#if you have sex with me it's automatically gay

[errorid-mt7lt7k7unfr9ttfua5]

when two queer people have sex it literally can't be straight sorry i don't make the rules

[marc--chilton]

house having a reputation for being soooo unserious that all of his passes at wilson are brushed off when in reality he would let wilson fuck him in his fishbowl if wilson would let him

[shardsofswords]

My take on the ai art gay sex cats discourse is that we should change regulation so the only legal use of ai is to generate images that have the word "gay sex" hidden in them somewhere.

[vampire-core]

[id: the first image is a reply by @.demilypyro that reads: That doesnt sound very cis

the second image is a reply by @.homosexualmorelikehomiesexual that reads: respectfully adding to this in agreement with op: i think its true that no, it DOESNT sound very cis, but thats bc according to the very same gender system that sucks so much, anyone who disagrees or complains about it is Other, and i think thats......part of the exact problem op is talking abt..? so yeh idk. speaking as a trans person myself- op youre valid youre right and you should say it i support you go cis boy go

#this is what i call cis+ #youre cis but youve seen the void. the truth. and then you pulled back and went Ok Got It. Keeping My Gender Though #which i think is just as respectable. like amen #consciously opting into your assigned gender when you know you don’t actually have to..... #thats cis plus. cis prime. cis upgraded. you feel? /end]

I’m a cis man sure but i also wanna opt out of the gender binary. None of that shit is my fault or my responsibility and i don’t want any part of it

[nymph1e]

On Discomfort and Morality

My father finds gay men uncomfortable.

He's told me before that it's like a knee-jerk for him. Something he doesn't consciously control. He sees two men behaving romantically, and his body reacts with mild discomfort.

In the 1960s, when he was in high school, most of the boys in his form thought he was gay on the simple fact that he wasn't homophobic. He wouldn't participate in insulting queer people, he didn't care if someone was gay, he wouldn't have a problem hanging out with gay people. So people thought he was gay. That's how prevalent homophobia was in his formative years.

When I was 10, my dad told me very seriously that Holmes and Watson were gay. That it was obvious from the literature and the time period that they were meant to be a gay couple. When I was 14 and I came out to my parents as bi, when my mum was upset my dad ripped into her for it. Told her that she was being stupid, that it was my life to live how I wanted to and that she needed to get over herself.

My dad formed my views on censorship: that being that it was completely ridiculous and thoroughly evil. He didn't believe in censorship of any kind. If I asked him a question about sex, he answered it honestly. When I was 12 and I asked him about homosexuality, still young and uncertain, he told me that there was nothing wrong with it. That it was just how some people were. That there was likely an evolutionary reason for it. And that for some people it was uncomfortable on an instinctual level.

He taught me that just because you're uncomfortable with something, doesn't make it wrong. He also taught me that most people don't understand this.

I see a lot of this on the internet as of the last few years. The anti shipping movement, the terf movement, the anti ace movement. It all stems from discomfort that people have crossed wires into believing means wrong. Really every -ism and -phobia out there stems from this same fundamental aspect of humanity.

The next time you see something and you automatically think it's disgusting, or wrong, or immoral, I invite you to ask yourself: is this actually wrong or does this just make me uncomfortable?

[eddiediazismyhusband]

thinking about the possibility of eddie’s sexuality crisis coming after buddie canon like…

he and buck start dating and in eddie’s mind he’s justifying it like “i’m not really into men im just into buck” and buck is the supportive boyfriend bc obviously eddie’s the only one who knows himself, and eddie labeling himself doesn’t matter to buck bc all that matters is that they’re the happiest they’ve ever been together

but then they have sex for the first time (obviously we don’t see anything bc this is abc not hbo) but while buck is in this perfectly blissed out state, eddie is panicking bc holy shit… is that what sex is supposed to feel like? like i thought i enjoyed sex before because i got off and that was that but this was…. what the fuck?????

and we get this sort if spiral moment where eddie wonders if he’s been gay this whole time and has just been lying to himself and is wondering what that means for him and shannon? like yeah he moved on from her but… looking back did he ever really need to? were the feelings for his girlfriends just misplaced feelings for buck this whole time? has he always felt this way?

and it gets to a point where buck thinks eddie is pulling away from him, and he gets really in his head about it remembering when eddie said that sex just complicates things, and how eddie had that whole crisis over marisol, and then buck had broken up with temu and chris was in texas so both of them were in weird places mentally and oh my god did i force myself on him? is he miserable bc he realized im not actually what he wants? is he going to leave me like everyone else does?

and meanwhile eddie is in therapy telling frank that he’s never felt this way about anyone before and that he thought he was enjoying sex before but it had never been anything like what it was with buck- that before it had been a means to an end but with buck it just felt right… and then frank has a really deep conversation about sexuality and eddie’s catholic guilt and explains that only eddie can decide if labeling himself is important or not

then we get eddie making a choice to either label himself or to not label himself (bc all that matters is that bucn is who he wants to be with; im not picky bc i have always been a gay/demi eddie truther, but unlabeled eddie has so much playing room and they could explore so much with that but i also know that realistically they probably wouldn’t put that much thought into the actual label but i digress)

and then we get a Kitchen Scene™️ where they are both super quiet and eddie tells buck they need to talk; buck automatically assumes eddie’s breaking up with him and starts apologizing to eddie and telling him he will give eddie some time and space, telling eddie that he will move on eventually like he has from everyone else. eddie is like “what?” and buck is like “aren’t you breaking up with me?” and eddue is horrified bc oh my god have i really been that distant? has my crisis really pushed me away that much that i made him think i wouldn’t tilt the earth on its axis for him if he asked??? and eddie explains his side of things, ending his little speech by saying “i love you” for the first time, and buck gets teary eyed and says it back and they share a soft kiss and eddie is like “it’s never felt like that before” and buck admits “it’s never felt like that for me either… but i think that’s what being in love does” and the episode ends with a fade to black of eddie leading buck out of the kitchen and down the hallway

[bigtedbear]

“ 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧

content warnings: 18+ NSFW, 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, general yandere themes, emotional detachment, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, mlm, bl, sexual coercion, dubcon to marriage, semi-public sex, choking, hair-pulling, hatefucking, oral sex (reader receiving), male reader, this is a part 2 that might be important information, semi-stockholm sydrome-y, touch-starved/horny reader

Part 1 here: " like lovers do "

Here's the continuation of a fan favorite, "like lovers do", I'm going to leave the actual plot of the fic a secret so you all can enjoy it while you read!! Special thanks to all the people who left comments basically begging me for a part 2 because that's what truly convinced me to write this LMAOOOO if you're looking for anyone to thank for this they are to blame

Fair warning, the content isn't quite as dark as it was before since a lot of people wanted to see the relationship between the reader and Ayato improve, but I also don't enjoy making the reader character complicit in forced relationships so there will still be a fair bit of resistance.

ONE LAST NOTE: i wrote and rewrote this like seven times, if the plot seems disjointed its cause I basically compiled all the different iterations to make the ultimate part 2 kthxbye

Cold.

It was really cold.

Why did Ayato feel so cold?

His eyes opened blearily, blinking rapidly to bat away the exhaustion. The room was dimly lit, like it always was. What should've been his marital bedroom was devoid of a husband, like it usually was in the morning. Ayato couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt wrong. He should've been used to an empty bed and an empty room by now, but the space still felt... desolate. Everything was in place, nothing had moved, the man was even in the same position he usually slept in. Yet despite all this, he felt cold and alone. Why was that?

He went to sit up, to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but instead of maybe a back ache from sitting up all day, he was confronted with an all-consuming pain shooting up his body. Not only that, he noticed when he peeled the covers off of himself he was completely naked.

Well, that explained why he was cold.

But why did he feel abysmally lonely?

His eyes swept over the room, looking for anything out of place, but he wasn't met with anything unusual. That seemed to be a no-go, but perhaps his memories of the previous night would become clearer if he actually got out of bed. Carefully, he swung his legs over the side of his futon, but was met with a strange numbness in his extremities and another wave of searing pain to shoot up his spine.

Things were only getting stranger the more he investigated, but it seemed his questions would be answered all too soon. The very moment his feet made contact with the ground, the brush of fabric startled him. He wondered if one of his blankets had gotten kicked off the bed in the night, but when he looked down to confirm his suspicions, the memories of the previous night stormed his mind like an angry mob.

'Oh.'

His cheeks automatically lit up a cherry red, realizing the 'suspicious fabric' he'd been stepping on was actually his own yukata. Y'know, the one his husband had taken off of him before they... engaged in a night of passion, for lack of a less vulgar term.

Just a few feet away from his clothing were yours, the same kimono he'd tugged off your shoulders, the same sash he'd watched you untie, the same pair of pants you'd left for work in the previous morning, all in a crumpled pile on the floor. He couldn't remember how the clothing specifically got on the floor, having recalled throwing it somewhere on the futon since the both of you were too impatient to properly undress.

The longer he pondered the happenings of the previous night, the more he lost sight of what he had been doing in the first place. Specifically, what he needed to do for the day. After all, the politics of Inazuma stopped for no god, much less any human.

Still, understanding why he felt so lonely didn't help the fact that he still felt lonely. You had been so open and intimate with him the previous night, did you just consider it to be some obligation you had to fulfill if you wanted to keep your family business going? It certainly didn't feel like you were as emotionally distant the night before. Ayato had basked in the glorious sunlight that was your attention, your affections even. You had not only ticked off the consummation box on the marriage contract, you didn't just stop at one round either.

It felt like he was married for once, not just inviting another guest into his home. He might have always worn his ring, caught sight of the matching one you wore when he caught a glimpse of you in the manor, but he had never felt anything close to the adoration and alert focus you'd showered him in the previous night. Even if it hadn't been exactly what he'd imagined for the night, it didn't change the fact that you had been there, in the bed when he'd fallen asleep.

When you'd first gotten married, the part of the day he looked forward to the most was falling asleep in each other's arms. You hadn't given him that satisfaction, but you not only let him hold you after sex, your own arms were cradling him close to your chest like a baby. He'd gotten to use your heart as a lullaby, to feel the burning hot skin on skin contact, the little circles you traced on the small of his back to help him fall asleep; all of it.

He'd hoped--as his eyelids began to grow heavier than lead--that even if exchanging your vows hadn't been the start of your marriage, perhaps yesterday was the true beginning of your relationship.

He knew it was wishful thinking, having sex for the first wouldn't be some kind of switch that flipped inside of you. You wouldn't start loving him just because the two of you had shared one night together, but he'd hoped it might have been the start of things. He'd hoped more than hope itself that maybe you would just barely crack open the gates to the forest containing the forbidden fruit that was your heart.

If he gave you his body on top of his eternal love and devotion, maybe you'd be open to giving him more than the cold shoulder.

He could feel a dismal sense of disappointment settling in his chest, the prospect of giving you all that he had and still not being enough. Maybe if he thought a little harder, he could come up with something to offer you. You had his heart, his body, his entire being, but maybe there was something else he could offer you. He just didn't know what it was yet.

His train of thought was immediately interrupted when the door to the room slid open.

He scrambled to cover himself with the various comforters laying next to him, not bothering to check who was at the door, but then he was met with a melodious chuckle.

His eyes darted to the doorway.

You were in a new yukata, hair completely drenched, and a used towel thrown over your shoulder. He spied your attempt to hide your smile behind the back of your hand. By now, his flush had died down, but the moment he caught sight of you, it returned tenfold. He burst into an electrifying scarlet and completely froze in his tracks like a nervous deer.

You closed the door behind you shortly after, smothering another laugh at his expense. You coughed behind a closed fist, unable to completely wipe the smug grin off your face. "Good morning."

"I-" Ayato tried to swallow some spit down his unbearably dry throat, just now realizing how parched was. "Good morning."

