#that gay blonde guy with the white suit

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Thinking about Tseng trying not to squirm when he's got a vibrating plug in during the work day, but if you pay real close attention you can see his eyelid twitch and his gaze lose focus and hear him quietly gasp? Maybe he drops a pen at his desk, or he frowns and closes his eyes like he has a headache, but you know he's trying so hard not to give up the game

I thought I was going to write a minific on it but instead here's some shit

I imagine this as a little game between Rufus and Tseng. Rufus will make Tseng suffer through meetings, turning up the intensity of the vibrator when Tseng stands before the other board members to speak. I also imagine Rufus doesn't do it every time Tseng speaks so he could make sure it remains a surprise.

Okay okay. You be cooking dawg, real shit. Are we sharing a brain right now? As I was driving to work, admittedly, I took a peek at this ask while I was changing the song. I read up to "vibrating plug during his work day" then proceeded to get lost in thought about how Tseng would tremble as he came, lips slightly parted, and his breathing is so rugged but he's trying his hardest to mask it. The furrowing of his brows as he focuses abnormally hard on a form he's filled out a million times before.

I can clear as day picture sitting in the office with Tseng, filling out a mission report and you'd be just kind of sitting there noticing he’s a bit fidgety but not thinking too much of it. Until you're handing Tseng the report to go over, just to see that he's a bit sweaty and oddly...nervous? At least, that's how he'll come off.

How many times do you think Tseng would cum in your presence(i vote many, he's good at stealth orgasms) Palming his dick under his desk so you can't see as he watches you. Tseng already thinks you're oh so beautiful and wants to be used by you. Combined with the perverse nature of his actions and Rufus' torture, he just can't help himself.

The occasionally sloppy writing because he can't even think straight. I can only assume this would semi piss Tseng off, only because he has some of the world's most perfect handwriting and the knowledge that Rufus will get in his ass later about his sloppy work. (In his ass is up for interpretation)

[knittedbond]

the only demand i have for hollywood is that when i get to adapt giovanni's room to screen i get that bland pale-faced boring ass motherfucker Glen Powell to play david

[fratttymatty]

Southern Shift

(All characters are 18+)

Maddox had never been much of a believer in magic. Sure, he’d seen the viral videos, heard the wild stories, but he figured they were all some sort of elaborate hoaxes or clever editing tricks. His life had always been a straightforward one: an 18-year-old guy from a fairly progressive city on the coast. He was used to being who he was—a proud gay man, confident and comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fit in with every crowd, but that was fine by him. He had his friends, his passions, and a future in design and art lined up after graduation.

But when a strange e-mail showed up one Wednesday evening, everything Maddox knew about his life was thrown into chaos.

It came from a source called TrueVision Enterprises, a company he’d never heard of, with a subject line that read: "Your Destiny Awaits — Experience a New Life." Curiosity got the best of him. What could possibly go wrong?

It was a poorly-written message, vague but cryptic. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be someone else? To experience a life you’ve only imagined? Click here to find out.”

A grin spread across his face. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was a scam. But it was better than staring at the same four walls all night. So, against better judgment, he clicked the link.

The screen went black for a moment, then flashed with a blinding light.

When Maddox opened his eyes, everything had changed.

It wasn’t just the environment—though the suburban neighborhood around him looked radically different from his usual cityscape. No, it was something far deeper, more visceral. He felt it in his bones, in his muscles, in the very way he was standing.

Looking down, he saw the first signs. His body had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone was his lean but soft physique, the figure of a 5'11" city guy with a slight build. In its place was something else entirely: a lean, toned build with defined muscles in his arms, chest, and legs. His body felt stronger, like he could throw a punch without thinking about it, or lift heavy things without breaking a sweat. But what really caught his attention was his height.

He blinked, staring down at himself. He was taller. Not just a little taller, but by a significant amount. Maddox used to be 5'11", but now, standing at 6'3", he had a commanding presence. His legs stretched out longer than he remembered, and the new height gave him an imposing posture. He’d never been the tallest in his group, and now he towered over everyone, even the people around him who seemed much bigger and broader than he remembered.

His new height felt natural, like it had always been this way. But it also made him feel powerful, larger-than-life in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

He glanced at the house around him. It was large, a two-story place with wide windows, a white picket fence, and an immaculately-kept lawn. The interior was similarly pristine, and the smell of fresh wood and leather filled the air. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn’t anywhere he recognized. But something about the space felt... familiar, as though it was his home now.

He staggered, momentarily disoriented, and made his way to a nearby mirror.

What he saw almost made him fall over.

A stranger stared back at him. His face was familiar, but only in the way you recognize a reflection in a window before you really focus on it. His hair—blonde, curly, and wild—was cut into a mullet that reached just past the top of his neck, the ends flaring out like a halo of unruly curls. He didn’t remember ever styling his hair that way, yet the new version of himself seemed to suit it effortlessly. The loose curls framed his jawline, drawing attention to the newly defined muscles there.

His eyes, once a sharp hazel, had turned a lighter shade of blue. His expression was different too—stoic, even smug, like someone who knew exactly who he was and had no time for nonsense.

Then he looked down at himself, taking in his outfit. A plaid, button-up shirt—tight across his chest but still comfortable—clung to his muscular frame. He wore a worn leather belt with a large, shining buckle, a pair of jeans that fit just right and boots that seemed made for walking through dirt. And of course, a tan, weathered cowboy hat sat perched on top of his head.

Everything about his appearance screamed “redneck,” yet it was as if he'd always been this way. As if this transformation was simply an outward reflection of who he was now.

He stared at his reflection, utterly speechless, before hearing a voice from behind him.

"Adam, honey, come on down here! Dinner’s ready!"

He froze. Adam? That wasn’t his name. His name was Maddox.

But when he tried to say it—when he opened his mouth to speak—it wasn’t "Maddox" that came out.

"Yessir, mom," the new voice said, gruff and confident, with a drawl he didn't recognize. It was his voice, but it felt... wrong.

Before he could think further, his feet carried him toward the stairs. Every movement felt more natural, more instinctual. He didn’t have to think about walking anymore; his body just moved.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by two older figures: a tall man with a thick beard and a sun-worn face, and a woman with perfectly-coiffed blonde hair and a warm, motherly smile.

"Adam, you hungry, baby?" The woman—his new "mother"—asked in a thick Southern accent, as she placed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes on the table.

"Yeah, looks good, mom." His voice was smooth, authoritative, and familiar. It was like he had always talked this way.

The man, his new father, patted him on the back. "Atta boy. Gotta keep up your strength if you’re gonna help me with the truck this weekend."

Adam nodded, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement at the thought of working on a truck. "Sounds good, pops."

His father gave him a knowing look. "Glad to hear it. Gotta be ready to defend this house. Keep it in shape." There was a pause, and then a sly smirk crossed his face. "Though, I gotta say, I’m more worried about that little gay friend of yours. What’s his name again? Cody, right?"

Adam’s heart skipped. Cody was his best friend. But the way his father said it—the sneer in his voice—felt wrong. His thoughts tried to resist, but the tug of new instincts, of new feelings, pushed him to respond in a way he would have never before.

"Yeah, Cody’s a nice guy," Adam said, his voice dripping with casual disdain, "but man, he’s just… different, y’know? He’s always talking about stuff I don’t care about, like his art or whatever. He’s not really my kind of guy. Dude’s all wrapped up in his feelings and thinks he’s some kind of big thinker. He’s just not built for the real world."

Adam laughed and shrugged, the words flowing out like they were second nature. It felt good, somehow, to say it out loud. The Maddox part of him—the part that would’ve fiercely defended Cody, that would’ve fought anyone who insulted him—seemed like a distant memory.

