested this today, Gojo thought and he was too caught up in his idea that he almost failed to notice a notification popping up on the screen of his phone. It was from Suguru. He tapped on it, hesitantly.

Suguru ✨💙 : here's your first clue 😘!

Suguru ✨💙 : [ 1 attachment ]

The photo was of him with a dango in his mouth standing by a cart. It was a colorful cart. Gojo further examined the photo. Irrelevant details everywhere, considering most corners of streets around town looked exactly the same. Until he noticed a woman in the background. A familiar woman.

Is she the one.. his thought trailed off, a woman he once flirted with for a couple of free treats. Now that’s a detail he could use. He knows her cart is down the street and then right around the corner.

Gojo had taken another deep breath before looking down. Nothing to be ashamed of, big stevie, we got this.

He slid out of the alleyway and began sprinting down the sidewalk. He slid passed multiple bodies, definitely hearing the way some girls whistled, giggled, and shrieked, and some men laughing, cheering him on, and what the fucking.

Gojo thought about how this couldn’t get any worse.

He was wrong.

Right as he turned the corner, there was the cart lady. She was already smirking at him. She was expecting him.

Oh god, what did you do Suguru.. Gojo winced at the possibilities.

He ran over to the cart and greeted the woman. “Good evening, ma'am” he spoke, and he felt his mouth getting dry.

“Well good evening, Satoru” her voice was low and seductive. It was making Gojo sweat.

“I'll go ahead and assume you know something?” he rubbed his hands together, almost forgetting the phone in his hand, as he looked around before averting his eyes back to the woman.

“I do,” she let out a small giggle, “but I was promised something first.” her eyes were dark, Gojo gulped.

He hummed in curiosity and apprehension, “A feel.” she smirked once more.

Gojo couldn't believe this. Suguru was going to make him do absurd things for knowledge of his location. He kinda did need it. Suguru would end up running somewhere else every time he'd send a photo of his location. He’d need the extra help.

“Where?” he uttered. He didn't need to feel ashamed, right?

The woman motioned him to come behind the cart, it had a small perimeter around it, so she let him slip through the small opening it had. He was praying no one was watching despite him being an entire man naked on the streets.

Before the woman spoke, he felt yet another notification vibrate from the device in his hand. He immediately turned his phone upward and clicked on the bubble.

Suguru ✨💙 : You're glowing 😉

Suguru ✨💙 : [ 2 attachments ]

The two photos were of himself. Suguru was here?

Gojo glanced around trying to catch a glimpse of him anywhere before the cart lady cleared her throat. “You want the extra hint or not?” she spoke.

Gojo immediately directed his attention to her. He just got a really good and useful hint. Does he even need it right now? He stood there thinking, Yes. And the woman could already tell by the look in his eyes and Gojo didn't even feel her hand on him until she started caressing his inner thigh.

He immediately snapped out of his thoughts and shot his eyes to her hand and then back to her, she was already looking at him.

“He's close by,” she spoke quietly as her hand moved further up his thigh, “but his next location is the best place to catch a movie,” she cupped his balls, giving them a soft squeeze. Gojo fluttered his eyes closed and took a sharp inhale as he felt a low groan tickling the back of his throat. He felt his hand grip his phone and the pressure of his nails digging into the skin of his palm in the other.

“Looks like you have more than one problem to deal with,” the woman giggled.

Gojo peered down between his legs, he was beginning to get hard. Shocker.. he thought. But he had a better hint now and could probably catch up with Suguru even by a little bit. “Thank you,” Gojo strained to say. He was struggling to keep himself composed and the not-so-hidden, growing erection did not help.

The woman gave a little hum as she gave his balls a feather-light caress with her thumb before releasing her grasp from between his legs and he made his way back onto the street with no protection, once again.

It didn’t take him too long to reach the location the woman insinuated. The movie theater. Where else?

But besides that, Gojo couldn't help the ache that slowly increased between his legs. She wasn't lying when she called it a problem.

He didn't exactly want to step inside the theater naked, he was sure he'd get kicked out but he also didn't want to touch himself in such a wide area. People were still looking at him with various expressions plastered all over their faces, and he may already be naked but he still had a little class.

So, he did what anyone naked on the streets with a boner would do. He slipped past everyone and hustled into another decently hidden alleyway, exhaling in relief at finally getting some type of privacy.

He placed his phone on top of a nearby trash can, leaning his bare body against the harshly cold wall, hissing at the freezing sensation. But the cold only made his erection grow.

Gojo took another breath before wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs and carefully wrapping his slim, lengthy fingers around his girth. He groaned at the touch despite it being his own, and gently rubbed the tip to create more lubrication. He's suffering. He has been. Why not make himself feel a little bit better about something?

He slowly ran his hand down to the base of his cock and back up, repeating the movement and tightening his grip whenever he'd reach the base again.

He began increasing his speed, bringing his other hand down to fondle his balls. He let out a choked moan, not even caring if it happened to be overly loud.

All he cared about was the building tension in his lower abdomen, he wanted to feel it break. He didn't care if his arm was getting tired or if his hand was stuttering. He felt himself getting sucked in further, he was close. So so close to his sweet release. He wanted to feel that pleasure after everything that's happened.

However, God was not on the naked man's side, his orgasm was just out of reach. And it was the snap of a camera and the sound of low giggling that caught his attention. Women were watching him. But what mostly caught his attention was the familiar midnight hair that seemed to creep behind them and a familiar devilish smirk.

Suguru.

This was another strategy to humiliate him like the cart lady. And although the cart scheme didn't work, the thought of not knowing how long they'd been watching him get off and seeing him a mess was a little more demeaning.

He didn't even realize he was spacing out until he heard another camera click, and that's when his face blew up in steam and he immediately picked up his phone and ran the other way. He heard the whistles and disappointed sounds coming from behind but he didn't care.

He was about to have an amazing orgasm and it was all ruined. Now he was still stuck with a stupid and increasingly painful boner. Even his dick was crying.

Tears swelled in Gojo’s eyes but not because he was ashamed or hurt. It was because the cold wind did nothing to ease the discomfort between his legs. He swore on his life Suguru would get what was coming to him.

Once he assumed he was far enough, he came to a halt. He had both hands on his knees as he panted like a dehydrated dog. He was looking directly at the concrete floor when he heard a conniving chuckle behind him.

“My my Satoru,” he heard the voice sing. Suguru.

He immediately straightened himself and turned around. “Suguru.” Gojo spat. He was done with this game, “I–”

“You quit?” Suguru interrupted, the smirk Gojo thought he hallucinated earlier was adorning the other man's lips.

There was silence while the men looked at each other, and Gojo felt his face heat up once he noticed Suguru’s not-so-subtle glances toward his naked body. Gojo didn't even notice Suguru got closer. Way closer.

“What?” Gojo kept his stoic facade up despite his burning complexion.

Suguru crept his hand up Gojo’s arm, giving sweet hums as he gently massaged his muscles. Gojo felt a moan itching the back of his throat. He was still sensitive from his little activity earlier.

Meanwhile, Suguru could feel how his muscles tensed but not in an alarming way.

“You did so well, Satoru,” Suguru cooed, “I'm so proud of you, I really do think you deserve a reward.”

Gojo refused. He was fighting his thoughts. He was fighting his urges. He couldn't give in. No way. Not after everything that happened.

But after all, the entire day, all he was capable of doing was thinking, nothing else. He kept himself in his thoughts all day. Not being able to focus on anything, and definitely not feeling the way Suguru already placed his hands all over his weeping erection and heavy balls.

He was so caught up in thinking, he didn't even see Suguru getting down on his knees.

