#is gay but how everything/everyone else is on the table

[buckttommy]

Back in 2016/2017, I read an article about TMZ that completely changed the way I viewed their empire and every now and then, I'll think about it and be like.... wow... they could easily use their powers to become very, very dangerous to a lot of people

[p2iimon]

drawing more furry fnaf art. yknow just to keep you posted. i love posting in the tags sorry these ones got away from me

[resident-gay-bitch]

Single teen dad steve who’s kid comes out as trans kinda young and fuck it’s the late 80’s early 90’s - post upside down - and he’s freaking out because he just wants the best for his little kid. She- he has always been Steve’s biggest priority and he loves his kid no matter what and he’s gonna embrace the hell out of it, but he has worries about it all because he’s in small town Hawkins and people here get beat up for being rumoured to be gay, what the hell is gonna happen to his kid??

But mainly, he has no idea how to help. He doesn’t know anything about it. Robin assists where she can but she’s just as in the dark about it as Steve.

Then comes one night, Axl (they’re trying out new names each month and this month Axl is obsessed with Gunners so it’s only appropriate) is having a panic attack over his dysphoria and Steve is trying his best to help. He can’t bind, doesn’t know how to do it on his own without it hurting really bad, and Steve is trying to help but Axl won’t let anyone see any part of him without a shirt and so it’s hard. They tried to figure out how to do it on Steve’s bare chest but it’s not really the same. Eventually Axl cries himself to sleep about it with Steve sitting on the end of his bed because Axl didn’t want to even be touched after a while.

And Steve doesn’t sleep that night, he stays up half the night trying to bind his own chest correctly, then he tapes balloons and stuffed toys to the front of this big bear they have and tries to bind on that. But nothings working, and he can’t help but feel like he’s failed his kid. He debated calling Robin up to see if she’d come over and he could try binding her chest to figure it out, he knows she’ll say yes because she cares about Axl so much and also won’t care if Steve sees her bare chest as he has before, but she’s out of state for work for a whole other week. He just cries until it’s time to get up for work and school.

Axl is wearing a baggy shirt under an even baggier hoodie, even though it’s the middle of summer. Steve wants to tell him to take it off, to make sure he doesn’t faint today, but he knows that’s only gonna make things worse - everyone at school still thinks he’s a girl. He makes sure to pack ice packs in Axl’s lunch bag and extra ice in his water bottle.

He goes to work and thinks about it all day, then he gets home to find a note on the counter from Axl, saying he’s popped across the street to study with Melody for a while. They’ve been friends since they were little, and she’s the only one from school who knows so far. Steve’s glad Axl’s doing something to distract himself rather than rotting away in bed and making himself feel more sick about it.

Halfway through cooking himself dinner (and by cooking he means microwaving whatever the fuck he can find in the fridge) he gets a knock on the door. It’s Eddie. Of course it’s Eddie. They had plans to catch up for a beer down the pub tonight, since they hadn’t seen eachother in a while now. Steve had been so distracted today he completely forgot.

Steve apologises to Eddie and tells him he’s just been so stressed today and he couldn’t talk to Robin about it and everything is just so complicated, he just breaks down and cries right then and there in his doorway.

And Eddie, being the kind soul that he always has been, pulls Steve into a hug and lets him cry about it.

They sit down at the table together and crack open a couple of beers and eat the microwaved leftovers. And they chat and Steve forgets about everything for a little while. Eddie does that to him; makes Steve forget everything else in the world doesn’t exist besides Eddie.

He’s tried to snuff his stupid feelings for Eddie out for years, since 1986. It hasn’t worked. But Eddie’s been between relationships, and Steve’s had Axl to worry about so trying to have anything serious has been so hard and pointless. No one wants an instant pre-teen, and especially not Eddie who has expressed he doesn’t want kids several times. It’s pointless.

So very pointless.

But Steve wants him anyway.

Eddie asks about Axl, as he always does. He cares about Steve’s kid the way he cares about Dustin, sort of. They get along, but Eddie kinda gets awkward around him for some reason and Axl gets very flustered around Eddie. Steve found it adorable when he was little, Eddie with his long hair and tattoos, he always through it was cool. And as Axl got older, the more he’d avoid Eddie in hopes of not fanboying over Eddie’s band, or tattoos, or his guitar.

But they don’t really see eachother much these days, so now that Axl’s fourteen and too cool to ask questions when Steve brings Eddie up, who knows what they’d be like around eachother?

Eddie’s asking questions, completely oblivious as he asks how “she’s going” and if “she’s surviving her first year of highschool” and blah blah blah, and Steve knows it’s because he doesn’t know. But it messes with his head anyway, because that’s his boy their talking about, not his girl, and it’s been bothering him all day and Steve just-

He crumbles. He opens up to Eddie and tells him everything on his mind right now. How Axl is really a boy, and how they’re trying out new names, and how Steve feels like he’s failing his kid because he doesn’t know how to help him bind, or feel safe, or come out at school, or what to do to get him on testosterone or if that’s even an option and-

Eddie places his hand on Steve’s and smiles so softly, “You’re struggling to bind?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it’s like- his chest… he- he’s doesn’t-“

“Yeah, I- I know, Steve.” Eddie nods, “Would Axl be okay with me knowing this? Or, like, not?”

“I don’t know.” Steve so sobs, “I shouldn’t have said anything without his permission, but I just trusted you and I needed to talk to- to someone. And I’m…”

“Okay.” Eddie cleared his throat, “okay, will Axl be home tonight?”

“Yeah.” Steve sniffled and checked his watch, “It’s almost curfew.”

“Okay. Have you got any bandages? Or what have you been using?”

“Yeah, bandages… cloth.” Steve rubbed his nose.

“That’s okay, uhm, how about you go get those for me?”

Steve, confused but too mentally tired to think much of it, goes and does just that. He brings back the rolls of bandages and cloth they were using and dumps them on the table in front of Eddie. Eddie smiles and moves the cloth aside, looking at the strip of bandages.

“The wider ones are better. These are a little thin, but… does he use a sports bra most days?”

Steve nods.

“Okay, I suggest getting some wider bandages. But I can make these work.” Eddie grins.

“What?” Steve grumbles.

“Come here.” Eddie shuffles his chair over to Steve, “Arms up, not up in the air but like, out so I can get around.”

Steve follows his command yet again, and watches with confused eyes as Eddie begins to wrap the bandage around Steve’s chest, talking him through the process; where to place his hands for best compression, and insisting it can’t be too tight or it will hurt.

“It probably won’t be perfectly flat, they never are, but it will be better.” Eddie smiled, “Surgery is always an option, but they won’t let him get that until he’s like, eighteen.”

“How do you-“

“Hey, dad, sorry I’m late, I have a math test tomorrow and we-“ Axl chattered, walking through and shutting the door, “… uhm, hi Eddie.”

“Hi!” Eddie grinned and waved at Axl before looking back at Steve’s chest and fastening the bandage together with the clip at Steve’s side.

“What are you doing?”

Steve felt his heart drop, “I’m- I’m sorry, kid, I shouldn’t have told him but- I was just, I needed someone to talk to, and- It’s not and excuse-“

“No, it’s not.” Axl dumped his bag down on the kitchen counter and walked over, “You should ask before assuming.”

“I know.” Steve furrowed his brow, “I don’t usually-“

“But it’s okay because it’s just Eddie.” Axl shrugged and leant down to look at the bandges wrapped tight around Steve’s chest, “I figured you’d already told all of your friends.”

“Nope.” Eddie shook his head and smiled, “He certainly did not. Cool name, by the way- Guns and Roses?”

“Yeah.” Axl nodded.

“Sick.” Eddie grinned.

“Did you do this?” Axl pointed to the bandages.

“Wait, you’re not upset with me?” Steve asked.

“No, I know you’re not just gonna out me to some cunt who’s gonna beat me up-“

“Language.” Steve pressed.

“Besides, Eddie’s gay and a self proclaimed Freak, out of most of your friends he’s the least likely to judge.”

“Right you are, little gremlin.” Eddie smiled up at him.

“I’m still sorry.” Steve murmured.

“Don’t be.” Axl playfully punched his arm.

“Also, to answer your question,” Eddie continued, “Yes, this is how you bind. I can show you how to do it, if you like? I suggest bigger bandages but this can work for now.”

“Yes please.” Axl nodded, and Eddie immediately started to unwound the bindings on Steve’s chest.

He re-tied it, talking step by step to Axl, and then he got Axl to bind Steve’s chest himself, Eddie talking him through the process.

Then, Eddie got Axl to do it on himself, over his baggy jumpers, because it’s a little different doing it on someone else. Steve sat at the table and watched in awe as Eddie animatedly talked Axl through the process, and Axl couldn’t wipe his smile off his face.

The moment it was done he raced off to his room to do it properly. Eddie went and got them another beer.

“Thank you.” Steve smiled at him, “So much.”

“No problem, Steve-o.” Eddie grinned, “I have not done that in a while, it was kinda fun.”

“What do you mean?” Steve furrowed his brow, and Eddie shrugged and pulled up his shirt.

The first thing Steve noticed was the added ink Eddie had gotten since ‘86. The second thing he noticed was the bat bites scattered over his skin. And the third… two scars stretching along his chest.

Steve remembered being back there, crying and trying to add compression on all of Eddie’s scars. He remembered finding bandages already wrapped around Eddie’s chest, under his clothes, but he thought nothing of it, figured Eddie had cut his chest open or something. Not… this.

Eddie blushed and lowered his shirt, shrugging up at Steve.

“Oh my god.” Steve muttered, and Eddie just stared at him, “Holy shit, you’re like Axl?!”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, and then a couple of seconds later Axl was body slamming into the back of Eddie and wrapping himself around him.

“I didn’t think anyone was like me here.” Axl mumbled, obviously trying to not cry, “I always thought you’d be the coolest out of dad’s friends.”

Eddie snickered and gave Axl a hug back, “How’d you go, did you get it?”

“I think so.” He said, stepping back and showing off to them. It’s the first time Steve had seen him wear anything less than a baggy shirt. He was dressed in a cropped muscle tee, and he looked so confident.

Steve started to cry.

“Hey! Look at you, it looks so good, kid.” Eddie grinned, “If you want I can show you how to draw facial hair on to look realistic.”

“Fuck yeah.” Axl grinned, “I want a moustache.”

Eddie snickered and looked back at Steve, his face dropped when he saw him crying, “Hey, Stevie-“

“Thank you.” Steve sobbed and buried his head in his hands, “Holy fuck, thank you so much.”

Eddie smiled softly, “It’s no issues, of course. Anything to help a fellow freak like me, huh?” He smiled up at Axl, “I should be thanking you, it feels nice to have another person like me around again.”

“Do you know more people like us?”

Eddie nodded, “You know my friend Gareth? Yeah, he’s like us, and a two more people but they’re not in town.”

“Oh my god, really?!” Axl grinned, “This is so awesome, can I please come to one of your gigs or something?”

“I thought you were too cool for that stuff?” Steve snickered.

Axl flipped him off, “I just wanna meet him… as a guy.”

Eddie leant out and ruffled Axl’s hair, “Yeah, kid, whenever you like- though, a band practice would be more ideal for a fourteen year old.”

Axl frowned dramatically and went to get himself a drink.

“Seriously, Eddie, thank you.” Steve murmured, “I haven’t seen him that happy in… not in years. He’s just a kid, he’s meant to be that happy every day.”

Eddie nodded, “I know how he feels. I knew I was different really young too, and when I was about twelve I told my mum and she told me to never tell anyone. And then she died, when I was sixteen, and I ended up telling dad for some- I don’t even know why, he beat the shit out of me and I ran away. Like, away away, up to Indi. Wayne found me then, when my dad told him what happened, and bought me home and let me be Eddie.” He shrugged, “I remember the first time I tried binding with duct tape, Wayne found me crying in front of the mirror about it and he came in with bandages and helped me figure it out. I went on testosterone when I turned eighteen, so.”

Steve smiled, “I’m sorry you went through that, Eddie.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through this clueless. Wayne had no idea either, he’s got a book on how to look after trans kids now, but he didn’t back then, I can tell you that.” Eddie laughed, “Thanks for being his dad, and like, being a good one.”

“He’s my kid, I can’t just… of course, I love him.”

Eddie smiled, “You don’t know how rare that is for people like Axl and I.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“Me either.” Eddie hummed, “You’re a really good dad, Steve. A really good guy.”

“I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.”

“Yeah, but you care. More than most people do. You care so much.” Eddie gently took Steve’s hand into his own, “I’m sure you already know but being Axl’s dad isn’t gonna be easy, especially not in fucking Hawkins, but so long as you just stick around and… care, then things are gonna be a whole lot easier for him. It means so much to him, and me, even.”

Steve smiled at him and squeezed Eddie’s hands as a thank you, “Can you stick around too?” He asked, “Help Axl in the places I cant?”

Eddie grinned, “Yeah, of course I can, Stevie.”

“Thank you.” Steve sighed, rubbing his temples, “You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re in my life.”

There was a moment of silence before Eddie whispered, “You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re in mine.”

They looked at eachother, and Steve felt his heart in his throat.

“Okay…” Axl murmured, rolling back over to the table, “You guys are clearly having a moment so I’m gonna stop eavesdropping.”

“Hey!” Steve scoffed, “You little shit.”

Axl chuckled and scruffed Steve’s hair, “Thanks dad, I love you too. You’re my best friend.”

Steve absolutely blossomed at that, he’d never been so happy to hear those words. He used to hear them all the time, when Axl was really little. But then he became a preteen and being friends with your dad suddenly stopped being cool. He’s ecstatic right now.

“Thanks Eddie.” Axl smiled at him, giving Eddie a fist bump as he passed, “Can we like… talk sometime? I just wanna-“

“Know if someone’s gone through all the crazy shit as you?” Eddie offered and Eddie nodded, “How about we get some lunch this weekend, huh? Then hang out at the music store?”

“Sounds good.” Axl grinned and continued to walk past, “I’ll let you guys get back to your moment.”

“Moment?” Steve asked, red in the face, watching Axl walk down the hallway to his room, “There’s no moment, what moment?!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Axl shouted back and walked into his room.

“Axl!” Steve shouted out.

“Axl!” Eddie shouted too, “What fucking moment do you mean?”

Axl poked his head back out the door, “You were having a nice moment about friendship and being a good dad and blah blah blah!” Axl shouted and Steve and Eddie both relaxed, “I just shouldn’t be evesdropping of course.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded and looked back to Eddie, watched the sparkle in his eyes dance as he shifted to look back at Steve. And he melted at the sight.

“Also, this would be a great time to do something about that crush you’ve had on Eddie for years, dad!”

And with that, Axl’s door was slammed shut.

Steve and Eddie were staring at eachother. Eddie was slowly turning more and more red.