His father chuckled, clearly approving. "Well, I’m glad to hear you’re making better choices, son. You don't need someone like that holding you back."

"Exactly," Adam said with a grin. "I’ve got enough on my plate, worrying about football, work, and, you know, my future. Guys like Cody? They just complicate things."

The following day, Adam found himself at a school that seemed to be from another world. The high school was old, with large wooden bleachers in the gym and the faint smell of tobacco in the air. Kids in cowboy boots and trucker hats roamed the halls, and there was an air of casual arrogance in the way they all carried themselves.

When he walked into the classroom, heads turned. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but now, standing at his new, imposing height of 6'3", Adam felt like he belonged. He loomed over the students around him, towering above them with a sense of superiority that felt right, even though it was still so new. His height made him feel like the guy everyone respected—or, if they didn’t, they at least stayed out of his way.

"Hey, Adam," a guy called from the back of the room. He had a thick jaw and a cocky grin. "How’s it going, man?"

"Good, bro," Adam replied, easily slipping into the role of the guy everyone wanted to hang out with. The guy who didn’t care about anything except his truck, his friends, and his future. A life of simple pleasures, uncomplicated by anything like "progressive politics" or "diversity."

But the most striking change came when he spotted her in the hallway. Emily.

She was the cheerleading captain. Blonde, athletic, and with a smile that lit up the entire school. Adam hadn’t expected to feel such a strong pull toward her, but as he watched her walking toward him, he felt his chest puff out with pride, the feeling of possession he didn’t quite understand.

"Hey, Adam," Emily called, giving him a wink. She wore her cheer uniform—tight, short, and red—and looked every bit the picture of what his new life was supposed to be. "You ready for the game on Friday? I’ve got your back, big guy."

"Always," Adam said, his voice dropping an octave. He felt confident, even cocky, as he walked toward her, putting an arm around her waist as they headed to class together. She was his girlfriend, after all, and that was just the way things were now. The idea of a different reality, a different version of himself, felt so distant.

By the time school ended, Adam was fully in his new life. Football practice had been intense, but Adam had breezed through it. As a starting wide receiver, he was the star of the team. He felt invincible on the field, his new body moving with strength and agility. The other players had all been high-fiving him, slapping his back, calling him "the beast."

And as for Emily? She was always by his side, chatting him up with that sweet, familiar smile. They talked about the weekend plans—probably a party at Brad's, a bonfire down by the lake—and Adam felt perfectly at home.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Adam had only one thought: This is my life now. He was Adam, the 6'3", football-playing redneck with a cheerleader girlfriend and a world of opportunities at his feet.

The old Maddox, the artist from the city, was gone.

And Adam? Adam was everything he’d ever needed to be.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The New Normal

A week ago, our reality shifted. Every hardened construction worker across the globe threw on his hardhat, leather gloves, and steel-toed boots to march onto the job site, but they didn't put much else on...

It just seemed so normal to them. They all woke up one day and didn't feel any need to dress anymore after donning their tightest underwear. Wearing nothing but undies to work was not out of the ordinary in any way. Everyone knows that construction workers have to work in their underwear.

It's how they beat the heat.

All the workers have embraced the new cliche, exposing their meaty muscles and sweaty body hair to the entire city. The only thing a passing civilian sees is the new stereotype. Everyone is desensitized to the sight of barely clad men lumbering around and sweating all over the machinery.

Most people jeer and catcall the manual laborers. After all, it's completely normal for the blue-collar workers to be the ones getting harassed by others on the street. Construction workers hate when all the businessmen roam the city to whistle and holler gross things their way.

"Hey, brick-pig!" a young executive yells as he passes the sweaty worker, "That tool between your legs seems a bit small. Let me know if you need a real man for the job!"

The hairy laborer turns his head to ignore the comment, but he jumps as a hand pinches his ass.

"Just had to cop a feel," another suit admits with a laugh before sauntering off.

Those white-collar jerks made every day difficult for them, but no one was worse than the gays.

For reasons no construction worker understood, homosexuals completely intimidated them now. It didn't matter how masculine or brawny the laborers were, everyone's legs shook when a twink walked onto the site.

"Hey, daddy," a skinny blonde boy purred, slinking his way towards the biggest worker.

"Hey," the man's gruff voice came out as a nervous whisper. He could barely even meet the twink's big blue eyes.

"Why don't you tell your boss you're done for the day," he sang, fixing his frail palm over the bulge between the man's legs, "You're coming back to my place."

Scared to disagree, the brawny construction worker shuffled away and found the contractor to explain that had to leave. He just couldn't bring himself to stand up to that fruitcake. The boy was obviously gay, but he hoped the kid would let him go after a quick blowjob. Hopefully, the guy wouldn't be too pushy with him.

The rest of the crew averted their eyes and continued their work. They didn't want the homo to call them out too.

It's terrible to constantly have eyes on their bodies; they cringe at all the comments about their fat asses; and they are tired of accidentally ripping their tight underwear when they bend over. The new work uniform is not a favorite for any construction crew, but no one can really imagine dressing another way.

It's the new normal.

[billthedrake]

HALL PASS

Story idea from @aestheticsupremacy

It was still summer warm as the two lacrosse jocks walked across campus after practice. Brian was going on about the chick he had a date with late that evening and was teasing Jake.

"Dude... if you ever wanted pussy, you'd be so set. Girls fucking love gay guys."

Jake laughed, his blond hair still on the lighter side from summer beach time. He and the star attacker got along great because they never BS-ed each other. "Bro, I don't think it works that way," he said, flashing his dimples. "Besides, I think all those sorority girls want a gay pal they can go to the clubs with. I can't dance worth shit."

"You can't," Brian grinned. "You got the moves on the field but, fuck..."

Both guys laughed as they entered the residence hall, one of the nicer ones where a lot of the athletes lived.

"Hey Jake!" the student worker at the front desk said when he saw the two jocks. "Some mail came for you."

"Mail?" he asked as the walked up to the desk. Normally, mail got delivered to their mailboxes, which Jake didn't check regularly. Who the fuck sends mail these days anyway, other than advertisers?

The desk guy nodded. "Yeah, certified or something. Looks important." He reached over and pulled out a document sized cardboard envelope.

"Hey, I'll catch ya later, Hoss," Brian said as he bumped fists with his teammate buddy.

"Yah," Jake said, then looked back down at the envelope. There was a familiar return address. It was his dad's work. Jake's father was a high-powered executive - not Fortune 500 but CFO for a top financial firm. Leave it to Dad to send paperwork in hard copy. Jake tried to rack his brain to guess what document was so urgent, but maybe it was some school form he needed to sign. Maybe Jake should take more responsibility for those things, but his dad tended to look after the details.

"Thanks, Mitch," he told the desk guy, then went to the elevators to go up to his room.

It was quiet in his room, since his roommate had taken off Thursday afternoon to go home for a long weekend. He got along well with Ed, a varsity baseball player, but they weren't real tight. And Jake liked having the alone time and privacy sometimes.

The lacrosse jock set down his phone and keys and shook his head with a chuckle as he opened the envelope. "You're so fucking old school, Dad," he said aloud. "I love it."

It wasn't a form inside, but instead there was a linen-white stationary with his Dad's company logo and his father's name and title embossed. "From the Desk of Steven J. Weir."

It was what was printed below that made Jake's heart stop.

"Dear Mr. Wier:

This letter serves as official notice that Jacob Peter Weir has his father's permission to have sex as often as he likes and with whomever he likes, from the date of August 20, 2023 to May 14, 2024. This arrangement will be extended in subsequent years unless the two parties renegotiate their terms.

sincerely,

Steve Weir"

There was his father's recognizable wide, cursive signature, undoubtedly written with one of his favorite blue-ink fountain pens that his family had given him for Christmas.