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Sorry if I scared you, I woke up feeling less than clean so I decided an early morning bath would be nice." You started walking towards a hamper of dirtied laundry, tossing your towel in before adding, "I didn't want to wake you up, you seemed exhausted yesterday."

"..."

You could only feel yourself smile wider the longer he struggled to answer. His mouth opened and closed like one of those fat koi fish you spied in town a couple weeks ago. The sly Kamisato Ayato was nothing but a flustered mess just from you walking into the room.

You began to notice a trend in what seemed to make you happy these days.

You tilted your head to the side a bit, pretending to look confused as you asked oh-so-innocently, "What?"

He finally seemed to put his thoughts into words when directly questioned. "Weren't you supposed to leave for work earlier?"

You hummed, crossing your arms as you walked towards him. "I moved my work around to a few of the higher ups." Instead of engaging with him further, you bent down and picked up his discarded sleepwear and your clothes from the previous day.

"Oh, and relax, I took care of your work for the day. I didn't exactly think it'd be proper for the head of the Yashiro Commission to be stumbling around like a newborn fawn in public."

"Please?"

You hummed, lazily tracing circles on his lower back with one hand, the other holding your book open. "I'm only taking care of you for the day, you don't need me here tonight."

You had been suspiciously good to him, willing to do just about anything he asked if he persuaded you enough. As of now, he'd managed to convince you to let him cuddle up to your side while you did your own relaxing. One of his hands lay on your chest next to his face while the other was squeezed beneath him on the futon, balled up in a fist next to his heart.

So, so sweet, you had been to him. So tender and caring and lenient; it made him feel suspicious but he had thought himself to be too cynical. Instead of being ready to be burned, he wanted to fully be able to embrace this beautiful warmth in its entirety.

Still, he knew there would be some kind of caveat.

Everything you did, everything you said, everything you let him do, it was only for today. He knew it from the start, when you'd told him upfront you were willing to support him while he was recovering from your rendezvous in the sheets the previous night. He had you wrapped around his finger, but only for the day.

He traced his finger over the hemline on your top, gingerly ghosting over it. While you were still scanning over the words in the book, it brought him some satisfaction that you were still listening to what he said. "Surely, I won't have to beg you to stay in bed tonight." There was a bashful smile on his features as he poked, "What if I need something in the night? You've been doting on me all day, but my legs are still numb."

You rolled your eyes, flipping to the next page of your book. "You are the head of the Yashiro Commission, you are not delicate or fragile. We have plenty of attendants, should you need anything you're strong enough to leave the bed and call for their assistance."

He made sure to exaggerate his expression as he pouted, stopping the movement of his free hand. "I may be the head of the Commission, but that doesn't mean I'm indestructible. Perhaps I want to be taken care of for once." He closed his eyes and huffed as he pushed his head further into your chest, "I don't sleep well at night when you aren't next to me. I need the rest if I am to make a full recovery come tomorrow."

"You're more than welcome to get your 'restful sleep' now, there is nothing stopping you." You continued to scan over the kanji sprawled across the page in front of you. Your hand stopped tracing its own circles on his back, opting to rest comfortably against the curve of his spine.

He sighed, dramatically. Even though he acted annoyed, he couldn't deny the pacifying qualities of your touch and your attention. It would be stripped from him at the end of the day he glumly realized, but being unable to have your focus on him unequivocally for the past few months truly weighed on him.

He wanted your eyes to only look at him. He wanted your arms around him every night, every single day. He wanted to be able to indulge himself in your company after work like a glutton. Every single ounce of your remaining time would be spent with him in his own little ideal fantasy world, but with every rejection he could feel his already broken heart crack and shatter just a little bit more.

Would it kill you to share a bed with him? Kill you to be willing to sit in the same room? To eat dinner together? Maybe sit down and discuss both of your work days? If you couldn't love him, could you at the very least pretend? Perhaps that was why he couldn't be mad at you for only loving him conditionally.

He couldn't convince you to love him at all otherwise.

He sat up from where he was leaning on you, pressing his hands down on one of your thighs, "What must I do to convince you, darling? Is there really nothing? I've enjoyed spending the day with you so much I fear I won't be able to take it if you withdraw so suddenly."

You raised a brow skeptically, still not taking your eyes off of your page. He playfully smacked you on the arm, trying to draw your attention away from your silly book. "No, Ayato, I've already told you there is no reason for me to sleep here tonight. You have everything you could possibly need-"

"But what if I need you here?" He urged, wrapping his hand around your bicep. He tugged, scrunching up his fist along with the fabric. "Your husband is a very greedy man, you agreed to take care of me today."

You still didn't divert your attention from the light novel in your hand, flipping to another page. "Just because you are greedy doesn't mean I'll spoil you to death. I agreed to take care of you during the day, I didn't say anything about tonight."

He whined your name, moving to straddle your hips. He put his hand over your book and pushed it to the side. His hands gripped the collar of your yukata, forcing you to look at him, focus on him without any distractions. The divine pink that surged up from your neck sent a pleasant satisfaction pooling in the bottom of his gut. "Could you just consider it a part of your obligation to me today? How can your heart stand to see your precious husband begging you to come to bed and still be so cruel-hearted?"

In any other circumstance, you'd likely shove him off, but in this scenario you let his hands wrinkle the fabric of your collar. Your hands rested tentatively on his waist, averting eye contact. "Only you seem to be calling yourself precious here, Lord Kamisato."

He gasped, putting an offended hand over his heart, "How could you still say such hurtful things to me?" He threw his other hand over his forehead, closing his eyes as he slumped away from you sadly. "You should be groveling and begging for my forgiveness, dearest."

You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to his exposed temple, "There, does that make up for it?"

He turned back to face you, rested his hands on your chest again. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before resting his face in the crook of your neck. "Partially, I do believe you know what truly would make it up to me."

You huffed, "I'm afraid I will have to leave this injustice unresolved." You picked up your book from where he'd shoved it out of your hands.

Promptly, his hand rested on top of yours. His face withdrew from where it had comfortably rested, "If you aren't going to be here tonight, could you at the very least pay attention to me?"

You seemed to consider wrestling your page-turner from him, to turn him down again. But instead, you let a deep breath pass your lips before setting the hardcover on the nightstand and opening your arms. You were basically offering yourself up to him.

He let himself fall into your embrace, a happy purr passing his lips as he slumped against your chest. He let himself be babied as you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and pulled him into your chest and rested your chin on top of the crown of his head.

If he only had today, he would wring as much love from you as he could.

"What are you doing here?"

The Yashiro Commissioner hummed as he took a pointed seat across from you in front of your desk. "Will you be this suspicious of me for the rest of our lives? Is it really all that strange that I want to make a routine out of coming to visit you at work?"

You flipped to the next page of one of the various packets of documents on your desk, "I believe the question you should be asking is whether or not you will always want something from me when you make a visit." Your middle finger carefully scanned over the line of said document before carefully filling out a beautifully calculative signature.

"Oh hush," Ayato gently rested his forearms across the table, face in his palm, "I finally decide to trouble myself with the trip to your workplace and the only thing I get is a sour attitude. Whatever will I do?"

Despite the sincere nature of the words that would flow from your mouth, your dreadfully flat tone betrayed any potential endearment. "How treacherous, for such a doting lover to be so unappreciated."

He smiled, despite all your mockery, always able to find a way to twist each and every little action of yours in his mind. "Precisely, I do believe that you should make it up to me, darling."

You rolled your eyes, "It seems every time I fail to greet you as if we have been starcrossed lovers separated by the cruel writings of fate and time, you believe I have inexplicably wronged you, Ayato."

His hands came to rest on his heart, the sweet jingle of the metals on his attire creating the auditory illusion of the similarly sweet chime of bells. "Because you have!" One of his hands reached forward to rest on your table, "Each and every morning I wake and we are apart, my heart shatters into an insurmountable pile of pieces. Every moment we are apart, my very soul longs to be by your side-"

You waved him off with your non-dominant hand, "Yes, Ayato, you have made all of this clear to me since the moment we were wed. What is it that you want from me? I'm afraid I don't have as much time to entertain you today."

"How cruel," he pouted, "I only wished to invite you out for lunch today."

You raised your brow, still not taking your eyes off your current page. Carefully, you set one packet of paperwork off to the side before setting your sights on another. "What exactly do you 'wish' to get out of lunch?"

There was a saccharine chortle that resounded through the air, "Your company, dearest. I've missed you so." He absentmindedly checked for a clock somewhere around the room, "I do believe I got the time correct, you usually send for your own meal around this hour, don't you?"

You paused, setting down your brush finally. "I suppose I do."

His eyes glistened expectantly, pressing both of his palms firmly on the table. The same cunning smile you used to find so beautiful seemed to only churn a mixed cauldron of negative emotions within the bottom of your ribcage.

"..."

"..."

You sighed, "As much as I would love to join you, I'm afraid your argument falls apart when one realizes I usually work through my lunch. I can't exactly afford to fall behind."

He groaned, his hands shooting forward to grasp at your own. He seemed to completely ignore the fact that you flinched backwards at his touch. Instead, his gloved hands swallowed up your own palms in his, expression desperate as he hunched over your desk. Your eyes weren't very focused on his face when you noticed just how close his pure white sleeve was to a nearly full inkwell. "You work far too much for someone with so many subordinates who are perfectly capable of doing the same job. Surely, you can spare me just an hour? An hour, no more, I swear to you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze from his. "I work because I want things done correctly, I know I can trust myself to complete such matters within the given time frame. As trusted as my employees may be, in the middle of a project as large as-"

He huffed, pressing a kiss to back of your hand, "You're always beginning and ending projects back-to-back, if you don't give your workers any opportunities to prove themselves, will you simply continue to work yourself to death? You don't have a much better chance than this. Give me this one hour, give yourself this one hour, love. Just this once?"

"Ayato-" you tried to warn, however, you were interrupted by this all powerful primal sense of dread as he stood up from his seat across your desk. He circled around you like a hawk before coming to sit by your side instead. One of his hands trailed to your thigh, resting there, innocently malicious. You called his name again, reprimanding intonation, but he seemed to pay no mind.

He rested his head at the junction connecting your collarbone to your neck, just gently ghosting his lips over the skin that remained exposed above your collar. Self-pity washed over you like a flood, accompanied with an embarrassed heat flooding across your face. "This is highly inappropriate at my place of work-"

"Then let's take it out of your place of work." He whispered it tenderly against your neck, nestled right between gentle samplings of your skin. "We can always just go out for lunch too, either way, the decision is yours, darling."

You chewed your bottom lip reluctantly. It seemed, however, Ayato didn't seem to be feeling all that merciful or patient.

He bit down just beneath what would've been visible on your collar.

"Okay, okay- We can go out to lunch, give me some time to arrange for some work to be evenly redistributed." You scowled at his more than satisfied grin, pushing his face away from you, "You are such a headache."

"Yours," he hummed, all but delighted at the outcome of your conversation. He could care less about being unceremoniously being forced to get his grubby little hands off you, instead all but celebrating in his mind as he stood up and dusted himself off.

Yes, you mentally lamented, unfortunately, he was your headache.

'Would you be interested in walking me home?'

"H-Oh shiiiitttt-"

"You're much too loud, if you can't keep it down, I'll leave you here by yourself."

Chinju Forest was quiet and undisturbed a majority of the time, something that appealed to you in your younger years. You enjoyed being invited to the Kamisato Estate as a child just so you could come and sit in the tranquility of the silent trees and the whispering brook.

Pluck off your sandals, toss your socks into the grass and let the tips of your toes gently ease their way into the moving stream. You and the other young heir would come here during your fathers' meetings. Unlike you, when the two of you made your way into the forest, he enjoyed running around.

He liked to skip stones, to hunt for Crawfish underneath the large boulders, run after fireflies in the darkness created by the canopy of trees. While you rested and allowed yourself to turn off your brain, Ayato took hold of his opportunity to be a child. Despite his rather prim and proper nature as an adult, he enjoyed chasing you around with angry cicadas when he was young.