“You have a crush on me?”

Steve’s lack of an answer probably was a dead giveaway, but he hoped Eddie was oblivious.

“Oh.” Eddie muttered, and clearly he’s not oblivious, “You have a crush on me- god, I sound fifteen. Wow, you are into me- Steve- you- okay.” Eddie cleared his throat and fixed his posture, “Do- wow, huh, uh… do- do you wanna- do you wanna go out with me? Okay, there, I did it.”

“You’re asking me out?” Steve asked, a little gobsmacked.

“Yeah.” Eddie bit at his nails as he looked at Steve nervously.

“Yes.” Steve swallowed, “Yeah, I- yeah… can- does tomorrow work? Seven?”

“Seven.” Eddie smiled, his shoulders relaxing, “Yeah, a date at seven.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled too, “Wait, is this just… I just need to know if this is a date or like, with the intention of something more serious.”

“Uh…” Eddie swallowed, “Considering I’ve been into you for years now, I’d prefer something a little more permanent. But-“

“You don’t care I’ve got a kid?”

“No, I-“ Eddie ducked his head, blushing, “To be honest I’ve kinda always been jealous he wasn’t our kid.”

“Holy shit.” Steve muttered, “I thought you didn’t want kids?!”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged, “I don’t know, you make all my wires cross, Steve. I’ve pictured a whole ass future with you.”

And Steve can’t wait to make that future come true.

And Axl grows up with a second dad who helps him through his transition too, has a little more intel. And Steve loves watching them as they chat about their shared experiences being trans, and cries when Axl comes out and shows off his excessive leg hair one afternoon, and when Eddie starts compulsively making fun of his voice cracks at age seventeen, and when Eddie’s sitting there and talking him through the procedure he’ll endure for his first surgery and- Steve’s just overwhelmed with love for them both.

And then he and Eddie adopt a little girl and Steve’s just so in awe of how Eddie is with the baby, and how Axl instantly takes to the protective big brother role. And just picture it, okay!? Just picture Steve and Eddie having a family together, okay?!

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

1: Magic is a Metaphor < 2: Morgana is a Lesbian < 3: Merlin is Gay < 4: Arthur is Bi

Do you remember when you were bullied in middle school? Because if you're reading this, I think it's fair to assume that you were. And your parents would say to you, 'that boy is just being mean to you because he likes you'. That's what this is.

Arthur is just so repressed. He has really bad daddy issues, and he doesn't know how to express his emotions, and he's really uncomfortable with physical intimacy, especially with other men, especially with Merlin. And this isn't me trying to psychoanalyse away his heterosexuality. It is a very evident part of his character.

And another big part of his character is that he has inherited all of these bigoted ideas about magic from his father that he has to work to overcome. Because, of course, Arthur himself is born of magic, but his dad is so ashamed of it that he hides the true circumstances of his birth from Arthur. Honestly, I don't know exactly how that would fit into this whole metaphor. I do have a half-formed theory that it could be interpreted as an allegory for intersex identity, I know that a lot of people headcanon Arthur as trans, so idk there could be something there. But regardless, it is only through his relationship with Merlin that he is able to overcome this magicphobia, because he realises: how could it be wrong when everything about Merlin is so right. And I just feel like there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Of course, I have to mention this iconic quote from the audio commentary of the final episode: when the executive producer refers to Arthur taking off his royal seal to give back to Guinevere as passing over "the last vestige of his heterosexu- oh sorry, I mean his marriage." So, they knew exactly what they were doing.

I also thought I would just draw your attention to the fact that at one point Arthur says, "I only care about my men, they're more than friends, more than brothers." Now, I think we can all agree that out of context, that is a very gay thing to say, and yet somehow the context is even gayer, because Arthur is pretending to be talking about the Knights of the Round Table, but he's actually talking about Merlin, how Merlin is the only person he cares about, more than a friend. And then Merlin responds, "I understand. I wish I didn't, but I do." It's barely subtext at that point. This of course, brings me to my final argument:

Arthur risked his life to save Merlin at least eight times. It could be more than that, I genuinely lost count. And you have to keep in mind that Arthur is the King of Camelot and he doesn't have any heirs. It is quite important that he stays alive. And yet anytime that Merlin is in the slightest bit of danger, he will just drop everything to protect him.

And it's really only in those moments where he's faced with the thought of losing Merlin that he shows him genuine emotion. Such as in this scene (which was cut out of 4x02 purely because it was too gay) where Arthur is planning to sacrifice himself to protect Merlin, again, and he gives Merlin his mother's sigil, the only thing he has left of his dead mum and he wants Merlin to have it as something to remember him by. Also, apparently in medieval times giving someone your family crest was basically a marriage proposal, so that's pretty gay.

You know what else is pretty gay? Telepathically communicating with Merlin and then immediately leaving Gwen in the middle of an active war. This is literally the last time that Arthur and Gwen ever see each other. Poor Gwen.

In conclusion, Merlin is the story of gay sorcerers and bisexual knights getting into love triangles. Everyone in this show is queer and you cannot tell me otherwise.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. oral (m receiving). handjob. lots of kissing. hobie being kinda pushy. you have a list of reasons why you don't like hobie brown but you never thought being locked in the closet with him would make you reconsider if your reasons are actually all the reasons why you like him.

tags: @hoe-bie @zyonsay

You didn’t hate Hobie.

It was a claim that most of your friends made when your name and his happened to appear in the same sentence. You must make the record clear. You did not hate Hobie Brown. You found him irritating from time to time, sure, with the way he carried himself with a careless sway, the way he spoke with an undue amount of confidence in everything he said. He laughed fully and obnoxiously, he challenged people without remorse, he instigated fights that never needed to happen in the first place. Hobie was not one to keep the peace, not like you who’d rather avoid all confrontation and conflict if possible.

You watched him spread out against your couch, a joint hanging from his full lips while smoke kissed his slender face. He was in the middle of making a bet that he would wipe everyone in a game of beer pong. He talked such a big game and when it came down to it, everyone being divided up into teams, you somehow ended up with Hobie as your partner as some kind of sick joke on you. It was known that you weren’t good at games like these and Hobie insisted that it would be okay because “I’ll carry ya, it’ll be no sweat.”

You didn't know how the idea came up – probably due to Hobie's endless search to make things far more complicated than need be – but the idea of making it strip beer pong became the consensus among your friends group. “And whicheva team loses has to spend an hour in y/n’s room!” Your friends giggled amongst themselves while you stood there completely perplexed at how things had dwindled out of your favor so swiftly. He was so good at convincing others to go along with him no matter how deranged the idea. He once convinced everyone that it was a good idea to go to the roof of your building while everyone was drunk, the only reason no one died was because you were sober enough to keep everyone safe.

You jabbed your elbow into Hobie’s side, eyes alight with fury. “Why the fuck would you say that?” You hissed between your teeth at him. “Not true! No one will be spending the night in my room!”

Hobie’s arm was suddenly around your shoulders, pulling you in and shaking you gently. “Come awn. Don’ be a buzzkill, sunshine. It’ll be fun, no harm in i’.” He leaned in close, smelling of smoke, musk, and faded cologne. Your body tensed against him and without thought, you retracted from him, a scowl curling onto your lips as you looked him up and down. “Not my bedroom y’all, anywhere but my bedroom.”

“Fine, the closet.” Hobie settled the matter right then and there. “Can we get on wit’ i’?” He was already taking more plastic cups to set out on the table, rushed to get on with the fun and prove himself better than everyone else.

Turns out, Hobie absolutely sucked at beer pong too. He could not aim for shit and every missed shot meant an article of clothing removed for the two of you. It started out innocently, vests and jackets, shoes, socks, cuffs and collars. But with each ping pong that bounced off the rim of a cup, more essential clothing began to come off.

Hobie just narrowly missed a shot for one of the back cups and with a playful sigh, he grasped the hem of his torn-up, worn-out shirt and pulled it up over his head and tossed it down on the floor beside him. You glanced at his exposed torso, the smooth skin of his diaphragm leading to his firm naval. The faint outline of abs show themselves through that soft-looking skin of his. A thin line of hair began at his belly button and trailed down to the waist of his low-hanging pants which were next on the hanging line if he missed his next shot.

You turned your flustered gaze away from his toned body and focused on your own shot.

You were down to your own shirt and pants, not being all that great at beer pong yourself. You rocked between your feet, ‘I’m fucked’. You knew you were. There was no coming back from a loss like this one and when you looked to Hobie, hissing at him, “What the hell happened to you being a god at this?”

“Yeah, I guess I shoulda told’ja that I neva played this before we started.” You could have punched him if not for the way he looked at you and offered a lop-sided smile. It offered a mischievous apology, he meant it but not enough. There was something so charming about it, so easy-going.

It was almost certain that you two would lose and by the time you two were left in just your boxers in front of everyone, you had long lost hope for the idea that you wouldn’t be locked in a closet with Hobie for the rest of the night.

Your closet wasn't the biggest, especially with all the clothes in there. At best the two of you would have a few inches of space between you. You didn't want to feel his skin pressed against yours, didn't want his breath fanning your cheek, didn't want to acknowledge he was right there at all times constantly.

Hobie took it all with an air of light-hearted fun as your friends shoved the two of you into your bedroom closet and slid a nearby dresser in front to ensure the two of you couldn't get out until they chose.

Why did the closet seem so much smaller than you remembered? Why was Hobie so close to you? You hid yourself partially in your hanging clothes and crossed your arms across your bare chest. The rules said you two couldn't put on any clothes, you'd just have to sit there half-naked and embarrassed.

Hobie busied himself rummaging through your clothes, humming in approval at those he liked. “No way, you kept this?” He plucked a shirt from your assortment of clothing to reveal a shirt he had made for you. Hand-sewn and everything. “I though’ ya woulda thrown it in the rubbish as soon as I wasn't lookin’.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and snatching the shirt from him to hold it to your chest. You’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him but you regularly slept in this shirt. It was a very thoughtful gift and you didn't want it to go to waste but you furthermore didn't want to give Hobie a big head by wearing it in front of him. “Why would I do that? Only an asshole would do something like that.”

Hobie shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Everyone says ya hate me, sunshine.”

“You don't sound like you believe that.” You notice how Hobie wades a little closer to you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. A subtle smirk teased his lips as he looked at your shrinking frame. “Nah, I don'. I think ya like me, actually. A lot.”

Your eyes widened and your body reacted with vigor. “Absolutely not!” You denied it with fervor as Hobie approached further. “I- I have no idea why you’d ever think that!” you backed up until your back met the wall and you could go no further. You babbled on. “Hobie, you know I'm not–”

Your breathing shuddered as Hobie pressed his hand to your shoulder before sliding his palm to the spot between your jaw and neck. “If no’, lemme try somefin’ then.” He leaned in slowly, giving you all the opportunity to push him away from you but you don't, you’re frozen in shock, unsure of what to do. You let him ease his lips into yours and kiss you softly.

You’ve never been kissed by another man before, never thought yourself to like it as much as you did. Never thought you’d like being kissed by Hobie of all people. You shouldn't be doing this and you realize it the moment Hobie parts his lips and lets his tongue trace the seam of your lips.

It breaks you from the trance he placed you under and you push him back. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You mean to say it in anger but you can't find the conviction in your voice. You’re feeling hot and unable to breathe as you look at him with wild eyes. He looks rather pleased with what he’s discovered.

“If it makes ya feel any betta, sunshine. I like ya too.”

“I’m not gay, Hobie. You know I’m not. I’ve had girlfriends.”

Hobie scoffed. “Havin’ a girl doesn' make ya straight, ya know that. Hell, I’ve had girlfriends, don' make me like men any less.”

“I don't like you, Hobie!” You have to say it clear, say it loud to get it through that thick head of his and to further convince yourself that you don't like him either. “I think you’re loud, obnoxious. I think you're too carefree. I think you need to exercise a little caution from time to time. I find you irritating as hell. I-” You think of all the reasons why you can't stand him. He’s too nonchalant, too gorgeous, too much. “I hate the way you look everyone in the eyes like you’re ready to prove them wrong. I hate how you’re so touchy feely. I can't stand you!”

Hobie glances down and a smile crept into his face. “Ya hard as fuck righ’ now, mate. Thinkin’ a lil’ too much about me, are ya?”

You look down as well and embarrassingly find a firm bulge in your underwear. You’ve never felt so humiliated in your life because you know this all too well. You know that thinking too much about Hobie, no matter how much you tell yourself you can't stand him, it always leads to this, a hard-on more firm than any time you’ve been with a woman.

No, no, you couldn't like Hobie, not like that.

“Ya need help with tha’?” Hobie approached you once again as you turned away from him to hide your raw embarrassment. “N- no, stay away from me.” You know erections like these can last indefinitely and you know Hobie touching you would only make it worse.

Hobie ignored your pleas for him to stay away and let you handle things. His hands stroked your cheek gently and you turned just enough for him to kiss you once again. It was harder this time, more sure of what was once just a hypothetical.

You let out a shaky breath against his soft lips and Hobie took the chance to slide his tongue between your lips. This time, you do nothing to stop him. The rest of your body turned to face him and suddenly your figure is pressed against his, your cock stroking his thigh just enough to cause some friction. It was enough to make you moan against Hobie’s hot mouth, his tongue stroking and licking at yours in between pants.

“Lemme help ya ou’ here.” Hobie murmured against your lips and he parted from you. HIs lips peppered kisses against your neck and down the front of your throat as one hand settled on your hip and the other slipped past the band of your underwear to find the length of your cock.

You let out a shudder as he wrapped his hand around your member and gave it a couple of gentle strokes before pulling it from your underwear. With another kiss just below your earlobe, Hobie lowered himself down on his knees in front of your weeping cock, his hand still tugging and stroking the slick head. “Relax, sunshine, I’ve got’cha.”

You watched him kiss the aching tip and card his tongue against your slit before taking the head into his mouth and suckling softly. It earned him something of a shaking sigh of relief as you let your eyes fall shut and your head fall back against the wall. Your hand came to cradle the back of his head but you didn’t push him to go further. You had a sick feeling that Hobie knew exactly what he was doing.

He hummed softly beneath you and sank further down until his lips met the base of your length and you settled in his throat where he swallowed over and over and over. Your eyes rolled and fluttered as you tossed a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. You looked down at him to find a sultry, hooded gaze looking back at you. You could see the way he smiled with his eyes, he would have teased you if not for your dick stuffed down his throat. In his own way, he was teasing you, with the flat of his tongue and that tight throat of his.

He bobbed his head up and down your length, taking the full of it each time he pushed his head down until his lips kissed your hilt. His large, slender hands were on your hips, pulling you in each time he pushed his head forward.

God, you were losing your mind. His mouth was so hot and his inner cheeks were soft as your tip slid against them along the way down the tightness of his throat. You couldn't help but think about how gorgeous he looked down there on his knees and felt more blood rush to your groin.