Jake was rock hard. "Fuck," he hissed.

Only then did he realize there was something else in the envelope. He reached in and pulled out three photographs, each 8x10 glossy portraits of this father. They were different poses of his dad in business attire, like professional headshots for a company website or something.

"Got your package," the jock texted his father.

It took a second but then a message came up from Dad: "You able to Facetime?"

Jake got a big grin as he hit the dial button to video call his father. His heart jumped a little as the image filled his phone screen. His dad was in his C-suite office and looking handsome as fuck in his tailored suit as his own horny grin matched his son's.

"Hey Sport," he said. "Looking good." He leaned back in his swivel chair and angled the phone to give Jake a better view of his suited upper body. He had a good knowledge by now of what pushed his boy's buttons.

"You too Dad," the jock hissed, reaching down to paw his crotch again. "I can't believe it's only been 24 hours since I've seen your face... fuck."

His father laughed. Because Steve felt the same way. He knew it would be hard when Jake went off to college, but he was going through sexual withdrawal in addition to the normal empty nest syndrome.

Only now his bright smile got a hint of nervousness. "What did you think of what I sent you, son?"

Jake felt that constriction in his throat. Sorta like the first time he knew he was gonna fuck his dad... that combination of sheer horniness and disbelief it was gonna happen.

"You know, Dad," the 19-year-old smirked, "A hall pass isn't an actual piece of paper."

Steve's brown eyes seemed bright. Happy. Excited. "I wanted to make it official. For you. For us." The exec was definitely getting that bedroom voice, and Jake could tell by the movement in his dad's upper body that the man was reaching down to unzip and haul out his cock.

For his part Jake tugged down his shorts with one hand to free his junk, which was firming up real fucking fast. His father had given him the encouragement to freeball it, and it was now Jake's preferred way of casual dress. It made him feel free and sexual.

Jake prided himself on the sexual confidence he'd learned to project with his dad, but times like this he still felt unsure, deep down. "I told you, Dad. I don't need to have sex with other guys."

"You're 18, Sport," his dad said resolutely. "A college kid should be spreading his wings."

Jake got a playful grin. His right hand was working up and down his bone while his left hand held the phone. "You really want me to fuck other guys?" he asked. Pointed. Challenging.

Steve shook his head no. "Honestly, no. I don't. But I want you to lead the life that's going to make you happy." His own fist was working up and down in his lap. "I want you to become your own man, Jakey."

Something about that nickname drove the jock wild. He felt a spurt of precum in his palm. "You think sending me 8x10 glossies is gonna make me happy," he hissed. Jake's tone was halfway between a statement and a question.

Steve loved watching his son get in horndog mode. He'd like to think he passed that on to Jake genetically, but something about the kid's sex drive seemed innate. And all Jake.

The exec's voice got low and gravely. "You tell me, son. Did they make you happy?"

Jake just let go of his prick and angled his phone down to capture the hard teen bone that stood up long and rigid. "This is the reaction those pics got." He pulled the phone back up to see the amused and pleased look on his father's face.

"I'm glad," Steve said. Then with a pause, he angled the phone to show Jake his own fatherly prick, standing out from his unzipped suit.

"I wish I could suck that, Dad," Jake said, enjoying the freedom to talk aloud like this. "I wish I was there right now."

"You primed for some office sex, Sport?"

"Fuuuckk, Dad." Jake's fist was now steadily pumping his jock bone. "I'm still pissed off you won't let me fuck you there."

That got a laugh out of his father. The 49-year-old was even more handsome when he smiled. "You're a spoiled brat, you know that?"

"Fuck yeah I am," Jake shot back, getting into the zone with the teasing sex talk with his father. It came to them so fucking easily. "Something about nailing your dad regularly will make you that way."

That got a soft growl from the executive, and Jake watched as his father reached up to flip his tie over the shoulder of his suit coat, getting it out of the way.

"Damn, you gonna cum on your shirt today, Dad?"

Steve shook his head. "Hopefully not... but just in case. You get me so worked up, Sport." Off screen Jake knew his father had gone back to stroking his hard dick.

"So, Dad... if I take you up on that hall pass... what are you gonna do?"

"Whaddya mean, Jakey?"

"I mean..." the teen's own fist was working up and down his cock. "Does that mean you get a hall pass, too?"

"That's not part of the deal," Steve said, his brown eyes now wide with excitement. "But Buddy... I honestly don't know how I'm gonna get through this year. I guess I'll be doing a lot more of what I'm doing right now."

That got a matching growl from his son, whose hand moved faster and faster on his prick. "A fucking waste of dad cum."

That got a grin from Steve. "You like my sperm, huh, Jakey?"

"Can't get enough, Dad," came the immediate response. For a confident top when it came to fucking, Jake loved to taste his dad's prick and to eat his father's semen. When he wasn't sucking his dad off, he'd be licking the cum off the man's well-fucked body.

The jock felt another spurt of precum when his Dad brought the phone down close to his crotch, that solid, thick seven incher sticking out from the unzipped suit trousers.

"That's my dad," Jake growled. He'd have to find a way to have phone sex more often.

"Wanna cum for me, Jakey?" Steve asked, his voice signaling he was already on the edge.

"Nah," the jock said. "Hold off one second," he urged. He set down the phone and stripped off his T-shirt and kicked away his lax shorts. He then angled the phone just right on his desk and stepped back. Even from the distant view, he could see his dad's face will up the phone screen.

"Damn..." Steve growled. "That's my boy."

Jake felt fully alive, head to toe, as he stroked his cock and showed off for his father. He knew he was a good looking stud, with a great toned, athletic body. But his father's approval made him feel that much studlier.

"So Dad..." the teen asked. "If I used that hall pass, you wanna hear about the guys?"

"I don't know, Sport," Steve said with visible mixed feelings. "I'll let that be your call, OK?" He watched his son intently, as if it was the last chance he'd see Jake naked and hard. "I almost didn't send it," he confessed.

That made his son grin and Jake removed his fist from his dick, showing off the erection by swinging it side to side. "Yeah? It was so fucking hot to read it, Dad. You know, that you'd even send it."

"I'm glad, Jake," came Steve's reply.

"We're you hard writing it?" the son asked.

Steve's voice got soft and low. "I was, son."

"You want me spreading my wings in college, huh?" Jake's hand resumed its stroke. He really wanted his dad to cum first today but he didn't know if he'd be able to hold off.

Fortunately, Steve was getting into the zone now. Jake could only see his face, not his cock or masturbating fist, but he recognized that horny tone in his father's voice. "God, Jakey, you're such a fucking stud... seems wrong if you can't enjoy college a little, you know?"

Jake grinned, getting into a slow stroke that seemed to keep things on the boil without erupting over. "Maybe I'll line up some hot coach to fuck... but you know if I do, I'll be thinking of you the whole time, Dad."

That got an audible groan from Steve. Which only encouraged Jake to go further.

"Yeah, I'll be balls deep in some daddy ass and have to shut my eyes so I can think of my father... of fucking you..."

"Yes," Steve hissed. He was getting closer to cumming.

"of bending my dad over his office desk and pulling down those suit pants of yours..."

"You're not gonna stop pestering till you get that will ya, Jakey?"

"No, sir. I wanna get my way. Nail you hard to that expensive desk of yours... in your expensive suit... to thank you for all that expensive tuition you paid over the years."

This was new territory for the Weirs. They'd never talked about money, other than some of Steve's jokes about how much Jake's private school cost and some practical dad-son talks about personal finance. But Jake was bringing it into the sex talk and both men were surprisingly turned on by it.

"FUCCK!" Steve cried a half second before choking his reaction to be quieter in his office.

"Go for it, Dad!" the lacrosse jock said more openly. He stepped up closer so he could see his dad's face as he rode out an intense orgasm. "Nice!"