He was so caught up in thinking, he didn't even feel Suguru’s hot and heavy tongue licking from his base to his tip.

So caught up in thinking, he didn't even feel the wet and warm cavern of Suguru’s mouth hollowing around half of his cock.

So caught up in thinking, he didn't even feel himself thrusting so hard, he was hitting the back of Suguru’s throat.

And all he was thinking about? How he deserves the pleasure after everything he went through today. How he deserves that mouth-watering, thigh-shaking, and suffocating orgasm.

“Had such a rough day, didn't you?” Suguru gagged.

“Mhmmm,” Gojo hummed in complete satisfaction.

bookshelf !!

Note : first nsfw fanfic i’ve written, hope it doesn’t disappoint! and my first request!

[cloveroctobers]

PAUL CHO — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: let’s give it up for our beloved himbo, paul 👏🏽 beef is relatively a good show minus that disgusting being that shouldn’t be welcomed back next season. I was just happy to see Steven in more work and was definitely checked in. Although the posts are now dry in the beef tag, especially for Paul! I’m still going to drop this and head out. The Cho bros deserve some love and something easy, although this is mainly Paul focused! The point still stands ☝🏾

PROMPTS from here + using: i. one passes out from heat stroke & ii. 3AM convenient store run for slushies and snacks.

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Paul knew that the both of you shouldn’t have been outside today. He was perfectly fine being locked up in his empty apartment, streaming live on twitch for income with the AC and fans on full blast. However he let you, his best friend persuade him to get out of the house.

Being locked up in the house became a routine after everything went down. Paul didn’t want anyone inside of the apartment, including his own parents who spent their time in a motel while they waited around wishing and praying on Danny’s well-being. Paul cut most of his other friends off and fell into a dark space as everything that unfolded began to truly settle in.

It wasn’t until you came along, threatening and ready to break the door down did Paul let you in. Even if you weren’t talking, he still sorta enjoyed your company since the apartment felt lonely and stuffier than usual.

Despite the warnings of the heatwave, which made news that it would be approaching the city a week prior, you thought it was a good idea to head out to the pier on a early Saturday afternoon.

The both of you took the hour and in a half ride out to the pier, with you driving Danny’s rusted truck since your 2008 Mitsubishi was in your cousin’s shop with its radiator being worked on. The ride was peaceful enough, with the stereo on blast and the windows down but talking about what transpired was Paul’s boundary that you respected while you still came around.

You hoped he would too.

The sun was roasting down on the both of you as you trailed along the deck, a few people were also walking but not much: one woman with an umbrella who carried on in the opposite direction, a elderly man with a bucket hat on was up ahead by the edge fishing, and a family was tending to each other as the mom attempted to soothe her screaming baby who seemed to be upset that their maybe five year old brother smacked their now melting ice cream to the ground, the father seemed to be hiding his laughter with his own ice cream while he kept a tight grip on the leash of their fluffy white dog, until his wife started fussing him out.

Paul watched them for a moment on your way by, even turning over his shoulder to continue watching them while he held onto a yellow slushie, and you were right beside him with your water filled tumbler that you barely took a sip out of.

“The big brother looks like a turd,” Paul comments as he turns back to face your direction.

You shrugged, “I would have yanked my sister by the edges if she did me like that on this hot ass day.”

“He’ll learn.” Paul answers with a small grin by his lips.

He suddenly stops and hands his passion fruit slushie to you, “Hold this for a sec, I’m taking my shirt off. It’s seriously sticking to my stomach.”

Stopping you take the beverage as Paul swiftly yanks his shirt over his head, and throws it over his shoulder before the both of you carry on walking, “That’s better.”

“Did you even put sunscreen on?”

“Of course I did. You only reminded me thirteen hundred times this morning.”

“I mean on your torso, smart ass.” You motioned while Paul glanced downwards and hummed thinking about it.

“Uh…I didn’t think about that. Maybe I would have considered it if we went to a nude beach,” he smirks and bumps his shoulder with yours.

Scoffing you stop walking and reach out to pull on his wrist. Paul turns to you as your now searching your Prada mini backpack for the aerosol free sunscreen.

Paul gives you a look, “really?”

“Yes, really. You are not getting a sunburn on my watch, bestie. I don’t want to hear you bitch and moan about it later. Now be thankful I care and turn around.” You whirled your finger around, while cradling your tumbler underneath your arm and against your stomach as you shook the can about.

Paul rolls his eyes with a sigh before doing so and says, “I better not catch you looking at my ass.”

“Oh, brother.” You mockingly gag while Paul laughs.

You get to work spraying the sunscreen all over his back, hands feeling hot against Paul’s slightly sticky skin, rubbing the white residue in before gripping his shoulder to spin him around to spray his front.

“Go ahead, I’ve always known you wanted to cop a feel.”

“Nope! You’re gonna do that yourself since you want to act like a pig.” You mockingly give him a smile before twisting the can and shoving it into Paul’s hands.

Paul’s laughing as he did the honors and bites down on his bottom lip, “is this doing it for you?”

“You’re nasty,” you scrunched up your nose before throwing the sunscreen back into your expensive bag which was your first big purchase all on your own due to finding your place in the cam career field, “and I’m strongly considering karate kicking you in the throat.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be hyping me up.”

He began to flex and pose on the pier. Sunlight hitting him just right along with the gold chain around his neck as his tawny skin shined underneath the rays.

“Not when you do douchebag things, babes.” You snapped and pointed at him before you walked away.

Paul’s getting a kick out of annoying you, it’s his thing. Always has been since the both of you went to high school together with you transferring from the east coast sophomore year. It wasn’t a instant thing of being friends, he just knew you since you were basically a friend of a friend’s sister’s new friend. He didn’t know how you did it being friends with his friend’s friend’s sister since she was a know-it-all who eventually ending up working in real-estate according to Facebook.

Imelda “Melly” Alcantara.

She ended up switching up on you senior year by trying to accuse you of flirting with her no good boyfriend that nobody in the friend group liked. He got handsy with you, legit tried to get up underneath your skirt at the lunch table but she only saw one side of it despite her twin brother telling her off and ready to throw hands at her smug boyfriend. Paul always suspected that Nimuel had a crush on you which you denied (he had quite a few girlfriends, some upper and under class throughout the years—basically he was in and out of relationships but all his exes had to say was, “he’s too sweet.”) once the both of you became close.

It would have been interesting to see where Nimuel ended up, since he was the only one that promised to keep in touch with the both of you out of the group. The both of you lost him not long after graduating, one day before his eighteenth birthday to a drunk driver.

Losing anyone is painful but losing someone you thought and wanted to be around forever is a indescribable feeling. You start to think about the what if’s and play the last memory you had of them along with the good ones. The light of the world dimmed a bit that night and that’s probably one of the reasons why you and Paul held on a little tighter to your friendship.

“You actually look like you need the sunscreen more than me,” Paul tells you as he peeks over at you, faintly remembering how hot your skin felt against his back. The sunscreen had to do something about that right? Paul thought.

The both of you were approaching the end of the pier where the seagulls squawked on and fled the closer you got. The sea smelled like salt and seaweed as the turquoise waves rolled underneath your feet, sparkling like diamonds with each way the rays hit the water.

“Hm.”

Your head seemed to pulsate a bit, along with a throbbing pain that started right after. Leaning against the banister, there was a smile that appeared on Paul’s face as he slurped down the rest of his slushie. The sea was kinda therapeutic and shit if you thought about it, Paul thought to himself while your thoughts were placed on mute.