You’ve never felt an orgasm come so swiftly. Your breath labored with the pull at your abdomen and your hand on Hobie’s head pushed him further down. “Please, please, please.” You whispered as Hobie licked at a vein along the underside of your cock. “‘m gonna-”

You could hardly get it out of your throat before you came. Your member pulsed in Hobie’s mouth and thick ropes of cum coated the inside of his cheeks and his soft tongue. You groaned softly, your head falling back and lulling to the side. Your knees almost buckled with how good it felt.

You had never cum so fast, so hard, and you found yourself embarrassed over the whole thing. Why had you let him do that to you? Why had you let him prove you so wrong? Why had you let him completely rattle your entire life and force you to reconsider everything you thought about himself?

Hobie stood up and kissed you, his tongue searching for yours. He forced you to taste yourself, a swapping of saliva and cum between your mouths. It was filthy, disgusting, but so hot that you let him shove his tongue into your mouth and do whatever he pleased with you.

“Stop thinkin’ for a minute.” Hobie could hear the gears in your head churning of what you had just let him do to you. You have a slow nod as he nipped at your bottom lip and pulled you closer, pressing the firmness of his cock against yours.

You kissed him sloppily, until drool began to seep from the cracks of where your lips met. His skin was so warm against yours and for a moment you forgot about the fact that Hobie was a guy. You were just two warm bodies locked together in a closet searching for intimacy.

Whatever the two of you did here didn't have to leave this closet. You wouldn't let it, no matter what. The moment you were let out of this closet, you’d go back to how things once were and let everything fall perfectly back into place.

Hobie rocked his body into yours while you reached down between the two of you to pull his length out of his underwear and stroke his cock in your hand. You were timid about it, nervous as you thumbed at his slit and rubbed his precum-coated tip.

He encouraged you to continue, pushing his hips into your hand as he moaned into your mouth. His hand was on the wall above your head, bracing himself as you flicked your wrist and tightened your grip a little as your hand traveled the path up and down the length of his slick cock.

His hips thrusted into your hand as he broke your kiss. Hobie hissed softly, looking down and watching the way he used your hand, the way you were going more and more confident in the way you stroked him and circled your thumb over his tip.

His body shuddered and you found it so much hotter than you should. Hobie used his free hand to grab your face and force you to look at him in the eyes. You shifted your gaze the moment they found his.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, look a’ me, sunshine.” He moved his head to find your gaze again. “Yer doin’ so well.” He let out between panting breaths. He could tell your were flustered, face hot at the sight of him fucking your hand. You almost stopped when Hobie grabbed your chin again and made you fix your gaze on him once more. “Don' look a’ tha’, look a’ me.”

You do as he says and look him in those pretty, deep-set eyes of his. He nipped at his lip piercing looking at you and moaned softly. He was falling apart in your hold, his eyes barely able to remain open, and yet you felt completely out of control.

He grabbed you up again, forced his mouth onto yours while you jerked him faster, harder. It was sloppy and chaotic, just how he liked it. He wanted you to want him the way he wanted you, carnally and you did. You wanted his hands all over your body, you wanted him to say your name when he came, you wanted him to be a girl so maybe this didn't feel so bad to you.

Things would be so much easier if he were just a girl. You wouldn't have to feel shame over this, wouldn't have to hide the fact that you wanted him ferally behind thinly veiled reasons why you disliked him. Those reasons just being all the reasons you really, really wanted him.

Hobie came against your stomach, still kissing you between feverish pants into your mouth. He hummed softly as he broke away from you. “Ma bad, couldn' help i'.” Even now he was so thoroughly okay with everything that transpired here, so okay with himself, with you. All the while you couldn't even bear to look at him as you grabbed one of your many shirts tucked away in the back of the closet to clean yourself up with.

You decided then and there that what happened in here would stay in here. You would say nothing to anyone about it and you certainly wouldn't be doing it again. Things could fall neatly back into place and this could fall into the back of your mind without so much as a hitch.

If only Hobie would make it so easy for you.

[hero-israel]

Last week, in my Discord group of about 60 lifelong friends (and I mean really lifelong, danced-at-the-wedding, phone-call-for-the-divorce friends), one person posted a "from the river to the sea" meme they'd found on Twitter. I made clear that it was a huge problem, that person apologized and deleted it, everyone else seemed supportive and understanding.

And surprised.

Because none of them - not ONE of them - had ever heard the term before, nor knew what the river or the sea were, nor had any clue it could possibly be seen as threatening. That included the person who posted it in the first place. These are all college graduates, some of them with post-college degrees, all liberal Democrats who agree with everything John Oliver ever said.

The discussion went as well and as supportively as it possibly could have, but I am still floored by how.... remote the topic was from all of their lives. Including how remote it was for other Jewish members of the group (though I can't help but notice that those other Jewish members are unaffiliated and don't have kids).

I bring this up because it shows that social media really can exaggerate the scale of threats we perceive and experience. And if you had told me that more than a week ago, I would have cut you off and said "Of course, I know that, I'm not naive" - but it still would never have occurred to me that it could reach such a degree. How constantly reading updates on war and hate and protests and threats really can give a distorted and inaccurate picture of the world.

One time on Reddit, I noticed a pro-Palestine account that was positively obsessed with the "boogaloo boys," a purported sub-set of white supremacists. This person mentioned "boogaloo boys" probably 80 times a week, in the context of how their racial civil war was about to begin and would target Arab-Americans first. And it really began to look weird - a focus beyond their importance. I'm sure nobody would ever want to meet a "boogaloo boy," of course, but I also think this person made more posts about that group than the number of members there are in the actual group.

Has anyone outside age 18-23 and outside a college campus ever met a member of SJP? They're pretty horrible people, but they go tabling right next to all sorts of splintercranks who dissolve once you graduate.

There is a real perceptual, emotional downside to seeking out hatred and threats so one can announce "Aha! Look at all this hatred and threats!". It is not only privilege that allows people to avoid some problems and conflicts - it can also be demographic, political reality. It is important to know who hates and threatens us - and also to remain members of "the reality-based community." Internet discussions are not real life, college campuses are not real life, internet discussions among college students are the least real of all.

Scott Alexander touched on this - how certain political beliefs can be avoided even without conscious effort:

According to Gallup polls, about 46% of Americans are creationists. Not just in the sense of believing God helped guide evolution. I mean they think evolution is a vile atheist lie and God created humans exactly as they exist right now. That’s half the country.

And I don’t have a single one of those people in my social circle. It’s not because I’m deliberately avoiding them; I’m pretty live-and-let-live politically, I wouldn’t ostracize someone just for some weird beliefs. And yet, even though I probably know about a hundred fifty people, I am pretty confident that not one of them is creationist. Odds of this happening by chance? 1/2^150 = 1/10^45 = approximately the chance of picking a particular atom if you are randomly selecting among all the atoms on Earth.

About forty percent of Americans want to ban gay marriage. I think if I really stretch it, maybe ten of my top hundred fifty friends might fall into this group. This is less astronomically unlikely; the odds are a mere one to one hundred quintillion against.

[psiroller]

cheesecake date (◡‿◡✿) (18+)

slight cw for disordered eating irt chilchuck's weight management possibly being an extension of his self loathing (im being a little dramatic sorry its really not that serious here they are just boys sharing a gay meal)

another piece of a larger fic ive been working on, a more freeform, relationship-oriented sequel to break the lock

The idea had been to linger around the tavern long enough for the rest of the party to wander out on their own, but Laios’ entrée arrived and Falin had made herself quite comfortable across the table from Chilchuck. Laios munched away cluelessly at his croquette as Chilchuck slumped further and further behind the protective shield of his beer stein.

“Falin,” Marcille whined. “Are you really going to chaperone them all night?”

Chilchuck’s eye twitched and he considered, not for the first time over the course of this eventful night out, just bailing and walking home on his own. If he tapped out now, Falin would probably back off, he wouldn’t have to try to make conversation with Laios, and everyone could move on with their lives, but he also wouldn’t maybe get his dick wet, so.

“I just want to know Laios is going to be okay,” Falin said, slow and deliberate. Chilchuck could feel his movement speed and defense dropping. Could a cleric debuff somebody without chanting or touching them? Falin was an exceptional mage, of course, but that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“I’ll be fine,” Laios said, giving her an affectionate punch to the shoulder. “Really. Chilchuck and I were just going to—discuss the hunt, hash things out. Go over strategies to keep this kind of thing from happening again.” Chilchuck’s eyebrows raised. Even if nobody was buying it, it was a more graceful attempt to skirt the obvious implication than he would have given Laios credit for. “You’ve been wanting to catch up on The Daltian Clan with Marcille, right?”

Falin’s judicious gaze shifted to Laios; Chilchuck sucked in a breath of air, suddenly aware of how badly his lungs hurt. Marcille, meanwhile, shook Falin’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah! I have a new relationship chart drawn up and everything. We haven’t had a girl’s night in forever, Falin, please?”

Falin softened, closing her eyes gently. “Very well.”

The mood had gone icy, but Laios was undaunted. He cut out a long slice of his croquette and plopped it on Chilchuck’s plate, which had accumulated a few peanut shells over the course of the evening and little else.

“Ah.” Chilchuck waved the helping away. “I’m watching my—” “It’s a special occasion,” Laios said. “Go on.”

Chilchuck leered at Laios, took a rebellious sip of his ale before indulging him. He stabbed a hitherto unused fork into the cutlet and took a big bite out of it. His sour expression softened up as he chewed.

“Not bad,” Chilchuck ceded, and Laios seemed suspiciously happy about that. Falin stood up from the table, and Marcille hiked up her skirt to jump from the bench. She was trying to play it cool, but there was a certain giddiness in Marcille’s restrained smile that Chilchuck recognized.

“We’re meeting up next week at the usual time, right?” “That’s the plan,” Laios nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on job postings over the weekend, so I should have a lead by then.”

Marcille and Laios grinned at each other in an unspoken agreement as Marcille looped an arm around Falin’s elbow. “See you then!” she giggled, tugging Falin along. Chilchuck decided to fixate on the delicate crust of the pork cutlet instead of whatever that meant; there were a few spices he recognized from home, some rosemary rubbed into the pork.

 “See you around, Chilchuck.” A heavy hand clapped on Chilchuck’s shoulder and shoved him playfully, nearly making him choke.  “Don’t be too rough on the guy, alright? He’s learned his lesson.” Namari let out a raunchy laugh when Chilchuck whipped around, scandalized. Laios didn’t flinch; he dropped another slice of his croquette onto Chilchuck’s plate.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Red pulsed at the edges of Chilchuck’s vision as he was redirected off of Namari’s back to Laios’ face, flushed from drink and sporting an easy smile. Chilchuck’s blood pressure was beginning to become a problem here. “They make the breadcrumbs in house.”

“Melini pork is something else,” Chilchuck muttered around his mouthful. “It’s fattier here than it is back home. Pigs are living free and easy in this climate, I guess.”

“It’s really interesting how the environment an animal is raised in affects the meat,” Laios said, staring off into the blurry space just beyond their table. Chilchuck grimaced as he realized what he’d just done to the conversation. “Up north, the pork’s tough. We have long-haired, hardy pigs. They get lean and mean and muscular once the winter comes.”

Chilchuck chuckled, despite himself. “You were raised on a pig farm? That explains a lot.”

“We had a variety of livestock,” Laios shrugged. “I guess it still counts as being raised in a barn, though. I slept in the hayloft quite a few times.”

Chilchuck snorted into his ale. “I don’t get you,” Chilchuck leaned forward onto the table, not having to go very far, and folded his arms on the damp, yeasty wood. Laios, for whatever reason, leaned in with him.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Laios laughed, a painful edge to his smile.

Chilchuck’s throat went dry, and he washed it down with more ale. Laios reeled in the plate of cheesecake he’d been saving for dessert. The frozen raspberries on top had melted a bit, pink juice staining the immaculate eggshell white of the cake itself and pooling in the center of the plate. He thought about it for a second, then pushed it over to Chilchuck.

“You want the first bite? You paid for it.”

Chilchuck swallowed hard and coughed up some panko. “Why are you feeding me like some kind of—never mind. I have to stay light on my feet. Keeps me from triggering pressure plates inadvertently. You eat it.”

Laios cocked his head quizzically, his flushed high cheekbones pressed into his knuckles. He held out a clean fork, handle side out. Safety first. “A bite’s not going to kill you, Chilchuck. You gotta put weight back on before we head back in anyway.”

Chilchuck opened his mouth to yell, but something stopped him. Laios waggled the silverware expectantly, and Chilchuck snatched it out of his hands. He stabbed straight down the middle of the slice, through a soggy raspberry and the wedge of cake, and carved out a piece, getting the most out of his begrudged portion. Laios watched unblinkingly as Chilchuck wrapped his chapped lips around the tines of the fork. Chilchuck’s eyes glittered.

“Well?”

“It’s alright,” Chilchuck shrugged, quickly stealing another bite before handing the fork back to Laios. There was a smug look on his face that Chilchuck wanted to wipe off. Laios finally had a piece and melted when it touched his tongue.

“Tastes more than alright to me,” Laios hummed. “You’re funny.” “Funny how?” “It’s just cake, Chilchuck.” Laios passed the fork. “You bought it, you like it, but you can’t say so.” “Are you calling me a coward?” “I’m saying that we can share. It’s not such a big deal.”

Chilchuck grumbled something in his mother tongue. He scooped up another piece and focused on the sour tang of the cream cheese instead, the delicate crumbled crust soaked through with fruit juice.

“It’s probably the best cheesecake I’ve ever had,” Chilchuck admitted. Laios clapped his hands and cheered.

“There you go! Wasn’t that nice?” “It’d be nicer if you could shut your cakehole so I can enjoy this in peace.”

Laios grinned. “Why’s it so hard to admit what you want?” Chilchuck’s eyes rolled, but he wasn’t getting up from the table. He chewed on an extra-large piece and passed the fork back to Laios to finish it off. Laios took his time to savor the last, eyes closed and mind distant from the overwhelming chatter around them, drunken jeering and bubbling laughter.

“Most people don’t ask,” Chilchuck said. Laios’ eyes opened. “So I’m asking. What do you want?”

Chilchuck flushed from his ears to his throat and slammed the last of his ale.

[slut4daviii]

character: r.sukuna

pt: 01/02

cw: grinding | degradation | humiliation | orgasm control | slight comedy | slightly ooc sukuna | hopefully funny internal dialogue

summary: “everyone’s gay until proven straight” -Albert Einstein 1994

a/n: the quote above is satire, please do not take it seriously. also, minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT [s.name] = sister name, you don’t have a sister? then your really missing out.

title: one down, one to go

wc: 1400+

────────────────────────

────────────────────────

The Itadori's estate was something that existed beyond the imagination. A large residential reserve of land tucked comfortably away in a three-way forest covered reservoir. The north, south, and east sides were completely surrounded by towering trees, rocketing higher than the eye could see.