Steve's face was flush red as he caught his breath. "Goddamn, I needed that," he said. Then playfully he tilted his phone down. Huge splotches of his pearly white seed dotted his dress shirt after all.

"Cumming!" Jake cried, unable to hold by his ejaculation now. Steve had to look, had to watch his Jakey in full nut. It was just a beautiful sight. The only thing more beautiful was watching Jake orgasm as he was buried deep inside his father.

"Attaboy, Sport," he encouraged. "Goddamn, that's a huge nut."

Jake grinned as he felt the aftershocks. Playfully, he squeezed out dribbles from his long piece of jock meat and brought it up to his lips to taste. Not his dad's but a second best. Jake just loved the flavor of cum.

He could now tell his father was wiping off the cum from his shirt and his cock before pulling the phone back.

"That was incredible," Steve said.

"I'll say. I'll have to thank Rich for giving me the free time," Jake laughed.

"Is he away?"

Jake nodded. "All weekend. Maybe we can go long and deep this weekend, you know, edge a little."

Steve grinned. "I'll try, Sport.... awful hard to last with you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Jake agreed.

His Dad seemed happy and yet sad at the same time. "Listen, I should go."

"Yeah," Jake said. "I need some dinner."

"I miss ya, Sport," Steve said. "So much."

"Miss ya too, Dad."

****

Steve felt nervous all Saturday. Jake had suggested they wait till later in the day for phone sex. The father tried to kill time with household chores and a super long session at the gym.

"You're a fucking mess, Steve," he said to himself as he drove home from the fitness center where he'd been spending a lot more time since the divorce and especially since he and Jake started fooling around. It felt wrong to be so attached to his own son, and yet he was.

There was a package on his front porch. FedEx Saturday delivery. Steve picked it up.

"What the fuck?" Steve laughed as he saw his son's dorm as the return address. "That little bugger."

As he opened the door and stepped in, the man squished the sides of the plastic package-envelope. It was soft inside. Steve opened the end with the pull tab.

As he pulled out the fabric, Steve Weir recognized the shorts immediately. They were a well-worn pair of Jake's high school lacrosse shorts. Wadded inside was a worn jock strap.

"Jesus," Steve hissed with excitement. Maybe Jake wanted him to have these for their session today. Or maybe this was just for the times it was Steve, alone in his bedroom, imagining a grown son who wasn't there with him.

Either way, Steve knew both the shorts and the jock were gonna be crusted with his own cum before long.

It was only after a second that he noticed scraps of paper on the floor. They'd fallen out, hand torn.

Steve immediately sensed what they were, and a quick look confirmed it. It was the hall pass he'd sent Jake.

"Man, buddy," he said aloud in the quiet room as he pulled out his phone. He had to call his son.

"Hey Dad"

"Oh, Jakey..." Steve said.

"You got it."

"Yeah, I got it," his dad replied. "You're not doing this just to make me happy are you?"

"Maybe," Jake said. "But not really. I don't know, Dad. I just realized I'd rather have blue balls than fuck a substitute you, you know?"

"Sport, that's the most fucking romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," Steve beamed.

That made his son laugh. "Yeah, that's me, one romantic fucker... just promise me one thing, Dad."

"Anything," Steve said.

"We gotta find away to see each other through the semester. Yeah, I know you want me to go off and be my own man. But I can't wait till Thanksgiving. For real, Dad."

"Yeah, we'll make it happen. I'll come down next week. And fly you up whenever you want. Promise." This was a backpedal from the promises Steve made himself when Jake went off, but he realized he was happy changing his stance.

"Cool. God, Dad, I love you."

"Love you too, Jakey," Steve said. He looked down at the scraps of paper and everything they represented. "And son... next time you're here, I'll let you fuck me on my desk."

[fredwkong]

Virgo Season: Shane

Today, Virgo is associated most with the astrological sign. Virgos are rigid, conscientious, prudish, stubborn. It is often forgotten that Virgo is the sign of the harvest, when inedible grass turns to edible wheat in a yearly miracle. This plenty inspired the ancients to name innumerable mother goddesses for the harvest, to remind all people that, with patience and care, even the most stubborn ground can be tilled to bear fruit.

When Virgo rules the heavens, it is a time for things that have been growing to ripen and let loose. This is especially true at the Astra, a hotel and conference centre somewhere in central Florida. The cornerstone houses an ancient, mysterious artifact that resonates with the desires of the hotel’s guests, bringing out the things they have been hiding deep within. It is especially powerful in Virgo season.

At 3:32 AM on August 23, 1 hour and 30 minutes before the Sun entered Virgo, Shane Blanco walked out of the elevator and across the lobby, nodding to the dozing receptionist. He tried to act normal, but every few seconds he smoothed back his short blond hair or dried his hands on his conservative black slacks as he stood waiting by the automatic door, belying his nervousness.

Shane and his father, the famous evangelical pastor Adam Blanco, had arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon. Pastor Blanco was the guest of honour at a month-long conference for his reactionary evangelical organisation, which was to host a parade of noteworthy men from the far right over the next month, including media personalities, politicians, and other evangelical speakers like Pastor Blanco.

His throat dry, Shane checked his Tinder messages again. Nothing yet. Shane was here… well, Shane was here because all of his brothers and sisters had said “not it” faster. He was meant to be the perfect young Republican, his father’s “success story.” It showed in his fresh blond Ivy League cut, his well-tailored suits, his handsome face, and his white, perfect smile. Shane was going to have an aneurysm.

Even entering his twenties, Shane was still terribly repressed. He’d kissed a boy once, under the bleachers during a school football game, and immediately had a panic attack. This trip was the farthest that he had travelled from his little midwestern hometown, and it wasn’t like Pastor Blanco was keeping close track of what he did. If Shane wanted to get the taste of gay life he was desperately craving, now was the time.

He had matched with Rodrigo while sitting in the back seat of the rented SUV Shane and his father had ridden in to the Astra. He was a Latino hunk, his Tinder pictures showing a tantalising carpet of chest hair on his thick chest. There were pictures of him bearing rainbow flags at pride parades, hanging out with other equally undressed guys of all shapes, sizes, and colours, and one where, just at the bottom of the frame, Shane had seen the top few inches of a pair of leather pants. They had been messaging all night.

Rodrigo was at some other nighttime event in town, but he had begged off early and had texted that he was on his way to the Astra. Shane shifted from foot to loafered foot, trying to pretend he didn’t have cold sweat dripping down his back. What if he got stood up? What if Rodrigo was actually working for his father, waiting to catch Shane in an act of temptation? What if Rodrigo had decided that he actually didn’t want to have a hookup with an inexperienced, repressed white prep?

Just as Shane was about to scurry back upstairs, the front door opened and a man in a long leather jacket stepped inside. Rodrigo looked even bigger in person, and even more out of place, a burly, bearded, tan hunk in big combat boots standing in the opulent foyer of the Astra. Shane hurried to his side, trying to look like something other than a gangling prep.

“Hey man.” Rodrigo took Shane firmly by the wrist and walked deeper into the hotel. “Good to see you again. It was a total bitch to find parking around here.” He sounded so natural, like it was perfectly normal for two people as different as them to meet in a hotel lobby at 4 in the morning. He held Shane tight, forcing him to walk briskly, but not urgently. Shane felt leather at his back, and the smell of cigarettes tickled his nose, emanating from the jacket. Rodrigo took a turn into the richly carpeted hallway leading past the conference hall. “You know where we’re going?” he murmured in Shane’s ear. He had to lean down to get close enough, a sensation which made Shane shudder with lust.

