#is it so hard to say 'no matter how wrong someone is'?

[reignpage]

how do you think jjk men are with embarrassing moments during sex? like if something embarrassing that happens to either them or their partner, do they play it off, try to inject humor, swear off sex to be a monk?

i read a similar post by an author advocating for well, not just more realistic depictions of sex in fics, but to include some of the awkwardness present in them too?? their post included geto’s hair getting stuck in butt cracks, Toji pulling a muscle, Nanami losing his boner, and Choso full on shitting himself accidentally to help with reader’s embarrassment over queefing 😭😭😭

like yes it’s funny and bonkers but cuz sex isn’t always the passionate sexy fuckfest we see in fics/movies, people don’t always cum at the same time, yes you DO need lube AND prep, foreplay DOES matter, dryness or losing an erection midway no matter how horny you are is common yano?? 😤😤

lowkey wanted to go anon lest you call me perpetually horny 😭 but ignore me if my shit’s getting old

own your shit bae, no pun intended. ur horniness could never get old. I like these questions cause they're like brain teasers. okay okay lemme have a go

Gojo:

says a cringy line

I can totally see him trying something new that he thinks would be super sexy like

"oh yeah? you like that? you're such a dirty whore, aren't you? come on, cum and show me who you're daddy is."

reader will pause and stare at him like, did you hear yourself?

gojo will have a moment of realisation and give himself the ick. even he has limits.

he collapses on top of reader and begs her to forget that, will be a blushing mess.

he'll think about it once in a while and cringe

but in the moment, he'd throw a tantrum if you can't stop laughing and making fun of him.

"it wasn't that bad! you're being mean, seriously. I just got caught up, okay? stop laughinggggg"

gets very pouty, protests, and you have to seduce him back, really compliment the hell out of him

then he'll force you on top and make you take the lead so he doesn't give himself another opportunity to be embarassing

Geto:

trying to switch positions in a tight space and then you accidentally rest your elbow on his long hair and he almost rips outs chunks

probably gets irritated because you've damaged his brilliant hair

takes a breather and then starts back up again

punishes you during sex

will crack a smile if you do

"yeah, alright, laugh it up. but if I develop a bald spot, neither of us will be laughing."

will make sure that never happens again

might even pull your hair during sex to show you how it feels (not too hard obvi)

Choso:

might get too subby lol

like "am I a good boy mommy? am I doing good? I don't want my mommy to be mad at me" and he's in tears

idk how to write mommy kinks lol

and you both have a moment of clarity where it's like, damnnn you okay? didn't know you had trauma like that

he'll get very shy and embarrassed

might even start crying, trying to run away

you'll have to reassure him it's fine and then just go slowly and gently, having more loveydovey sex

late at night, he'll ask you if you really didn't mind because he doesn't want you to be freaked out or think he's not a man

but I imagine it'd become a kink you indulge him once in a while

just gotta teach him it's okay, just don't spring it on someone mid act lol

Toji:

trying a really acrobatic fucking position, whether in the living room or in the shower, gets his footing wrong and slips, smacks his head against the wall, takes you down with him

he knocks himself out

you have to wrangle his 200 pound or something body in to a safe lying position and wait for him to come to

when he does and he remembers what happens

bro is in denial

no he didn't slip

no he didn't overestimate himself

no it didn't hurt

no he's not embarrassed stop asking him

gets very grumpy and will storm off, grumbling under his breath

comes back calmer

neither of you mention it but it hangs in the air as you both prepare dinner together

once sat across each other, you make an eye contact and you burst out laughing

he rolls his eyes but he's got a smile on his lips

"yeah yeah, what fucking ever. you try lifting your heavy ass up whilst you're balls deep"

next time tho, he gets you back by forcing you to endure vanilla sex, going very slow and shallow and overly sweet

makes you beg for him to fuck you normally

he'll consider it

Nanami:

drunk sex, becomes wayyyy too emotional

"sweetheart, you're the most beautiful thing in the entire world, I love you so much do you know that? I honestly -hiccup!- c-can't live without you, oh goodness, please don't make me live without you!"

he's still inside, he's not even thrusting anymore, he's just crying into your neck like a baby

you're brushing his hair, shushing him, orgasms forgotten

might vomit on you a little

wakes up with a killer hangover and a night full of memories he wishes he could erase

"oh god, honey. I'm so terribly sorry. I can't believe I did something so ridiculous. no I know loving you openly isn't ridiculous, but I wouldn't be wrong to say crying, leaving you unsatisfied, forcing you to care for a man child, and cherry on top, vomitting on you is just a little ridiculous."

has to go make it up to himself for being a terrible husband

will spoil you for the rest of the week

or anytime he remembers

might actually drink less because of it lol

Sukuna:

he'd kill you if he did something embarrassing

pray he never does

[grimeshound]

UNDER YOUR SPELL.

word count: 4,329 (someone got a little carried away...)

pairing: in-ho x you.

summary: you haunt in-ho’s every thought, an obsession he can’t shake no matter how hard he tries—you have no idea the hold you have on him. when you get drunk for the first time, in-ho seizes the opportunity to show you just how deeply you’ve affected him.

cw: 18+, age-gap, dubcon (forced intoxication), mirror sex, first time, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, semi-public sex, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation

a/n: i’ve had this plot simmering in my head over the past few days ever since i wrote my in-ho hcs and it was practically begging to be written … manipulative in-ho my beloved

---

Ever since he first laid eyes on you, In-ho thought you were the prettiest little angel to ever step foot in this hellhole.

You were nothing like the others. Kind, wide doe eyes, sweet smile that radiated innocence. He wondered how a pretty thing like you had ended up in a place like this. In-ho always did pride himself in his appreciation for the arts, all things with beauty. The moment he took notice of you, it didn’t take long for him to wonder what it would take to make you his.