The south side was the only actual entrance to the large building, a winding driveway that spun beautifully around a dove shaped fountain situated in the middle of a crystalline indigo-green pond.

It was passed down the family line, never losing its luster. It was usually used for casual parties: gowns and suits, champagne popping, fancy displays of money, marriage, and even the birth of heirs.

And today was no different, a party was held, yet, in contrast to the past, this was not a political party. No bow-ties or high hats.

───

music blared loudly, some teens drinking, some making out, some… conceiving other actions, and yet, some still lay passed out, enamored to the oddly comforting ground.

however, the highlight of this party came from the upstairs infinite pool. inside sat teenagers tispy and intrigued. yet, around it lay half empty bottles of all types: hennesy, schnapps, bourbon, vodka, cognac, and a magnificent magnitude of other alcohols.

a simple game of truth or dare. “a simple ‘do or don’t’ game between underage drunk teenagers” you’d say, knowing damn well it was anything but.

due to the interference of Maki Zenin, four distinct rules were cultivated to make the game much more enticing.

in her words, “the game is really simple, however, the rules make it much more complex.”

RULE ONE: the order in which everyone sits is immutable, so if you want to change your seats, I advise you do it now.

nobody thought to move, leaving the oder of participants as so: Sukuna, You, [s.name], Megumi, Nobara, Toge, Pan (Panda), Yuuji, and finally, Maki.

RULE TWO: there is a limit on how many dares and truths, if two people choose dare, then the person after them has to choose truth. and vise versa for two truths.

RULE THREE: anyone can dare anyone, nothing is off the table. however, if you pass up the dare you have to take a shot, and if you pass up a truth, you have to take two shots.

RULE FOUR: if a dare involves you, you cannot declare if you want to pass it up or not, that’s the choice of the person being dared. but, if they do decide to pass it up, then the both of you have to take three shots.

now looking back on it, you scoffed at yourself for not thinking to switch your seat. you should’ve known your sister was going to… fuck you over.

but, you can’t go back in time, and everyone had already agreed, nodding happily.

“Alright let's play.”

the game started off simple, small dares and obvious truths. the group couldn’t be sure of what to make of each other’s boundaries. but, like everything else in the world, they were pushed to their limits.

you had answered two questions and done one dare: down a whole bottle of vodka in thirty seconds. you failed. but, now, a new round had started and Yuuji was the forerunner.

“Yuuji.” [s.name] called, her voice trailing over the water like a fresh coat of paint. “truth or dare?”

the boy in question cut his eyes to her, a tension setting between them. you knew [s.name] was forming some sort of plan, but you couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

after some hesitation— mainly Yuuji objecting the question and grumbling to himself about [s.name] owning him something— he answered, meekly. “truth.”

Nobara shot up at the inclination, taking it as an invitation to mess with her boyfriend, “is it true you lost your virginity to Megumi?”

quiet reigned over the group, even you, the quiet and stoic hothead, were rendered speechless.

Yuuji on the other hand however was sputtering, his voice coming out jumbled and without full attention. “I— n— Nobara! you—you’re dating M—Megumi! how would I’ve lost my vir—virginity to him?!”

“that’s not an answer, Yuuji-kun.” she responded, lapping at the blush slowly creeping upon the pink-haired blunders face.

“n—no!”

everyone laughed, watching as Yuuji tried to shake the blush crossing his features. his entire neck was a shade of light pink.

you couldn’t care less, ‘why would you want to loose your virginity to another guy?’ now of course you kept these thoughts to yourself, not wanting to upset anyone but you just didn’t understand why or even how two guys do the do.

despite these thoughts, you still found yourself wondering how it would feel— no. you don’t care, you told yourself.

tuning back into reality, you saw Maki blushing, pointing at Toge, who was looking stoic all the same. “Just answer the question.” he edged her.

“n—no! I hate [s.name]!”

it finally clicked, Maki had a crush on your sister. you inwardly grimaced at this, not wanting to even think how two girls… ‘I mean who does the actual fucking?’ you asked yourself

“anyways, Sukuna’s turn!” [s.name] yelled, her voice laced with a malignant grin.

you looked at Sukuna, your eyes traveling over his body before locking on his thighs. ‘if I were to fuck a guy, it’d definitely be— wait, what the hell am I saying? this is Sukuna. he wouldn’t want to do it.’

it took a few seconds, but soon your words registered within your own head ‘AND NEITHER WOULD I!’

but, now that you were thinking about it, Sukuna alway seemed to be staring at you. I mean, not like a normal stare but the type of stare that you give to someone you wanna fuck. and whenever you two are together for longer than five minutes, he starts getting nervous and blushing like a horny schoolgirl.

“alright Sukuna! that’s two truths, now you’ve got to choose a dare.” [s.name] screeched. you winced slightly, rubbing you ear to rid it of your sister’s annoyance. “does anyone have a dare for Sukuna?” not even a second later, [s.name] continued, “good.” you deadpanned.

“now, Sukuna, I dare you to— your sister looked directly at you, her expression matching that of a black cat, mysterious and low— “sit in [name]’s lap. and not just sit, you have to straddle him.”

Sukuna turned a bright shade of pink, his body stiffening against the cold tiles of the pool. you looked at your sister through narrow eyes, she knew you weren’t gay. she knew you didn’t like guys but still pulled this.

“I’ll just drink—“

“that’s not your choice. it’s [name]’s”

you looked down, avoiding not only Sukuna’s but also your sister and everyone else’s gazes. you didn’t want to have him on your lap but… you also didn’t wanna take three shots.

‘fuckfuckfuckfuck.’ you were stuck, not knowing if you should weird out your best friend by telling him to sit on your dick or tell him to just drink three shots like it was nothing.

Sukuna touched your bicep, but pulled his hand back when he felt your muscles contract. “uhm— you—we can just drink. it—it’s f—fine, really [name].”

this was the first time you’d heard Sukuna stutter, was it because of the situation or just because he wanted to sit in your lap?

“[n—name]?” you shook your head and brought your hands to Sukuna’s waist. as much as you didn’t want another guy straddling your dick, there was something in you that want to know why Sukuna was stuttering all of a sudden. and if it was because of you, then how would it change things?

Sukuna slid through the water, his skin glistening against the brightly-lit moon behind his house. you pulled him onto you, slightly rubbing against the tip of your semi-hard cock. why were you hard?! was it Sukuna?! NO. no, no, no, it was because you hadn’t masturbated in over a week. yeah, yeah that’s what it was. and— and Sukuna had a really nice ass— wait! no! that came out wrong.

Sukuna had placed his legs on the sides of your thighs, steadying the both of you. ‘calm down. calm down. it’s alright, it’s your fault that you hadn’t touched yourself and Sukuna really did have a nice ass, better than some of the girls you’d dated in the past.

He wrapped his hands around your neck, pulling himself closer to you, further rubbing his ass against your cock. by this point, there was no way he hadn’t noticed your half—full—boner. but, he didn’t react, he was really quiet actually. just a small blush going across his face.

you shifted, moving yourself so that your back could support the newfound weight. this time Sukuna reacted. quite vulgarly. a moan escaped him, the sound violently sending your body into a violent malfunction.

‘fuck. that was hot. scorching even.’ you felt your cock harden even more, the tip poking at Sukuna’s clothed backside. he squandered against you before meeting your eyeline.

you almost came on the spot.

his face was flushed beyond recognition. tears pooling in the corners of his cornea, panting softly; his tongue hung slightly out his mouth, and his pupils—in your vision— had hearts in them.

he was also hard. harder than you—if possible—

his tip was pressing against your abdomen, making him squeal and squirm every time you did as much as breathe. you gulped, shifting your lower body to left to see his reaction.

he fell against your chest, suppressing his moan with his fist— oh, what you wouldn’t give to hear it— some of your friends looked at the two of you with questioning looks, but after a shrug from you, they resumed the game.

you leaned to Sukuna’s ear, his breathing labored and ragged with pleasure. you didn’t know what you were doing, you just knew it felt good, almost like lust had completely taken you over.

“you’re such a slut.” you pulled, watching as his shaking multiplied by the dozen, and he began softly thrusting his hips against you. “oh? do you like it when I tell you how everyone sees you? like a shameless slut?” suddenly, a surge of confidence rushed through you. your thoughts were plagued with the same repetition: ‘I’m doing this. I’m the one making the bold and outrageous Sukuna feel like putty.’ truthfully, you didn’t know if this was the truth or just your ego.

speaking of him, he was panting harder, his hips scrambling against you. he was chasing an orgasm you didn’t intend to let him have. placing your hands on his waist, you stopped his movements, “do you really want everyone to see how desperate you are? see how easy it is to make you cum? Sukuna let out a quiet sob, his eyes rolling back at the taunt, or was it the idea of actually getting caught? something that you quickly voiced to him: “or is it that you wanna get caught? want everyone to see me fuck you senseless? hm, I’d expect nothing less outta a slut like you.”

“m—m’not a s—slut!” he barked back, barely above his panting. you cocked you head to the side and smirked at him

“then why are you so close to cumming without anyone touching you?” you cut your eyes around the pool, quickly catching the eyes of Sukuna’s younger twin, Yuuji Itadori and your thoughts instantly ran away from you ‘if he’s anything like his brother, he’d be a good fuck.’ you shook your head at this ‘naw, he’s definitely an innocent one, would let you do anything you wanted.’

“m’not gon’ c—cum!” Sukuna combatted, trying to bring your attention back to him.

the prolonged eye contact with Yuuji hadn’t ended yet, he was still starting at you with half-lidded eyes, clarifying his intentions with you. ‘another time. another time to take his innocence and make him as sinful as those eyes he making at me.’

you turned your attention away with a wink, bringing your free hand to Sukuna’s swin trunks. “oh you’re not? then— you gently grabbed his tip through the fabric, twitching your muscles to jerk her up and down a few times— what’s this?” you finished

Sukuna bucked into your hand, trying so hard to cum. “not here.” you brought your hand back to your side and locked eyes with the Itadori. “do you want them to see? huh S’kuna?”

like the confidence coursing through you, the nickname also came out of nowhere, shocking the both of you.

“d—d’care! I don’t c—care! just fuck me!”

you were tempted, definitely tempted, but you had something Sukuna didn’t. dignity. “not right now, S’kuna. now be a good boy and cum for me.”

the sudden raspy nature to your voice made Sukuna moan, harshly thrusting his hips against you. and within seconds he came, the white ropes being trapped in by his swimwear. “ngh! nngk! [name]!”

the moans fell on deaf ears as you looked back past him and to his twin, maintaining another long session of eye contact. he was immobilized by your gaze, not able to do anything until you broke it to look at your sister.

“your turn [name]! truth or dare!”

you looked back at Yuuji one last time, cascading your tongue along your lips.

“dare, of course.”

[greencways]

Fic Name: forever and always

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau X Reader

Words: 825

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, reader gets shot and is in hospital, mentions of gun violence and kidnapping, and death

Content: Y/N and JJ are paired in a case but reader gets shot and ends up in hospital

A/N: it’s not as angsty as it sounds I promise

————————————————————————

"JENNIFER" was the last thing you remembered shouting to her before you passed out on the floor.

It started out as a normal day, JJ goes over the case files, you all go around the table figuring out who the profiler could be (it was normally a male in his early thirties to forties), Emily would tell you wheels up, stay at a hotel until you solved the case and you would go home to an empty apartment, that was the plan at least, but the day had other plans.

"Emily, Luke and Derek take the front door, JJ, and Y/N take the side door, and Spencer, Matt, and Tara take the back" Hotch directs.

"We got him" JJ whispered into her earpiece a little while later as they explored more of the house.

"He's in the kitchen come here now." You begged noticing he was armed.

You and JJ nodded to each other and tried to talk him into putting the weapon her was currently holding over the victim.

You and JJ always had something, it was a strange connection, a strange understanding that even though you had only been on this team for 7 months, you had known each other for years, decades even, sure JJ was the one who you first met walking into the BAU doors for the first time, sure she was the one who introduced everyone to you, the first to check up on you after your first rough case, the first one to do EVERYTHING and you loved it, JJ was more than a best friend to you, hell you could never tell her, what if she wasn't gay? What if she liked someone else on the team? What if she laughed in your face? Even thinking of it brought an embarrassed red flush to the previous light pink blush that was once there, there was absolutely no way you were telling Jennifer Jareau you were in love with her.

"Let her go" JJ's voice bought you out of your trance suddenly remembering where you were.

"She needs to suffer, just like I did" The unsub sounded desperate at this point.

You couldn't handle it anymore, it was too much like your first case, that case will never leave you, the unsub killed himself and the victim, you needed to throw up, it was the worst thing you had ever seen, granted it was your first time in the field, but everyone else watched in expressions of horror as they saw what happened.

"LET ELLIE GO" It was pathetic, your voice trembled, JJ, the unsub, and Ellie all turned their heads at the same time.

"Only on one condition" His lips cornered into a smile.

"Okay, wha-" You didn't have time to finish your sentence before you realised what was happening, you were shot, in the shoulder, inches away from near death.

You went down so fast, JJ running behind you "Agent down" her voice panicking as Ellie runs to Emily and Derek placing handcuffs on the unsub.

"JENNIFER" You shouted at her.

"I'm right here honey, keep your eyes open for me" JJ said loud enough for only us to hear.

You woke up hours later in the hospital confused and alone, you struggled to sit up to see if anyone was with you in the hospital but no one was here, you layed your head down on the pillow and winced due to how hard you accidentally hurt your head again, you decided to go to sleep again but before you closed your eyes you saw JJ coming in to your room with two coffees

"Y/N?" she saw that your eyes were open "She's awake" she ran to the nearest doctor some coffee slightly overspilling which made you chuckle lightly.

When she came back into the room with a doctor she placed the coffees down and walked to the side of your bed

"Thank Goodness you're okay" she leaned down to kiss your temple

"You're such a mom" you playfully rolled your eyes receiving a stare from your bestfriend

"Of course I'm okay Jen" You laughed "I've got you"' you smiled, struggling to lift yourself up due to how much pain you were in

"Stay down love it's okay" you lowered yourself back down slightly manageable due to someone else helping you this time

"Can you just get in here" you said as you wanted to cuddle

"I thought you would never ask" JJ said as she climbed into the hospital bed

"I'm really glad you're okay, you know"'she kissed your temple again "When I thought you died, I really couldn't imagine my life without you" she stroked your hair, occasionally tucking some behind your ears "I love you Y/N Y/L/N"

You didn't say anything back, you leaned forward kissing her whilst having your arms around her waist, her hands still in your hair "I love you too Jennifer Jareau"

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 3

Just know that Steve is being an unreliable narrator to Robin about his day, and had been spiraling all day.