“Y-yes,” Shane breathed. While Pastor Blanco had organised the conference hall to his exacting needs, Shane had scouted the whole first floor, and he’d found a mysterious, unlocked door that opened to a set of stairs. He directed Rodrigo there, and the two men stumbled down the dark steps into the sub-basement of the Astra.

Using his phone flashlight, Rodrigo found a light switch. They were in a disused storage room with unfinished cinderblock walls, some of which had some kind of strange carving on them. Shane assumed that they must have been leftovers from the ornate facade on the Astra’s front. There were sinuous patterns, some twisted together to form some kind of indiscernible script.

Grabbing Shane by the shoulders, Rodrigo spun him around, and Shane found himself pressed against the concrete, surrounded by leather and man. “Can I kiss you, cutie?” Rodrigo asked.

Shane nodded desperately, and Rodrigo surged forward, catching Shane’s mouth.

Shane could barely think about anything but the feeling of Rodrigo’s moustache and beard against his face, and the electric sensation of firm, confident lips on his. Then Rodrigo’s tongue was in his mouth, and Shane could taste his saliva, made a little smokey by the cigarette he must have smoked in the car. Shane could feel his cock straining against his briefs as Rodrigo flattened his body against the wall.

“Hold on.” Suddenly, Rodrigo was gone. Shane opened his eyes to see him efficiently stripping off his leather jacket. Underneath, shockingly, was not a shirt, but a leather harness.

Rodrigo caught Shane’s shocked stare. “Sorry,” he said, looking less than confident for the first time. “The other event I was at was a, uh, kink night at a local club. Didn’t have time to change. I know it’s not a lot of people’s, you know, thing…”

Shane swallowed. Marshalled his thoughts with an effort. “I’m just surprised,” he said. “I think I, uh, like it.”

Rodrigo’s gaze followed Shane’s down to the visible bulge in Shane’s slacks. Rodrigo suddenly grinned. “Wow, you are repressed.”

Shane nodded. “Can I touch it?”

Still grinning, Rodrigo stepped forward, back in range of Shane’s hand.

With shaking fingers, Shane reached out and stroked the supple leather. “God,” he said, “I wish—”

What he was about to say was lost as Rodrigo crowded back against him and kissed him, but he had already said more than enough. A spark arced from the heel of his spare hand, pressed against the wall, into the magical channels carved into the cinderblocks. Shane’s mind suddenly let loose the desires he had repressed for all twenty-two years of his life, half-formed thoughts of leather, rubber, and lycra gear filling his mind as he tugged on the harness’s handle. Newer ideas of hair, dark skin, and the masculine scents of sweat and smoke flowed in too as Rodrigo gently slid Shane’s feet out of his loafers.

The magical artifact responded, and a soft orange glow filled the room, unnoticed by Shane or Rodrigo as Rodrigo’s slick fingers entered Shane’s virgin hole. Shane’s offering, of a mind grown and strengthened by repression suddenly ripened, harvested by sexual experience, unleashed an unexpected magical effect.

Shane lay on his back on Rodrigo’s leather jacket, his polo shirt rucked up under his shoulders as he continued to maintain his grip on Rodrigo’s harness. He moaned as Rodrigo’s fat Latino cock entered him, his own cock rock hard against his belly.

Along with Rodrigo’s dripping cock came some of the power building in the air. Rather than pain or pressure, Shane experienced only blinding pleasure as his hole relaxed, and Rodrigo easily bottomed out. With each thrust, Shane’s skin started to smooth out and darken, first around his hole and across his ass, and then up his belly and down his legs.

When Rodrigo grabbed Shane’s cock, a foreskin suddenly grew from the shaft, and Shane’s eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of Rodrigo’s firm hand on his newly sensitive cockhead. Shane’s darkening balls tensed, then relaxed lower, growing slightly to match a slightly larger, darker cock. The thatch of sparse blond hair around his cock and balls shrank away, as if shaved with an experienced hand.

Shane’s slight belly dissolved, revealing a toned, but not huge, set of abs, and his pecs became flat and firm, wrapped tight on his toned chest. The blond hair in his armpits vanished like the rest of Shane’s body hair, leaving sparse black stubble. The polo shirt shrank and hardened into a black leather harness.

At the same time, the transformation reached both Shane’s darkening feet and his long, lithe fingers. Only partly aware, Shane watched as his fingers darkened and his feet, up on Rodrigo’s shoulders, flexed just a little larger, with mobile, sensual toes. The nails of both darkened with black nail polish. That was bad, Shane thought, trying to organise his mind through the blinding pleasure of Rodrigo's fucking combined with the magic coursing through his changing body. His… His someone would be upset.

With a thrust that brought Rodrigo’s cock straight home on Shane’s now extra-sensitive prostate, Shane threw back his head and the magic followed. All his thoughts dissolved. His jaw sharpened and his lips filled out as they darkened, matching both the nipples he was using one hand to twist and the cockhead peeking out of Rodrigo’s big, callused hand. His eyes darkened, his brow lowering to give him a hooded, seductive gaze.

Finally, the magic entered Shane’s hair follicles. Beginning from the roots, blond became black, and the strands tore free of the gel Shane had carefully combed in yesterday morning. Tousled curls fell across Shane’s forehead.

Like a flick switched in his mind, Shane suddenly looked up at Rodrigo with a cocky, lustful gaze. “That’s it, you big bear,” he said in a deeper, slightly smokey voice, pulling harder on Rodrigo’s harness to make him gasp. “Fill my slutty boyhole. Take this virgin hole.”

Rodrigo gasped as he was pulled closer to Shane’s torso, the fucking becoming somehow more intense. He suddenly felt close to the edge. “Gonna… cum,” he gasped, trying to pull out. No way this virgin bottom was gonna outlast an experienced guy like him.

Shane pulled harder. “Cum in me,” he growled, dragging a ragged sob from Rodrigo’s throat. “C’mon, I need your load in me.”

At Shane’s command, Rodrigo let go, filling Shane up with his load. He knew he’d put on a condom, but somehow he found himself bare, painting Shane’s insides with cum. At precisely 5:02 AM, as the Sun entered Virgo behind the bulk of the earth, Shane let loose too, painting his lean new torso with a huge, runny load of cum.

Both men made the most powerful offering a living being can make at the exact moment that Virgo entered its greatest power. The power slammed into the magic filling the air, and the unformed wish Shane had inadvertently made was recast into a powerful spell.

I wish… a rush of images and words… cock, leather, sweat, gay, mask, Slut, Rubber, Daddy Latin Fag Stink Gear African Ass Cum MuskSexArabFagJockSlutLeatherAsianCockCockCockCockCOCK.

Shane had ripened, what had been repressed now ready for harvest as he worked his ass to milk Rodrigo’s cock. In a burst of warmth and unseen light, the magic of the Virgo artifact, confined for decades to the small sub-basement room, surged to encompass the Astra hotel.

As Rodrigo pulled out, still gasping, Shane dragged his fingers through the rivulets of cum coating his torso and started to lick it up. He remembered who he had been an hour ago, but that Shane felt like a distant dream. Why bother being so stressed, bound up in what other people thought he should be? The new Shane was a creature of sensuality, totally free to do whatever he desired.

“That was… Were you always…” Rodrigo struggled to articulate himself as he tugged his jeans back on.

“May as well have been.” Shane rolled off Rodrigo’s jacket and grabbed his slacks. The instant he touched them, the cotton flexed and morphed, becoming supple black leather. Shane loved the feeling as his new pants slipped up his hairless legs. “Want to go get breakfast?”

“But your… dad, right?”

Shane didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but the magic was in him, filling him up and reassuring him that his will would be done. “My father’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll come back to pick him up on September 22. He’ll be fine here.” Shane's fingers were itching. "Lend me a cig. I'll pay you back."