You had joined a small group, after having met a kind man named Jung-bae who graciously let you in. Everyone shared their names, and that’s when you learned his. Oh Young-il. Except, of course, that wasn’t his real name. Just a guise, a character to play during the time he spent amongst the players. That didn’t matter, though, since you rarely used his name. 

“Sir,” you’d say. The times you did call his name, it’d be “Mister Young-il.”

The first time you spoke to him, you were nervous. It was hard not to be, something about his piercing gaze had a hold on you. Yet, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way you looked up at him, your voice so soft and deferential, made his pulse quicken. He’d do anything to protect you, and he did. Each time the games forced you apart, you’d come running to him the moment you returned to the main hall, your face lighting up with relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, sir.” You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, gentle and reassuring.

You hadn’t realized it, but your attachment to him was carefully orchestrated, a product of all the high-risk situations In-ho would engineer to put you through. He’d swoop in at the perfect moment to save you, it made you trust him, made you depend on him more than anyone else. It also nurtured the little crush you were already dewasveloping, and he noticed. You couldn’t help it. He  kind to you, protective, and so devastatingly handsome.

Behind the scenes, he dug through your file. Orphaned from a young age, too naive to understand the world’s cruelties. Trusting the wrong people, you had fallen into debt, landing here. The more he learned, the more he was convinced—You needed someone to take care of you. Someone like him.

One night, In-ho just couldn’t take it anymore. After hours of keeping up his cold, calculated facade, he found himself teetering on the edge of his own sanity. The stress of orchestrating the games was always a burden he bore in silence. But lately? It wasn’t just the carnage and strategy that weighed on his mind. On top of all that, now there was you. Every stolen glance, every soft word you uttered, every moment in your presence had burrowed under his skin. You consumed him, invading every thought until there was no room for anything else.

He knew he was losing control.

When the last murmurs of conversation faded throughout the main hall and the players around him drifted into an uneasy sleep, he finally gave in to his impulses. He had a guard sneak him a bottle of soju, not caring how inappropriate or risky the request was. Rank had its privileges, and he wasn’t above abusing them.

Even in the dim light he spotted you, laid in your bed not too far from his own. All curled up and completely unaware of the monster disguised as your guardian angel watching over you. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. 

He listened to the sound of your breathing as a guide, the quiet rhythm of inhale and exhale filling his ears before finally pulling the bottle from its hiding place beneath his pillow. With a sharp twist, he uncapped it, the faint scent of alcohol wafting into the air around him. Sitting up in his bunk, he took a long, deliberate swig. The burn of the soju as it slid down his throat was a welcome distraction, albeit temporary. He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.  

The alcohol dulled the edges of his stress but sharpened something far more dangerous, far sicker. Desire. Thoughts of you came to surface before he could resist, vivid and unrelenting. He thought of your wide, trusting eyes looking up at him, the way your voice wavered when you spoke his name. He didn’t stop his thoughts when they turned more and more depraved. Your quiet utters of his name turning into obscene moans, innocent brushes of skin escalating into him fucking you like a madman into the crummy bed he sat beneath. The way you clung to him, so innocent, so naive, so completely unaware of just how sick his thoughts would turn because of you. 

He took another long swig, his grip tightening around the bottle as his frustration intensified. How could you do this to him without even realizing? Without even trying? It was maddening, the hold you had over him. And now, with the liquor loosening his usually taut held control, he found himself wondering how much longer he could resist. How much longer he could keep his hands to himself.

And then, as if summoned by his desires, your voice broke the silence.

“Sir?”

He turned to see you turned towards him, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. He softened instantly, smiling lazily as he called your name. “You’re awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You climbed up to his bed without hesitation, settling beside him. “What about you?” 

“Me neither,” he murmured. He thanked whatever god there was that you couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t take a peek into the sick fantasies that had clouded up his thoughts just moments ago. Even now, when sat face to face with you, they played in the background— like a channel he couldn’t turn off no matter how hard he’d press the remote. Only, he didn’t make much effort in stopping them. If anything, the fantasies only shot up with you now in front of him. 

Your attention was soon drawn to the green bottle in his hand. “Is that… soju?”

He chuckled at your amazement. “It is.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “I’ve never had any before.”

His heart skipped. You really were too good to be true, weren’t you? He feigned surprise. “Never?”

You shook your head. “No. But..” You hesitated for a bit. “I’d like to try, if that’s okay.”

How polite. How trusting. He handed the bottle to you, hiding his smirk beneath a kind, patient smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”

You took it with both hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. There was a moment of hesitation, a fleeting glance at him as though you were silently asking for reassurance. He gave you a small nod, his expression warm and encouraging. Uttey deceptive. The thought of getting you completely wasted, rendering you impossibly dumber and even more impressionable than you already are rang like music to his ears. You tilted your head back as you gulped down more than he expected. He didn’t stop you, though. Simply watching with quiet satisfaction as you drained a sizable amount.

The first sip had your nose scrunching up, the bitter taste of the alcohol overhwleming you. Instead of backing out, you pressed on, curiosity and his approving gaze egging you on. With each gulp, you felt your body tense slightly at the unaccustomed burn that slid down your throat.

In-ho watched you intently, his dark eyes locked on you as the bottle tipped higher and higher. You were drinking far more than he expected, but he made no effort to stop you. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into a faint smile. Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he watched your determination to please him override your inexperience.

When you finally lowered the bottle, your lips were shiny from the liquid, your cheeks already beginning to flush, something In-ho was quick to take notice of. Whether it be your inexperience, the quickness of which you downed the Soju or the fact that you haven’t really drank or ate much prior. The alcohol had hit you harder than you anticipated, working its way through your system with worrying speed. Your head tilted back slightly as you tried to regain focus, blinking up at him with worried, glassy eyes. 

“Sir,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I feel…so funny.”

He stepped closer, his hand moving to steady you by your waist when your knees buckled slightly. “Funny how, sweetheart?” he humored you, the concern in his tone carefully crafted.