Part 1 Part 2

*

The three of them together got down and showed Opal what she had to do, making quick work of the process.

Things went well for a first night and once they had cleaned up for the night and divvied out tips, Opal watched as Steve and Pearl walked out together.

She turned to Diamond, “I thought we weren’t supposed to know each other’s real names.”

Diamond grinned. “They come as packaged deal. If you hire one, you have to hire the other. They’re like symbiotic soul twins or something. But they’re good workers and I don’t mind it so much.”

Opal nodded. “So they’re not a couple? I mean they said they weren’t, but I was watching them all night and they’re couple level cutesy with each other.”

Diamond shook his head. “You’re more Pearl’s type than Garnet is.” He winked at her and patted her on the shoulder.

*

Steve started removing his shirt the second he and Robin got home.

“Just how many times did the new girl splash drinks on you?” Robin asked eyeing the several different stains.

“Three times,” Steve mumbled. “The other two were from patrons trying to get free drinks.”

Robin winced. “I’m sorry. At least Opal seems nice.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sure she’ll fit in fine. It’s just going to take a while for her to get used to everything.” He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced. “I somehow got booze in my hair.”

Robin grimaced back. “Gross. Go get the first shower.”

Steve kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, Robs.”

As he was about to close the bathroom door, she called out, “And when you’re done I want to hear all about your class. Because don’t think I didn’t notice you being off today.”

He groaned and slammed the door. He didn’t want to think about it. But he also knew that talking to his best friend would make him feel better. He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it and then stripped. He stepped under the steaming water and let it wash over him.

Let it wash away the pain both emotional and physical of the day. He washed his hair and then as the conditioner set he worked on scrubbing away the filth and slime of working at bar.

He put on his pajamas and walked out, towel drying his hair.

“Come on,” Robin said, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. “I dug out our emergency rocky road ice cream.”

Ouch. Steve supposed that his day had been worth the rocky road, but the fact that she had picked up on it was what hurt. He flopped down next to her with a heavy sigh. He took a spoon from her and began digging into the ice cream tub.

“So, you know how I had to get special permission to be in Mrs Byers class?” he began after several bites.

“Yeah,” she said around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Apparently the rumor is that Daddy threw his weight and money around to get me in the class so I leer at naked women.” Steve stabbed at the ice cream. Yeah, Eddie had been the one to say it, but he could tell it was what everyone was thinking.

Robin winced. “Ouch. Instead of that you know the professor?”

Steve nodded. “I tried talking to her after class, once people had gone, but she kinda brushed me off.”

Robin wrapped her arm around him and kissed his temple. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she was just trying to keep up appearances so the two of didn’t get into trouble.”

He sighed. “I suppose. But she could have said that.” He threw up the one hand dramatically. “It’s not like anyone else was there. And anyone in the hall wouldn’t have been able to hear what we were saying. It just...”

“Hurt.”

Steve laid his head on her shoulder. “That wasn’t even the worst part.” He pulled his knees up to his chest.

She looked down at him. “Yeah, what was worst than that.”

“The live model is Eddie Munson,” he said. “And he hates me.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Eddie? As in went to Hawkins, stood on tables, and took three times to graduate Eddie?”

Steve nodded. “Also known as the longest gay crush I’ve ever had. I’ve had crush on him since my freshman year. And now not only do I have to see him naked, without any of the fun parts, but doing it knowing he hates me.” He let out a sob.

“You don’t know he hates you,” she whispered in his ear and kissed the top of his head.

Steve told her everything Eddie had said.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Robin breathed into his hair. “I guess the saying is true for crushes as it is for heroes. Never meet them.”

He just sobbed as she made soft murmurs of comfort.

*

Steve walked into his class with his head held down and made his way to the seat he was in before. He managed to avoid catching Eddie’s eye and he sat down with a sigh. He just had to suck it up for fifteen weeks. Keep his head down and his mouth shut. And hope to whatever god was out there that he could keep his interactions with Eddie to a minimum.

Joyce stood in the center of the classroom a little in front of Eddie who was sitting on the same stool from last time.

“I hope you are all sitting in seats that you like,” she said, “but after today you won’t be able to change seats.”

There was some uproar, but she quieted them down with an ear piercing whistle.

“Hey!” she called out. “It’s because you’ll want to be drawing from the angle every time otherwise your drawing and for the final oil painting will not turn out well.”

Everyone eyed each other and grumbled, with a few people getting up and shuffling around. Joyce let them.

Steve stayed in his spot. It was far enough back that the model (Eddie, his mind helpfully supplied) would be in full view, but close enough so Steve could make out details.

Someone tried to make him move.

“Come on, I want to sit there,” the girl whined. “It’s the best spot in the room.”

Steve smiled up at her, tight lipped. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I need this class to graduate.”

Eddie frowned. He supposed that could be true, an art credit for whatever business or law degree the dude was getting.

“Just move, asshole,” she sneered.

Steve worked his jaw back and forth. He didn’t want to get Joyce involved, mainly because he was pretty damn sure she would take the girl’s side. Be the gentleman and all that.

“I’m not moving,” he said firmly. “I was here first. I picked this spot because it’s got the best view of the model. This is my last class and then I’m done with school and I’m not going to fuck it up on the second day just because you feel entitled to a chair and an easel.”

She looked about to explode when Joyce came over. Steve closed his eyes expecting the worst.

“What’s going on here?” Joyce asked firmly.

The girl teared up. “He stole my seat, Mrs Byers. I was there first and when everyone else was moving around he slipped in and took it from me.” Steve looked up at her in shock.

Joyce raised a single eyebrow. “Steve?”

He looked back and forth between them. “What does it matter? No one’s going to believe me anyway.” He leaned over to grab his stuff, but he felt a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Steve...” Joyce said. “Just tell me your side.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I sat here last time. When I arrived first thing it was empty. I sat down, same as before. Then she came up and started demanding I get up.”

Joyce looked at the girl. “Is this true, Michelle?”

Michelle shook her head, tears still falling down her cheeks.

Joyce looked around them. “Did anyone see what happened?” she called out.

Eddie stepped forward and Steve knew at once that he was fucked. He would be regulated to the back, and he would fail the class. Again.

Eddie put his hands on his lower back and rocked back on his heels. “She’s a lying reptilian bitch.”

All heads snapped to face him.

“Excuse me?!” Michelle protested.

“You heard me,” Eddie sneered. “Save your crocodile tears for the drama department, they’ll go over better there.”

Steve gulped.

“It happened just like Stevie here said. He didn’t do anything wrong. And I don’t think he should be forced to give up his spot just because she’s a woman, either,” Eddie continued.

Joyce turned to Michelle. “Take a spot in the back and come see me after class. We will be discussing whether or not you will be continuing my class.”

Michelle squealed in outrage. “But Mrs Byers!”

Joyce pointed at the back of the class and she was forced to walk back, every eye in the class following her.

Joyce pressed on the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“All right, now that we are all settled,” she said to the class. “We are going to work on upper body today.”

Eddie grinned. He looked Steve straight in the eye and took off his shirt. Steve reached down and grabbed his water bottle. His mouth was so dry right now. He gulped down the water as Eddie walked backward to sit back on his stool. He tied his hair back in a neat bun and got into position.

Steve was going to combust.

He picked up his drawing board and set it on the easel. He pulled out his pencils and got to work.

When Joyce came around, she stopped to admire it. “You’re really good, Steve. Just remember to go lightly at first, so it’s easier to correct mistakes.”

Steve blushed. That was his problem in all aspects of his life. He always went into heavy. Too dark. And when it inevitably blew up in his face, he was scarred for life.

“I’ll try, Mrs Byers,” he replied. He picked out an 4H pencil to force himself to go lighter and she nodded approvingly.

She walked on and Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He really valued her opinion. She was the one that convinced him to try for art school. To teach art to others.

As he was cleaning up his stuff, Eddie came bounding up to him. With his shirt still off. Asshole.

“How did you know this was the best seat in the class?” Eddie asked as he tugged the shirt over his head. Not like it changed much. The sleeves had been off and most of the sides stretched so that Steve could count his ribs. Something he was very much trying not to do.

“I’ve failed the class three times,” Steve bit out. “So I’m really hoping to not do that again.”

Eddie laughed. “You failed three times? You must really like to leer at naked people.”

And there it was. Steve really shouldn’t have got his hopes up that Eddie was a cool dude.

“It’s not like that,” he growled. “And you know what? I don’t have to defend myself to you. Now, excuse me, I have to go get ready for work.” He brushed past Eddie, knocking their shoulders as he stormed off.

Eddie scowled. He jumped in because he didn’t like the way Steve immediately thought everyone would have gone against him. He liked proving people wrong. But every interaction he had with King Steve left him feeling like he was in the wrong.

He didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.

Part 4 Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8 Part 9 Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi

[honourablejester]

Okay, normally this wouldn’t be something I’d go near at all, but I saw some things fly past my dash on the new James Somerton youtube controversy, and I vaguely remembered watching one of the guy’s videos a while back (I can’t actually remember which one, I just remember he was talking about growing up in a poor town where people were paid under the table as a regular fact of life? I can’t remember the topic, which maybe says something about the dude’s presentation style). So I got curious and watched first hbomberguy’s plagiarism video and then Todd in the Shadow’s misinformation video on the guy. The basic takeaway of which appears to be that 90% of his output is stolen, and the parts that aren’t are often wildly incorrect instead. Anyway. I realise this is a weird thing to get hung up on given the much more serious issues of, you know, plagiarism and theft and misogyny and frankly astonishing opinions on queer history, but …

There’s a section in Todd’s video (around 1.25.00) about Somerton’s interpretations of various vampire media from his video on ‘Vampires and the Gays that love them’, and I got to ‘Gary Oldman was the first fuckable Dracula’, and … what?

It’s around 38.10 in Somerton’s video, and the full quote is as follows:

“Again, the significant element here is how readily Coppola depicts a vampire who fucks, whereas Dracula is more prominently depicted as a reclusive humanoid monster. From Nosferatu, Plan Nine from Outer Space, Salem’s Lot, the Last Voyage of the Demeter, this figure has almost exclusively been painted white, and shown with clownishly monstrous features. But Coppola creates a monster for whom the audience looks at and completely understands what Mina is so horny about.”

I’m going to leave out everything else he says about Coppola’s Dracula, because … wow, there’s a lot of interesting opinions in there, but …

Christopher Lee. And Bela fucking Lugosi.

The man cannot be unaware of the two single most famous depictions of Dracula ever put on film, right? Dracula has been ‘more prominently depicted’ as the Nosferatu-inspired Count Orlok type monstrosities, and Coppola’s is the first ‘sexy Dracula’ on film? Like. What?

As Todd says, anyone even passingly aware of Dracula films is gonna go … Hammer? Universal? Bela Lugosi. The single portrayal that has been shaping Dracula’s iconography for nearly a literal century? THE film Dracula? The one literally everyone is going to think of?

Like. It’s such a weird choice. If he was going to say something about what you could get away with onscreen now vs in the 60s or 30s, or about the evolving tension between the sexier Draculas vs the more monstrous, which Chris Lee’s Dracula was an element of, a more visceral, animalistic portrayal vs Lugosi’s suave charm, arriving to what Coppola’s could actually explicitly put on the screen, but … This is framed like Universal and Hammer just didn’t exist. At all. It cherry-picks such a weird selection of examples of the Nosferatu style portrayals (and not even of Dracula, just vampires in general), and just flat never mentions the two single most famous Dracula film franchises ever made.

I’m curious what the comment section for this video was like. It’s been locked down now because of the controversy, so I can’t tell, but I’m assuming … I mean, that can’t have flown, right? As Todd says, literally anyone could have picked up on that one.

It’s just such a strange thing to choose to say. There maybe is a fair bit to say about ideas of sexiness in film across different decades, or if he meant that Coppola’s Dracula was the first to literally fuck on screen because of what could be shown in different eras, or even which Dracula he personally found most sexy, but …

Why would you choose to say, with a straight face, that Dracula has most prominently been depicted Nosferatu-style when literally anyone with the remotest knowledge of Dracula is going to point directly at Bela Lugosi and his ninety years worth of imitations and rejections and parodies and rebuttals? Nosferatu is a silent era classic and a periodic cult revival for vampire depictions, but THE movie vampire in popular consciousness is still Lugosi’s suave, sinister European nobleman in classy eveningwear. Any random Joe Soap off the street is gonna know that. Saying the Nosferatu depiction is the most prominent is just flat not true and everyone knows it.

Sorry. Again, I know this is a weird thing to get hung up on, but it’s such a weird choice. I get selective cherry picking of evidence to make your chosen point, but you can’t just ignore the one depiction that literally everyone knows and expect them to just nod along. Right?

Anyway. Weirdness aside. Carry on.

[bugeater101]

Truth or Dare?, pt. 1

Synopsis: Minho and you played a game of Truth or Dare, and when you don't comply with the rules and refuse to obey your orders as a loser, you must face the consequences.

Content: SMUT !!!! slkfsdlkjf anyways. sub!reader x dom!Minho, fem!reader, perv!minho, best friends to lovers, school au, mentions of weed, mentions of masturbation (f. and m.), discussion of dick size, sex toys, Minho's an ass man (and i stand by that!!!!), panty sniffing, as always the reader is curvy/plus size but it doesn't really play into the plot but Minho's super hot for her obviously, suggestive content, slight fluff if you squint ig.

Word Count: 6.8k

Author's notes: I've been playing with this idea for a while and I'm so excited to finally put pen to paper! I hope you enjoy this mini series (should only be 2/3 parts, depending on how long I decide to make them) and they will be all out fairly shortly since I intend to release them a day after another. Even though the characters in this fic are portraying students, it is just like my Han fic, Public Display of Affection. Meaning that both characters are 18+. Please, do not interact with my work if you are a minor. Thank you everyone and enjoy!

Edit: Originally, when leeknow's... size was discussed, it was wayyyy too big. So I have (sadly) shrunk him a bit. The story does not change at all other than that detail!

Taglist: @scribblemetae, @mygsis, @9900z, @taekbokki

part 1, part 2, part 3

"Truth or dare?" Minho questioned as he undid his tie, freeing himself from his school uniform

"Hmmm... truth!" you answered, leaning your head on your hand that was supported by a layer of forgotten homework on the table below.

"What's your opinion on Mr. Nam?" Minho questioned, making you squeal with laughter and make him laugh too.

"Oh my God!" You hollered as you fell back, laying on the ground in fits of giggles as Minho clapped. The secrets and rumours surrounding Mr. Nam made him a living legend, a feared yet benevolent dictator at your school. You sat up and cleared your throat, containing yourself as you cleaned some of the work that you had scattered off your table.