Pastor Blanco and all his far right guests would be more than fine. Shane only had twenty years of repression to fuel his transformation, the youngest of the attendees. Some of the men coming to the hotel, like Pastor Blanco himself, had spent at least fifty years in denial of their basest urges. With the help of the magic permeating the Astra, they would soon be letting it all loose.

This concept was inspired by @octuscle.

Welcome to Virgo Season! Every three days until September 22, 2023, I will tell the story of another of Pastor Blanco's guests at the Astra Hotel being transformed into a slutty gay kinkster.

This series is my way of celebrating my birthday. If you feel inspired, feel free to write a story set in the Astra Hotel this Virgo Season. Post it @ me and I’ll reblog it.

[wol-fica]

-𝕊𝕙𝕖-

pairings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - before jenna ortega became a huge actress and held the world in her hand, she only had you

warnings - angst, high schoolers lol, all characters are 18 and up :)

an - school au! senior year for these babies, new series?

—————————

You hooked up with Jenna Ortega.

Big statement to say, but it’s very very true. How it happened though, well that’s a long story. It dates back to when you were both seniors in highschool….

———Past———

You were a dream girl; straight A's, decently pretty, wasn't talkative yet everyone ended up having a conversation with you, just all around good. You were the girl everyone wanted to be friends with, the girl that guys would fawn over and other girls would envy for your vigorous reputation. But alas, that's only the shell that people saw.

In reality, you were someone a mom would scold you for hanging out with because you’re so risky. When you were nine, you climbed a telephone pole and did the macarena sitting on top of it. At fourteen, you somehow hot wired your fathers car and proceeded to crash it, breaking only a toe. And now, at the ripe age of eighteen, you have caused your entire family to move from Miami to Coachella Valley; what a big jump.

It wasn't your intention to almost burn down the school just because you got into a fight and your first defensive measure was to whip out a lighter attached to a can of hairspray and try to turn poor Greta Stone into a Doctor Phil look-a-like just because she called your brother a fag.

You liked to say it was an accident.

But expulsion was given and boy were your parents angry, so angry that they hopped a few states and ended up in a small town full of party people.

Your brother, Theo, was so disappointed in you that he called you a "queer failure".

"I am not a 'Queer Failure'!" You snarled, mocking your brother's voice.

"But you are, and that is a tragedy." Theo replied, his nose buried in a picture of Rob Lowe.

He was already engorged in a magazine from the local drug store that he didn't even realize he was spilling his Pepsi, which you found of the utmost amusing.

"Will both of you please stop bickering? You've been nipping at each other for so long you didn't even notice we are here." Your mother said, scolding you both..

You peered out the window, your y/e/c eyes focusing on the large familiar building. It was already busy with people, some rushing through the doors while others loitered around their cars and by the bike parking area.

You frowned, but got out of the car with your usual calm demeanor. Theo followed suit, hopping out with what he would call a 'gay swing', and strutted off into the ocean of high-smoked teenagers to presumably get a buzz.

"Behave, okay? I don't want a call again." Your mother said through the car window, smiling warmly at you.

"I'll try mom." You replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek before you walked off.

It was a normal thing for teachers to call home about your behavior; you always ended up being reckless and snappy with everyone and everything you come across. 

But that's just how you are.

With your bag loosely hung over your shoulder and your head held high, you lazily walked towards the school, ignoring the looks you received from passersby.

See, your wardrobe was different from most girls. You didn't wear any of the typical sundresses or skinny jeans with floral shirts, you wore guys clothes, nike shorts with hoodies and converses, no matter the weather. Not trying to peg yourself as ‘i’m not like other girls’, but you were definitely a heavy masc.

As you walked in, you noticed a pair of three girls ogling a guy walking past. He had blonde curly hair styled back into a mullet, with matching denim jacket and jeans, and a white button down. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips, completely disregarding school rules as he went towards the parking lot.

'Typical lazy fuck.' You thought as you passed by.

You eventually made it into the school, and proceeded to head straight for your locker as you didn't need any interaction with anyone here. You fumbled with the lock and it's nerving combination before successfully opening it. You took out your assortment of books and binders, placing them neatly on the top shelf before hanging up your backpack.

You were so engrossed in organizing your locker that you almost missed a certain latina girl walking out of the bathroom. Your eyes snapped to her and followed her down the hall to three lockers down from your own.

That girl was Jenna Ortega, the prime jewel of your highschool, or so you liked to think. She was drop dead gorgeous in your opinion, with wavy brown hair that framed her beautifully freckled face, chocolate brown eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, and slightly tanned skin that looked warm and inviting. She was the girl that you first fell in love with, and probably the last.

You first met Jenna when you were outside fixing your bike in the driveway; Jenna happened to go a different route on her morning walk and had noticed you working your ass off in the California sun. She stopped to say hello and introduced herself seeing that you were new to the neighborhood.

Ever since that day, you couldn't stop thinking about her.

Jenna’s heart belonged to no one, but that still didn’t mean should or even could make a move.You didn't mind, it was actually easier to just admire and imagine instead of embarrassing yourself with a potential rejection.

Doesn’t mean that you still yearned to be with her.

"Hey Y/n!"

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice you knew almost instantly, your body turning to the short girl.

"Hey Jenna." You replied smoothly, though your heart was running forty miles a second from the voice of a girl who could easily end your life with a wink.

“How was your weekend?” She asked, looking up at your with the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen, “Was it enjoyable?”

“Meh, it was alright.” You said, grabbing your binder out of your locker, “How was yours?”

“It was relaxing, just what I needed.”

You hummed and nodded, reaching down to grab your water bottle, “Did you need something from me?”

"I was wondering if you had anything to do after school today? I need to study for my chemistry quiz and you are the only person who I trust to help me get it done." Jenna asked, toying with her fingers.

Truthfully, Jenna didn't need help studying for her chemistry test, she actually didn't need help studying at all due to the fact that there wasn't a chemistry test. She just wanted to spend time with her friend, the one she couldn't get her mind off of for some reason.

See, she found you to be one of the utmost unique. From your cinnamon brown skin, to your silky hair that was always pulled back into the cutest pony tail. Jenna saw you as the prime reason to why she questioned her sexuality.

But she wouldn't tell you that, she wouldn't tell anyone that.

"Uh...sure, I don't have anything to do today." You muttered, shutting your locker.

"Awesome! Want me to drive you there?" Jenna asked, smiling brightly, which you found entirely cute.

"Whatever works best for you."

Jenna whooped and threw her arms around your neck, burying her face in your green sweater. She loved the smell of her undying crush, finding that your scent was that of coffee and morning air, far better than any candle or air freshener she could buy.

"I'll see you later!" She said, leaning back to smile at you for a moment before hurrying off to her first class.

You watched her go, smiling to yourself as the girl of your dreams waved to every person she saw. Times like these made you question whether love was a feeling or a curse, especially since your heart thumped for one of the most famous upcoming actresses ever.

What a predicament you were in.

——————————

taglist: @cartierdreamx@tundra1029@red1culous@vorsdany@andsoigotabutterfly@theafterofnevermore@yomomisgay@house-of-lovin@slvt4lanadelrey@thenextdawn@nepobaby08@dunohilly@somekindofpoet@alexkolax@cinffy23@pedrosprincess@amberfreemansburntface@myfturn

[jus-a-lil-mouse]

BITE

(including this fantastic art from @this-is-z-art-blog )

Danny decided very quickly that he really, really did not like the new kid.

Kade Johnson (“That’s such a white boy name,” Tucker had said, eyes rolling) had started in the middle of November. A senior with blonde hair and blue eyes that rivaled Dash’s good looks. Smart and athletic. A model student. Charismatic. Friendly. Off.

“He’s just sort of… weird,” Danny had told Sam over lunch.