“Dizzy,” You clung to him instinctively, your hands gripping his arm like a lifeline as you specified. “I feel lightheaded, mister Young-il. M’scared.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling you closer against his chest. His hand slid to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he held you steady. “It’s okay. You’re just not used to it, s’all.”

Your forehead rested against his chest, your breath uneven as you tried to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with something twisted in his gaze, though his voice remained tender and reassuring. “Poor baby,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand stroked your hair, the sound of his words soothing you. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

You were too drunk to notice the dark glint in his eyes or the way his smile lingered just a little too long. Too naive to realize how tightly his grip held you, as though he’d never let go.

Young-il led you to the bathroom, steadying you with a firm grip as you clung to him for balance. Every touch, every reassuring glance he gave you was planned down to the last detail, feeding into the web he’d been weaving since the moment he first laid eyes on you. You were his perfect little pawn, and now, more than ever, he could see his plan falling into place. 

When he knocked on the bathroom door, you were already bracing yourself for the usual bargaining and desperate pleading that so often accompanied requests to use the facilities. But to your surprise, the guards let you both pass without hesitation, a testament to the sway your knight in shining armor seemed to hold.

He guided you inside, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. Leading you to the sink, he turned on the faucet, letting the cool water rush out. “Here,” he said softly, his voice calm and soothing. “Let’s wash your face. It’ll help.”

You nodded, leaning over the sink and splashing the water onto your flushed cheeks. The cold sting sent a brief jolt through you, though it did little to clear the fog in your mind. When you blinked your eyes open and straightened, you nearly jumped at the sight of him standing right behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence like a weight against your back.

Your wide-eyed gaze flicked up to the mirror. He stood there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the intensity in his eyes made your stomach twist. Despite yourself, you wiped your face with your sleeve and offered him a sheepish smile.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer. His hand brushed your damp hair back from your face, the gesture tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Good,” you mumbled, though the truth was far from it. The alcohol swirled in your system, leaving you dizzier than before. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you, it sent a warmth through your chest that was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his tone low and velvety, each syllable wrapping around you like a shackle. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten until now, his chest pressing lightly against your back.

Your breath hitched as something firm brushed against you from behind, and you let out a small, involuntary whimper. “Sir Young-il…?”

“In-ho,” he rasped, cutting you off. “My real name, it’s In-ho.” His voice had dropped even lower, and there was something raw and possessive in the way he said it. You blinked, confused, his real name rolling off your tongue before you could even think twice to question him.

“In-ho,” you repeated softly, as if testing the weight of it. “What’s going on?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. “I’ll take good care of you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded too quickly, too eagerly, the alcohol and your long-brewing crush on him clouding your better judgment. “I trust you,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly as he trailed his fingers along your waist, his touch deliberate and possessive.

He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you two as his lips found yours in a kiss—the first one you’d ever shared. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it to unfold. You pictured your first kiss with a high school crush, maybe some boy your age who’d take you out on an innocent date. But all those dreams faded the moment you met In-ho, and now, all dreams you had were consumed by him.

You pressed against him, letting him take control as his kiss deepened, hungry and intense, like a man starved for more. You followed his lead instinctively, trusting him—because you always knew, deep down, he knew what was best. So when he raised his fingers to your lips, you hesitated for only a moment before parting them, allowing him to slip two fingers inside. His dark eyes gleamed as you sucked obediently, your cheeks flushing deeper under his watchful gaze. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and his breathing grew heavier.

Pulling his fingers away, he wasted no time in hooking them into the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them down in one hasty motion. His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear as his right hand skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck.

You grabbed his wrist suddenly, your touch light and hesitant. “Wait, In-ho—” you murmured, your voice trembling with embarrassment. His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“I… I’ve never done anything like this before,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t surprised; he had suspected as much. But hearing it from you, seeing the vulnerability in your gaze—only stoked the fire burning within him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle, though there was an unmistakable tension in his tone.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. “I trust you. Just… be gentle. Please.” 

He smiled at that, a flicker of something darker hidden beneath the curve of his lips. “Of course,” he murmured, his hands resuming their slow exploration. But in his mind, he knew the truth: restraint was never his strong suit. Especially when it came to you. 

And with you—so soft, so eager, so completely his, he doubted he could hold himself back for long.

His fingers, still slick with your saliva, trailed down to your entrance, brushing over it with deliberate precision. The touch made you jolt, a shiver running up your spine as you gasped. In-ho groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. “Fucking dripping,” he mused, his voice a sinful rasp. Slowly, he slid a finger inside, the intrusion making your thighs instinctively part.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he pressed deeper, his touch firm but unhurried. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt something like this, but the last time had been your own doing—fumbling, desperate, and entirely unremarkable. That had been just days ago, tucked away in one of these very bathroom stalls, shamefully thinking of him. Now, with his hands where yours had been, the stark difference had you feeling light-headed. 

His fingers were thicker, rougher, impossibly skilled. The sensation left you trembling, your legs threatening to give out as he worked you open. His other arm snaked around your upper chest, holding you close, his grip firm yet possessive. The position bordered on a chokehold, but instead of fear, it only sent another wave of heat coursing through you.

Your breath hitched as a soft, broken “Ohmygod,” fell from your lips. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter. His finger curled just right, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Your hands gripped on In-ho’s forearm, knuckles white as you bit down hard on your lower lip, trying and failing to stifle your moans.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was like velvet, roughened by desire. He pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. His other hand released its hold on your chest as it moved lower, settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you.

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Uh-huh… feels so good, sir,”

That made him chuckle, a deep, dark sound that reverberated through your body. The honorific sent a thrill down his spine, his cock straining against the confines of his sweatpants.

“You’re ready,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pulled back just enough to tug his waistband down. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide as you took him in, the sight was intimidating, your head reeling. 