He began speaking randomly about the water but nothing he said was heard. You fell to your right, tumbler clunking to the floor while you now lay on your side. Paul’s eyes are wide in confusion; it takes him seconds to spring up once he realizes it’s you on the ground. If it were any other time he would have assumed you tripped or something, you were kinda clumsy which is why you never made it on the cheerleading team (or step) with your other friend from the friend group, Shaina Kaylock.

Last Paul knew, she was studying to be a doctor and was all grins as she completed her bachelors that she posted on Instagram which was also her circular profile pic. She was always kinda spacey, loved to do shrooms, and was definitely a horse girl so Paul honestly assumed she would be a vet maybe instead of studying to be a whole oncologist.

A doctor’s a doctor right? Paul kinda wished Shaina was here right now you know? Since you just decided to take a nap on him.

“Hey, what the hell? C’mon, stop playing around.” Paul bends and reached over to pull on your bare shoulder but it’s dead weight as you’re now on your back.

He feels his heart almost spike at this image and his breathing halts at the sight of you. He tossed his empty cup to the side now, down on his knees as he grips your jaw and lightly starts tapping on your face. You don’t flinch even when he starts putting more force into those taps. Paul doesn’t even see any specs of sweat by your hair line and your skin feels dry, which is also weird to him since he saw you applying more black girl sunscreen to your face not long after your Uber dropped you off with a pocket mirror as your guide in his living room.

Your skin should at least feel tacky if not damp.

Paul was for sure not a doctor but this was terrifying to see. He’s screaming for help now but of course the pier is now empty before his eyes settle on a tumbler waiting to slide into the ocean. Careful Paul stretches his long limbs out for the bottle and snatches it towards him; he’s unscrewing the top and dumps some of the water on your face.

Still nothing.

Then it registers for him to check his pockets for his phone and he’s telling Siri to call 9-1-1 while his heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his ass.

A heat stroke.

You were so concerned about Paul not having any sunscreen on and you go and have a heat stroke on him.

The irony!

It’s five (if you could sync your thoughts with Paul, you’d tell him it’s nine but that would turn into a whole argument that you were not willing to waste your breath on) in the afternoon and your eyes are not the size of the moon since they’re still very much closed. Paul’s quietly entering back into the room and he notices that the cooling blanket that’s been on you since they loaded you into the ambulance has been removed.

Which means your shivering must have stopped.

Paul’s eyeing you as he listens to your heart rate, walking around your bed to place some snacks down onto the night stand. The minute he does take his eyes off you, Something to the right of him flings out in his direction making Paul jump.

“What the fuck?” His voice booms.

Your laughing while you pull your hand back to rest against your stomach, “gotcha!” You say before you fall into a coughing mess.

The scowl on Paul’s face turns to concern as he holds the slushie up to your lips, leaving you to take a sip and allow the blueberry slush to melt in your mouth.

“Yeah, I see you’re doing somewhat better.” He places it back on the stand before pulling a chair closer to your bed.

Slowly blinking you say, “…where am I? Who are you?”

“This isn’t a joke. I thought it was over for you and you’re still not out of the woods yet so I’d knock it off if I were you.” Paul folds his arms in front of himself.

So serious, that one.

You already knew this since there was a nurse who was in here not too long before Paul came back. She removed the blanket once there was no shivering and told you they were waiting on your urine test along with some other stuff you forgot, considering you were half-awake. You were sure the doctor would be back whenever since you hardly got any sleep in this kind of place.

“Oh-Kay then Paul, what did you bring me?”

Paul rolls his head to the side as he peeks at the snacks he went out and got for you. He knew how much hospital food sucked taking into account the one night he stayed up here with Danny, telling him exactly how he’s made him feel and that sure he’s wanted him out of his life but that didn’t mean Paul wanted his big brother dead.

He wasn’t sure what the nature of their relationship would be once he woke up and Paul was sure his parents would want them to mend it. However he was tired of his parents wanting him to sweep shit under the rug and ignoring the problem. It was time for Paul to do his own shit, for real this time.

Being in the same hospital Danny laid in was making Paul uneasy and you joking about your health without knowing the end result was making Paul triggered honestly. He’s also saw Amy on his way in but he didn’t want to bring that up either.

“I’ve got all your favorites. I didn’t want you to starve in here, your options are: mambas, sea salt and olive oil popcorn, lemon zing pistachios, or chocolate orange crips.” He blinks back over to you.

You reach for the crisps but Paul smacks your hand down, “I got you, relax.”

He pops the bag open for you while you hold your hand out for the snack. You waste no time slapping the orange crisps into your mouth and hum while exhaling in content, eyes closed.

Paul sniffs at the snack and pops one into his mouth, “it better be worth it for the price I paid for these.”

He shrugs after tasting it before tossing it up into your lap before folding his arms along the edge of the hospital bed. He places his chin on top of his clasped hands while you happily eat your snack before focusing on the energy of the room.

“We’re gonna be alright, kid. What did Bob tell us on the ride up to the pier?”

“I don’t want to quote fucking Bob Marley right now.”

“Well…” you clutched your pearls, “this is my message to you-o-o: thanks for the snacks and being here.”

Paul’s eyes are on yours now, “where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere.”

You shush him, “just take my love and don’t question it.”

“Fine…only if you agree to make out with me.”

“And he’s back! Over.” You respond into a makeshift walkie.

Paul winks just as you poke his cheek with a tired smile. He sits up after awhile, watching the profile of you as you seem to be okay and worked up a appetite when you probably needed more fluids on top of the IV in your left hand right now. You were always stunning to Paul no matter the stage and he almost passed out himself when you stood up from the couch in that tube dress you had on earlier.

Yet he had to keep his composure because you were simply his best friend. Although it slipped out sometimes and you brushed it off as mere flirting majority of the time, there were truths behind a good portion of Paul’s past statements. Putting the shallowness aside, he always admired how you were able to adjust to any situation and if the situation required for you to have a moment, you allowed it to be felt and picked yourself up just to carry on. You were also very nurturing which provided balance to Paul’s tenderness.

“I don’t know…you okay over there Pauly Wally? You’re looking like you’re a little bit in love.” You joke.

I might be.

Paul snorts instead and uses his fingers to close your eyes for you, “I think you need another nap.”

You laugh just as a knock is heard at the door. Both of your eyes turn to the door as Paul’s hand drops to rest against the one that just hid the crips behind your pillow. The both of you feel your lips twitch as the doctor enters the room, one of your fingers lifting to intertwine with Paul’s as the doctor is ready to deliver some news while the heat continues to steam outside.

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Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

[artmialma]

Lucien Boulier (1882 – 1963)

"“nude With A Pearl Necklace”   A pupil of Jean Léon Gerôme, he exhibited in Paris between 1919 and 1932 at the Salons d'Automne (Woman with ice cream), at the Salons des Indépendants (from 1926 to 1932) and with the National Society of Fine Arts. Naked young women hold an important place in his work and will bring him notoriety and popularity.

[nysocboy]

Gemstones Episode 3.4: Wieners, betrayal, a burning a-hole, and Kelvin at his jerkiest. With a nude Steve Zahn bonus

This is the G-rated version of the review, with no nudity or explicit sexual discussions.  

Title: "I Am Come Not to Bring Peace But a Sword." A famous quote from Jesus in Matthew 10:34.  Things are going to get dark. 

Some premium sex dolls:  Keefe and Taryn are leading a Teen and Parents Together "ice cream and wieners" party.  Keefe has apparently never done any ministry without Kelvin, so he is very nervous.  He is not wearing his "wedding ring," maybe worried that it would out him.