She had glanced at the senior in question, varsity jacket slung over his shoulder, laughing with the rest of the basketball team. “Yeah, Danny. He’s a popular kid who’s going to peak in high school.”

Danny shook his head. “It’s more than that.”

“Danny, I promise it’s not,” Sam replied. “Unless he’s, y’know…” she wiggled her fingers at him, flinging a bit of pizza sauce his way, “ghostly?”

“No. He’s normal,” Danny sighed. Sam raised an eyebrow at him. Danny rolled his eyes. “He’s human, I mean.”

Tucker dumped an armful of vending machine snacks on their lunch table, settling in next to Danny. “He’s telling you about his conspiracies too?”

“They’re not-“

“Yeah, new kid’s evil and out to get us,” Sam replied.

Danny grabbed the Ruffles and ate them as petulantly as he could, glaring at his two dearest friends in the world. “He’s weird,” Danny insisted weakly, glancing over at the senior again.

Clear blue eyes stared back at him, alive and bright. Unsettling. Kade grinned at him, showing off too-white teeth. Danny thought he might puke.

Behavior

It had been nearly three weeks since Danny was able to sit at his seat. He didn’t even realize it was his seat until fucking Kade was there with impeccably clear skin and the vague hint of cologne hanging around him. Khakis (who wore nice pants to high school?) and a polo and his Varsity letter jacket. And Danny knew why he, a freshman, was in the Junior-level physics class - because he was fucking smart - but that didn’t explain why Kade, a senior, was in the Junior-level physics class - because Danny knew that Kade was also fucking smart. It was the only thing Jazz could talk about anymore.

And Danny was stuck staring at the back of Kade’s stupid head. Because Star had just given Danny’s seat away. Like “Lab Partners for Life” meant nothing to her. Every day Kade came in and sat down next to her and gave her a big grin. And Star gazed up at him adoringly and said “What do you think of my outfit today, Kade?” And Kade said “You look great, why don’t you sit next to me at lunch today?” Or “I don’t think that style suits you very well, sorry Star.” Or something equally weird and unrelated to physics. And Danny couldn’t see the whiteboard.

Danny had tried telling Tucker that Kade was weird. Tucker had put Danny’s cheeks between his hands and said “Hey, man. You can tell me if you’re gay. It’s okay.” And Danny said “You’re an ass, Tuck,” because Danny had already come out to him three years ago.

Danny had tried telling Sam. She’d said, “At least he’s gotten Dash to stop wearing those stupid ripped jeans. The khakis and polos are an improvement.” Which was true - all the A-listers wore exactly what Kade wanted them to. They probably shopped together.

At lunch Kade sat with the A-Listers of every grade. They all ate what he ate and sat where he asked them to. They all wore stupid matching friendship bracelets that were too bright. The charms hurt Danny’s eyes whenever they caught the light right, and they caught the light right all the time.

Danny hated that guy.

Information

Danny was always a little bit prepared for an attack during school. After it had happened so many times already, it would be foolish not to keep a Thermos in his bag and be on edge all of the damn time. But it had been less frequent lately. All the ghosts seemed to be quieting down. It was suspicious, but Danny had been trying to take advantage of the sleep while he could. Growing boy and all that. Unfortunately, dull headaches throbbed in his head and his nights were frustratingly sleepless.

So it follows naturally that Skulker shows up while Danny is nearly asleep in English. He isn’t even fully awake when he transforms in the bathroom, Thermos in hand and backpack discarded in the corner.

He manages to be wide awake when he makes it onto the football field and finds Skulker staring down Kwan, who - to his credit - is staring right back. Danny’s able to get a good shot in while Skulker is distracted, and the following fight is short and sweet and incredibly routine. Danny touches down next to Kwan once it’s over. “Hey, man. You’re supposed to run away from ghosts.”

Kwan grins at him, bright and full of teeth. “It’s fine, Phantom! See, I’ve got this!” He held up his wrist and Danny winced as the sun caught the charm just right and blinded him. Kwan sheepishly put his arm back down. “Sorry. It’s an anti-ghost charm.”

“It’s a what,” Danny said flatly, reaching for Kwan’s wrist again. He braced himself for the brightness, and squinted to examine the bracelet.

“An anti-ghost charm!” Kwan repeated. “See, there’s a new student - his name is Kade - and he’s a genius. He knows all about ghosts. The charm is a little locket, see, and inside is special ingredients.”

“What ingredients?” Danny asked, trying to open the container.

Kwan kicked at the dirt. “Well, I’m not really supposed to ask… I don’t know,” he admitted. “But Kade says if I keep doing well, I can learn one day! Kade’s great.”

Danny grunted, finally wiggling the locket open. “Is that hair?” he asked, pulling a little knot of it out. It looked just like the clumps of Jazz’s hair that he found on his laundry - definitely human hair. And a small pin, and a little thorn that pricked Danny’s finger. “What the fuck,” Danny breathed, shaking his hand out. He glanced up at Kwan, who looked devastated that Danny had opened the locket.

“Kade will be upset that I opened it,” Kwan said quietly, as though confiding a great secret. “I might not get to sit at the table during lunch.” Danny did his best not to roll his eyes. “He says they lose their magic when you open them.”

“Why?” Danny asked, shoving the items back into the container and shutting the clasp. “It’s just some garbage - it doesn’t even do anything.”

“Yes it does,” Kwan insisted, suddenly loud again. Danny dropped his hand. “Kade says so. He knows all about ghosts.”

“I am a ghost,” Danny reminded him.

“Ghosts are liars. Kade says a ghost will tell you anything you want to hear to get what they want.” He took a step back. “You could be lying right now. Maybe you aren’t even saving us from the ghosts, like Kade says. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. What if someone sees?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Kade can save you next time Skulker comes around if he’s so great.” He left before he could hear Kwan’s response.

Thought

Danny is only a little pleased to be paired with Paulina for English today. Sure, she’s a bit unbearable to be around, but she’s pretty, so it evens out. The sickly sweet smell of her perfume worsens his headache, but at least she isn’t wearing one of those damn charms.

She gives him a disinterested glance as he sits next to her, worksheet in hand. He tries not to be that offended. And then he is offended, he decides, because she’s got a picture of Kade sticking out of her notebook.

“Did you do yesterday’s reading?” Danny asked. He knew the answer.

“No, I was busy at Kade’s house,” Paulina replied, looking at him as though he was stupid for thinking she’d do her homework. “I’m in the inner circle.”

“So… the worksheet?” Danny said, hoping to redirect the conversation. “Lancer’s usually willing to fail us for not finishing before ghosts attack.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe. Kade knows how to keep ghosts away. He knows everything. He’s protected the school so well!”

“I thought Phantom was protecting the school,” Danny said through gritted teeth.

Paulina tut-tutted at him. “No. Phantom is a ghost. Ghosts are evil,” she says, as though he is a child. “Kade tells us how to protect ourselves from ghosts. My perfume is ghost-repellant. And I do all of my meditations so that they can’t take over my mind. If you asked, Kade could help you too,” she added sweetly. “Your parents clearly don’t know anything about ghosts. Not like Kade.”

Danny recognized the insult for what it was, but Paulina also sounded genuine. She believed this nonsense. “Paulina, none of that works.” The perfume smelled bad, but it wasn’t repelling him. “How has he proven any of that works?”

“Um, it obviously works,” she replied. “Ghosts haven’t attacked the school in weeks, and even the attacks in town are stopping. That’s because of us. Kade is showing us how to protect the town, and soon… well, we won’t need Phantom ever again.”

She had a point. Ghost attacks were way down. Danny still felt like shit all the time, but at least he hadn’t needed to be doing vigilante business as well - he just thought he was finally winning. That after enough fights they’d stopped coming back. It made more sense than Paulina stopping the attacks, at least. “Paulina, Kade doesn’t have that kind of power. He’s just a guy.”