While your sword had seen the punishing end of the hilt in your older teenage years, you hated the idea of filth when you were a child. He enjoyed your screams of terror and the way you'd retreat into the creek, barefoot when he'd come to the water's edge with a screaming bug.

He was your tormentor up until your late twenties, it seemed. Now, you enjoyed tormenting him. To make him uncomfortable, that was your purpose, your passion.

Which is exactly why your pace, like always, was punishing. The grass was soft against his back, but it seemed with each connection of your hips with his you were intent on driving him into the hard ground. He should have felt humiliated, to be defiled against the soil, but he couldn't help the pleasant pulse of ecstasy freely pumping through his body.

His right hand gripped your shoulder in a bruising grasp, fingers coiling around your collarbone. His nails dug into your skin, sure to leave angry little crescent marks in their wake. His left hand was clamped over his mouth, in an attempt to be quieter.

His eyes were squeezed shut, eyebrows curled upwards towards the inner corners of his eyes. Had this been any other time, he would've been alert and at full attention. Drinking in the sight of the man of his dreams looming over him, sweaty and laser-focused on every single arch of his back and every roll of his hips. However, in the middle of the woods, with only the curtain of shadows casted by the tree tops, he couldn't seem to muster up the strength to pull open his eyelids.

What with the churning shame in the bottom of his gut and the surging tendrils of overstimulation coiling through the insides of his you were currently rearranging, he couldn't do it. With the vice grip on his hips and the piercing stare you were aiming at him, it seemed impossible.

"Tell me-" you hissed in between harsh jabs of your hips, "could you really have not waited for me to get home? Was the sole purpose of your trip to my office to lure me into your bed again?"

As much as he might've wanted to answer, Ayato could only answer in pitiful whimpers and whine into the palm of his glove. Each and every single one of them being punctuated with another angry shove of your dick further inside of him.

His eyelids darted open when your attention seemed to shift to the fabric of the glove he was currently biting. Your fingers curled around his wrist and pinned it to the grass next to his head, "Hey-" your hips halted for just a few seconds before moving agonizingly slowly. Just barely enough movement to keep fanning the flames of overwhelming want in his gut, just barely enough to be prodding at his prostate, but slowly enough he was painfully aware of the twitch of his own erection against his stomach. "I asked you a question."

He nodded blearily, shaking his head as quickly as the friction against the nape of his neck would. He tried to let a few words stumble from his swollen lips, but he could only blubber pathetically and push his perineum closer to you in response.

You pulled him to be flush against your pelvis, looming over him with a tilt of your head. "Words, Ayato, use your words."

"Yes- Archons yes- please just keep moving-" he begged.

He mewled with another quick roll of your hips into his, left hand clenching and unclenching around nothing next to his head. "Really? What did I ask you? Did you hear me or are you too much of a slut to think about anything but how to get me to touch you again?"

"I'm a slut-" his back arched up dramatically as your hand smeared the lines of white that painted his exposed stomach against his skin, "I'm yOur whore- hnnn~"

He tried to squeeze his thighs together as another teasing wave of pleasure surged past his senses, another hiccup falling past his teeth. He tried to pull you impossibly closer with his legs, but found the traitorous tremor in his muscles prevented him from exerting any real strength.

"Did you touch yourself during work? Was that really all that was on your mind while you sorted through your papers?" Your hand teased his dick, languid strokes up and down as you watched him seize up in a beautiful curve.

His mouth fell open as another string of curses slid out of his throat like a waterfall. You also couldn't help the grunt that resounded through the air past your own closed lips when he got impossibly tighter around you. You pulled his hair to get him to look at you, "Answer me."

He nodded again, "Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes-" He keened, trying to push himself further into the gentle caress of your hand. "I coUldn't stohoopp thinking about youU-"

You hummed, "So you fingered yourself open over your desk? You didn't excuse yourself to your room or anything? No breaks? Just how long did you sit there touching yourself before my lunch break?"

He shook his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he tried to shy away from your prying leer. "I don't know- ouH~"

"Was it really that long?" You continued to stroke his painfully red dick through another orgasm. "Give me an estimate."

He trembled, only really trying to pull himself together as you started getting slower with your movements. "I-I-" He swallowed, "M-maybe an hour? Ahn~ I don't knohowww-"

He practically choked on his thoughts when you sped up again, pleas falling past his lips like a prayer as he arched up into another release.

You'd been nice enough to take care of him again after your escapade in the woods.

You took him home, explained he'd 'fallen ill' on the way home, and informed the staff (Thoma) you'd be back in around an hour to take care of him after sorting out work affairs.

Just like before, you let him gently wrap you around his nimble finger. Each and every little request was met as long as his words were sweet enough, as long as he played each and every one of his little cards right. As long as he looked pitiful enough, you would let him cuddle up in your lap. If he complained enough, he could convince you to give him a massage.

Sweetly, he would call your name and you'd be at his side. Patiently, you'd brush the hair off of his face and make sure he was comfortable. If he so wished it, you would let him join you in your office while you worked. Of course, while you could hand off your work to others in your company, Inazuma, the Commissions, and politics didn't stop just because he needed the day off.

Instead of getting one of his many retainers to do his work for him, you took it upon yourself to sit yourself down at his desk and take care of it yourself. A husband should be able to understand and complete his partner's job, you told him when he teased you for it. So, despite never having dipped your proverbial toe into the world of politics, you took on the mantle without hesitation.

Paper after paper, meeting after meeting. Later in the day, you even bothered yourself with hand-delivering a few signed notices and making appearances in spots he was supposed to be. It was only understandable you would return home exhausted after that. Still, in your tired daze, you insisted that you would sleep in your office once again.

"If not for me, than for yourself, darling." He pleaded, perched at the edge of the futon in his Yukata. He watched you wander around the room tucking away paper after paper and muttering to yourself. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were to sleep on the ground tonight. You've just about worked your fingers to the bone so I could take the rest of the day off."

You waved him off with a hand, eyes still scanning over a booklet of etiquette that came with a Tricommission meeting. Seeing as the Yashiro Commission mainly served as a cultural regulator and mediator between the two commissions, the tasks of the acting representative during the meeting were relatively simple. In theory, it wouldn't be difficult to allow Ayato another day of rest. All you would need to do would be to resolve any conflicts should they-

"Would it ease your mind if I slept elsewhere tonight?"

You only really snapped out of it when you felt his arms rest themselves delicately around your hips.

"I-" You cleared your throat, "No, there's no need. I can manage just fine with you here."

You felt him sigh against your back, resting his face against your shoulder blade. "So you'll stay here tonight? I'm glad."

You paused, "That... isn't what I meant." You gently pried his arms off of the curves of your waist, snapping the booklet you'd been cradling shut. "I'm a grown man. A sore back isn't a concern I've made a priority for a long time. You can sleep here, I will be fine in my office."

He pressed himself into your back, if not only insisting with his words, than also with his actions. "I don't care if you'll be fine in your office, I care what is best for you. You've worked all day, it's nearly midnight. The futon will comfort your physical ailment if not your mental strain. I can sleep in my own office tonight for a change."

You shook your head, sliding the booklet into one of the many shelves that adorned your walls. "Absolutely not. You will sleep in bed tonight as you always have, I only worked this hard so you could recover your strength. Sleeping on the ground would only-"

He huffed, "If you don't want to sleep in the same room as me, I'll be sleeping in my office. You can't seriously think you'll be able to stop me. If you want me to sleep in bed, you will sleep in the bed with me."

You shook your head, "That-"

You flinched as he pushed you up against the wall, inhaling deeply as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. What made the position all the more embarrassing was your inability to gauge his expression. "Please?"

You sighed, "Don't make this difficult. Sleep in bed, sleeping in my office isn't a bother to me-"

He called your name again, exasperated. "Do I have to sweeten the deal for you in some way? What do I have to do for you to take my offer seriously?" He wrapped you up in his arms again, this time snuggly situating himself around your torso. "I'm tired of only catching glimpses of your grumpy face when you leave in the morning because of the lackluster sleep you managed to get. Just for tonight, I promise. If you don't believe me on anything else, just for tonight I'm asking you to sleep on the futon sincerely out of concern for your wellbeing and not my own selfish desires."

"Ayato-"

He gave your torso a squeeze. In fact, he let you unravel his arms from your figure without any of the usual fuss. "What do you say?"

You shook your head, turning to face him with an annoyed expression, "Go to bed like you do every night, I don't know how many times I need to keep telling you-"

He silenced your complaints with his lips.

He wrenched his arms from your grip on them, going to trail them up and down your sides. You exploded in surprised shudders, unwittingly complicit in his little act of intimacy. Soon enough, he was sinking down on his knees, pressing his lips to your clothed body at random intervals on his way down.

"What are you doing?"

His breathing got heavier as he descended, fingers settling at your waistband. "You only finished once earlier, didn't you?" With a flick of his wrist, he exposed your flaccid dick to the cold air of your bedroom. He gave an experimental lick up the side from base to tip, listening to the sharp inhalation of air through your teeth. He could feel it getting hard under his tongue with a few more kitten licks to the tip.

"If you aren't tired enough to stay in bed as is, I'm sure I could tire you out some more."

Ayato gave a sleepy sigh as he sunk into your chest.

Today, it seemed, you two still had enough energy for some clean-up post-coitus.

You admonished him gently. "Hold still, you'll end up getting soap in your eye." Your hands gently combed through his hair and did your best to swipe the foamy bubbles off of his forehead. You did your best to scrub the sweat off his scalp while still remaining tender.

He curled up against you despite all the space that was left in your rather luxurious bathtub. His legs tangled with yours in your seat, tracing hearts over where yours was hidden beneath your skin. You grabbed the wooden bowl from beside the tub, filling it with water before pouring it over Ayato's head gently.

The suds ran down his back and into the rest of the tub. He rubbed what little soap remained around his eyes before looking up at you. Something similar to a cat purring emanated from his chest, eyes filled with a soft fondness you couldn't stomach head-on.

It would've been nice if he hadn't forced the ring on your finger half a year ago. It would've been sweet, it would've been mind-numbingly heartwarming. But as it stood, you couldn't seem to meet such a gaze without a deep resentment bubbling up in your chest. Even if you might've wanted to fall in love for the sake of your own sanity in the long run, could you really ever learn to love someone like him?

As if reading your mind, he interrupted your thoughts by reaching up to grab the bottle of shampoo himself. "Do you want me to wash your hair too?"

Still, despite knowing he would never do anything to hurt you, to so much as go out of his way to upset you, you could've let yourself to let your guard down to him in the slightest. "No, I can do it myself."

Ayato snickered, "Well, I know you can, but do you want to have your hair washed?" His laughter was soft and domestic sounding, something that should've squeezed your heart gently. Yet, the squeeze felt more like an impromptu strangling. Something hurt when he laughed so mercifully. Something felt extremely wrong when he laughed without so much as a care.

Did he care about you?

Did he have the capacity to care about anyone but himself?

Did he truly love you, or did he love the idea of the two of you together?

He waved a hand in front of your face, calling your name quizzically. "Did you hear me? Do you want me to wash your hair or would you rather just rinse it tonight?" He shook his head, the water droplets that clung to his exposed skin glistening in the low lamplight. "Nevermind, just go ahead and turn around, let me take care of it."

You shook your head. "I can do it myself, you should relax."

He clicked his tongue, "Let me do this one thing for you. You always seem to take care of me and never let me do the same for you. Do you honestly think so poorly of me? There isn't any poison in it."

'Yes', you thought breathlessly, more like admitted it to yourself. 'You did think that badly of him.'

You already told yourself earlier, reassured yourself, he wouldn't so much as hurt a hair on your head if not for your own wellbeing than his twisted ideal of this relationship. You wondered if someday, if you didn't play into this little role he'd assigned you in his head, would he ever grow bored of you?

Would he no longer be interested in playing happy little family with you?