"He's a total snob, and I do believe the rumour that he's gay and called off his engagement to elope with the former Phys. Ed. coach," you responded, finally answering his question.

"No way!" Minho shouted back, amused at your response. "Not possible! I total believe the one that he got the former drama teacher pregnant but that it turned out to be a hysterical pregnancy because she wanted him to leave his fucking wife." You snickered at his assertion, loving how he entertained the beloved "Nam Theories" just as much as you did.

"Good for her. I always respect a woman who knows what she wants," you remarked with satire in your tone. With a nod to your homework, you silently suggested to Minho to return to the task at hand. The schoolwork had piled up throughout the week, waiting for you two to try and tackle it all in one day as you usually did. You too always did schoolwork at your house after Thursdays, shut away in your bedroom and attempting to diminish the growing pile of work before the weekend began.

Throughout the years of friendship between you two, your bedroom had become a safe haven for Minho, adorned in memories you two had gathered throughout your years of schooling and bathed in sunlight that pour in from your skylight and west-facing windows. Minho also just liked being close to you in general, watching you giggle at his jokes, toppling over at the melodramatic responses he gave and giving him a chance to sneak a peak up your skirt or down your shirt.

Okay, yeah. There's that.

So he had a crush on you. Big deal. Everyone in the school did. He loved how your personality reflected his mischievous ways and adored the way you smiled at everything he said, yet remained stone-faced with everyone else. Plus, you were obviously well-endowed to the point that the school uniform didn't fit you as conservatively as it should have, but you didn't mind (or you chose not to notice). You two had other friends but were just closer with each other, which was how Minho liked it, especially when he got to be in your room with you exclusively once a week; it was a gift. Sometimes, you two played games to distract from the mountainous pile of work, like today. Other times, too even cuddled together while watching a movie to finish the evening off. He enjoyed holding you, having you play with your hair, your tits pressing against his arm, your thighs crushing his hands to keep them warm, and... God... your ass was just perfect.

He loved when you laughed like this now, cackling and bending over from fits of giggles, giving him the perfect opportunity to stare at your pretty body. Now, however, you wanted to stop playing games and get back to work, which was never fun in Minho's opinion. It was sometimes annoying that you were always the more diligent one of the two of you, even though you always kept him on track.

"Booooo," Minho pouted, laying his face on the coffee table that you used to study on. He kicked you under the table as you both sat on the floor, nudging you and making you smack him back. "C'mon! Let's keep playing! It's your turn!" He protested.

"No, Minho," you scorned him. "We have this test next week and we have to study for it."

"Please, God, no, kill me now," he cried out, burying his face in the workload. "C'mon, please?! We can make it interesting?" You stopped scribbling on your work and silence filled the room. Minho smirked: you could never resist a good bet.

"...What kind of bet are you thinking of?" You responded, not lifting your face from the work.

"Oh, so now you want to play," Minho mused, sitting up and leaning against the wall behind him.

"Shut up and set the rules," you groaned at him, tossing a pen at his chest and grabbing a new writing utensil.

"Ah! Christ, okay," he laughed, blocking the pen with his forearms. "Hmm let's see..." he leaned his head back and thought to the annoying tapping of your pencil.

"Ooh! I got it!" He shouted, making you jump. A maniacal smile spread across his face as he rubbed his hands like an evil mastermind.

"Why do I feel like I made a dumb decision," you pondered out loud, sighing at his ridiculousness. Minho cleared his throat, pretending as if he was making a huge announcement to an anxious crowd rather than to the singular annoyed you.

"This round of truth or dare will be like no other! The questions will be aggressive, dangerous, and downright inappropriate for any normal game," he mimicked a posh accent, acting as if he was speaking some royal decree into effect, "Additionally, this game will have raised stakes! If one refuses to answer the question of truth or do the dare, that individual will be forced to do anything that the victor— i.e. the person who gave them the request—demands of them. And, the loser will do it without question. If the loser refuses or does not comply, the victor gets to punish them any way they deem fit."

You thought for a moment about the terms of the agreement, crossing your arms at Minho's proposition.

"Anything I want you to do, you'll have to do it?" You questioned.

"Precisely," Minho nodded. You blew some air out before looking back at him.

"What did you mean by 'punish the loser any way they deem fit?'" You raised your eyebrows, concerned about that portion of the rules.

Minho shrugged, "I dunno. It could be anything, like a horrible prank or even spreading a rumour about the loser or something. Anything you set your mind to."

You shivered slightly. What would such a punishment resemble? However, the idea of winning and making Minho do something so embarrassing—or something even worse if he was defiant against you—was too sweet.

You shrugged. "Fuck it." You stuck your hand out and Minho reached out to grab it and gave it a firm shake. "I've been wanting to start a rumour anyways that Mr. Nam was having an affair with you. This will be a great opportunity."

"Wait, what?" Minho looked taken back as he released your hand, making you giggle.

"Don't worry, I'll be incredibly benevolent as a victor. The rumour will say you ended it."

"You forget that I will reign triumphant," Minho retorted, making you snort.

"In your dreams," you sneered back. "Anyways," you leaned on your palms, staring back at Minho. "Go for it."

"What are you talking about, dumbass? It's your turn in 'Truth or Dare.'" Minho crossed his arms in annoyance and rolled his eyes back, making you chuckle.

"Fine, I'll start this show then," you giggled, pretending to be annoyed that you got to begin this game of dares. You thought for a moment, glancing up and looking around. Though you took long, Minho didn't mind. Not only did get to prolong his humiliation for picking truth or dare, but he got to stare at your tits while you absent-mindedly arched your back, causing the buttons of your uniform to stretch against your chest.

"Ooh! Okay! I got it," you snapped back into reality and leaned forward, ruining Minho's view and his good time. "Truth or dare."

"Truth," Minho's response was almost automatic, choosing something safe for his first round.

"What..." you let the tension build as you placed your elbows on the table and then cradled your head in your palms, "is your cock size?"

Minho gagged a bit on nothing, not expecting you to be so forward and taking out the big questions on your first round. He cleared his throat and stared at you before awkwardly laughing

"Damn, really?"

"Why, too scared to respond?" You egged him on, sitting straight again and looking at him like he was a coward who refused to fight in a war.

"Not on the first round, no!" He defended.

"Well, then answer! May I remind you that you were the one who set the rules of the game!" You shot back. Minho leaned back and smiled at you as his face turned slightly red. He glanced away, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

Never, ever had you seen Minho blush. He was so flustered, genuinely embarrassed by your question! You would never admit it, but he looked kind of cute being so taken back as someone who was normally so forward.

Minho cleared his throat before muttering something.

"What was that?!" You shouted at him with a dramatic hand to your ear, hoping to catch what he said. Minho shot you a look in an attempt to scare you but to no avail. Instead, you looked back at him with a devilish grin. "I'm waittinggggg," you chanted in a sing-song voice.

"Seven inches, okay?!" He shot back, turning his head to you and making deadly eye contact. Your hands immediately flew to your mouth and your eyes shot wide, surprised at his confidence and the fact that he responded at all. Silenced crept in again before you shook your head in disbelief.

"No... way..." you whispered. "You are not packing that much, not you! No!" Minho nodded as your hands slowly held your heart, acting like someone who just heard the most tragic news.

"That's kind of a dick thing to say," he scolded you.

"I—I'm sorry, I'm genuinely just like... shocked I guess?" You laughed before you began blushing too. "Damn, good job!"

"I already regret encouraging you to play this game," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Does that mean you secede?" You questioned teasingly.

"No! Especially not after I told you my dick size," he said. "God, it's my turn anyway."

"Fine, fine," you gathered yourself, smoothing your skirt and beginning to loosen the school tie that made you feel claustrophobic. "Go for it." Minho thought for a second before looking back at you, his face finally losing its redness

"Truth or dare?"

"Seven inches..." you whispered.

"Y/N!!!" He shouted.

"Yes, fine!" You giggled. "Dare!"

Minho smirked at you. "Wrong choice." Suddenly, you felt your stomach become queasy. You didn't like the glimmer in his eye nor the way he licked his lips. You agreed with him: you had definitely made the wrong choice. Minho stared at you for a second longer, admiring how wide your eyes went at his words, enjoying how you realized that you have brought upon your own demise.

"Show me the most embarrassing thing you own," he stated with a nod.

Dread washed over you and your face became a deep red.

"No... please... anything but that..." you whispered out, flustered at the request. Minho just laughed.

"Though I love to hear you beg for mercy," he chuckled, "rules are rules. Are you going to comply, or are you going to take your punishment?" You felt your throat go dry at his words. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh? Either show him the thing you were most ashamed of or be subjected to a slave-like status, forced to do his bidding.

You went with the former.

Wordlessly, you rose from your spot and turned around to go to your bed across the room.

"Ooooo," Minho called. "I'm excited!!!"

"At least one of us is," you mumbled back loud enough for him to hear.

"What's Y/n's little guilty pleasure, hmm?" He teased, his playful tone ringing in your ears. You knew your shameful secrets, you just didn't want anyone else—especially your best friend—to know them, too. You sat beside your bed and bent down, reaching deeply underneath the frame to pull out something tucked closely to the wall. It took a long time to pull out what you were looking for, but Minho didn't mind: he was more engrossed in listening to your little groans and watching your skirt ride up your thighs, your back arching just enough to stick your backside out at him and have the bottom of your ass show. He licked his lips, hoping that you'd stay a little longer in the position as he felt his cock grow in his pants.

Sadly, you had found what you were looking for and shot back up. Your eyes gazed at the black shoebox in your hands, wondering if you were really going to complete this dare. Yet, Minho's words rang in your ears: are you going to comply, or are you going to take your punishment? It was obvious that feeling guilt now would be better than any future retribution.

You stood up and walked back to the table, sitting cross-legged on the floor and holding the box in your hands before looking back at Minho. His eyes were amused, enjoying your guilty expression and the flushed nature of your face.

"Don't tell me the biggest shame you own is an ugly pair of heels or some weed or something," he taunted, his frustrating giggles filling the room again.

Then, you remembered. Minho could still lose this game, and maybe your own boldness could scare him away. If your embarrassment couldn't get you to win, maybe your bravery could.

You smiled up at him, your expression quickly making suspicion replace his amusement.

Ripping the top of the box off, you flung the lid across the room and threw the container on the table, cascading papers across the surface and leaving the contents of the box on display.

Minho's eyes went wide and his face immediately became crimson again. He couldn't believe what his eyes were feasting on, unsettled by your sudden act of courage and the sudden tightness of his pants.

Various sex toys were displayed in front of him: dildos ranging from smaller sizes to enormous lengths, assorted vibrators with numerous settings and sizes, butt plugs, handcuffs, and flogs, just to name a few. Minho's felt uneasy by the sight, but also incredibly turned on.

Somehow, he was a bit angry too. Maybe it was because he knew that you had violated your pussy in countless ways before he's even had the chance to even taste you. Though the thought of you touching yourself with all these toys made him jealous, his mind also relished the fact that these toys had been used on you. He even briefly considered picking on up and licking it, choking on the fake cock, hoping to get a taste of your cunt that lingered on the silicone or glass.

Yet, to your eyes, he remained stagnant, supposedly shocked to stillness by the exposing state you just put yourself in. You laughed at his astounded expression.

"You can touch them if you want, by the way, " you giggled as you picked up your biggest cock. "They're clean. I always clean them after I use them." Minho's eyes followed you, watching you stroke the cock teasingly as if you were studying every artificial vein with the eye of an artist. Your finger traced the ridges of the dick before slamming it on the table, sticking the suction cup to the wooden surface and causing Minho to jolt back at the agility of your actions. He became hypnotized by the swaying phallus, fixating his eyes on it. Slowly, he tore his gaze away to watch you study the other contents of the box.

"You can always quit the game," you stated with a straight face before placing a glass dick along with a butterfly vibrator on the table. Minho shook his head, finally snapping out of his trance.

"What?!" he shouted, his face straight.

"Well, if you were shocked by my answer," you studied a glass butt plug before placing it back in its box, "then there's no saying how you'll react to the next questions I ask."

"Well... that's— I-I can't even—" Minho scoffed but it was obvious that he was still stumped by your reveal. Could he beat you in this game? He so desperately wanted to win, but he still had to survive his next turn, and then yours after. And, with what just happened, there's a possibility he can fail on your turn. Not to mention the hardness of his cock and the disappointment he feels knowing that your toys were clean and not coated in your juices clouded his mind.

However, he had to remain focused. His diligence had to override yours, he had to win this game as the defeat could be so bitter in so many ways. So, with a clearing of his throat and a wipe of his brow, he looked back at you who still examined your various toys and was beginning to put them away.

"It's my turn," he mumbled at you, making you acknowledge his existence for the first time in a bit. "Ask me: truth or dare."

You looked back at him for a second before placing the last toy back in the box and moving it to the side of the table, not placing the lid back on it and torturing Minho with a view of everything that had stuffed your pussy or ass or teased your clit and inevitably made you cum. It pained him to know that none of those toys were him, but he was pleased knowing that the size of your biggest dildo at least resembled the measurements of his cock. God, you knew his cock size now. He had thankfully forgotten for a brief second before the memories of minutes before came flooding back. Goddammit! Now he was hard thinking about you struggling to take it, having to work your way up to that size and still barely managing to squeeze it into your little pussy. Fuck, he had to focus!

Minho shook his head as he looked back at you, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind and avoid the box to his right. Your eyes showed your enjoyment of his suffering as you leaned on your hand, studying his expression just as you studied the toys moments before.

After a moment of silence, you finally spoke.

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he immediately answered to his regret.

You laughed. Really laughed. Like, leaned back and cackled like a super villain.

Fuck. He made the wrong decision.

You stared back at him

"Let me see it," you stated.

"W... what are you talking about?"

"Your cock. Let me see it."

Okay, so Minho was surprised by you a few times already today.

But this took the cake.

"You wanna see my cock?"

You laughed out, yet his expression showed his true concern at your dare.

"Yeah You see, you're sporting seven inches hard, and I know for a fact that you're rock solid right now." Minho's embarrassment skyrocketed, horrified that you knew of the state of his cock and more worried that you might know that you were the one who caused it. "You always get that weird look whenever you have a boner, and I'm assuming seeing all these sex toys and maybe it just fucked with your male hormones or something."