The parents point out that they know very little about Keefe, even though he is a youth minister, in charge of nurturing their children.   Before Keefe has a chance to answer any questions, Biker Clarence, the owner of the store that he bought out drops by to praise him for buying "every last butt buzzer I had in stock!"   He invites Keefe to check out the new merchandise coming in: "We got some premium sex dolls!"  Inappropriate, dude! You're in an ice cream shop. Don't you notice the kids around? 

Taryn and Keefe assure the parents that "it's not what you think."  That is, Keefe isn't actually gay, he bought the toys for a project "we did with your kids."  Even worse!  But didn't the parents know about Smut Busters?  You have to get permission slips every time you take the kids off church property.

Loud and Proud:  We see the beginning of the service, a Christian rock number, with May-May disapproving and Cousin Karl loving it.  Then it's time for the family dinner at Jason's Steakhouse, and a practically endless series of queer codes.  Interesting that the guys start being obviously a couple immediately after the Cousin's Night romantic interlude.

May-May disapproves of her sons' silk suits: too shiny, "like a lady's neglige.  A little loud and proud for me."  In other words, they make the boys look gay.  Jesse yells at her for "talking trash." Implying that someone is gay constitutes "talking trash"? That's homophobic, dude.

Judy defends the boys from the "accusation," saying that they are attractive to women. So youturn gay because you can't find a woman?  Laying on the homophobia, aren't we?

As he listens to his family's homophobic banter, Kelvin looks like he's about to cry.   And Keefe -- that's the look your boyfriend gets at Thanksgiving Dinner, when your parents told you to not "cause a scene" by coming out, and then Uncle Bob starts complaining about "fags taking over." Cavalero got it exactly right..

Holding Hands under the Table:  Peter Montgomery (Steve Zahn, top photo) enters, announces that he has a new militia compound "on a farm," and invites his sons to join him.  They refuse, so he circles the table, threatening that retribution is coming.  

As he circles, Keefe moves his right hand under the table.  Then Kelvin moves his left hand under the table. These are not random acts:  Boyfriends who are scared (and closeted) would look for reassurance by holding hands.

Their hands stay under the table until Peter threatens Judy, and Eli steps in, telling him to leave or he'll be shot.  Everyone in the family except Gideon, Kelvin, and Keefe pulls out a gun.  A gun expert on the fan board pointed out that only Amber and BJ are holding them properly.  Then Kelvin,  frightened (of his family's guns?), says something indecipherable to Keefe, who moves his hand back to the table top and makes a finger-gun.  Kelvin looks around for a weapon, and brandishes a fork.  His left hand is still under the table, and stays there, holding Keefe, until Peter circles the table again.  

Now the "wedding rings" are fully visible, matching men's silver wedding bands with black diamond inlay (the real thing sells for over $4000),  on the ring finger of Kelvin's left and Keefe's right hand.   Kelvin can't say that they are lovers, but he can show it.

For a little while, anyway.

Things get worse after the break.

It makes my a-hole burn: The backlash to the ice cream-and-wieners party begins when Kelvin finds a letter in the Teen Time suggestion box: "Keefe is weird. I am not comfortable with him around kids." Is "weird" being used as a euphemism for "gay" again?

He yells at Keefe for messing up: "You had one job! It's your only responsibility."  Dude is missing the point entirely.  He should be concerned with defending Keefe's character.

He wants to know what went wrong.  Keefe explains that the porno shop owner "outed me in front of the parents."  Not outing him as a participant in the Smut Busters: that wasn't a secret.  Bike Clarence made it sound like Keefe bought the sex toys for himself, thus "outing" him as gay. 

Well, did Keefe explain that he bought the toys on church business?  He tried, but he couldn't really articulate how buying sex toys helped the church.  Kelvin gets even more angry; Keefe's inability to handle this incident without outing himself -- and by implication, both of them -- suggests that he is not qualified to be assistant youth pastor.  So, are you going to fire him, or what?

What about the parents' concerns? "This kind of talk makes my a-hole burn."  Keefe responds: "I hate to think that I'm responsible for your a-hole burning."

I have never heard anyone use that expression to mean angry or upset, nor can I find it online.  It's quite likely that Kelvin's real a-hole is burning: remember that he just stopped withholding sex. If your partner is too big or too enthusiastic, as he is bound to be after a drought, he can create tiny tears, resulting in rectal burning and itching.  In Season 1, Kelvin's a-hole burned  after a similar experience, tied into his guilt over being gay  Now it's the possibility of being outed, and its impact on his career, that burns him. Will he be backing away from the erotic again, to maintain the illusion that he and Keefe are just good buddies?

Sip and Paint: A scene of Kelvin/Keefe problems will inevitably be paired with BJ/Judy problems.  They are on another date night, at a sip-and-paint studio. Why do they get so many dates, when Kelvin/Keefe get none?  

Someone sends BJ a dick pic!  He wants to email the guy to explain the mistake, because "some lucky gal's missing out on that glorious cock shot."  Did you forget that gay men exist, Buddy?  I'm sure your brothers-in-law would enjoy looking at a glorious cock.  Uh-oh, Judy realizes that Stephen, the guy she had the affair with, sent it on purpose to big-dick her husband!

The White Slap: Next, Jesse gets is initiated into the Cape and Pistol Society, for the elite of evangelical ministers. He sparrs with rival Vance Simkins, and uses so many cuss words that he's sentenced to a "white slap" -- literally being slapped by someone wearing a scary white mask. 

Then Baby Billy confronts him: "You are so hell-bent on running this church the way your daddy did, but you ain't your daddy." This line in the trailer led to widespread speculation that Eli had died, but it was just a misdirection.  Then Baby Billy suggests that a performance by Aimee-Leigh, Eli's dead wife and a famous gospel singer, would get some butts into the seats.  But how can she perform? 

Probably there are videos of her singing at the Grand Ole Opry or something. Baby Billy may explain, but who's paying attention?  Viewers are pushing the fast-forward button, anxious to see what happens with Kelvin and Keefe.

Rumors Swirling:  At the church food court -- notice the booths for Fancy Nancy's Chicken, Jason's Steakhouse, and "Wok on the Water" --  Kelvin, in virginal white instead of his usual green to emphasize his purity, listens to parental concerns about Keefe.  

"We do not feel safe with the assistant youth pastor. We heard he's a devil worshipper" and "I don't want him influencing our children."  

The most obvious conclusion from the sex toys debacle would be that Keefe bought them for pedophile grooming, but no one accuses Keefe of child molestation.  You don't say that a pedophile is a bad influence, you say that he is a danger. They think that Keefe is gay.  

This is Kelvin's chance to exonerate Keefe by coming clean: "Buying the sex toys was all my idea. I thought it would be a good teen project.  Keefe was just following my orders."  But instead he throws the guy under the bus in order to stay closeted: "I vouch for him.  He is one of my closest personal friends. He is my dude." 

A parent (Nick Arapoglou,  left) responds: "With all the rumors swirling about you, can't you see how strange this all looks?"

"There's rumors swirling about me?" Kelvin asks, shocked.  He thought that he was adequately closeted, and maybe he was -- Evangelicals often have trouble conceiving of a Man of God being "that way," so they may have let his feminine mannerisms and lack of interest in women slide.  But with Keefe outed, the rumors are bound to swirl. If Kelvin is outed as well,  his career as a youth pastor...as a pastor of any sort...as a Gemstone...

"Remove him, or we remove our kids." a parent demands. 

Kelvin literally runs away. 