Would he toss you to the side like all the other lives he seemed to treat like objects to creep further towards his goals?

What did it mean exactly to be one of his goals? You didn't know.

The fact that you didn't know scared you.

It scared you more than anything.

Perhaps that was the true reason you wouldn't ever let him care for you. You didn't know what his definition of care was.

"Please?" he pleaded again. He always loved to drop in that magic word whenever you were feeling more open to spending time with him. "You just used the shampoo on me, you usually use it yourself, it couldn't hurt just this once, could it?"

"Fine, but don't draw it out. I want to go to bed soon."

You watched the smile grow on his features as he gripped at the sides of your face. He peppered kisses all over, gracious thanks leaving his lips every moment they weren't attached to your face. You silently let him continue to shower you in his affections.

Finally, when he seemed to be done with kissing you wherever he could plant his mouth, you let yourself sink more into the bathtub. You leveled yourself out to where he could get to your locks.

You leaned against him, though he was quick to admonish you for being as stiff as a board. "Relax, I'm not going to do anything but wash your hair, love. You worry too much."

He planted another kiss to the wet skin of your nape before dumping a generous amount of shampoo into his waiting palm. He rubbed his hands together to gather up the suds before his hands descended upon your waiting scalp with a calculated gentleness.

He seemed to pay special attention to each and every hair on your head. The obvious devotion made you feel like you were squirming in your own skin.

Carefully, he brushed the hair away from your face, lathering each and every lock thoroughly. It seemed as though he was looking for every excuse he could to touch you.

"That's enough, my hair is more than clean by now."

He went to complain, but held his tongue. It seemed he realized just as quickly as you did that you were being far too lenient with him. But it was difficult to stop him at the same time. Usually, you were good at maintaining your boundaries and making sure he knew you weren't going to fall victim to this ludacris script he'd orchestrated in the recesses of his twisted mind.

But throughout the course of the night, there seemed to be one thought that scared you more than what Ayato's definition of care was.

What would he do to you when he stopped caring altogether?

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" hey guys, kicks rocks "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

[queerly-autistic]

One of my favourite things about S2 was that we got to see so much in terms of Ed's relationships with women, and it just made me love him even more (if that's humanly possible). We didn't see him interact with many women at all in S1 (I think it was only the posh ladies at the fancy party which was...yeah, not a good experience), so S2 actually giving us a glimpse into his friendships with all these (very different) kickass women was so, so special.

I love that, as messy and fucked up as they all are, and even with the 'well we're pirates, we're not normal and we will fuck with each other' threat that hangs over everything, Ed's relationship with Mary and Anne is still so affectionate, and they both thrown their arms around him the moment they see him. Even though Ed is incredibly tactile, I don't think we've actually ever seen him be hugged like this, and it's just so lovely to watch him be embraced and clearly feel very safe being embraced by these women (and I can't with the way he clings to them, as well). I also love that this is a wlw/mlm friendship; yeah it falls apart later and turns into delicious gay-on-gay violence (and I wouldn't alter a note of it), but I love seeing this sort of affection between queer women and queer men, there's not nearly enough of it.

Don't even get me started on the BFF handshake he has with Anne - I want all the history there, give me six spin-off films about their adventures please.

And then we finally get a glimpse of his relationship with Jackie, which is similarly just lovely, but in a different way? You get the sense that they could sit there for hours, talking shit about the world, all whilst casually ripping the shit out of each other (but affectionately). You also know full well these two have talked extensively about men and know pretty much everything about each other's sex lives - we didn't see it, but I'm absolutely certain that Ed went into full gushing details about sleeping with Stede, just like Jackie did when she talked about The Swede fucking like a jackhammer (historical accuracy ftw).

And, again, whilst they're still pirates, and it's messy, the entire thing feels incredibly...safe, particularly from Ed's perspective? He feels more comfortable around Jackie than he is around most other characters (apart from Stede), just like he was with Anne and Mary.

And then, just to hammer the point home even further that Ed has, generally, fantastic relationships with women, and connects with them, and feels relaxed and safe with them, you have Ed and Zheng becoming instant BFFs literally minutes after meeting each other. Ed goes 'ooh, very cool woman kicking ass and killing people, she shall be my best friend, immediately', and Zheng is automatically incredibly relaxed and open with him, too (suggesting she feels as safe and comfortable with him as he does with her).

All I want in life is to see Ed and Zheng get silly-drunk with each other (and this is why we urgently need a S3).

And none of Ed's relationships with these women are a fetishistic 'I love women because they're fabulous' thing, or an overly patronising paternalistic 'I love the women and I must protect them' thing - all the relationships he has with women are very equal, very comfortable, fully believable, just fantastic friendships to watch play out. I feel like, given everything we see on screen, Ed generally feels a lot more comfortable and safe and open with the women he knows than the men he knows (Stede is the only other person he is this physically affectionate and comfortable with). Which is probably very understandable? Yes, the women he's friends with are all violent pirates too (that's part of the joy of it - none of them are lovely demure morally pure women, they're all violent pirates), but Ed has a lot of experience with specifically overtly abusive men - right back to watching his dad abuse his mum. And that's a distinction that matters: the show treats the violence of normal piracy and the violence of abuse very, very differently. Ed is not used to being treated softly or affectionately by men, as we saw in his shocked reaction to Stede holding his hand. I don't think it's any wonder that he gravitates more towards friendships with women (or that the men he feels the most open and safe with, such as Stede, Fang, even Frenchie, are very pointedly the opposite of the abusive men he has experience with). I just love love love that being friends with women is such a core part of Ed's character, and that we got to see all of these fantastic relationships in the show.

[exoscreamsoda]

i made my religious southern black grandma watch the first ep of iwtv

most shameful thing ive done in a while, i already knew she doesnt like vampire or horror stuff because the blood disgusts her but shes really old and i wanted her to experience peak cinema atleast once

[my grandma is very open minded]

here are some reaction points ⬇

she automatically loves daniel malloy because hes old

she found "french white" to be a really funny phrase

i forgot that making her watch this meant i would have to sit through the sex scene. i spent 20 min trying to find an excuse and just as i got up ms. lily started rubbing her nipples, i knew this because my grandma started yelling WHATS SHE DOING? D:

my poor grandma was barely processing the ms.lily boob thing before my dad walked into the room. now theyre both witnessing this sex scene

she started laughing when louis pushed lestats hand away but when they started going at it she was like 👁👁 ?? and i had to explain that he was being seduced and also theyre freaky

"you know this doesnt suprise me, i heard new orleans is known for gay people". i ask her to elaborate on this but she doesnt???

she gets bored again when its over but paul's death grabs her

the confession scene (which i think is the best in the series) makes her lock in so hard she sits up and cant even hear when we're talking to her

immediately starts screaming and telling louis to run when lestat starts killing those priests and cant stop saying WHAT. DONT LET THAT WHITE DEVIL IN once louis accepts and kisses him 😭

she still cant get past the gore but said that i can show her some more episodes next time. i won 😚

[i need to reiterate that my grandma is not homophobic but the blood was genuinely making her mad 💀 propose normally next time lestat]

[neil-gaiman]

Hello, I'm a fan of your work!

It's my first time using a tumbler. I'm sorry if the place to express my feelings is wrong

I am not good at English and use automatic translation, so I am sorry if the sentence becomes difficult to read

I saw Good Omens 2

Thank you for the wonderful story

Please forgive me for taking some time with my personal story

I live in Japan where same-sex marriage is not allowed (I can't even watch the special video of Good Omens 2!), and young people are said to be young but socially good age."

I was often called a strange child from an early age, so I just grew up."

For that reason, I felt that I was somehow different from others, and I still am."

And this is something I've recently discovered that I seem to be in the frame of being called X-gender, demi-romantic, quassexual, panssexual, a preference that people around me rarely understand."

Do you understand the loneliness of being surrounded by loved ones who naturally view marriage and childbirth with the opposite sex and think it's best?"

In Good Omens, Azirafel and Crowley were portrayed as unique to each other, and although you answered that they were not gay and were criticized for being queer-baiting, I didn't think people like me had to decide on gender or sex."

I was also relieved by their seemingly strange relationship of not being friendship or sex, but just being two people."

That's why I was so surprised and envious that Crowley kissed Azirafel at the end of the sequel, Good Omens 2."

I wish I could express my special feelings to my friends like this

What kind of relationship will they have in their next film

How does the story you and Terry come to end

I believe that everything you said will go well and look forward to it

(May the strike yield satisfactory results)

Please take care of your health!

Thank you so much for telling me this. You expressed your feelings well.

[dollfacefantasy]

FROM MY MOUTH TO YOURS ♡

pairing: light yagami x fem!reader x naoya zen'in

summary: light yagami is not gay. he has a girlfriend. naoya zen'in is just a special case.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), anal, fingering, threesome, mlm, misogyny, internalized homophobia, infidelity & cheating

a/n: people say bring back crossover fics... bring back silly fics... so i did... my masterpiece... picture of naoya by @ sso_s__ on twitter

Light felt as though he was looking into a funhouse mirror right now. The man that stood across from him in the alley resembled him in so many ways. The blonde hair swept into pointed bangs, the seemingly permanent scowl curled onto his lips. Even this guy's way of standing matched his own.

But there were also strong differences between them. The other man's hair ended with black tips. Shining silver studs pierced his earlobes, complimenting his pretty face. His golden eyes were even framed with inky liner.

Light could never imagine looking so stylish. He'd always relied on his natural looks to impress those around him. Never had he thought about enhancing his appearance with hair dye or jewelry or makeup. That stuff should be of no concern to a god. Light decides who lives and who dies in this world. Not if he wants his eyes to have winged tips or be double lined. Still, he felt a draw to it for some reason.

He'd been walking back to his apartment when Ryuk warned him something strange was lurking up ahead. Expecting a shinigami or at least another death note owner, he crept forward on guard. But all he found was this guy, who despite his striking appearance, seemed normal. The only thing of any significance was the way he was staring back with confusion.

"Can I help you?" Light asks, the words tasting hesitant on his tongue.

"Where am I?" the other man is quick to respond, clipped and expectant.

Light blinks at the question. "Are you lost?" he responds without answering the question.

"No," he replies so fast it seems automatic, "Well... sort of."

Strange. Light pulls out his phone and flips it open, thumb ready to dial a number. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

The other man's eyes catch on the device, examining it with a combination of curiosity and dismissal.

"What do you have that old thing for?" he scoffs. "Haven't seen one of those in a while."

A frown pulls at Light's lips. Sure, the phone wasn't the most modern model, but it wasn't that old. For someone needing help, this guy had an attitude about him.

"I know it's not like the new touch screen ones they have out now, but it works for me," he says flatly with a shrug, "Now did you have anyone who could pick you up or give you a ride home?"

Despite his attempt to move the conversation forward, the stranger still seems stuck on Light's choice of electronics. His brows have furrowed together, a gleam of bewilderment taking over the golden flecks in his irises.

"You know they have ones that can flip open with a touch screen. Why don't you get one of those? I doubt that thing can even play a video without burning a hole through your hand."

Light's eyes narrow at the other man. 

A flip phone with a touch screen? Why would this guy feel the need to tell such an inconsequential lie? Does he think I'm stupid? Was this a prank or a test of some sort? But for what? He's tested nothing but my patience so far.

He shakes his head after thinking to himself, still undecided on the motives of this pretty boy.

"I don't need it to play videos. I have a computer for that. Do you want me to call someone for you or not?" he huffs.

"It's 2018, phones are computers. Why restrict yourself?"

"Don't tell me you don't know when you are either," Light retorts.

"What?"

"It's not 2018. It's 2012."

This guy glances across the alley as if he's suspicious. Of what, Light has no clue. He wasn't the one loitering around a dark alleyway as the sun went down, getting into arguments with strangers about the year and flip phones.

He almost rolls his eyes but sighs instead. "Look, I don't have all night. I'd be happy to help you, but if you don't need anything, I really should get going."