"In-ho, I–I don’t think I can take that." Your voice faltered, a hint of shame creeping into your words. He laughed, a sound so familiar it sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of hearty laugh you'd grown so used to hearing from him. But now, there was something different—something darker layered beneath it, like a cruel mockery. "Course you can, angel," he said, his tone smooth but laced with an unsettling edge. "I know you can. Let me take care of you."

“H-Here? Like this?” you asked, your voice small and unsure, referring to the state he had you in—bent over the sink and in front of the mirror. utterly at his mercy.

He leaned in, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze back at your reflection. “Right here,” he confirmed, his voice a low growl. Want you to watch yourself while I’m fucking you open.”

The vulgarity of his words sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching for him. You nodded, too dazed and drunk to do anything else, and he didn’t waste another second.

He slid inside slowly, the stretch making you cry out and grip the sink tighter. The initial sting was sharp, but it quickly gave way to something deeper, something so intense it left you gasping. Your legs wobbled beneath you, and you leaned harder against the sink for support.

“In-ho… In-ho,” you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a chant. “Sir… I— I feel you in my stomach.”

The confession had him groaning, a sound so guttural it made your knees weak. “Yeah? Fuck, baby.” He babbled as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand trailed down with deliberate slowness. When his palm flattened against your stomach, his fingers brushing over the faint outline of him inside you, your breath hitched. 

“Feel that?” he murmured, his composure slipping as he began to move. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust deliberate and punishing. You nodded frantically, a whimper escaping as he pressed down, sending a shockwave through your body. “In-ho, nngh!—“ 

You were completely out of it, your thoughts a tangled haze, your body slack and pliant in his hands. The alcohol coursing through your veins had stripped away every layer of hesitation, leaving you wide open to his manipulations. And In-ho, oh, he reveled in it. The way your voice slurred when you called his name, the way your movements were unsteady, dependent on him for every step and touch—it all fueled his sick delight. You were better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

As he pulled you closer, pressing into you from behind, your gaze flicked to the bathroom door, a flicker of worry breaking through your drunken stupor. “In-ho…” you mewled, voice soft as you felt your body jerk with each rough thrust he made.. “What if–ah!—someone walks in?”

He paused, his hands resting possessively on your hips, a smile ghosting across his lips. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, his voice low and soothing, though there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in his tone. “The guards won’t come.” His confidence sent a shiver through you, but you weren’t entirely convinced. “But… but what if another player—”

“No one’s going to interrupt us,” he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into yours before you could finish your sentence. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “You’re with me. They wouldn’t dare.”

Something about the absolute certainty, the power in his voice—had your anxiety ebbing away, replaced by a strange sense of safety. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch, your inhibitions melting once again under his spell.

“You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Mmhm,” You squeaked out through laboured breaths. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you back against him. He watched your reflection as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, relishing the way you gasped and arched into his touch.

Your head lolled slightly, your body swaying under his hold. “Mmmh…I feel so dizzy,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho chuckled darkly, his hands moving to steady you. “That’s just the soju, sweetheart,” he said, though he didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

He loved seeing you like this. Drunk, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Every soft whimper, every stumble, every little movement that showed how completely you relied on him only fueled his desire. You were his, whether you realized it or not.

As his fingers grazed your skin, he couldn’t resist pushing you further, testing your reactions as he pushed your buttons. “You know,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the curve of your neck, “Y’look so pretty like this. All fucked out and needy. Just for me.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, pressed against him. “Y-you think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his voice a velvety purr. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. “Just look at yourself, baby. See how perfect you are for me?”

Your hazy eyes flicked to the mirror, taking in the sight of the two of you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, his expression raw and predatory. The way he looked at you—it was almost too much. Your cheeks burned, and you averted your eyes, biting your lip.

He wasn’t having that. His hand left your waist, fingers gently gripping your chin and turning your face back toward the mirror. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to watch. Watch yourself while I take care of you.”

The authority in his voice sent a thrill through you, your body trembling as you nodded weakly. “O-okay—ah, fuck!”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

As his hands roamed lower, teasing and exploring, you couldn’t help the soft, breathless moans that spilled from your lips. Every touch, every word, every look from him pulled you deeper into the fog of your drunken desire, leaving you utterly helpless in his grasp.

And In-ho? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin, your muffled cries, and his filthy murmurs. “Thaat’s it, there’s my pretty girl.” His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fucking take it. Just like that.”

Every thrust sent you higher, the alcohol in your system amplifying every sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure. Your mind was fogged, the world around you turning into nothing but a senseless blur. And yet, you felt every little sensation In-ho fed you, each rough snap of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You felt your climax building, overwhelming and unstoppable. Your eyes fluttered shut, ready to let go—but his hand suddenly cupped your cheek, a sharp slap bringing you back.

“I told you,” he growled, his voice authoritative. “None of that. You keep your eyes on me when I fill you up. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, gasping as you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze once again through the mirror—the sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out his name.

The sight of you coming undone beneath him was his undoing. With a few more erratic thrusts, he followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. A deep groan tore from his chest, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he rode out his high.

The room fell into silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. In-ho steadied you, his hands gentle now as he helped you stand. He brushed your hair back, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“If we get out of here alive…” A sheepish smile spread across your face, “Let’s drink again sometime?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “When we get out,” he corrected, his tone laced with quiet determination. He kissed you once more, sealing the promise. And he meant it. If it meant keeping you by his side, he’d kill every last player in the game with his bare hands.

[bamgyuuuri]

⤷ delicate ┈ cbg.

pairing. beomgyu x afab!reader . angst . moral dilemmas word count. 1.1k short note ... im supposed to be studying for exams tmr but ended up writing this drabble instead,, ;P i’ll actually get to the reqs sent to me once i finish finals i promise omg

all your friends despised beomgyu.

their hatred wasn’t casual, the kind born out of a passing annoyance or a small slight, no. it was deep, raw, and visceral, the kind of hatred that grew roots in every whispered conversation, every sharp glance, every cruel joke that lingered in the air long after it was said.