Oh. Minho forgot for a second who he was talking to. Thank God you were too dumb to realize that it was what those toys represented that made him hard. That it wasn't the fact that there were just sex toys around, but that it was because he knew you used them. But, you always assumed that he was just like other guys. Even when you two went into that sex shop for shits and giggles one time, you supposed his awkwardness was because of all the fleshlights and pornstars on the wall. In reality, Minho couldn't handle the shop because everything made him think of you. Constricting you in that red harness which hung the wall, edging you for hours with that fat vibrator stuffed up your cunt, gagging you with the various ball-gags in the shop—it was all too much. With his mouth going dry and his pants unable to hide his growing hard-on, the shop quickly became an unsafe location for him. He left unexpectedly and you teased him for weeks after about it, starting a rumour that he was a prude and a virgin who couldn't handle even discussing sex— none of which being true. Minho didn't mind, however; he'd rather you'd think he was a stiff than a slag who was desperate to fill your holes with his fingers, cock, and toys. Plus, he was plenty happy with the happy fantasizing about you and all that stuff in the shop in his free time.

But now... this was different. Now, you were making him put his cards on the table, or fold. Either show you his cock or succumb to your whims, practically becoming your male odalisque instantaneously. Though at this point either option sounded insane to him, he still preferred to have the upper hand.

His eyes met yours, yours burned back into his, and he decided that it was time you saw how similar your larger toys were to him.

To your shock, Minho stood up and frantically began unzipping his dress pants, knowing that if he was too slow he'd psych himself out. His dress shirt came out next, Minho pulling it out of its previously neatly tucked form and freeing the wrinkled fabric. Then, with a single tug, his pants were just low enough to reveal the top of his boxers. Soon his cock would be out and he would be done this—

"STOP!" You yelped.

For the first time since he started undressing, Minho looked at you. Your expression was confusing, a mixture of holding back laughter and genuinely horrified.

"I..." you began, "I didn't think you'd actually do it... holy fuck you want to win." You began laughing loudly, making Minho pull up his pants to cover his boxers.

"You mean to tell me that you just wanted to see if I actually would do it?" he spat. "You dumbass this is literally truth or dare! If I don't comply I lose, you get that?!"

"Yes!" You laughed, "But I couldn't actually make you do it! I can't see your penis! I trust your seven inches and all but I don't want this to be how I see your dick, okay dude?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Minho argued back, aggressively zipping up his pants and crashing to the floor, pissed and ready to move on with the game.

You glanced away, "Nothing, don't worry. Just... let's move on okay? That counts as your turn."

"You're damn right that counts as my turn," he mumbled as he re-rolled his sleeves. "Can't believe I almost just showed my cock to win this fucking thing. Let's end this." You didn't like the sound of that. If Minho meant that and you just put him through hell, then what would he subject you to?! What diabolical things could he make you do, or make you admit to? Worse, what if you lose? Your mind starts to panic and you barely hear Minho speak those terrifying words.

"Y/N!" He shouted.

"What?!" You replied, snapping out of your worries.

"I said, 'Truth or dare?'" That stupid fucking mischievous smile came up on his face again.

No matter what you chose you were screwed. What could be worse: truth or dare? Goddamit!

"Truth... no, dare!" You corrected. "Wait..."

"Tick tock, y/n," he urged.

"Goddamit! Dare!" You shot back. "Final answer!"

You believed that this was the better choice. It was better to do something than have to admit to anything, right? Then you met his eyes again, the crescent moon shapes indicating his happiness at your choice.

...Ah.

Fucked. You were fucked.

"I want you," he leaned forward and shoved the box to his right onto the centre again, scattering some of your homework off the edge table, "to show me how you use these."

No. Fucking. Way.

Your immediate response was to laugh. Why wouldn't you? Being who he was, Minho was probably just getting back at you for the last dare you gave him. But why was he so worked up? You got him out of it and it was just a little prank. You didn't really want to see his cock because of a stupid dare, so he wouldn't want to watch you play with yourself in return turn.

Wouldn't he?

"I'm not joking, Y/N," Minho stated, straight-faced.

Your laughter was cut short, the room filling with silence.

"Oh God..." you mumbled. "You're actually serious, aren't you!?"

"You're damn right I'm serious," he replied. For the first time, Minho reached into the black shoebox and pulled out your toys. His imitation of you was impeccable, matching exactly how you studied the fake cocks and butt plug before placing them down in front of your still figure. As you watched his motions, a cocktail of fear, embarrassment, and overwhelming anxiety filled you. He was like a mob boss deciding what method of torture to use on you. "It's my turn. First, you show me these toys— some of which your perverted self probably bought when we hung out together at the mall and you snuck off! Then, you make me think you wanna see my cock, know what I'm packing, see if you can take it or some shit, and then make me stop?" He spat, "Heh. I don't fucking think so." He slammed down a vibrator on the table, making you shiver. You looked so small across from him, your nipples peaking through your shirt and your hands nervously fiddling with the edge of your skirt. Minho chuckled again. He knew what he was saying was on the money, that what he spoke wasn't an accusation, but a statement of fact.

"You're a bit scared, aren't you?" You nodded as a response, not daring to utter a word. He erupted in laughter. "Good! I hope you're terrified."

"M-Minho, you can't do this!" You protested, "I didn't make you show me your dick, I was just fooling around, but this is ridiculous! You can't make me—"

"Do you want to lose?" He shot back, quieting you instantly. "You know the consequences if you do." You did know. What would he make you do as retribution for your non-compliance? You dared not to think of it.

Instead, you occupied your mind with the various toys laid out in front of you. In an attempt to calm yourself, you began calculating the amount it all added up to. How much money have you spent on each one? How much time have you spent scouring the internet for them? How many hours have you spent using them? Unintentionally, your mind became filled again with the unbearable memories of how these toys made you feel, how you know they can make you feel, and how strangely good you felt after Minho's little speech just now. What the fuck were you going to do?

Finally, you glanced up at Minho's eyes, meeting them for the first time in what felt like forever.

"No," you said, "I don't plan on losing." Minho respected your courage, yet his smirk suggested he was calling your bluff.

The spread of the phallic objects and other various suggestive shapes in front of you gave you plenty of options, but you opted for the bunny vibrator, snatching it quickly and decisively so you couldn't hesitate on doing what you had to do.

"Fine choice," Minho muttered in response to your action. You rolled your eyes at him and then sat up on your knees, placing the vibrator beside you on the floor. You leaned forward slightly, giving Minho a perfect view of your cleavage from your unbuttoned top, though you took this position to attempt to give yourself some sense of privacy. Your hands ran up the back of your thighs tentatively, careful to not ride your skirt up too much. As your hands found the hem of your panties, you quickly pulled them down, not wanting to stay in this embarrassing position any longer. Minho let out a small yelp from across the table, indicating to you that he was excited by your exposure. Sitting back on your spread knees, you held your white lace panties between your thumb and index finger. Looking back at Minho, you saw him lick his lips and noticed his stiff posture. His cock was just as tense as the rest of his body and you knew it. You would enjoy how torturous this would be for him. You dropped your panties to your side. Picking up the vibrator on your other side, you looked up at Minho one last time before you would ruin any last shred of dignity you had remaining.

"Last chance to back out," Minho stated. Your face was just as blank as his, attempting to hide any lingering regret or the horniness either of you was experiencing.

You clicked the vibrator on, the low hum filling the room.

"I'm not backing out."

With your tongue already out, you placed the tip of the vibrator on the muscle and wet it with your spit. Minho took a deep inhale at the site, watching you hum slightly at the sensation. God, were you really going to do this? Both of you worried the same thing, wondering how far this game was going to go.

"Stop... stop teasing the tip," Minho said dryly. "Go on, show me how you work your little pretty pussy." Your heart tightened at the words, feeling stupid that your panties weren't there to absorb the wetness growing between your thighs.

"Let me take my time, Minho," you whispered back, making him moan lowly at your response. You chuckled at him. "Don't worry baby, I like it slow."

What had this game become between you two?

"If you take too long, you're going to lose by default," he responded, leaning forward, palms flat on the table and his hard-on clearly visible in his pants. He was getting antsy and it amused you, though you knew how serious your predicament was.

"That's not fair," you tutted, attempting to act dominant in a situation where you were clearly pitted against. "I can't do it right if I go too fast." You pouted slightly, letting the drool-covered vibrator buzz in your hands.

Minho shook his head, "Do it now or take your punishment."

Now it was your turn to gulp. He was serious.

You nodded, glancing down to your spread knees, your only privacy your school skirt, then at the buzzing bunny in your hands. Though you couldn't see him, you could feel Minho's look seethe into you, his breath heavy. At a snail's pace, your hands began to move the toy lower and lower. One hand parted from the object, caressing your thighs before lightly grasping the edge of your skirt. You pushed the hem higher and higher, raising the skirt to your mid-thighs as the toy continued pushing downward. Suddenly, you found Minho's hand touching yours, the one that held the vibrator, guiding it down to your cunt.

"C'mon, show me..." he whispered, a mixture of a beg and a demand. "I know you can, y/n."

His entire body was stretched across the table, face-to-face with you, noses and foreheads almost touching as you both stared down past your tits and tummy to the rising fabric with the vibrator as a guide. So close, the space closing and closing until finally your skirt was bunched so much it almost showed your soaked pussy. Minho could feel himself drooling, his hand upping the speed on the vibrator until it violently buzzed in his and your hands. Your chest rose and fell quickly with the speed of your breath, confusing Minho as he tried to watch your entire body at once. The toy now was only a few inches from you, your pussy still covered by your skirt, but one final movement and—

"WAIT!" You shouted, scaring Minho and causing him to collapse on the table and making you fall back. The vibrator was flung across the room and you scurried to cover yourself, pulling your skirt down. Minho groaned at the impact of the fall on his chest, his hand cradling his ribs as he closed his eyes in pain.

"Oh-oh my God, Minho!" You sputtered out, clamouring over to him and picking up his face in both of your hands and looking up at him. "I-I'm so sorry! Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

Minho shook his head, "Uhh... fine, I think...." he slowly pushed off the table, sitting back against the wall and across the table from you again.

"I'm sorry about that," you quickly apologized, "I just got a little... I just think that dare was too much, maybe... I don't know... I—"

"Don't apologize," Minho looked up at you, sincerity deep in his voice. "It was intense, and you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

You opened your mouth to say something again, another apology you suppose, before shutting it and nodding, silently appreciating his understanding. Slowly Minho rose, stretching and rolling his neck back.

"Are you okay?" You asked. He nodded.

"I'm fine, just a little sore." He walked around a bit, stretching his legs that had almost fallen asleep from the long period of sitting on the floor. "Are you okay?" You nodded, watching him cross the room so now he stood across the carpet from you.

"Yes, I'm fine." Minho nodded at your response and then looked down beside him to the humming bunny. The buzzing hadn't ceased: the vibrator still bounced aggressively beside him. He looked down at it then at you.

Abruptly, you became extremely embarrassed. God, what the fuck did you just do!? Minho smiled at your reddening face before bending down to pick up the toy. He shut it off and then looked up at you, waving the toy in your direction. With a smirk, he tossed it back in the box before sauntering over to you and sticking his hand out. The last of your pride was already torn to shreds after that debacle, you might as well let him help you up. You grabbed his hand and jumped up with the support. Yet, you didn't realize that your legs had fallen asleep, and you stumbled into Minho. Quickly grasping the small of your back while his other hand remained intertwined with yours, Minho caught you and let you stumble into him.

It was quiet for a moment, the seconds passing as you stood like two dancers frozen in a performance. He smiled at you, and you smiled back. Then, he ruined the moment.

"You won't be fine for long," he whispered. Confusion hit you first, then, after a brief moment of thinking, you realized what his words meant. Horror swept across your face.

"I... I lost..." you muttered.

"Yep," Minho said, his hand rubbing your back, "and I won."

You gulped. "What will you make me do?"

Minho chuckled, "Nothing too bad." His hand continued to stroke your back, calming you in this moment of terror. "Just want to show you off, is all." The sound of that made your knees weaker than they already were.

His hand began to rub lower and lower down your torso before caressing the curve of your ass through your skirt. You hiccuped at the feeling, realizing how close you two were with him holding you like this. Minho leaned into you, lips touching the curve of your ear.

"Do you feel me, y/n?" He asked, "Do you feel how good you make you feel?" You did. It was undeniable that you felt him through his pants. He was still so hard, aching to be buried in you, and you realized how much you actually would enjoy his seven inches, the slight curve of his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly. You were a fool to think that it was just the toys and all that stuff getting Minho hard: it was you.

You tightened your grip on him.

"W-What will you make me do, Minho?" You asked again, hoping that it wouldn't be as embarrassing as this moment was.

"I know exactly what I want. Do you know what you want, y/n?" he asked, his breath tickling your ear. You buried your face in his neck.

"I don't know..." Your voice came out as a hushed mumble, your shyness making him smile. He could be sweet if he wanted, ease your self-consciousness and feed your begs by letting you not experience the suffering he had in store.

But Minho wasn't nice. He wasn't sweet and only was if he wanted to be. And right now, it seemed like charity was the furthest thing on his mind.

"You look so pretty right now, without your panties on," Minho's hand slowly bunched your skirt up, clasping the fabric underneath his wrist as his fingers played with and caressed your ass. Whimpering at his touch, you realized how wet you still were, how much you needed him. That almost went away with the words he spoke next.

"I wonder if you want everyone else to see you like this." The world stopped for a moment, fear freezing your body.

"...what?" you muttered, glancing at him.

Minho hummed, "I wonder how long you could stand not wearing panties." Minho pulled back his hand from your back and moved away from you, making you ache to feel his cock again. He cupped your chin and forced you to face him "You'd like that, wouldn't you baby?" You were too stunned to speak. Could he really make you do that? What would happen if you didn't comply?

"Minho... please.." you begged. Minho chuckled and separated away from you, making you drag your reach out for him. He walked towards the table and started gathering his homework in his bag, picking up every last scattered paper that was his.

"Now, now, y/n you knew the rules and you still obeyed," he tutted. "Tomorrow at school: no underwear, shorts, tights: anything. I don't want anything covering your pussy or your thick ass." He looked up at you, staring deeply into your wide eyes. "I want to be able to bend you over any time I want and enjoy the view." He looked down to check if he had forgotten anything, and he did. The white lace of your panties peaked through a flipped-over notebook, almost escaping his searching gaze. Minho picked them up gingerly, smirking at you as he stood up straight. Balling them up and sniffing them lightly, Minho basked in your scent before dropping them in his bag and zipping it tightly shut. "You won't be needing these, will you, y/n?" He asked. "You'll get them back when you've been good."

He walked up to you and patted you on the head before bending down and meeting your eyes. You had said nothing, stunned to a motionless figure at what was happening.

"But..." you muttered out, meeting his eyes. "But I've been good..."

"Not good enough," he laughed out. With a lean, he kissed the top of your forehead before patting you again. He stood straight and walked past you. Your gaze followed him towards the door of your bedroom, watching him turn the knob and swing the door open. Before taking another step, he stopped and turned back towards you.

"See you tomorrow, y/n!" Happiness and monotony layered his voice, making one think that what just happened was a regular occurrence and that what was to come wasn't out of the ordinary either. Minho turned again and walked out, closing the door behind him and beginning his journey home.