In the first bit of uncertainty from this man, he pauses. "Could I go back with you to your apartment?"

Light's brow quirks up. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't know you, and my girlfriend wouldn't be too happy about me bringing a stranger home."

A sneer even more severe than the one he'd given before takes over the man's features. "Please. Why would I be interested in thieving off someone carrying around a flip phone? My life is much more lavish than your own, I just don't want to wait around in an alley while I decide what to do."

Light feels his own arrogance boiling within, begging to bubble over and show itself. But before he can defend himself, this guy keeps talking.

"But, if you let your girlfriend decide who is and isn't allowed in your apartment, I doubt you'd be much help to me anyways," he says.

"She isn't the one who decides, but I don't want to deal with her getting upset because I brought some random guy home."

"You make it sound like she'd be jealous," the man smirks, a hint of teasing in his voice.

The words knock the wind out of Light. He audibly sputters. 

Why would she be jealous of a man? She knows I'm not gay. It would be pointless. Why would this guy even suggest that? Does he think I'm gay? There's no way. Is he gay? He's playing at something. He wants to rile me up so I'll let him come with me. But why? I'll go along with it just to see what he wants. If anything goes wrong, I have the piece of the death note on me. All I need for that is...

"What's your name?"

"Naoya Zen'in," he answers smoothly, "And yours?"

"Light." No way he was giving away his full name to this guy. He didn't know if he had a death note of his own on him. "I'll let you come with me, Naoya. But as soon as you get yourself together, you're gone."

"Works for me. I doubt it will take long, Light," Naoya agrees and crosses the alleyway to approach him, "Let's get going."

The two of them walk side by side in silence down the narrow pathway between buildings. Silence fills the space between them. Light continues to ruminate on the previous conversation while Naoya trots with an air of smug satisfaction about him.

"So why were you even in that alley in the first place? And why don't you know what you're going to do?" the younger man asks.

"I'm not from here. Well the city, I mean. My family lives outside it. I just have to figure out what to do about getting there," Naoya says, answering the second question first, "Last night, they had a party, and those things can get kind of wild. I don't really remember how I got out here."

A simplified explanation, Light can tell. "A party? So were you drinking or something?" he inquires further.

"Something like that... my family is different than most. You can't really understand if you're not one of us. This is probably like a test or something."

"Testing your ability to call a cab or get someone to give you a lift? Sounds pretty pointless," Light says. This guy was so casually arrogant. It rubbed some part of Light in a way he couldn't explain.

"My trip home will be farther than you might think," is all the older man says back.

Another pause comes over them. The sound of their shoes on the pavement takes the place of voices. Looking down, Light notices their paces are in sync. He lags for a moment to disrupt that.

"So you were coming home from work?" Naoya asks, picking up the slack in the conversation. From the way he speaks, it seems as if asking others about themselves is foreign to him.

"Something like that," he shrugs. A sigh leaves him. 

I should try to be social. To appear normal. If this is a test of some sort, I can't let him know he got in my head.

"I work on the Kira case. The investigation team aimed at discovering his identity," he tries again.

"Kira?" the other man asks. When Light turns and looks at him, it seems as though he had no clue what any of that meant.

"Yeah, Kira," he says. There was no way there were people who still didn't know about Kira. Not believing or agreeing was one thing. But not knowing was impossible. Not after the domination he'd achieved over the world since L's death.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

Light scowls and grumbles in irritation. It chips at both sides of his pride, even if he doesn't want to admit it. "Very funny."

"I told you my family lives far out of the city," Naoya defends.

"You'd have to be from another world to not know who Kira is," Light shakes his head, "Just follow along. We're almost there."

Naoya shrugs and continues on behind Light as they reach the final bit of the journey to his apartment. Thunder cracks in the cloudy sky above, indicating some rain would pour down in the coming hours. The wind was picking up too. Light pulls his jacket tighter around his frame and bounces up the stairs to his floor.

He pulls the key out of his pocket when he gets there and jams it in the lock. The door creaks open, and the both of them head inside. All the lights in the apartment are still off, meaning no one else has come home yet. Before doing anything else, Light slips his coat off and hangs it up along with his bag on the sleek rack fastened to the wall. He then drops his keys and wallet on the nearby wooden side table.

Walking further into the apartment, he clicks a light on. Once Naoya can see, he scans the place. It's much neater than he would've expected from a young couple. No belongings strewn over couches or chairs, no mail piling on the counter, or furniture that's damaged but yet to be replaced.

Light heads into the living room, so Naoya trails a few paces behind. It's modest but comfortable in here. A basic sofa and a plush set of chairs. A tv on the wall that was nice for the time. The kitchen in an alcove off to the side, and then a hallway towards the back which he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The two of you even had a sliding door to a balcony on the wall opposite him. He could see the angry storm clouds brewing in the distance.

The first piece of evidence that this place is lived-in sits on the bookshelf next to the tv. Naoya's eyes linger on the object the moment he notices it. A framed photograph. Bordered by silver, Light and you. Your hand cupped beneath his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks as you plant a kiss to his face.

"Is that your girlfriend?" he asks. He tries to sound neutral, but his natural disdain seeps through.

As if snapped out of his thoughts, Light's head whips in his direction. His eyes search for what Naoya's referring to, but once he sees, he nods. A simple gesture, no real pride in it.

"Yeah, that's her."

"She's pretty, I guess."

"Yeah."

"Have you been with her long?" Naoya asks and turns to face Light completely.

The other man sits down in one of the chairs, silently beckoning Naoya to do the same.

"Yeah, about... four years now."

"Is she the only one you've ever been with?" he asks as he sits down on the couch instead.

"Yeah. The only lasting one, anyways."

"The only one you've ever fucked?"

Light's cheeks fill with color at the question. First implying he was gay, and now this? What was this guy's problem? He sits up straighter in his chair, clearing his throat and smoothing out some wrinkles in his pants.

"That's really none of your business. You shouldn't be so blunt as a guest in someone else's home. Maybe your family never taught you that."

A grin breaks out across the other man's pretty face. "It's a reasonable assumption. You two live together. You're adults."

"Then why do you even have to ask?" Light mutters. 

He's far too good at bothering me. Maybe I should try playing by his rules. Be blunt. Take the offensive. Find out if he's up to something.

"I'm just trying to figure you out," Naoya interrupts his inner monologue, "You don't have to get all defensive about it. Even if you're a virgin, I won't judge."

"I'm not a virgin," Light says quickly, putting that to rest before it can even become a debate.

In truth, his sex life with you was a sore spot. He wasn't a virgin - that was true - but that's not to say you two have sex often. A month had passed since the last time he'd been inside you. It was never bad... he just had more important things to do. He still cared about you, in a way. He always made sure to keep you safe. But he didn't have time for romance. Not while crafting a new world.

That had been a point of contention in your relationship for years, something you were constantly getting upset about. There was no way Naoya could know that from the thirty or so minutes they'd known each other though. So why was he asking?

"What are you even trying to figure out? Shouldn't you be more worried about getting home than what me and my girlfriend do in our alone time?" Light says, a bit snappier than before.

Naoya's grin becomes more fox-like. "I'm still thinking about that. Can I not wonder about you too?" he asks. When he receives no response from Light, he continues speaking. "I just thought it would make sense if you were a virgin. But it still adds up that you've never been with anyone else. That's why you let her have such a handle on you."

The words inflame Light, but he tries to suppress any reaction. "She doesn't have a handle on me. I handle her."

"Didn't seem like it when I asked if I could come over here."

Damn it. He got me there. What am I doing? I don't have to put up with this. I don't even know this guy. Who the hell does he think he is? I could have him dead in minutes if I wanted to. He should be on his knees- I mean bowing at my feet, thanking me for sparing his life.

Light's expression grows more agitated. "Well I do. I'm sure you think you're some kind of expert on this, but I doubt you've ever even had a girlfriend before," he fires back.

And Naoya laughs. He fucking laughs at him! Unbelievable.

"You're right, I've never had a girlfriend before, but I've been with tons of girls," he says.

Light rolls his eyes so hard, they're in danger of falling out of his skull. "I can't say I don't see why they didn't stick around."

"It's not them who make the decision to not go forward. I have no interest in having a girlfriend," he says simply, "Women are only kept around because God knew that men couldn't be burdened with the curse of bearing children. So he saddled women with that duty. That's their purpose. I don't understand why we have to pretend their existence should amount to anything more."

Silence fills the room after that mini-speech. Light had never heard anyone say anything so... like that. This guy's family really must have been out there.

"That's not-"

"It's the truth. Any man who says otherwise is lying or has been tricked into believing that he should love something so wholly beneath him," he continues.

Light doesn't even know how to argue with him when he seems so confident that he's correct. How did the conversation even get to this point?

"I can see it in your eyes, you know she's not your equal," he says and gestures to the picture with you on the shelf, "You don't have the connection with her that you have with even me, and I've known you less than an hour. She can't understand you."

The words are uncomfortable in Light's ears. They wriggle their way inside his head and wrap around his brain, squeezing and trying to push their sentiment onto him. Part of him felt it was true. Oftentimes, he didn't think you could understand him. Not from lack of effort, just as if it was something you're incapable of.

You'd whine at him for attention, pressing against his side on the couch in an attempt to get him to cuddle you. And he would sometimes, but not as much as you wanted. So your rants about his lack of affection never seemed to end. You never thought to look at it from his perspective. Always jumping to the conclusion that he didn't love you, never once considering that he just wasn't a physically affectionate person.

He still felt some guilt clawing at his stomach though, like he shouldn't be thinking of you like this.

As if Naoya can read his mind, he softens his words a bit for his next point. "I'm not saying you can't care about them - though, to be clear, I don't. But maybe you do care for your girlfriend. You just don't love her. She's a companion for you. Like a pet. Something that makes you feel needed."

"It's not that," Light says, "I know I'm needed. And I'm needed for much greater things than taking care of her. We've been together for a long time. And... we just... go together. I can't just get rid of her. Plus she can be useful sometimes."

Naoya nods, his brows rising into a patronizing look. Light hates it. Despises the assumption that he's weak for not hating you. It's just the truth, even when you drive him crazy and annoy him to levels he didn't think possible, he didn't hate you. He didn't feel passionate enough about you to hate.

He wants to talk about something else though; to leave this subject behind in favor of something that would put Naoya in the hot seat and make him insecure too. It's not his proudest moment, but he swings at the lowest hanging fruit he can think of.

"So... what's with the makeup and the hair? Did your dad not give you enough attention or something?"

Naoya laughs again, the winged tips of his eyeliner crinkling in amusement. "No. I'm daddy's favorite," he says, unaffected.

It stirs envy within Light, the way he could be so casual about being prodded at. He didn't get defensive at the implication or start stuttering and tripping over words. His jaw clenches as he tries to think of something else that could get to Naoya, but the older man beats him to it.

"You don't like it? Or are you jealous?"

He got him yet a-fucking-gain because Light freezes. He stares at Naoya, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not jealous. I was just curious. Most guys don't wear that stuff."

"I'm better than most guys," he says as if it's fact, "I could show you how to do it if you want."

"W-what? I can't- There's- I don't have any of that stuff."

"Your girlfriend doesn't have any makeup?" he asks, unconvinced, "It looks like she's wearing a lot in that picture."

"She does, but-"

"Then go get it, and I'll show you how. I can tell you want to. You may not like it, but you want to know."

And that was true. He was curious if anything else. That's what he tells himself as he rises to his feet and goes into your shared room. He sees you'd made the bed this morning before you left for work.

Your bedroom was visibly divided into two sectors. Light's was pristine. Clean without clutter, well-kept and functional. The made-up bed was the only part of yours that appeared that way. Pieces of your personality littered your nightstand. A pile of clothes he'd asked you to put away sat in the corner on the chair. And then in the farthest corner stood the vanity where you did your makeup.