The full review, with nude photos and explicit sexual discussions, is on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

[nepokisses]

laura   harrier.     she/her.     cis   woman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   alana   davis   ,   most   likely   listening   to   heaven   by   nola   adé   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   seven   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -introverted   yet   +humble   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   a   pair   of   boxing   gloves   ,   late   nights   spent   at   the   local   gym   ,   her   maternal   grandmother's   locket   ,   a   newly   crafted   tiara   ,   followed   by   rihanna   nude   perfume   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   newly   crowned   princess   discovered   to   have   a   police   record   due   to   assault   charges   pressed   against   her   in   her   early   20s   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   (   tj   ,   21   ,   they/them   ,   est   .   )

B A S I C S 

full name: alana davis. nicknames: lana. gender:  cis woman. pronouns:  she/her. sexuality:  pansexual. age:  27. date of birth:  september 1st, 1995. zodiac sign:  virgo. birthplace: the bronx, new york. current location: the bronx, new york. residence:  her childhood home - she refuses to move out of the home she grew up in. occupation:  former amateur boxer/ current princess. languages spoken: english, a little spanish.

A P P E A R A N C E

faceclaim:  laura harrier. height:  5’9. build:  toned. eyes:  brown. hair:  naturally dark brunette. piercings:  standard earlobe piercings.  tattoos:  a cherry blossom branch running along her forearm and wrist. other distinguishing features:  smile. style:  casual for the most part, unless she's going to an event or somewhere special. 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits:  (+) humble, honest, determined, dedicated , loyal. (-) shy, temperamental, bitter, easily angered , unforgiving.  mental health:  anger management issues, bipolar disorder; medicated.  physical health:  great, very healthy physically. likes:  boxing, video games, sports, art, spicy foods, bratz dolls, live concerts, mma, wine, smoking marijuana.  dislikes:  being antagonized, people who don't respect boundaries, avocados, crowded spaces, groups of people that take up the whole sidewalk, being forced to introduce herself, being in the spotlight, being lied to, being told what to do, mint chocolate chip ice cream.  fears:  losing her autonomy.  phobias:  snakes. hobbies:  boxing, teaching other people how to box, crocheting, reading. skills: crocheting, fighting / boxing, jumping rope / double dutch, computer savvy. quirks:  cracking her knuckles when irritated, avoiding eye contact when feeling shy or nervous, rolling her eyes.

F A V O R I T E S

ice cream flavour:  cookies & cream.  time of the day / night:  late night.  weather:  summer weather.  breakfast food:  waffles, cereal, yogurt.  dinner food:  jerk chicken, beef patties, pasta, rice. colours:  lots of darker, muted colors.  music: nola adé, adele, fka twigs, kehlani, lady gaga, solange, yebba, paramore, hozier, ed sheeran, nirvana, beyoncé, megan thee stallion, sza, samara joy, flo milli, kendrick lamar. 

M I S C E L A N E O U S

a cherished item:  her maternal grandmother's locket, the first pair of boxing gloves her mother bought for her. first love ( celeb crush ):  rider strong, circa boy meets world / ciara usual mood:  neutral. 1 thing they want to do / experience before they die:  have one professional boxing match.  character inspo: rosalie hale ( twilight ), raven ( teen titans ), bonnie bennett ( the vampire diaries ).

B A C K G R O U N D

childhood & adolescence: alana grew up with a single mother in the bronx. her father, whom her mother didn't really speak about often, was never in the picture for her. from a young age, it was quite difficult for her to deal with the fact that she grew up without a dad. she absolutely adored her mother, but being teased by other children for not having both parents in her life caused her a lot of inner turmoil. it didn't help that she was a rather awkward looking child - as most people go through their ugly duckling stages. despite being a shy, introverted girl, alana had a very short tempered fuse - a trait that she inherited from her mother. her peers assumed that her quiet demeanor would make her an easy target for bullying, but she quickly proved them wrong after getting into a scuffle here and there; scuffles where she primarily came out on top. her mother, tired of being called to her school for her fighting bullies, decided that she needed to redirect her short fuse into another avenue; which was when she introduced a ten year old alana to boxing. her mother was an amateur female boxer in her youth, but retired and laid her boxing dreams to rest when she got pregnant with alana. it became quite obvious that the boxing gene was passed onto her, because she took to it like a fish takes to water and fell in love with the sport. throughout middle and high school, alana kept up with her boxing. it became a dream of hers to enter the professional world of boxing. in her mind, she had the perfect path set up for herself. she would graduate, focusing on training full time and eventually open up her own gym dedicated to boxing. as much as she loved the sport, being in the public eye as a famous boxer wasn't something that she was interested in. she just wanted to box without being known by the world.

early & mid twenties: boxing had become a huge part of her life by that point. training for hours everyday, competing in amateur fights here and there. she was saving up money to buy a local gym in her neighborhood when a sudden tragedy struck. her mother passed away not too soon before alana's twenty sixth birthday. it was due to health complications that she didn't share with alana - which broke alana's heart. she was devastated that her mother didn't share her health issues with her, and was angry towards her mother for quite a while after her death for that reason, but months in therapy has helped her start to move past that and let the anger go. all the money she had been saving up to buy the gym had to go towards her mother's funeral arrangements and all other loose ends that needed to be tied up; setting alana back at square one all over again.

current day: alana always thought that she was just a normal girl from the bronx. it came as a hell of a shock to her when she was contacted by her father's side of the family to let her know that not only was her father, and by association herself, royalty, but he was the king of the small european country he resided in - making her a princess. she couldn't believe that her life had turned into some fucked up version of the princess diaries. at first she didn't believe them - but after doing some research of her own and going through old papers that her mother kept stashed and hidden away from her, she learned that it was true.

then her life was flipped upside down once more. suddenly she had security following her around at all times, complete strangers vying for her attention. the royal family and consults are trying to control every aspect of her life - she can't box anymore, she can't do this, she can't do that. it's stifling and overwhelming for her. she never wanted this; she was content with her life, for the most part. now it was a complete circus. the one thing that she's held onto is her childhood home. she refuses to move out, although she knows eventually she might have to give in to her new family's wishes and move into a safer, more secure home. but until then, she's fine with having security roaming around her childhood home, as long as she gets to keep one piece of her old life for now.

C O N N E C T I O N S

ex ( multiple ): alana has had a few significant others in her life; some of them she parted with on friendly terms, others not so friendly.

fwb ( multiple ): self explanatory.

users ( multiple ): people that want to be close to alana due to her status and title.

true friends ( multiple ): people that are actually friends with alana because of who she is, not what she is.

boxing mentee: she's not supposed to be boxing anymore, but this person is interested in picking up a few boxing techniques and moves, and lana can't help but give them a helping hand.

best friend / platonic soulmate: self explanatory.

childhood friend: one of the few kids that didn't try to tease of bully her growing up.

gaming buddy ( multiple ): self explanatory.

sense of calm: one of the few people that can calm alana down when her short fuse explodes.

brother / male presenting sibling ( on father's side ): will be sending this wc into the main, but if you're interesting lmk! we can discuss it.

instigator: this person loves to push alana's buttons until she bites back, because they love seeing how feisty she gets.

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Perfect Man (2005)

The Perfect Man is a special kind of bad movie. This romantic comedy aimed at teens (or anyone else who is a fan of Hilary Duff, I suppose) didn’t stand a chance. I hate to criticize a premise. Without it, the movie wouldn't happen so you have to suspend your disbelief a little - Otherwise, why even bother hitting "play"?  - but this pictures lives in its own absurd reality. No one could take this jaw-dropper seriously.