“he’s the worst kind of person,” one of your friends said one evening, her voice tight and bitter as she stabbed at her salad with her fork.

the group was seated in your favorite booth at the diner, the one you always shared late into the night, laughter echoing against the walls—except tonight was different. tonight, the atmosphere was tense, heavy. “he didn’t just lead her on. he used her.”

your other friends nodded, their agreement coming in muttered curses and sharp scoffs.

“what he did to her exactly?” another leaned forward, her voice dropping into an almost conspiratorial whisper, like the words were too vile to say out loud. 

“he led her on for months. months. and then just... disappeared. like she was nothing. like she didn’t even matter. god, if i ever see him again, i don’t know what i’d do.”

“honestly,” one of them said, turning to look directly at you, “i don’t get how you’re so calm about this. if i were you, i’d never be able to even think about him without wanting to scream.”

your throat tightened. you stared into your untouched drink, watching the condensation drip down the glass like it held the answers to the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to say something. you wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that the boy they described wasn’t the beomgyu you knew. but how could you? how could you speak up without unraveling the tangled mess of lies and secrets you had been holding together with trembling hands?

because the truth was something they could never know.

they didn’t know that while your friend had been falling for beomgyu, he had been falling for someone else.

he had been falling for you.

the guilt had been unbearable at first. it clawed at you, sinking its sharp, unrelenting talons into your chest every time your friend cried on your shoulder, her voice trembling as she whispered, “what did I do wrong?”

you held her, whispered reassurances you didn’t even believe, all the while knowing that you were the reason her heart had been broken.

you told yourself you would walk away. that you had to.

but then he would look at you with those eyes, dark and full of something so raw and vulnerable it made your knees weak. his walls would crumble, just for you, and the boy they all hated became someone entirely different. someone you couldn’t let go of.

“do you hate me too?” he had asked one night, his voice quiet and small, like he was afraid of the answer. you were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, the soft glow of a candle flickering between you. he was leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed on you, searching, waiting.

your breath caught. “what?”

“everyone else does,” he continued, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “so I figure… maybe you do too. maybe you should.”

your heart shattered. “beomgyu—”

“i know what they think of me,” he interrupted, his voice trembling now, cracking under the weight of emotions he couldn’t hold back. “i know what they say. and maybe… maybe they’re right. maybe I am horrible. but…” he reached for you then, his hand brushing against yours, warm and hesitant. “when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m that person. you make me want to be better. you make me feel like… like maybe I can be.”

you had no words. his gaze burned into you, his eyes filled with something so achingly sincere it made it hard to breathe.

but the guilt was still there, a sharp blade twisting in your chest, cutting deeper with every moment you stayed. you knew what your friends would think if they found out, the way their faces would contort with anger, with betrayal. you could hear their accusations, their voices dripping with venom. how could you do this to her? how could you do this to us?

and yet, despite the weight of it all, you couldn’t walk away.

because you loved him.

and that made it worse, somehow.

it wasn’t just that you were keeping a secret that would destroy everything. it was that you didn’t want to stop. you didn’t want to let him go, even though you knew you should. even though every moral fiber in your being screamed at you to end it, to put the pieces back together before it was too late.

but how could you leave when he looked at you like that? like you were the only person who had ever truly seen him?

how could you leave when his voice trembled as he whispered your name, when his hands shook as they traced over your skin, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go?

how could you leave when, for all his flaws, for all the mistakes he had made, he was still the boy you loved?

“you should hate me,” you whispered one night, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. the two of you were lying in bed, tangled together in the darkness. his arm was draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. “you should hate me for doing this. for not stopping it.”

he didn’t answer at first. his hold on you tightened, his fingers digging into your side like he was trying to keep you there, trying to stop you from slipping away.

“i could never hate you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “even if I should.”

your chest ached, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a thousand bricks.

you wanted to believe him. god, you wanted to believe him. but the guilt was always there, a constant reminder of the line you had crossed, the trust you had broken.

you didn’t know if you deserved happiness. not when it came at the expense of someone else’s pain. but when he held you like this, when he whispered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much it hurt, you loved him.

and maybe that made you just as horrible as they thought he was.

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @unusuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta <3 (click here if you would like to be added ^_^)

[grudgecollector]

Nam-gyu NSFW headcanons

A/N: Things are about to get NAYSTY. I'd like to apologize to god, and whoever isn't into this man for what i'm about to say.

SIKE

Alright let's get started shall we?

(^me getting ready to ruin my own life by being with a man like him)

꩜ This man is and always will be a freak in my mind. So hard hitters first. This man is a panty sniffer. I'm sorry someone had to say it but he just seems like the type of CREEP that would be, this is literally the first thing that came to mind when I saw him. I don't make the rules (yes i do, i'm literally the one writing this).

꩜ He likes being in control most of the time, but sometimes that facade will falter, small little whimpers and moans slipping from his pretty lips. Eyes fluttering in pleasure, lip trapped between his teeth, the whole nine.

꩜ Loves choking and being choked. He loves the power he has when his hand is around your throat, your pulse under his fingers. The way it brings a smirk to his lips... But vice versa, he loves the light headed feeling, the way it literally takes his breath away when you're kissing, he almost instinctively brings his hand up to make you tighten your grip on him.

꩜ LOVES having his hair pulled when you're kissing, good GAWD, it drives him crazy. This is the quickest way to make him crumble, a few tugs at his hair and he's going feral.

꩜ Don't get me wrong though, this man can make a night romantic enough, draws a bath yada yada, then fucks you into the sheets until you can't feel your legs. Kisses you, cleans you up.

꩜ Favorite position? Face down ass up, he loves that he can reach down, grab you by your throat or your hair, force your back against his chest as he fucks into you. OR he'll lay himself down on top of you, trapping you underneath him as he slowly, torturously, thrusts himself inside you. Drawing it out. He loves hearing the whines come from your mouth.