He creeps over there as if you'd suddenly jump out from under the bed and scold him for even thinking about it. Looking down at the dark wood of the table, he finds that you're not very organized. A few different containers sit atop the surface, holding brushes and tubes of cream. You have a holder for your hair ties and combs. A rack for your perfume. Nowhere among these things though, does he find a black eye pencil.

Opening the drawers, he scans their contents. One is dedicated to eye shadow palettes, the next is filled with lipsticks and glosses. Finally the third has a thin, black stick tucked towards the back. He grabs it and returns to the living room where Naoya is still sitting on the couch.

Light makes his way over and sits on the adjacent cushion. He shoves the product into Naoya's palm, briefly getting a feel of how smooth the other man's hand is.

"Alright, sit back," Naoya says.

"What-" Light starts before his eyes widen. 

Naoya climbs on top of him. He's straddling him. Everything in Light screams at him to push him off, shove him to the floor and rocket to his feet to kick him out of the apartment. His heart thunders in his chest, his breaths shaking before they can even leave his lungs.

He can feel the heat of the other man's body above his. This close, he can see his golden eyes in detail. They look like that of a fox's, cunning and sly.

His slender fingers curl over Light's shoulders as he adjusts. He huffs out a laugh, and Light can feel the heat of his breath fan over his face.

"Calm down. I just have to get close enough or else it'll come out crooked. This is the easiest position."

Light nods and clears his throat. He exhales slowly, allowing his awkwardness about the situation to leave him. It's fine. He's just messing with him. He'll probably leave right after this. It's just fun.

But if it's just fun, why do his eyes keep darting towards the door to see if the knob rattles with your arrival?

Naoya scoots a little closer, his pelvis pressing against Light's belly. The cap of the makeup tool pops off, and he tucks it into his pocket.

"You have nice eyes, Light. Deep brown. Pretty," Naoya mutters as his fingers come up to tilt his head back against the couch.

A loud pop of thunder echoes through the sky outside. Following it is the soft pittering of rain against the balcony. Light swallows hard. He feels an involuntary rush of heat creeping up his neck. He hopes it's not visible, but he knows his wishes haven't been granted when Naoya chuckles.

"Blushing from just that? Does she give you any attention?"

And that's the bad part. You do give him attention. Tons of it. So much he feels like he's drowning most days. You adore calling him pretty boy, to which he scowls every time and tells you to quit it. You love running your fingers through his hair and complimenting the smooth texture before he swats your limb away and rolls the eyes Naoya just praised. He wasn't pushing him away though.

The pad of his thumb sweeps over Light's cheek, assessing the space it'd be working with.

"Close your eyes," he directs, his voice the softest it's been since they met in the alley.

So he does. The rich chocolate brown becomes obscured by his delicate lids. He shudders suddenly, realizing he was in an extremely vulnerable position. He'd let this man lure him straight into a trap. If Naoya did have any ill intent, he could certainly act on it now.

But he doesn't. All that happens is the tender stroke of the pen along the edge of his eye. Naoya doesn't say anything while he works. Repeated brushes of the tip ghost along his lashes. He feels the wetness dragging up into a point in the outer corner. The other eye gets the same treatment, the process done for the second time on that lid.

"Open," the man above him purrs.

His lashes flutter up as his eyes come back into view. He's met with a wild grin across Naoya's face. His heart feels like it's stalling in his chest, like it's losing its rhythm, unable to beat right under the pressure of his gaze.

"Wow," he croons, dragging the back of his finger over Light's cheek, "You look good. Almost as good as me."

This time, the heat stirs in a different part of Light's body. He tries to shut it down immediately. Think of something else.

"Let me see how I look," he says. If he saw how goofy he looked, surely any feelings of desire would dissolve.

"You should've brought a mirror," Naoya taunts as he gets up. He grabs a decorative one off the shelf and brings it back to the sofa. Instead of taking the opportunity to return to his previous spot next to Light, he returns to his lap. He holds the mirror up in front of his own face, letting Light look at his own face staring back.

He blinks a few times, watching as his lashes flutter and accentuate the deep lines Naoya had drawn. They stretch down to his inner corners up in the direction of his temples. The urge to reject what he's seeing gnaws at him, but he knows he likes it. He can't deny it.

"So what do you think?" Naoya asks and puts the mirror behind him on the table.

"It's not bad. Better than I thought it'd look." He figures it's better to give a half-truth rather than a complete lie. Less ammunition for Naoya to tease him with.

"You shouldn't have doubted my talents," he teases, "Let me do the bottoms now."

Without leaving room for argument, he guides Light's head back to where it had been before.

"Keep your eyes open this time."

Just as before, he obeys Naoya's command. He looks at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd be able to quell the feeling between his legs if he looked into those gilded eyes. The way his pupils dart away, as if running from Naoya's own, makes his thought process obvious.

"You have such good features," he praises in a murmur, "Cute nose, defined cheeks, pouty lips. Pretty."

And with those soft words he feels himself start to fill out his pants again. He squirms, trying to adjust in preparation for the worst case scenario. Fuck, this was humiliating. The only bright spot was that Ryuk had made himself scarce as soon as Naoya climbed on top of Light, so he wasn't here to mock from the sidelines. That would be the only thing that could make this worse.

Or so Light thought.

Because then the hand of Naoya's that isn't applying eyeliner comes up to cup his jaw. His thumb rubs across Light's plush bottom lip. Back and forth, tantalizingly slow.

He chokes back a whimper, but there's no way to hide the dilation of his pupils. Naoya catches it, of course. It's obvious by the way he leans in closer.

"Your lips feel just as soft as they look," he breathes before lowering his head further and replacing his digit with his lips.

Light moans into the kiss. His eyes shut again, and he melts beneath the gentle touch. Naoya takes the invitation to move in further, scooting even closer on Light's lap. His ass lands on the other man's thighs, the heat of their bodies' melding into one.

Flicking his tongue over the seam of Light's mouth, Naoya deepens the exchange. He tastes the sweetness of his saliva, and feels the smoothness of their tongues brushing against each other. Their lips move slowly, exploring each other more than anything else.

Naoya pulls back for a second to glance down at his face. "Your girlfriend... she can't understand. None of them can. They don't know what it's like to be one of us."

Light hangs on every word, and then leans up to go in for more. Naoya reciprocates, dropping the eyeliner onto the couch to leave streaks Light would have to deal with later. Kisses turn into full blown making out. Naoya still manages to get a few words out against his mouth.

"They don't understand how to please. What feels good," he mutters as a palm slides down to palm at Light's solid bulge, "I do though."

His hips buck into the touch on instinct, a gasp leaving his throat in tandem. Fuck, that felt so good. What was happening? He wasn't gay. Light was sure of that. He liked girls. Well maybe not liked, but he was attracted to them. He had you. He didn't think about guys like this.

Even with Naoya mentioning you, the thought of you doesn't cross Light's mind until he hears the sound of your voice. The feeling of Naoya's lips on his own had him too distracted to notice the cue he'd been previously waiting for.

"What the fuck?" you cut through the fog of lust with your sharp tone.

It almost doesn't feel real, like the nonsensical part of a dream that lets you know it's just that. He turns his head to look at you, to try and explain what you walked into. His lips leave Naoya's, but that doesn't deter him from planting a few kisses on Light's throat before looking over at you too.

What to say, what to say, what to say? Fuck. He couldn't use the cliche 'it's not what it looks like.' But what even was the truth? He was cheating on you, but... it didn't feel like it? He gawks at you for a moment before making the first attempt at justification.

"I- um... I swear, just let me explain to you-" he starts, but it's like you don't even hear him.

You stomp over to the couch, rage blazing in your eyes. "Is that MY fucking eyeliner?" you ask, absolutely incensed.

It was one thing to cheat on you, but to use YOUR makeup for the foreplay?? A whole other matter entirely.

"Yes," he says and moves Naoya back onto his part of the couch.

He quickly realizes that decision was a mistake though when the outline of his stiff cock against his pants becomes visible for everyone in the room. The evidence of his arousal just seems to upset you more. Tears start welling in your eyes, and Light's mind scrambles to defuse this situation before it gets out of hand.

It wasn't so much you being hurt that bothered him; rather he worried you might do something irrational to get back at him. This was the part of your relationship he didn't want to admit to Naoya. You knew most of his secrets. Being together since the two of you were eighteen, you saw so much of him. Not only could you expose what you saw right now, you had the potential to ruin his life.

He considers writing your name down on the piece of paper he keeps in his pocket, but it was far too risky. You'd know what he was doing in a second, and you had a piece on you too. You could scribble out Light Yagami just as quickly. His only hope would be that you'd be so tempted to write him out a long, horrible death, that it'd give him the advantage of time over you.

But instead of testing fate, he decides to deal with the problem head on.

"Baby," he starts, forcing out one of the pet names you always begged him to call you, "Just listen to me, ok? You have every right to be upset, but just don't do anything irrational. I can explain what happened."

You stay where you are, body visibly rigid with anger. But you don't lunge at him or storm off, so that's a good sign.

Before he can continue, Naoya scoffs from behind him, sounding more annoyed by the interruption than anything else. "Women. Creatures of pure emotion."

That does set you off. "Who the fuck even are you?"

Light reaches out for your hand and guides you to sit on the couch next to him before this can get any worse.

"That's Naoya," he begins. He then gives you a summary of the last hour and a half, leaving out a few choice parts.

Your face slowly loses emotion and retreats into a neutral expression. It both worries him and settles his nerves.

"So are you gay?" you ask at the end of his story, "Is that what you're trying to tell me? Is that why you won't touch me?"

"What?" he says defensively, "No! I'm not gay. I'm just... is that really all you took away from that?"

You shrug. 

Naoya chimes in from behind again. "You can't blame him not wanting to touch you on being gay. That just seems like the reaction any sensible person would have."

"Why the fuck are you still here?" you snap at him, "Claire's is probably missing their best customer, so feel free to leave."

"Light told you why I'm here," he smirks. He leans forward and rests his chin on your boyfriend's shoulder, looking at his face. "I think I was right before. She is jealous of me."

Light's pretty sure you're about to lunge over him and tackle Naoya through the sliding glass door, out into the rain.

"Stop," he says, shooting the other man a look.

He then grabs your hand and squeezes it, a gesture that's supposed to be reassuring.

"I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. You didn't deserve it," he says, speaking in his usual calm tone of voice, "You aren't the problem. I'm the one who felt the need to do this. I just have so much going on, and I feel trapped. I don't know where to go, so I went for the first sign of escape I could find. And that was wrong, I know. I should've just talked to you about it."

It was all what you wanted to hear, and you wanted to believe it so badly. He knew just how to play you.

"You don't have to leave though. You're important to me. You can be a part of this too."

"This isn't a porno, Light. I'm not just gonna drop my panties because you said sorry."

Your external rejection was a display meant to hide your feelings within. You hated that he wanted to continue whatever this was with this guy, but you were at least happy you had the option to be included. You wanted to believe that this was simply him getting swept up in the thrill of something new, but that he'd always return to the comfort of familiarity with you.

He reaches out and cups your cheek, pulling a little to scoot you closer. You follow along and inch over to the middle cushion.

"See? Obedient like a pet," Naoya whispers, nipping at Light's earlobe and pecking the skin beneath.

You shoot him a glare, but it does no good.  He doesn't even look your way.

Light doesn't respond to the animosity. He focuses on walking the thin line between you and Naoya, keeping this situation balanced and you from exploding and reigning hellfire upon his life.

"Good girl," he mumbles. Another name you'd asked for before. He'd have to dial it back a little in a moment, or it'd be obvious how thick he's laying it on. "Just try it for me. You'll feel much better with us then you would be sulking alone in the bedroom."

You pause, taking one last moment of hesitation. Your eyes rotate between them as you consider getting up and keeping your dignity. Lightning flashes outside and thunder follows. You know you shouldn't do this, but you can't rid the part of you that wants to please Light. That wants him to care for you like you care for him. It's so deeply rooted, that it's easier to just give in than try and weed it out.