Teenager Holly (Hilary Duff) is fed up. Every time her mom Jean (Heather Locklear) breaks up with a man, she severs all ties with him and moves Holly, her younger sister Zoe (Aria Wallace) and their entire lives to a new city. To get her mother to settle down, Holly creates a fake secret admirer to keep her away from any would-be suitors.

This is a 30-minute episode of a bad sitcom stretched to feature-length. It’s about a teenager whose mother is insane. No matter how comfortable Jean is in her career or home, she’s always one bad date away from upheaveling her entire life. This over-the-top reaction would raise all sorts of red flags if she was by herself, but this woman is raising two daughters! You’d think parenting would've driven some sense into her head but this tale is set in some alternate dimension where moving, is just an inconvenience that takes a couple of hours. Finding a job? Never a problem. It makes you wonder what kind of man managed to impregnate Jean twice without being driven away… though there’s nothing to indicates the daughters actually share a father, so who knows. Worst of all, this film's defining trait isn’t even necessary! You could’ve easily had a series of bad dates prompt Holly to create this elaborate charade just to avoid her mom getting heartbroken again. The Perfect Man would still be preposterous, but also more realistic than what we got here.

Directed by Mark Rosman, this rom-com is as predictable as the arms on a clock. For me, this meant it was quite fun to tear apart with friends. You can make jokes at the expense of the contrivances, the scenes of Holly and Jean flirting over email and instant messaging (good thing mom never sent nudes!) and the avalanche of unconvincing lies mom swallows like spoonfulls of chocolate ice cream after a heartbreak. I haven’t even told you that the “Perfect Man” Holly is basing her messages on is a real-life person, her best friend’s uncle (Chris North), whom we’re supposed to believe isn’t single, but come on. Is anyone fooled?

Within the picture's 96-minute running time, you'll find endless reasons for conversation/laughter. Holly is part of a love plot of her own with her classmate, Adam (Ben Feldman). Jean is pursued by a slob at work - what if they end up dating?! Oh no! There are many cheap moments of phony drama & character development that will make you roll your eyes. More than one decision by characters will leave you wide-eyed with disbelief.

The Perfect Man is an awful film but I enjoyed watching it very much - for all the wrong reasons. (Fullscreen version on DVD, August 25, 2018)

[bobelblogger]

Sultry Sorceress Ch ?? Hunt To Kumalot

Severine-Aljak-Adelaide

Gnik-Horasa-Avgina 

Knights of Kumalot

Lance of Loggrith "I'll fuck ye in the face."

Flails of Fellatrix "Two balls are better than none."  

Sword of Stiffyrd "If you dare I will stick you."

Axes of Analline "What has one ass and two axes?"

Gnik Lyonmane "Gnik of yore and rightwise King of Kumalot."

"The Queen is not available for any audience, furthermore to brighten her return we're to reclaim lost relics."

"What if I refuse your quest invitation?" Aljak was nude bound to Adelaide, who hadn't looked her mother in the eye since they returned. 

"I'll have my daughter geld you and you'll wear it as a necklace, then who knows." She scoffed.

That shut him up good.

Adelaide looked up and uttered, "He is my slave by right, I came close to catching Nadia before any-"

"You have no voice here, you have disgraced the Belladonna name, consider yourself lucky, Chancy was made comatose by your touch, Nicolette is accompanying Queen Nymphoria on her trip, so you and Aljak-ass here are coming on my quest, you temple guards are as well, give me your names and I will elevate you now."

The two knelt and recited the vow they took as initiates, then their maternal lineage.

"This paladins name is Avgina, daughter of Hymina, granddaughter of Clamina." chipteeth bent nose nasally spoke.

"I'm named Horasa by my mother Horaura for her mother Hora." spoken holding an ice pack to her ass 'n' cunt. 

Severine drew her broad-sword and curved sword to dual anoint the pair.

"By vested power I give you rank, by indulgent pleasure you give homage to your monarch and nation."

Both straightened and were presented sashes of cream with gold trim over their barely armored breasts.

"Time to meet the manling who will give insight on the history of Kumalot."

On que a chamber sidedoor slowly opened to reveal an old fellow with a lads face, golden locks amid silver ones covered with an huntsmans cap, his steps half wobbled, dressed in a shabby dark green tunic and light green trousers, his weasel fur boots fit poorly, his back was bowed with age, a hemlock walking stick helped guide him, in his other hand a parchment of equally old appearance rested.

"I have been to this kingdom in past times, a realm with lands of odd accented folk and strange customs, but within are powerful items and beings enchanted by old magics, a bounty of treasure and spoils to the witty and tactful adventurer."

Severine nodded and the rest looked at the parchment the old man unfurled, poorly drawn ink glyph images shifted across the surface like moving paintings, a narrator charm read the footnotes.

"In the Age of Kumalot the first King with a sword from a woman in water anointed knights to guard the realm, skilled in martial as well as carnal arts, they fought with neighboring Climaxia and Celibaca, marched through the night before battle an arousing speech and orgy raised moral the next day in the battle the enemy were ravaged so utterly that both diarchs Titalya and Clitalya leaped over the falls that now bear their names, both lands were annexed and sent hostages and letters of apology, many years later the King died without an heir, ever after the land was stuck in perpetual autumn and no subject could leave."

The scroll ended its reading and rolled itself back up, tucking it away the manling spoke.

"That's it, dress accordingly and bring enough supplies for a weekend, it's faster going by boat."

Severine nodded and answered, "it's already done, we shall depart at noon on the Maidens Dance and be there by dawn tomorrow, Aunt Josephine will have my place until the Queen returns or we do."

"I need my armor and my Judgement, release me from these bonds." Adelaide dared speak up.

"Seeing as you enjoy the company of this nomad boy, you'll remained bound to him." Severine shut her down.

"But mother I want to help, I didn't mean to disgrace the family name, I'll be good this time." 

"I'll free you when I think you should be and not a second sooner, is that clear?"

Adelaide hung her head and answered with a sullen "Yes, mother, it's clear." 

----

The griffin flock towed ship to shelter in a isle cove on the Oral Sea to weather a typhoon and continued on by the coast, around a merfolk preserve and laid anchor in the Bay of Sexany. 

"There are three places in the boundary to slip through, so pairs of us have to cover-" The manling began.

"Why not use one entry and go back out another, why split three ways?" Aljak found the plan utterly stupid so he spoke up out of habit.

Severine turned and placed a hand on the hilt of her broadsword, with a single motion she could take his head off and be done with him, but the voice of the manling broke her trance.

"We could do that it's not impossible, let's see and find out if it's true." The manling shrugged.

Sheathing her sword and malice, with a painful chain tug pulled Adelaide and Aljak off their feet to the dew grass ground, mounted him and pulled a ball gag over his mouth, Adelaide whined but submitted to it.

"Horasa, Avgina, I see this as a chance to further prove your earned sashes, make sure--what is your name?"

"Uh it's Gnik." His golden silver streaked bushy eyebrows raised and wiggled a bit then lowered.

"Make sure Gnik stays alive, once we're in bag anything of magic value, remember your training and watch for traps or tricks." 

Both stood straighter and nodded, Horasa brandishing custom tip javelins and a gaudy gold kite shield on her back.

Avgina revealed a two handed hollow mace a vial of pepper seeds and a trio of silver stilettos.

In minutes the trees changed shade and all ground became sparse and brown, a crisp breeze blew and no birds sang but the snap of twigs and crunch of dry leaves that filled the roofless hall of wood columns. 

Adelaide was able to cast a charm and keep warm but given Aljak's racial heritage and non magical status was chattering and trying to beat his meat to keep warm.

Having went down a fork in the overgrowth around the bend a single wooden bridge stood as seemingly the only crossing point of a rolling river.