꩜ He has a FILTHY mouth. and he WILL call you a bitch, no matter your gender. But he also uses a fair share of other loving pet names to shower you in "You like that don't you, bitch?" "Baby you're squeezing around me so tight... fuck." "Don't be shy now, bitch, tell me how much you love it." "You can take it, honey... shit."

꩜ Absolutely loves cumming inside, you're on the pill or can't get pregnant? Even better. This man is a risk taker. But he loves how messy it can get when he comes on your stomach, back, or face. God it's like he's claiming you as his in his mind.

꩜ I don't want to touch on him eating pussy, only because if we were thinking REALISTICALLY this man does NOT know how to eat pussy, but that doesn't mean he won't at least TRY. But since he's fictional and I like to indulge myself, he at least knows enough to make you squirm, gripping onto his hair, crying out his name, etc etc. And it makes him so fucking hard.

꩜ (If I REALLY wanted to be self indulgent though) On those nights where he'll cave just enough to let you be more dominant, he'll call you mommy. Moan it so breathlessly into your ear to the point where you're light headed, god and he would sound so pathetic while saying it, voice almost cracking, cheeks flushed, eyes lidded. He'd look so beautiful, neck covered in hickeys, lips wet from hurried kisses.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Thoughts on Shadouge? I used to ship it casually years ago just because I was looking at possibilities of a love interest for Shadow which I didn't consider for a long time, but it quickly lost its appeal for me. I know you said you don't think it works which I agree with and I'm curious about your reasoning.

Explanation under the cut. There’s nothing too negative, but I always feel bad when these wind up in tags and searches for the ship name.

To start, I will say that it doesn’t feel “wrong” to me like most Shadow ships do. I get where shadouge fans are coming from, and I’ve never met a shadouge shipper who was pushy or unpleasant about it. That’s rare in fandoms. I like how low-key they are. :)

As for the ship itself, I don’t buy it because they’re just so solidly best friends. I’ve never seen anything that I’d call romantic between them.

For Shadow, I see two important (living) women in his life right now:

One is a consistent, reliable rock who’s always going to support him and back him up because of who he is.

The other is a light, a beacon who guides him and inspires him to be the best version of himself he can be.

To me, one of those looks like a best friend, and the other looks like a love interest. He needs both, but in my opinion, it’s clear which one’s which. He’s level-headed around Rouge, and while he probably trusts her more than anyone, he looks at her the same way he looks at everyone else. Heck, he looks at her the same way he looks at Omega. I can’t imagine Rouge successfully convincing him to dress up for a murder mystery birthday party or getting him to go to a silly pop concert the way a certain pink hedgehog can, nor can I see her trying to in the first place; Amy’s the only one who can pull him out of his comfort zone like that. The most Rouge does is convince him to go to Sonic’s birthday party, and even then, she has to bribe him. Rouge’s flirtation just bounces off of Shadow, too. He doesn’t have a weak point for her. Looking at Shadow’s behavior, I think he has a soft spot for cute girls, and Rouge isn’t cute.

As for Rouge herself, she’ll support Shadow to hell and back, but we know what love looks like in her eyes. I’m not getting out of bed until she looks at someone else like this:

Rouge and Shadow are too similar in a particular way. They’re both Machiavellian, willing to go to questionable lengths to get the job done. The same goes for Omega. It’s what makes them such a good team, but a good teammate isn’t the same as a love interest. Knuckles won her over by doing the right thing and saving her life even though he had every reason not to.

I actually have some headcanons about Rouge’s past that feed into this concept. I believe Rouge grew up poor and didn’t have too many people she could trust. She had to steal for her own survival, and she learned to cling to whatever wealth she could find. She keeps a lot of secrets to this day because it’s safer. She learned the hard way that no one can hurt her if she won’t let them in.

In time, Rouge met one guy who was on her wavelength who she knew she could trust, and she met another who swept her off her feet, whose altruism upended her pessimistic outlook of how people are.

One of those looks like a best friend, and the other looks like a love interest. She needs both, but it’s clear to me which one’s which.

And of course there’s the matter of commitment. Rouge can’t stay grounded, so to speak, in the kind of stable relationship that would do Shadow a world of good. She’d rather flit around and tease everyone in sight, delighting in all the blushes she can bring out; in her own way, she likes cuteness, too. Amy, meanwhile, prefers to cling to one person, sharing the same steady devotion Shadow could provide in turn. She’s sunshine incarnate. He needs that.

Thanks for the ask!

[asktheritobowyer]

...Do you guys enjoy this blog/like how I've portrayed Harth...

(Blogger here. So I'm just going to speak my feelings, cause I've been bottling it up, and I really don't know how to go about saying it, so I'm just ask the question outright. Do people actually like the way I've written Harth?

If you've been following my blog, and you've seen this post, and you've read it, I'd like an actual reply, and genuine response. Please, I beg of you, do not just ignore it. Because I fear what I'll do if even a post like this gets ignored.

Ever since the whole drama regarding an ask I responded to about Revali, and a reblog thread about Harth and Revali talking, it seems like some people are just deadest on trying to have me delete my blog, whereas others seem to want nothing to do with my blog, and me by extension.

I used to get likes from other Zelda bloggers and then after the drama, it of kind just stopped happening altogether, like nothing I write or draw is interesting anymore no matter how much I try, or how much time I spend to make it interesting.

It also doesn't help that some users who follow them, have been stalking my blog, and going out of their way to send anonymous messages in my inbox ridiculing me, and making fun of me because from they can see all these bloggers are supporting one another and interacting with their blogs, while they leave me behind. "Oh look at how they like each others posts and not yours, it's clear they want nothing to do with you", or "look at they ask each other stuff in character, and not you, is it not clear to you they want nothing to do with you." Imagine getting sent stuff like this constantly.

Doesn't matter if I block them. Because guess what? They keep coming, almost like they've made it their personal mission, to make me feel inadequate and obsolete. At some point these things get to me, and what makes it worse is that some of the things they say, I can't even refute it, so I just feel even worse. Ignoring the things that are sent to me, isn't that easy.