You nod your head.

His hand pulls you all the way in, connecting your lips. He's not as passionate as he was before, but you didn't get a close enough look to know that. In a way, he feels like he's mimicking Naoya's techniques on you. You sigh softly and shut your eyes, returning the affection in full.

On Light's throat, Naoya attaches his mouth. That strikes a spark within the younger man again. His lips float up and down the column, gliding over the tender skin with precision. It works a whimper out of Light, and that's when Naoya's hand creeps around his body and slides up his thigh. His palm finds his erection, which hadn't fully dwindled yet.

"Still hard, Light? You must want me bad," he taunts before using his teeth to pull at the flesh on his neck.

He moans, and your eyes flash with jealousy. You stare into the golden spheres, hating this man you barely even knew.

Bringing your lips down, you begin to work on the other side of Light's throat. You lap at his pulse point before attaching your lips and sucking a little mark onto the pale expanse. In tandem, your hand slides down his chest to rest on his thigh teasingly.

As if switching positions with you, Naoya rises to Light's lips. He resumes the kiss that you had interrupted. And even with your hand getting closer down below, he keeps his own cupped over Light's cock, like he's his instead of yours.

Light whimpers from all the attention on him. He sinks back into the plush cushions, and both you and Naoya follow along. His eyes droop closed, allowing him to just feel. 

Without the visuals, he can still tell the touches of Naoya and you apart. Your lips are smaller, your touches more delicate. Your fingers linger and tease, coaxing a reaction. Naoya goes for what he wants, and what he wants is Light to squirm and whine. He paws and grabs, rough squeezes and harsh bites between kisses. He makes his heart pound and his head spin, struggling to keep up.

Before he knows it, a familiar hand is creeping up his shirt while one he doesn't recognize so well slides into his pants. He gasps as Naoya's fingertips make direct contact with his dick. They swipe at the sensitive tip, rubbing the ridge and drifting across the slit. His hips writhe, pushing him further back into the couch.

You huff. It wasn't fair. Of course you wouldn't be able to make Light feel as good when you only had access to his upper body. It was an unfair disadvantage, but you decide to try your hardest anyway. Your nails lightly scrape circles around his nipples, teasing the buds but not touching them just yet

His eyes snap open and dart to you. You'd never tried that before. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing, baby. Just trying to make you feel good," you whisper. 

You didn't understand how you touching his nipples earned him questioning you, but this guy he'd known for two hours could hold his balls in the palm of his hand without a shred of hesitation. You just decide to silence your annoyance by leaning in to kiss him again.

Naoya had left Light's lips in favor of pushing down the man's pants and watching his cock leak and drool. Shimmery beads of precum oozed out of him with each firm tug to his cock.

"So much coming out of you already... we should get to the good stuff so you don't cum too early," he mocks with one last squeeze to Light's shaft.

He then stands up and removes his own clothing. You follow suit and do the same for yourself, not wanting to be unmatched.

At first, Light lazily watches the both of you, taking in the sight of your breasts and Naoya's toned stomach. But once Naoya's removed his shirt and discarded it to the floor, Light's eyes lock on the other man.

Silver piercings shine through Naoya's nipples, and it's obvious Light's never seen anything like it before. He studies them as though he's discovering something for the first time. His jaw doesn't drop, but it might as well have from how wide his eyes are.

You drop the rest of your clothes without much effort, annoyed by the lack of attention from your boyfriend. Meanwhile, Naoya takes his time. He peels off his pants, building the seductive tension with a measured pace.

Crawling back onto the couch, you nuzzle Light's neck like a kitten, cooing in his ear. "Need you inside me, baby. Want you so bad."

He nods vaguely, your words clearly going in one ear and shooting right back out at you. His eyes are still on Naoya, who's now standing there stroking his own cock to full attention.

You scowl. Of course, Naoya's length is as pretty as the rest of him. It's a good size with a proud head that makes even you crave a taste. He's well-groomed, everything about him, enticing.

He smiles at your boyfriend, arrogance written all over his face. "You can fuck your little girlfriend, Light. And she can get me ready for you."

Without a second thought, Light nods, and suddenly, he's much more invested in you. He guides you to lay back on the couch and gets to his knees at the end of you. Naoya takes up the spot next to your head, leaning against the cushions for stability.

Disrobing the rest of the way, Light lines up his dick to your entrance, faster than he'd ever done when it was just the two of you. He slides the tip in, grunting at how tight you are. Your slick coats him inch by inch until he's bottomed out.

Up top, Naoya strokes your hair and looks down at you with sinister intent. His cock awaits your mouth inches away from your lips.

"Use any teeth, and I'll make sure you have none left before I'm done with you," he says lowly.

Your eyes harden into a glare, but when the reddened head bumps your lips, you accept it. The shaft slides over your tongue to the back. The man above you lets out a groan and tilts his head back.

"Mmmm... she's got a good mouth," Naoya hums, "You teach her that, or is she just naturally such a slut?"

Light had been focused on rabbiting his hips against your center, finding some relief from how worked up he'd gotten. The words bring him back to reality. He looks up at the other man, taking a second to process the question.

"Oh... she's always been good at that," he says.

And it was the truth. You gave good blowjobs, and Light's favorite part about them was that they made you feel connected to him or something. All he had to do was sit back, close his eyes, and let you make him cum, and you wouldn't bitch about the lack of intimacy between you two.

He curls his fingers into your thighs harder, lifting them a bit so he has leverage to fuck into you harder. Sounds of your elicit activities fill the room. Skin claps against skin while you gag on Naoya's cock. Hips pump against your face, a hand cupped on the back of your head to make sure you take it all. You can barely breathe. Your nails dig into the cushions, and your body squirms more in an attempt to find some reprieve.

All Naoya does is laugh. He grins wider as he watches you struggle beneath him. His hand extends to paw at your breast and casually tweak a nipple, bringing broken whimpers from you in between the garbled groans.

"Look at you," Naoya coos. He doesn't even know you, but it seems he can't help mocking. "This is what you're good for, huh? Light's been too soft on you. Hasn't shown you your place."

The lack of oxygen makes the words roll over you like water. You keep sucking the best you can as Naoya fucks your face and Light pounds into your cunt. They both thrust with one thing in mind: their own pleasure. You're nothing more than a conduit between them.

Soon, that changes. Naoya pulls his dick from your mouth. It drips and gleams with your saliva. You inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh sensation of air hitting your lungs. He steps back and goes down to stand behind Light. His hands land on your boyfriend's sides, rubbing up and down the lean expanse of his torso.

"Feeling good? Is she tight?" he whispers as he kisses up the other man's neck, nosing at his undyed hair.

"Y-yeah," Light stammers. He feels like he's gonna malfunction.

His hips rock without error, seemingly unable to stop ricocheting into the warm, wet embrace of your pussy. Naoya scrapes his nails down Light's stomach and scratches at his v-line. His back arches and a series of whimpers pours from his lips.

"I bet you're even tighter."

Light's previously drooping eyes widen, and before he knows it, Naoya's hand has slid to his ass, fingers already prodding at his entrance. He whimpers again, trying to think of a question or a protest. This couldn't be happening.

But then it does. Two digits slip inside. And fuck, it feels so right.

Back and forth, back and forth. He maintains the steady rhythm while fucking you. From your angle, you're not totally sure what he's doing, so you let your head fall back and bliss out.

"That's right," Naoya breathes, "Fuck yourself back on my fingers. Stretch yourself out for the real thing."

And Light continues to do just that. Naoya keeps it at two fingers, never trying out a third. After he believes the other man's had enough practice, he pulls his fingers out, relishing the needy mewls Light makes.

He slots his wet dick between his cheeks before slowly pushing it in. Light has to stop for a moment. Give himself some time to adjust to the feeling of being full. A shiver sweeps up his body, and he clutches the dough of your thighs harder.

Naoya soothes the sensation by rubbing a hand up and down his spine rhythmically. Once he's calmed down, the same hand slides into his soft locks and grips hard. He yanks him, forcing his back to arch, and fucks into him harder.

You can clearly see what's happening now, but even if you couldn't, the loud moan Light lets out would have clued you in. He whimpers, still moving inside you a bit, but the movement of his body is more controlled by the force Naoya's using to pummel into him.

His eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack. He'd never felt anything like this.

"What'd I tell you? I understand," Naoya grunts, "You're never gonna be able to go back when you've had a taste of this."

Light shakes his head, though he feels so hazy, he's not sure if the motion is clear. As he becomes more used to the feeling, he starts to be able to move against you a little more. You reach a hand down and rub at your clit. Light didn't seem to be too concerned with getting you there, so you would ensure you made it yourself.

The extra stimulation on your clit makes you tighten up on Light's cock. He whines and bites his lip as Naoya continues fucking him mercilessly.

"You gonna cum? Fill her up while I fill you," he grunts behind him.

Light nods, body growing shakier as his orgasm comes closer.

Only a few more desperate swirls on your bundle of nerves, and you reach your peak. You spasm around Light, writhing on the couch beneath him. He can't take it, the feeling of Naoya battering a sweet spot inside he didn't even know he had combined with your walls trying to milk him dry.

With a whimper, his cock starts to spurt inside you. It kicks with each rope of cum, his hips twitching in between the two bodies on either side of him. His head falls back to rest against Naoya's sweaty shoulder. The other man's breaths feel cool on his own slick skin.

Naoya can tell he's cumming from how his body moves and takes it as an invitation to pump his own load deep inside of Light. He thrusts all the way in and lets loose, moaning as his release floods the other man. He fucks it in a few times, noting every little twitch or sound Light makes.

When all is said and done, the room is quiet. The only sounds are the harsh breaths leaving each of your lungs, and the tail end of the storm raging outside.

Naoya's the first to pull out, easing his cock from Light's hole. He watches a bit of cum leak out afterward and grins at the sight.

Light goes next, slipping out of you and crumpling down onto the sofa.

You stay where you are for the moment, just taking in what happened.

The silence feels awkward for you and tense for Light but satisfying for Naoya.

You need some time. You can't think while they're both sitting right there. Standing up, you stretch your limbs a little. You intend to just leave, but then your eyes catch on the black eye pencil from earlier.

Your eyes narrow at Light when you snatch it from the couch.

"You and your boyfriend better buy me new eye liner," you pout before turning on your heel and making your way to the bedroom.

[lover-of-mine]

it’s so interesting that with previous love interests, it was normal and fine to not ship them and to still want buddie in the future, but now, we have to sit down and shut up and accept that it’s never happening and B/T are forever

oh no wait, it’s not interesting, it’s annoying and confusing and frankly just weird. misogynistic and borderline fetishistic

shipping non-canon couples, especially ones with 6 years of history and love and shared experiences, is the norm in literally every fandom, but now suddenly it’s wrong and how dare we

a fair few of the people saying this are also, conveniently, the ones implying that B’s bisexuality is tied to T and T alone and if we don’t ship them, we don’t support bi!B

how. very. interesting! /annoying/confusing/weird

So interesting. Dude, I got called homophobic because I didn't immediately look at them in 703 and decided they were true love. In 703. Because I didn't look at the shoulder touch and immediately started shipping them. Homophobic with all the letters. I got yelled at. After 703. Legit almost deleted this whole blog over some of the things that got sent. I was legitimately crying with friends who are not in the fandom if I was being unreasonable or insane or whatever else I got called for not jumping in instantly and to ask if I was actually doing something wrong. People were saying we were being weird about queer storylines. That we needed to shut the fuck up and enjoy the way Oliver Stark was gonna make out with a hot guy. That not being on board the ship meant that we had an unreasonable and ridiculous necessity of making sure Eddie was the only guy for Buck. Literally every single person in this fandom hc Buck 1.0 also hooked up with guys. Most people never acted as if Buck needs to be guided through his queerness by this hot older guy. Oh, wait, no, they did. With T. People automatically decided that Buck needed a queer Yoda. That he needed someone to hold his hand and be a guide. They added a fucked up power dynamic from the get go. With no information, Buck was already a baby that needed his hand held through his own sexuality. And let me tell you one thing, I know for a FACT that if it was Eddie, the automatic reaction wouldn't be putting T in this idealized experienced gay guide position when that would've made more sense (not that I think any of them needs a guide) because Eddie is the one with the body count you can count with one hand and a weird relationship with sex. But somehow I'm the one who's weird about Buck's sexuality. I don't want Buck to explore. I need Buck to only have loved Eddie. Sure. Look, I don't wanna multiship. The same way everyone is allowed to ship whatever the fuck they want, I'm allowed to not ship whatever the fuck I want. If it was a woman no one would've been in my inbox basically demanding I make the same level of analysis I make for buddie for them (let me tell you one thing too, if I made the level of analysis I do with buddie with bt, no one would like what I have to say ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯) but I'm still getting asked for it for some reason when I never indicated I ship the two.