Seeing this obvious snare Severine stabbed a spell of revealing into the ground and waters edge, a dozen caltrops below and above them weight rigged trap doors along the bridge.

Avoiding those by walking through the foot deep water with care lay just ahead a pasture wall of moss stone.

"Wait a demon damned second ye tax evaders, ye haven't got a pass or signed the tome."

A ways from the trees a person tall of stature came walking up sounding pissed, the glint from the sun off the persons suit of polished armor with a lance twice as big as him, his helm visor left up got closer to the bridge as Severine stepped on it to meet him, his codpiece was still askew granting a full frontal glance at his turgid log.

"This is the Kings crossing and I'd advise ye to give up those blades and pay the entry tax or I shalt get medieval on thine arse."

Severine drew her sword from her left hip the other from her shoulder and masterfully took an erotic stance.

"Severine Belladonna, Hedonia High Priestess & Arch Paladin of Queen Nymphoria Goddess of Pleasure and Beauty."

"Sir Loggrith, Knight of the King of Kumalot, ye boastful blond buxom bimbo bitch cunt." Lowered his lance.

Avgina punched the hedge with her gauntlet clad fists as Gnik and Horasa had a staring duel on account of his creepy calm given the current conundrum and Severines last command was to keep him alive, so they waited until furious at her failed attempts Avgina struck a match and belched two blasts of blue flame that burned a swath through in the middle, having studied with pyromagics in the junior paladins.

"You drank flame cider this morning didn't you-." Horasa inquired but was shortly cut off buy a hand on her mouth.

"Shhhhh, there's somebody else prowling about here, keep a watch on the treetops and bushes." Gnik whispered.

Avgina snorted

Rubina Hoody     Big Johnny

bow made of stag antler, string of unicorn mane shafts of yewcork, fletched with griffin feathers, lion tooth heads.

Isolde, Morgan, Elaine, Gwynes four brides all dead or ran away and the king died shortly.

Severine is the target

[maciek-jozefowicz]

[70] “Of One Mind” — 2B Compressed, Charcoals group (Procreate app, iPad, Apple Pencil).

The two most famous paintings of love that I’m aware of are Rembrandt’s “The Jewish Bride” and Klimt’s “The Kiss”. Rembrandt’s painting is beautiful — the simple pose of each figure is subtly, yet deeply, emotive; the handling of paint is masterful, one stares at the woman’s garment in wonder, it’s abstract art long before abstract art was invented. Klimt’s painting is gaudy and adolescent — the poses are melodramatic; the use of gold leaf (thin gold foil incorporated throughout the painting) is vulgar; the negative space is boring and the patterns within the simple shapes are barely above a level of good wallpaper. Rembrandt’s painting is a work of high art; Klimt’s painting is a glorified magazine illustration. It’s neither a good expression of love nor of lust.

(“The Kiss”, which was auctioned off in 2006 for $135 million, is an example of how financially bloated, and tasteless, the fine art’s world has been and continues to be. I think that the rich spend a fortune on art to try to impress their rich colleagues, who may be impressed, but not by the actual art, but by the amount of money wasted on it. The more money a rich person wastes, the more impressive he, or she, becomes to the other rich. It’s a competition. (In fairness to whoever bought the thing, the painting is famous and you will find an image of it, and a reference to it, in every art history book. But the problem with most art history books is that they give all the artworks that are mentioned in them equal stature. That’s deceptive because not all “great” art is equally great. (And whether “The Kiss” even qualifies as being labeled great art is debatable. It reminds me of medieval Christian icon paintings, which are far superior. (Imagine if Klimt titled his painting “Jesus Kissing Mary”.))))

My drawing is, in spirit, modeled on Rembrandt’s painting, but without the beauty or the mastery. I excluded decoration and references to material reality — the clothes worn by the figures are nondescript and not important, though it is important that they are wearing clothes and not standing nude. This is not Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. And while Rembrandt’s painting, with its depiction of wealth through the jewelry and the attire of the figures, is a pragmatic expression of love and of marriage, my drawing is a sentimental fantasy. (That, I suppose, was partly modeled on Klimt’s painting.)

[ My tastes are changing. I’m beginning to find much of the great art of the Western culture to be too pretty. Cézanne’s paintings — too pretty. Renoir’s paintings — too pretty. Raphael’s paintings — too pretty. They’re wearing too much make-up. They are dessert — cheesecake, ice cream, pie. I don’t want my art to be dessert, I want my art to be steak and potatoes, or chili, or stew. But I don’t want it to be French cuisine, with all those precious sauces and delicate, sophisticated tastes. (One aspect of Picasso’s art that may be unappreciated is that most of it is not pretty, or delicate, or sophisticated. (Picasso was not a dandy.) That makes it revolutionary.) ]

[thegravityblog]

Tuesday: Therapy, Meeting a beautiful woman.

Another banger day. It was session 3 today, we discussed about my well-being and things that are needed to be changed, self-care and being unbothered by things that used to bother me once. I left trying to be concerned about someone who simply just doesn’t deserve it. My values and principles are different. You cannot and shouldn’t be concerned for a monkey who’s not your level. Pre-requisites are really very important. The last thing I would ever do now is to be with a woman who doesn’t have any class, character, integrity and moral values. You cannot form anything meaningful who can even become a pornstar, just for money and validation. So hungry for validation that now, being nude to the world can feed that validation. That woman is broken, I tried a lot but in the quest of caring for that monkey, I almost lost myself. Lesson leaned. Moved on. Nothing to do with such a person, she’s like fuck me, but favor me. That’s not my type. I won’t even consider fucking her, Idk what STD she is carrying around. Lol. Okay, I am not gonna contaminate my blog mentioning her, she don’t deserve even a mention. So let’s just stop here. Had Sphagetti bolognaise (chicken) and Iced Mocha Latte. Loved it, CBTL was my go to when I used to visit New Delhi, after Starbucks.  Then as an activity to make someone’s day happy and better, we went to sector 35, bought a couple of white and yellow roses and went to sector 17 where I had to buy the book by Peter Lynch - Beating the Market. There I saw a lovely lady, enjoying her ice-cream under a tree, I went to her like a gentleman, and gave her the roses. At first she was awestruck, and said “Is this a prank?” I assured her no, it isn’t and then she insisted me to sit and we spoke about each other. She introduced herself, and I myself. She said “What makes you making my day great, as an entrepreneur?, Why are you doing it?”, and I told her its just a gesture that I made someone happy. She was definitely happy. She is a professor, lecturer at JNU, Delhi. After a 10 min convo, I left, she didn’t want me to leave, idk why but I had to. I wasn’t looking for a connection, but just making her smile. Beautiful moment. She smiled huge and when I got up, I said “Please look around, there’s no camera around”. We both laughed and I left.  Drove back home, and now I am listening to the Valuetainment’s latest podcast episode with Andrew Tate and working alongside. Had a blast, today. Happy! So fucking happy! Next milestone after absolute healing is dating someone of my level. It sounds harsh, but that’s the reality of the world. I used to date people from a lower socio-economic background, but I had horrible experiences. They are all for money and especially chicks who are insecure inside, and need cocks from everyone around them. Just favor them. I have built a level of resilience where I see her hanging on to a guy, and I am like, what sort of a person is this? :D Anyone. Like literally anyone, just enable her and give her the approval. It has stopped affecting me completely. Thank god, the dirt got out herself. Now, I know, I’ll be with someone who respects themselves first, because these daddy issue chicks will be always broken and insecure. You can’t help them. So, finding someone who knows their shit, has it together and has a class. The right one! Not someone who will suck any dick, to compensate for their inner trauma’s. I am strong enough and I have proved that to myself by not just sleeping with any class less pussy. Found myself out of this experience and there’s no point in desiring someone who can’t even offer you the bare minimum. That’s all! 