Silence filled the room as you looked at the mess around you before turning back towards the shut door.

"Tomorrow... no panties... nothing..." you recited. Your mouth was dry and you felt lightheaded. Oh, fuck... what were you going to do?!

"See you tomorrow, Minho."

continued in part 2

[wheelercore]

The church scene with Jason was actually so important to the Wheeler parents and it's not talked about enough... Lucas said it best when he said "normal" wasn't real it's just for psychopaths like Jason (not the direct quote but that's the gist of it), because that's what everyone realized that season. Karen goes from nagging Mike hardcore to making it clear by the end of the season that she loves him before hugging him. Ted goes from calling the DnD club the high school dropouts club to calling the media satanic panic bs. It's subtle, but it's there.

And it's important in understand how both of them interact with Mike. How Karen focused on laying onto Mike about his troublesome behavior and punishing him without doing enough to Mike him feel safe to open up around her. Her problem was always that she wanted Mike to come to her while simultaneously never making him feel like she should. How can Mike feel safe coming to her about the fact that he's gay if she's always harping on his flaws trying to make him a "perfect" child?

Karen realized in that church scene, watching Jason, the good looking heterosexual popular basketball star, the child that every mother at that time would have wanted, the opposite of everything Mike is, ranting and raving about Mike's DnD club and how they're satanist and murders and realized: holy shit who raised him? Who gave him that hero complex? Who indoctrinated him this way? And her realizing that she's glad Mike is uniquely who he is and she loves him for it and she would never change it. And she should show it.

Ted doesn't nag Mike often, but his jabs are almost always related to Mike presenting in any way queer. (I actually was writing a post on this because it's so fascinating but the gist of it is that there's most likely a cycle going on here. It's sitting in my drafts but idk if I'll post it because ~ social anxiety~). Anyways, things like "see what happens", "our son? With a girl?", referring to the DnD club as the "high school drop outs club", and "no sweetie pie" (idk if Ted even knows El exists lol).

"Anything is possible" he says and Karen snaps at him that their children aren't murderers, and of course he knows that... It's not what he meant he says, but he did say it. The DnD clubs are "queer" and "satanic" in the media he reads and watches right? It's his scripted line from what he sees, what he should say because it's what everyone else is saying. But he doesn't believe it. He doesn't believe Mike and his friends are murderers. However, as long as he follows the script, as long as he partakes in this "silly, terrible play" (as Henry called it) where he wakes up, works, eats, sleeps, reproduces, and dies- which are the only things we see Ted ever do bar death- doing the bare minimum performance as a father, then he doesn't have to think about that cognitive dissonance. He doesn't have to think at all.

He could just sit there and eat, letting Jason come and go with his mob, just like he does when Karen is scolding Mike at the dinner table. Except his donuts are uneaten because for once he can't just distract himself when there's someone making his son's DnD club out to be satanists capable of serial murder in a church of all places, and when there's a mob ready to chase them down. And so, for the first time he goes off script- it's subtle, he's just not eating the food in his hand and paying attention. But then in the next scene, he goes even further off script saying that the media satanic panic is tabloid bs rather just just absorbing it or sleeping.

Both Karen and Ted are evolving, it's subtle, but s4 was a turning point for them I think.

[copcontrolling]

Duke had tried everything to get a good grade to keep his athletic scholarship. Admittedly, he hadn't done a lot, but in his head he had already convinced himself it was someone else's fault. He enjoyed the campus life, with the parties and the girls, but he found the lessons boring. If he focussed, he could actually understand the stuff, but who had the time? One night at a party, where everyone had too much of whatever, he had heard some graduate student talk about a 'hypnotic device' that could rewire a person's brain to believe anything. At the time, it had meant nothing. Duke looked at the device in his hand. He had liberated it from the college lab, and applied his steady intellect to figure out how it worked. First off, it was obviously meant to be worn on the head - it had a band and straps that suggested a wrestling helmet or something. Attached to that was a small device that looked like a transistor radio. It had a red button that was labelled 'record' and a green button labelled 'play'. "So," Duke reasoned, "You record your instructions in the here, then put it on someone's head and press the play button, and they get their instructions rewritten!" But looking at the cord that connected the two pieces, he wondered how you convinced someone to put it on and sit still while you played with wires and such. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he realised that you didn't put it on the victim, but rather wore it yourself. Then, when the play button was pushed, the instructions must beam out from the helmet like a ray, as he had seen in many comics and science fiction movies. Pleased with his powers of deduction, he arranged the helmet on his head, while he thought about what he wanted to do. His biggest obstacle was that nerd, Oliver, who was the teaching assistant who marked all the papers for the Prof. If he could get him to just give 'A's' all the time, Duke's problems would be solved. Then Duke was stuck - how did he go about that? Just record "You must give Duke and 'A' on every test? Could that backfire? The best thing would be if the nerd did it voluntarily, like helping Duke cheat. That way, he could keep an eye out for problems, or slip Duke some answers now and then. Hell, Duke had had girlfriends who would do anything for him just to sit at the same table for lunch. If only Oliver was a girl, then he could convince him to help out of lust. Another flash of inspiration hit him so hard he actually laughed. Everyone suspected the little dude was gay, so why not make him fall madly in love with Duke? Duke didn't have to do anything gay himself, just an occassional smile and Oliver would bend over backwards to see he got the best grades. So Duke recorded his instructions. "You will fall madly in love with the man you see in front of you. You will do anything to please him and make him happy. You will do anything he wants, and do everything you possibly can to help him succeed." Duke didn't want to go too far. He had no idea how much you could record, or how long it would take to work. The next step was to find an isolated place with no witnesses so he could beam his instructions and then sit back and reap the rewards. He waited at the back of the faculty offices and was lucky enough to spot Oliver walking out, briefcase under his arm. Duke followed him, feeling conspicuous with the helmet and wires on his head. Oliver turned the corner and Duke was ready with the 'Play' button. On pressing it, he expected a beam of light or something to flash out and hit the nerd. Instead, he felt his scalp start to tingle, and then a strong wave of dizziness. The helmet was broadcasting outwards, it was blasting into his brain. He tried to raise his arms to pull the device off, but his body seemed to be frozen by the pounding of new information into his head. It finally stopped, and Duke weakly removed the helmet and dropped it and the recorder to the ground, smashing it in the process.

[becauseimanicequeen]

Hey, Ice Queen!

I saw your post on your bad taste in QLs and loved it. I've watched most of them and guess I've got bad taste too. *proud*

I'm wondering what your favorite ships are, though. Actor pairings in particular.

Have a nice day!

Hi, Anon.

The only ships I like are those I see from the beach five minutes from my house.

I know this might be an anticlimactic answer, but it’s an honest one.

I don’t participate in shipping culture because it’s just not my thing. It’s never been my thing. Not even in the Twilight era in my teens.

Are there pairings I like more than others? Sure. But I don’t mind if they go their separate ways and work with other actors. Sometimes I even feel like some pairings are holding themselves back and should split so they can develop their craft. But I’m aware that my perspective is from a more artistic one (I’m an artist) and that I usually value the craft more than popularity (or cuteness or whatever the reason is for people shipping bl actors together).

In other words, my favorites tend to be actors who can act, regardless of pairings. My favorites are ACTORS, not actors, if you get what I mean.

So, let me steer your nice ask onto a more actor-focused path, and I will try to answer it the best I can (but from my non-shipper perspective). (My memory is fucked, so these are the ones I remember off the top of my head right now.) They’re in no particular order, btw.

First Kanaphan

First has chemistry with everyone. EVERYONE. This man could have a rock as a partner and still have more chemistry than the periodic table. He’s an ACTOR, so much so it seems to be a part of his DNA.

He’s currently in a pairing with Khaotung (whom I also love) and they have great chemistry. But, again, First can be paired with anyone (he had more chemistry with Up Poompat in two 3-ish min ads than many pairings have in a whole 12 ep series). And I would probably be the first one in line to watch him act with others in QLs, if that ever happens again.

Khaotung Thanawat

Khaotung portrays emotions really well, which is why I love him. Not every actor can do that but Khao does it like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. That’s an ACTOR right there!

He and First are two of the few actors who can make me cry with their portrayal of emotions. And if an actor can make me cry (since I’m an ice queen who usually doesn’t), that actor will always have a special place in my heart.

Up Poompat

The ACTOR Up is! This man eats complex characters for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And let’s not forget the snacks in between.

Up is the reason I kept watching Step By Step, he’s the reason I loved Lovely Writer, and just like First, he can have chemistry with anyone. Not to forget that he took ownership of my soul less than a full episode into My Stand-In (which is currently airing).

Fluke Natouch

Another great ACTOR. I’ve loved him in everything I’ve seen him in (even in Shadow, even though Shadow was pretty shitty). I especially loved him in Red Wine in the Dark Night (what’s better than be gay, do crime?) and I would love to see him in more complex roles like this because I know he can handle it.

Gun Atthaphan

Gun is another versatile ACTOR that I love with my whole ice-cold heart. I’ve seen him in more stuff than just pure BLs and know that he, just like Up, eats complex characters every meal.

Considering my current profile pic, you know my favorite series is Not Me, and one of the reasons for that is Gun. He didn’t just play one character in that series, but two. Twins, who were completely different! But you still knew exactly who was whom just by looking at Gun. That’s how great his acting was (and is).

With all that said…

Max Nattapol and Tul Pakorn

If I ever were to board a ship, it would be Max and Tul's. But that’s only based on how desperately I want Transplant. And their chemistry, obviously. And Max fisting his hands in Tul’s hair. But, I wouldn’t be unhealthy about it…

Much…

I’m sure I’ll remember more actors I love as soon as I hit publish on this. But, at least this is a start for now.

Thanks for your ask.

[randomkposts]

So I read something on LiveJournal about flirting and sex in japan from a forginers POV for fanfic reasons, and found something that made me think about Hinata Hyuga.

So first I should post something for context

"and mostly, if you are Japanese and you like someone, you embark on a series of subtle, indirect stealth manoeuvres, because liking prohibits action, especially for women, but also for men. 

Why is this the case? Japanese social interaction is all about intuiting the other person’s wishes without discussing them openly, at the same time that they are intuiting your wishes without discussing them openly, so that although nothing is ever verbalised, the two of you will always exist in a compromise position of equilibrium. If you like someone, that intuitive part goes into overdrive, because you should be able to understand everything about that person without them ever telling you, and you should be able to please them without ever asking how, even more than you would with a normal person. So it’s more important than ever to be indirect."

Negotiating through a third party, is more relevent to final fantasy 8 and Squall and Riona's romance, which I might table and come back to sometime in the future. Hinatas too introverted to use that method effectively anyways.

So to get to the point.

"Subtle signals

- Shyness. Pronounced shyness is form of flirting, since it’s a sign of liking, especially from girls, but also from guys. She interacts with everyone else more than him, she doesn’t sit next to him, she doesn’t talk much to him, she doesn’t initiate anything with him. - Attentiveness. You make life easier for the other person without being asked to. For example, when you got to a restaurant in Japan it’s normal to share food, so flirting means not ordering what you like, but ordering what s/he likes, which you already know without asking, because you’re observant. Stuff like that.- Eye contact. It’s the opposite to the west, where you gaze deeply into someone’s eyes if you like them. Direct eye contact is a bit rude in Japan at the best of times. If you’re flirting you look down and away a lot.- Indirect compliments. I can’t think of a good example. It’s pretty rare to give direct compliments and even more rare to compliment someone’s looks. (It’s especially rare for guys to compliment girls directly.)"

So by that standard Hinata might be trying hard to flirt with Naruto, but their love languages are different cultures. And by that I mean Naruto is a social outcast and orphan who starts the series pranking people to get attention in his life that he otherwise lacks, would not pick up on Hinata's crush this way, and in contrast Hinata was raised to be the future leader of a nobel clan- regardless of her temperment- and so is taught these rules of indirect flirting.

Sex surprised me even more, more about that under the gif

"The biggest difference is that sex in Japan is not a mutual sharing experience with both partners spontaneously doing whatever they feel like or enjoy whenever they feel like doing it. Sex has rules and sex has roles just as every social interaction in Japan has rules and roles. There is an active partner and a passive partner. Active means moving; passive means unmoving. In heterosexual sex, the active partner is always male, and the passive partner is always female. In gay sex you work out your roles beforehand: the seme is active, the uke is passive (for gay guys); the tachi is active, the neko is passive (for gay women). If you are familiar with seme/uke conventions from yaoi manga, you can use them as a way of relating to what I’m talking about, because those conventions are not a fictional construct, randomly decided upon by a group of yaoi mangaka. Straight people have sex like that too, in reality. 

So there is an active partner and a passive partner, which causes various flow on effects. You can’t have “Whoo-hoo! Go for it!” sex because both partners are constrained by their roles. The passive partner (obviously) because she can’t move, and the active partner because he has to take care of the passive partner, instructing her on what to do and exerting himself so that she has a good time. 

I also can’t emphasise enough just how passive the passive partner is. The way a woman kisses is by submissively opening her mouth, not moving her tongue unless she is cued to do so; if she’s really feminine she won’t open her mouth at all, until she’s told to. Sometimes women will move around a (very) little during sex, but mostly not at all. "

And I'm thinking ' I thought the Seme/Uke thing was some kind of story narrative trend, like ABO is today. I had no idea that was a real way people had sex. '

That sure was a culture shock. Am glad someone talked about it on the internet as thats one of those unspoken culture things people get unconfortable talking about, and would probably be hard to find out even if I knew how to read or speak Japanese.

Finding it really hard to picture some of the ships I ship with one of the parties being unresponsive durring sex, particularly ships involving Rivals like Sasuke and Naruto, or Joker and Akechi (it is hard to be in the P5 fandom without finding at least one Akeshu fic you like).

Also important in Japan, is showers. That is the signal for someone asking you if you want to have sex with them.

"Shower is important. You should shower directly before and after you have sex. Before is more important than after. This makes me sound like I only ever dated people with OCD, but it’s the norm"

Which shows up in scenes like below

Not having a shower before is considered gross (even if you had one before you came to visit)

To end it off on a paraphrased quote from one of the writers boyfriends

"Seiji told me much later that dating me made him feel like he was gay, because I was active in bed, and he couldn’t connect that with anything except masculinity."

And now the link to the article in question so you can read it in full for your fanfic or travel reasearch

Last thing to keep in mind, this thing was posted years ago, I do not know what modern Japanese dating culture is up to, but it does shead some light on Japanese media I grew up around such as Naruto, and offer new insight to parts of it I didn't pick up on the significance of.

Such as for instance, final fantasy VIII features (among other things) a Japanese romance, and this offers insight into cultural differences of romance that I had no idea about.