But I'm not allowed to have any critical thoughts about anything involving bt or else I'm being weird and that's the mild term that's being used. I can't point out the fact that T left Buck in a curb and failed to communicate shit properly even though it happened in canon. I can't say that I think it felt kinda callous for him to say "they had henleys in the 80s" to Buck being upset T didn't dress on theme (also, the job requires them to change into a uniform by nature, he could've put a colorful shirt and indulged Buck a little bit there without it interfering with the way he was on standby but I can't say that or else I'm a hater). There is no criticism allowed in the ship but somehow I'm the one being weird. I don't think Buck should be in a relationship. I think Buck is still exhibiting the same patterns when it comes to love interests. And yes, I would feel the same way if it was Eddie. Buck doesn't know how to be happy alone and he will never be happy in a relationship until he learns that. I was saying that when it was Natalia and getting praised for my understanding of Buck's character. Now I'm locking Buck onto Eddie. Buck's bisexuality is only valid if he's actively kissing a guy for some people but I'm the one being weird. BT have so many visual parallels to bucktaylor, but if I say that's a bad sign I'm being a hater. I need to sit my ass down, ignore six seasons of buildup, accept that it's over, and that now making Eddie queer and getting buddie together would suck because it would destroy the friendship they built so bt are endgame and gonna get married and somehow I'm the one who's being weird about queer relationships and attaching Buck bisexuality to a person. The fandom lost its fucking mind when they saw Oliver kiss a guy and, yeah, it does feel misogynistic and borderline fetishizing. But somehow I'm the one getting blocked by half the fandom when I'm not even pointing everything I want out. I lose at least one mutual every time I even suggest maybe we should look at things a bit more critically. I have to sit here and justify things to an insane degree while people's reaction to any of the criticism is "uH BuT T Is hOt aNd hE Is a gUy sO It iS DiFfErEnT oKaY?" Critical thinking skills went out the window because now there's a guy involved and that's fucking weird. People are straight up erasing Eddie, the actual main character of the show, Buck's established partner of years, Buck's best friend, the only person in canon who never left Buck in any capacity, because some guy kissed Buck and, he, uh *check notes* treats Buck as an actual human being? so that means he's perfect. It's nuts. The bar is hell.

Yes, I know this is not everyone in the fandom and I know this is not everyone who ships them but if what I'm saying feels like a personal attack to you maybe you should do some thinking. Anyone can ship anything, you want to ship them go off, power to you, the weird part here is the way some people are demanding other people ship it too. We could all be coexisting if people didn't get weirdly comfortable demanding shit from other people in the fandom and deciding their opinion is the only one that matters so they need to call out anyone who thinks differently, but alas, that's too much to ask.

[demilypyro]

Ok

If your first pick was Sol honestly I get that. He's cool. You might just have terminal main character syndrome tho

If you pick Ky you're just boring. You definitely have main character syndrome but also you're the least interesting person at the function

If your first pick is May you're either a literal demon who heard about the totsugeki memes and wanted in, or you're a cutesy femme and Bridget and Elphelt weren't in the game yet

If your first pick was Axl you think you're the funniest motherfucker in the room at all times and I'm gonna kick your ass. Whether you stick with him will depend on whether you can stand his accent.

If your first pick was Chipp you not only have main character syndrome but you're also a weeb

If your first pick was Potemkin you're going to hell. You picked him specifically because you hate me.

If your first pick was Faust you DEFINITELY think you're the funniest motherfucker in the room, even moreso than Axl

If your first pick was Millia you're either a straight dude who wanted to pick I-no but is ashamed of being horny on main, or you're a chick who describes herself as a "dommy mommy"

If you picked Zato you have main character syndrome but also you liked Shadow more than Sonic

If your first pick is Ramlethal you were either looking for the girl with the biggest sword in the cast, or you have a foot fetish. I'm not kinkshaming, just acknowledging.

Leo seems like he's very popular among gay dudes but that's second hand info. Idk he leaves zero impressions on me

If you picked Nagoriyuki because he's cool you're the only mfer here I respect. If you picked him because he's OP I retract the last statement.

If you picked Giovanna you either wanted to play a cool girl but thought Millia looked too difficult, or you're a furry. Maybe both

If you picked Anji you are bisexual

If you picked I-no youre either a horny straight dude or you're a chick who describes herself as a "dommy mommy" but doesn't actually have sex

If you picked Goldlewis you're based

If you picked Jack-O you either saw the memes but didn't realize how hard she is to actually play, or you played Xrd

If you picked Happy Chaos you either saw the memes or heard he's OP and wanted in, not realizing he's been nerfed since. Idiot

If you picked Baiken you're horny AND a weeb. But honestly I get it

If you picked Testament you're probably a goth, nonbinary, or both, and you're just happy to be represented. Good for you

If you picked Bridget then she's probably the only reason you even bought this game

If you picked Sin you're kind of boring but not quite as boring as people who pick Ky. You might still be pretty cool

If you picked Bedman you were just looking for the weirdest character in the cast and automatically picked that one. If Bedman hadn't been out yet, you would probably have picked Faust

If you picked Asuka you're a nerd and I'm shoving you in a locker

If you picked Johnny you either think you're funny as fuck, or you have ADVANCED main character syndrome. It's inoperable. We have to amputate

If you picked Elphelt you're a lesbian

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(TW: Religion)

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

When we think about reconciling Christianity and our identity, then we are often automatically jumping to „re-interpreting Bible verses that are used to justify homophobia/transphobia��� or to „looking for Bible verses that can be interpreted in a lgbt-supportive way“. 

Both of that is valid and definitely has its place. And if you are someone who (or trying to discuss with someone who) believes everything in the Bible is true and to be taken literal, then looking for the most accurate interpretation of each passage is also pretty much the only thing you can do.

In that case, take comfort in knowing that there is often historical, cultural etc. context missing from conservative interpretations and learning about that context lets us see seemingly hateful verses in a much more inclusive light! 

That Bible verse that seems to be against gay sex may very well be against rape, that Bible verse that seems to be against trans people dressing the way they want to may very well be condemning old rituals that have nothing to do with modern life. I don’t think looking for these alternative (or maybe *better*) explanations is heathenish at all. God wants you to think critically, that’s why he gave you the ability to. If he gave you a book to live your life according to, then it stands to reason that he’d want you to find the most accurate meaning of his words, and that means looking past the most superficial interpretation.

But if you are (or the person you’re talking to is) open to the idea that maybe the Bible isn’t meant to be taken literal in its entirety - then it can feel tedious to dissect singular verses. 

In that case, you probably don’t feel the need to dissect other parts either and you just disregard them. For example you look at certain verses containing rules on hygiene or health, and you disregard them because you figure those were written in, and for, wildly different times and they just do not apply to modern life anymore, and you believe that one can be a good Christian while also disregarding those specific verses. 

If that’s you, then an approach that might fit you better would be to look at the bigger picture instead. Treat the Bible like you would any self-help book - look at the overall messages but don’t assume that every single line is applicable to your life or even holds meaning. 

This may seem counterintuitive or even like a “bad” thing to do, especially if you grew up in a taking-the-Bible-literal household, so I’ll give you some potential questions that may help you get into the mindset: 

Which messages are repeated often throughout the Bible? Which messages are repeated in most big religions you know? Which messages would come to your mind first if you were to teach a child about God? Which values or attributes describe God best? 

For me, and for many people, the biggest ones would be “God loves you unconditionally” and “God wants you to love others”. Another important one might be “God created you, and everyone else, because he wanted you to exist”. 

When you identified some big picture core messages, and are open to the idea that the Bible may not be meant to be taken literal in its entirety (for example because it was inspired by the Holy Spirit but written by humans and humans can make mistakes or add their own personal agenda, or also simply because it’s so old and over time some of its original teachings got mistranslated or lost), then you may be able to look at these seemingly hateful verses with new eyes - not seeking to find a more accurate explanation, but rather being able to compare them to those core messages and being able to say “this fits in with the core message” or “this doesn’t fit in with the core message”. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[genericpuff]

What are your thoughts on the whole Hestia x Athena thing in LO? Personally it always infuriated me with how hypocritical it was of them to date each other despite them both being members of/Hestia being in charge of TGOEM. It especially annoyed me how Hestia constantly told Persephone that as a TGOEM member she can't date anyone but later saying that her relationship with Athena doesn't count. I give some credit to Artmeis for calling them out when finding out, but it wasn't enough

The hypocrisy is one thing but it at least could have been expanded on as a plot point (Hestia didn't even have the spine to return the coat and apologize, Artemis had to do it ???), but what REALLY ticks me off is that Rachel clearly tried to include queer rep through Hestia and Athena who are two traditionally aro/ace goddesses. So really all she did was erase their original queer identities, both of which are still massively misunderstood and argued over whether or not they're "real". And shit, we even see that in her old asks that lesbian sex "doesn't count" and that asexuality is somehow just a sliding scale / stepping stone towards "becoming" another sexuality (in this case, gay).

Like... you can be asexual and also still be romantically attracted to the same sex, "becoming gay" doesn't automatically erase someone's asexuality. Artemis can be gay and aroace. Lesbian sex is still sex and isn't a "loophole" to retaining one's virginity. To be fair, the whole "vestal virgins are flaming lesbians because you can be a virgin and still have hot lady sex" thing came from an anon, but like... she doesn't do anything to challenge that idea in LO either, if anything it's reinforced through Athena and Hestia using their relationship as a "loophole" within TGOEM (and the narrative never actually stops to analyze that.)

And then the cherry on top is Rachel removing the sexualities - sometimes even entire character identities - from canonically or commonly-accepted queer gods and giving them to others. Crocus is no longer a lover of Hermes, but a one-dimensional nymph who was killed as a plot device and then never spoken of again. Ampelos is no longer a satyr loved by Dionysus, his name now belongs to Psyche, a heterocis black woman who doesn't know how to read and has been basically forced into slavery. All of Aphrodite's children who ranged in gender and sexual identities are now replaced with one-dimensional cutout characters with no specific labels or characterizations beyond the translations of their names. Eros has been reduced to the "gay best friend" whose first introduction into the story is inebriating a 19 year old girl with the intent of dumping her in an older man's car. Apollo has been turned into a generic big bad whose only goal is getting his hands on Persephone and nothing else, with zero nuance to his actual characterization or plot arc, he's just "the rapist" who conveniently becomes a pawn in some bigger nefarious plan that makes zero sense. Dionysus and Achilles have both been turned into babies.

If Rachel wanted queer rep, she was already in the right place. The entire Pantheon was her oyster. But instead she managed to go the complete opposite with it and not only erase the queer identities of Greek gods in LO, but went the extra mile of egregiousness by replacing those queer gods with token-queer stereotypes and one-dimensional characters who are just there to say they're gay for the brownie points before being shoved back into the closet. They're out, but they're still not seen.

[gatheringbones]

[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000