[teepoxshop]

This 1960s trailblazer of erotic pop art died just as she was finding fame

Throughout Evelyne Axell’s short but radical career, the Belgian artist revered the female body in psychedelic hues rendered in gleaming enamel. Nude women recline in acid green or cerulean blue fields under open skies; in one portrait, bodies and landscape become indistinguishable, with rings of colors forming the volume of a perm and tufts of grass the pubic hair.

She delighted in double meanings. Axell’s most famous artwork, of a woman licking an ice cream cone, could be both a summery advertisement or an explicit pornographic scene. She named another painting, of red heels on a gas pedal, “Axell-ération” — an implied self-portrait, like many of her works.

But the young actor-turned-Pop artist, who was working in the 1960s and early ’70s and had been trained by the famed surrealist artist René Magritte, had her career cut short. In 1972, only a handful of years into painting, she died in a car crash and faded into relative obscurity. Only in the past decade as curators have revisited the pop art movement beyond celebrated male artists — such as Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein and Richard Hamilton — has Axell arisen as one of the many women co-opting mass media to engage with the social structures and politics of the ‘60s.

“If you asked almost anybody to name a woman pop artist, you would probably get a blank stare,” said Catherine Morris, a curator at the Brooklyn Museum, which hosted the touring show “Seductive Subversion: Women Pop Artists, 1958–1968” in 2011. The landmark group show featured Axell and contemporaries including Pauline Boty and Chryssa.

“(If this) period of emergence of women Pop artists had even been a couple of years later, we probably would have been more aware,” Morris continued, pointing to the 1970s as a turning point for women artists in the wake of second-wave feminism. “This whole group of women who covered this decade were dramatically overlooked.”

Since “Seductive Subversion,” which first exhibited at The University of the Arts in Philadelphia, Axell’s work has been included in a host of significant group shows that take a more expansive, international view of pop art and foreground women. And in 2021, she achieved a significant posthumous milestone, with the Museum of Modern Art in New York adding “Axell-ération” to its collection. But institutional solo exhibitions remain few and far between, with retrospectives hosted by Museum Abteiberg in western Germany and the remote Swiss Alps art center Muzeum Susch 10 years apart. (Perhaps, in part, because of her limited output.)

Now, two of Axell’s playful, erotic artworks— both painted with her signature application of enamel on plexiglass — are poised to make history at Christie’s, in her first major New York sale. “Paysage” a dreamy pastoral nude, is expected to surpass her record of $140,000, set in 2017, with a high estimate of $200,000; “L’Amazone”, a sensual blue-ombre hued portrait, could also come close at $120,000. But such sales for Axell are infrequent, according to Sara Friedlander, Christie’s deputy chairman of post-war and contemporary art.

“She made very little work — she was 37-years-old when she died,” Friedlander said in a phone call. “So, in a way, the market doesn’t have enough to know what to do with her. These (paintings) are very special and very rare.”

An incomplete legacy

The decade following Axell’s death saw the emergence of a number of women artists who unabashedly expressed female sexuality, painting and photographing their own bodies, and subverting erotic or pornographic imagery. Artists such as Joan Semmel and Marilyn Minter believed that feminism should be inclusive of sexual agency, but as Morris explained, they faced criticism for doing so.

Axell might have been part of this crucial wave; curators and scholars are still unpacking her prescient feminist ideas, and the paradisical world she set them in. Instead, she hid her identity, signing her works with only her last name, after facing derision from male art critics, according to the exhibition at Muzeum Susch. Her stylistic approach — a mix of pop art influences and dreamy surrealist settings — is still underrecognized, according to Morris.

“She acts as a historical bridge (between surrealism and pop art),” she said. “And I think that that’s something that’s dramatically unexplored.”

Skilled at challenging expectations around her own beauty, sexuality and sense of self in her work, Axell was also politically engaged, producing portraits of the African American activist Angela Davis and a painting responding to the Kent State campus shootings in 1970.

“Despite all aggressiveness, my universe abounds above all in an unconditional love for life,” Axell said in her only interview in 1970, according to a publication by Muzeum Susch. “My subject is clear: nudity and femininity experiment in the utopia of a bio-botanical freedom; that means a freedom without frustration nor gradual submission, and that tolerates only the limits that it sets itself.”

One of Morris’ favorite works, shown at the Brooklyn Museum, embodies this spirit: an abstracted view of a woman’s torso, the curves of her body like peaks and valleys, her vulva covered in a real tuffet of green fur. Called “Petite fourrure verte” or “Small green fur,” the intimate perspective was based on a photograph Axell’s filmmaker husband, Jean Antoine, had taken of her.

“It’s from 1970, just a couple years before her death,” Morris said. “So for me, it really epitomizes what would have been — what was to come.”

[placegrenette]

I’ve watched the original video, I’ve watched the original video on mute, I’ve listened to the song without the video, and I’ve watched a performance version, and it still isn’t coming together for me. To be clear: I’d much rather Soyeon swing and miss than not be allowed to swing at all. But given the herky-jerky, not terribly appealing nature of the music, this is a song that’s going to live and die on the strength of its ideas, and the ideas don’t come across enough.

There’s been a lot of chatter about Soyeon’s use of English, though I don’t think that’s actually the problem, with one exception--I think “think outside the box” coming in the first line sets her up for failure. It’s not awkward; it’s not misused; it ties in easily to the image of a boxed-up Soyeon coming later in the video. But that particular phrase is so tied (in American English, at least) to vapid corporatespeak that it becomes distracting. If Soyeon had stuck it later in her verses, in context, it would’ve had more punch.

I think the problem actually lies with the concept and the visual ideas. There’s clearly some Marilyn Monroe inspiration going on here, and invocations of mid-century burlesque, and old-school, Veronica-Lake-esque glamour, and also nods to Madonna in Minnie’s Material Girl sequence and Soyeon’s cone bra. On top of all this there’s the woman as art, as statue, as Shuhua, Yuqi, and Soyeon are all at separate points on a pedestal surrounded by blank-faced, menacing onlookers. But that’s a lot of separate points of female objectification through Hollywood! We have Marilyn Monroe as the victim of the “sexy sexy” role, but Madonna’s whole invocation of Marilyn was to create a character who wasn’t a victim, who knew exactly what she was doing. (I had forgotten completely the storyline of the “Material Girl” video, in which Madonna rejects younger suitors to make out with the unpretentious older guy... who happens to be a big-shot movie producer.) Meanwhile we remember, if maybe not entirely accurately, the burlesque dancer as having gained in autonomy what she lacked in fame and fortune: she got to decide what she took off, when. To complain about being pressured into being, or punished for being, “nude” while wearing burlesque outfits is to muddle the question of agency, which is already muddled enough for a self-producing female group in the Korean idol industry. During the second chorus the members of (G)I-DLE dance while the set catches fire around them, as if they’re laying waste to this circuit of objectification--but they’re still dancing sensuously and in sync while wearing thigh-highs; if you just saw that shot you could just as easily conclude that they set the set on fire by sheer force of hotness.

I’ll admit to a bias here: taking five Asian women and making them all matchy-matchy blond and pale makes my skin crawl. (And yes, I did, in fact, have the same problem with “Ice Cream Cake.”) I don’t know how you simultaneously revel in Hollywood glamour and complain about how limiting and dehumanizing it is. Yes, they look great, but either we’re supposed to say “They look great” or think outside the box; which is it?