Lately I can't look forward to my inbox, because I'm often wondering what's the next bit of ridicule that's going to be sent to me, that I can't really say anything to. Or if I do get an ask, I'm wondering is anyone even going to be interested what I write or draw. Or if it's an ask about a specific character, and I try to involve the blog runner, I'm now wondering are they even going to acknowledge the ask at all.

Does anyone even see my asks. If they do see them, do they just ignore it because they want nothing to do with my blog. Does anyone like what I write? If they do, why don't they like posts, so I at least know they enjoy what I do.

I have noticed some people have tried to get me involved in some way, and I do greatly appreciate that.

I don't know what to think anymore, and I don't how to feel about stuff either. I'm incredibly lost right now.

I want to keep this blog running, I want to keeping writing stuff as Harth. I want have him interact with others like see others do.

But lately it's been hard to do that, as it appears I've just upset so many people over something fictional, and seems a lot of people don't want anything to do with me or this blog. I'm even getting messages telling me delete the blog, so someone else can play as Harth better, because having someone be different, or disproving of another character's behaviour is seemingly a crime.

So here I am asking you guys, am I portraying Harth well? I'm I doing something right? Do you like what I've done? Does what I write interest you? If so what exactly is it that you find interesting? Have I done something wrong? I'd just like to hear your thoughts.

I tried to put up a strong face, and keep going, but I'm just kidding myself. What's been said to me really has gotten to me.)

[lampochkaart]

1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 18, 19 and 20 for Kokichi for the character ask??? (Sorry if that's too many haha)

Woah, so many! Okay, okay, I don't mind👀

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I love him so much!! I really love how complex he is, how incredible charismatic and fun he is, how fucking smart he is... And I also love how flawed and biased he is. And how cynical and stubborn he is.

I absolutely LOVE the characters that are right and wrong at the same time. Kokichi often says something that is technically right, but at the same time his judgement is very flawed so it's impossible to completely agree with him. Or he's trying to do something good but the way he's doing it is... not great. Or has a good intentions but is being a complete asshole about it.

Like, for example, the situation with Maki. Yes, it's a good thing that he warned everyone about an assassin since they're in a killing game. But also he was trying to separate her from the group and kept needling her even when she wasn't showing any agression to others (and also she had plenty oportunities to kill, but made no move to do it). Only willing to see her as a threat.

And, of course, he's also a very tragic character. What's even worse is that most of it is self inflicted. He isolates, he turns people against himself, he cuts off every possible friendly connection he had. He spends so much time investigating, coming up with plans. And dies in a horrible painful way for the sake of a plan. The plan that didn't work. And he lied to such an extent that people doubted even the sincerity of his last words. Absolutely soul crushing (and body crushing SORRY)

10/10 angst, my heart is in pieces💔

He's both funny and entertaining and also very tragic and I love him for it

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Hmm... Hard to only choose one

Probably his insane acting abilities. How much he's able to control his emotions, how fast can he switch from one to another. How he's able to keep his face no matter how he feels

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Difficult question, because I really like him. Even (especially) with his flaws

Uhhh... His bad CGs maybe? It's more of a problem with V3 in general (although some CGs from other games also have problems). But I'm just thinking about those ones from after trial 4 and they... look very weird. It might be becuase V3's production was rushed, but still

Other that that it's what I'm talking about in 19th question

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I'm gonna answer these two questions in a different ask since it would probably be pretty long answer and this post is already long enough

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

Oh, I'll take this as an invitation to ramble about Kokichi and Kaito!! >:]

I think Kaito and Kokichi's relationship is probably the most interesting in the game. They are polar opposites. They are two sides of the same coin. The are narrative foils.

It's so facinating to see their opposite ideologies clash. Kaito is an idealistic optimist, who wants to play the role of a hero, who values emotions over logic, who's willing to believe at someone simply because he wants to. Kokichi is a cynical pessimist, who likes playing the villain, who values logic over emotion, and who would rather lie, than let people get close to him.

Because of that they constantly get into arguements. And they're totally baffled by each other. Before they never met anyone like that, probably haven't even considered people like this real. How could someone be so cynical and distrusting? How could someone be so naive and trusting? They just can't understand each other's point of view because it's so different from their own. And that's just so fun to watch

But at the same time... They are very similar. Both of them are liars. Both of them are upholding an image, presenting themselves stronger than they are. Both are social, like to be around people. Both like to have fun. Both like to tell crazy stories. Both sometimes act "immature".

And also I like this little fact that a lot of Kaito's loved items are Kokichi's liked items and a lot of Kokichi's loved items are Kaito's liked items. So they even have a lot of shared interests!

It's very entertaining to watch them get into conflicts with each other. And it's because of all their antagonism throughout the game, that it's so cool to see them work together in Ch.5.

They're forced in a fucked up hopeless situation and they do their best to make the most use of it. They have a common goal: to end the killing game. So they put aside their differences and work together. They see each other in their most vulnerable moments. They hate it, but there's no way to avoid it. They put their trust in eachother. They switch roles. But at the same time the roles don't change. Kaito becomes a liar (but he was always one). Kokichi becomes a martyr (but he was always going to do that).

I love 5th case because it's not a murder out of malice, not a murder to get our and not an accident. It's an act of trust. They both put trust in each other. Even though they were pretty much enemies for a good part of the game! They both know they're dying. They both know that there's a high risk of the plan failing. But they still choose to do it. For a small chance of success. For a small chance of a happy ending. Not for themselves, but for their friends.

In my opinion Kaito and Kokichi have one of the most interesting relationships in DR. And I firmly believe that to understand one of them, you have to understand the other. Only then it's possible to see the full picture.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

Kokichi's relationship with Kiibo. He's just constantly picking on him for no reason. The bit quickly becomes too repetetive and just unnecessary mean. Also to me it feels that a lot of things Kokichi does should have some kind of meaning behind them (sometimes even several layers of meaning). So I would've kinda expected that since Kokichi's doing this so persistently, he's trying to do something. Like maybe he's somehow trying to push Kiibo to accept his unique abilities and powers. And while that maaaybe kinda can be interpreted like Kokichi is doing it in the most weird awkward way possible. But still, it's a pretty big stretch. Without any actual payoff it's just Kokichi being mean to Kiibo and that's it. Just bullying the poor robot who wants to be treated normally

They could be friends if Kokichi was nicer to Kiibo. And I would really like them to be friends...

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

GONTA!!!

Kokichi's friendship with Gonta is so so important to me!!

I don't know, I just think it would be so nice if Kokichi would hang out with Gonta and listen to him talk about bugs even though he hates bugs. And if Gonta would participate in Kokichi's pranks. I just like to think they would have fun together. They could've been such an cool duo if they weren't in a shitty stressful situation.

I like Kokichi being friends with Miu and potentially with Rantaro and with Kaito, but Kokichi's friendship with Gonta holds a special place in my heart<3

Thank you for the ask!!<333

[lovewithoutresin]

I promise if Taylor sues the guy we'd find out who he was anyway. I understand this sentiment but people should be accountable for their actions when they're this vile. He didn't say something inappropriate online - he made rape porn of her. I don't NECESSARILY believe anyone should actually physically harm him but I CERTAINLY don't think he should get the privilege of anonymity and employers and such should know what he did.

Cool I hope that the swifties encircle his house like a pack of lions and physically rip him apart before putting his head on a spike

[risingsunresistance]

sorry him saying he has no idea where the misogyny thing comes from when ludwig just talked about how he sent him a big apology for calling his friend a whore when it was about THE WRONG WOMAN is funny as fuck

i dont think he realizes that the reason no one gives a shit about his apologies and honestly just straight up ignores them is because EVEN IN THE EVENT THAT THEY ARE TRUE he's been proven to lie soooooo many times to the point where you really cant believe a word that comes out of his mouth. he says something and im like "damn maybe i was wrong about that one... i'll look into it" and you get more info and go "oh. he just made that part up. and misworded that. and lied about that part... oh it was actually WORSE than i initially thought!"

[jupiter--dream]

(cw vent, sorry it's just been A Couple Of Days)

Not really having many irl friends comes at the price of feeling so terribly lonely, I feel like I have no one to talk to because I'm not close to enough people, or maybe I am and I just haven't talked to them in a while and I don't want this to be our first conversation qwq

I'm honestly just. Tired, tbh qwq

[chewwytwee]

people conflate being nice with not being critical. Being nice to people doesnt mean never presenting them with any kind of negative information or feedback it means don't be a prick while doing it

[1stdonuts]

ive already made plans to dye my hair orange so its too late now but the idea was to dye my hair the same colour as the representative ribbon for brain cancer and for some reason i thought it was orange? its actually grey

[daz4i]

how and why is there discourse about whether or not certain queer identities exist/if people should be allowed(???) to use them. why is "people know their own identity better than you ever could, and they're the only one who get a say on what they are" such a tough concept to grasp

i think if you find yourself offended by the label someone uses (especially if they're a stranger) or think it invalidates your own, it's a good idea to look inside yourself and question why that may be. more often than not, it's a result of insecurity or uncertainty of your own identity (or many other things, but i won't make a whole list here). whatever reason it is, until you resolve it, you shouldn't take it out on people for having an identity you don't understand

many have said it before but it's worth saying over and over. infighting only helps our oppressors. conservatives don't care if you're a cis gay or a xenogender aegosexual aplatonic lesbian, they hate all of us either way. trying to fit in by going for people who are easier targets for them isn't gonna help you, it'll just alienate you from your own community, and you're never gonna please them. the momentary rush you get from hearing you're not like "one of /those/ gay people" is not worth it and is gonna do more harm in the long run, i assure you

also, it is important to me to say this, but having some less than nice kneejerk reaction caused by confusion about an identity you don't understand doesn't mean you're a bad person or anything. as long as you aren't mean to that person, and you take a second to think smth along the lines of "wait a minute, this isn't any of my business" after having said reaction, you're good 👍 a lot of reflexive reactions we have to things are ingrained into us simply by. well. living in a society 🤡 and you're not terrible for having those thoughts. it's your actions that matter, and your second thought (the "wait, why did i just think that?") is more defining of your actual character and morals than your reflex. i know that having thoughts like this, even tho they're unwanted, can very easily make one spiral, so it's important to me that whoever needs to hear this knows this doesn't make you a bad person 🙏 you're good, keep taking actions to be good, accept other people even if you don't understand them, and you're on the right track :)

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

god, grief hits you at the weirdest fucking times

[girl-bateman]

Feeling a debilitating sense of dread and despair 🤨 Which probably means nothing😍👍

[gibbearish]

don’t wanna clog up the notes on your post too much so i’ll say here instead: genuinely so much appreciation and respect for you taking the time and energy to break that post down in such a clear way. I literally saw your post just after going on my own rant on the new subreddit about how frustrating and seemingly hopeless the state of this discourse is on tumblr when people are so ready to eat up all kinds of terrible misinformation with 0 evidence, and how exhausting it is that trying to point out this kind of thing often just leads to being ignored and/or harassed no matter how carefully you word your argument. like it’s ridiculous the amount of self-policing one has to do on tumblr to call out bullshit within queer circles while avoiding pitfalls that will lead to being willfully and woefully misinterpreted, which I think is part of why it sometimes genuinely takes an entire essay to say “this person is lying.” I think you did an excellent job at explaining everything while navigating an absolute minefield of discourse and I applaud the effort, courage, and skill that must have taken 👏👏 people like you genuinely make me feel sane again

yet another example of the piss on the poor website. this is precisely the opposite of what i requested. F-