Paulina’s hand shot in the air. “Mr. Lancer, can I work by myself?” Lancer didn’t even look up from his monitor, just sighed and waved his hand in a ‘ do whatever’ motion. She turned back to him, angrier than Danny had ever seen her. “I don’t listen to unbelievers like you. I’m part of the inner circle.”

And then she was up and gone, seat vacated. Danny let his head thud onto the table. He also hadn’t done the reading. This worksheet was going to take him forever.

Emotion

It’s mid-March when Danny finally realizes that something is wrong with Dash. Early March is when Dash’s ‘spring cleaning’ starts, and everyone who looks at him wrong gets shoved in a locker (at best) or a toilet (at worst). But Danny - despite being sleep-deprived, achey, and nauseous - has been snarking at him constantly for weeks, and hasn’t been shoved anywhere. His hair is blessedly free of toilet water. And Dash is wearing khakis and polos and he wears that stupid bracelet.

“I thought you’d be glad he stopped his brutishness,” Sam said when he brought it up. “I really think you need to see a doctor, Danny.”

Tucker hadn’t even tried listening to him. “You haven’t slept well in months, man. Of course you’re paranoid.” The kindness in his eyes made Danny want to hurl. Danny was the protector, not the protected.

He was on his own.

Which is why he nearly let out a breath of relief when Dash cornered him in the near-empty locker room after gym. The remaining boys cleared out quickly, leaving Danny and Dash alone. Finally, a fight. Ghosts hadn’t been seen in weeks. Danny felt more deathly than ever.

“Hey, uh, Fenton,” Dash started, and Danny froze. Was this not a fight?

“Baxter,” Danny replied coolly. “Come for spring cleaning?”

Dash looked scared, and Danny didn’t understand anything that was happening. “No. I wanted to apologize for my past behavior. It was juvenile, and will not be repeated.”

“Those are some pretty big words,” Danny says, and he can see the conflict in Dash’s eyes: to punch or not to punch? That is the question.

Dash takes a deep breath and sticks his hand out between them. “I apologize for my past behavior,” he repeats. Danny lets this hang between them, too.

“No,” Danny says. “Dude, what? Glad you cleared your conscience, but I’m not going to shake your hand and say we’re fine.”

“You have to,” Dash pleaded. “Everyone else did.”

“Yeah, man! Of course they did! You beat the shit out of us all the time!”

“I used to beat the shit of you all the time.”

“Dash, what is going on?” Danny asks, dropping his volume down.

Dash shifts uncomfortably. He mumbles something into the air dividing them, but Danny can’t quite catch it. He stays silent, waiting for Dash to break first. It only takes a moment. “Kade is going to save some of us. I’m supposed to be free of grudges or the negative emotions will cause the process to go wrong. I’ve been having extra one-on-one sessions,” Dash explains. “Kade says if I’m forgiven it’ll go well. Then we’ll all be okay. So you have to forgive me.”

“Dash, none of that makes any sense.”

“Well it’s not my fault you’re not in the inner circle. Maybe if you weren’t such a loser you’d be able to be saved too.”

“You’re so good at not continuing your past behavior,” Danny replies, and is almost glad for the cold bite of the locker on his back when Dash slams him into it.

“I am going to go to Kade’s. He is going to make it so I can’t die, and then we will make it so the whole town is safe and the ghosts won’t be able to touch us. Kade can cut us off from death! He’s done it before! So you’re going to forgive me and I’m gonna be a hero.” Dash’s eyes were bright and alive and sickening to look into.

Danny didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything, and got shoved in a locker.

Control

“I hate being right all the time,” Danny mutters to himself. He shuffles through a couple more papers on Kade’s desk, and then phases through the ceiling. The easiest realization was ‘Kade is leading a cult’. Next step was to visit Kade’s house by following him home from school. Thankfully, Kade was the kind of evil genius who left his plans out on his desk.

Gather recruits. Help guide them towards salvation. Cut off the town from the Ghost Zone. Be hailed as a savior.

The problem was this: Danny knew intimately that life and death were in balance. You couldn’t have one without the other. Kade had been leaching energy off of his fellow students to begin the process. Danny was being slowly cut off from death (explaining the headaches and the nausea and the bone-deep exhaustion). The whole town was. Of course there’d been less ghost attacks. Danny had been right to be suspicious. Amity Park’s veil was razor-thin, and this separation would probably cause it to implode spectacularly.

“I was so hoping you’d be here.”

Danny turns and sees Kade, eyes bright and alive and smile full of too-white teeth. “Here I am,” Danny says, spreading his arms open dramatically.

“Here you are!” Kade says. “The ghost boy himself! Are you here to foil my plans?” He asks it as though it is an inside joke, as though they are old friends. “Shall I give you my monologue?”

Danny settles. Gives the illusion of complacency. Shrugs. “Yeah, if that’s what you want to do with your day.”

“I am always searching for souls seeking redemption,” Kade replies, spreading his arms wide. “Daniel, I am a visionary. I am alive. I have removed all traces of death from myself. It cannot touch me.”

That last bit may have been true; being in the room with him was dizzying. Agitating. Looking at his face felt sickening.

“I could tell you all the details, but here are the highlights. I have saved my soul, made myself more alive than anyone has ever been. It was simple and bloody, but now I know how to save everyone.”

“If you upset the balance, everything will collapse in on itself. By separating them you’ll bring them closer together. Like a rubber band, y’know?”

Kade tuts at him. “What will you do, ghost? Stop me?”

“It’s what I do,” Danny shrugs, and prepares for a fight.

The fight doesn’t come; it never even starts. Kade is untouchable; the ectoblasts and wails just wash over him like a wave breaking on stone. Kade is grinning. His teeth are too white and his eyes are bright and Danny is tired.

“I told you, I cannot be touched by death,” Kade reminds him.

Danny is the world; he is balanced. He returns to life and lands a well-placed sucker punch. Kade hadn’t been expecting that, and soon enough they were tumbling on the ground. It’s been a while since Danny was in a fight, but it returns to him easily. His knuckles are bleeding. He is winning. “What are you?” Danny asks through bloody teeth. “You aren’t a ghost.”

“I am to life what a ghost is to death,” Kade hisses from the floor. “And you are an abomination.”

“Dude. That’s rude,” Danny replies.

Danny has spent years avoiding Dash Baxter, so when he hears those familiar footfalls in the hallway, he transforms. He lets Kade push him away. He makes sure Dash and Paulina have a good view of Kade, beaten and bloody, and Phantom looming over him. Kade pushes himself up off the floor, his “anti-ghost” charm swinging wildly off his bracelet as he attempts to steady himself.

He uses his best Superhero voice. “This evil-doer was attempting to upset the balance of forces sustaining the world. He intended to cause the apocalypse.” The apocalypse bit was a lie, but they wouldn’t know that. Danny gave them a thumbs up. He disappeared.

Sam and Tucker weren’t that impressed when he told them about it.

“Cults are small potatoes,” Sam says wisely.

“It wasn’t even a real cult, it was a high schooler with an entourage,” Tucker adds.

“He was a supernatural entity that wanted to destroy the world,” Danny argues.

Sam nods. “Yeah. Small potatoes.”

“I’m just glad you finally got some sleep, buddy,” Tucker says, swinging an arm around Danny’s shoulders.

[millie-mar]

think i’m in love with you

part 1

in which Eddie believes that gay men can be friends with straight guys without there being any subtext to their relationship. duh he’s got a friendship like that! well, had. guess he was proven wrong.

| 1k words | modern!steddie | bestfriends!steddie |

A lot of people believe that women and men cannot be friends. And before you disagree, let me give you this example.

It was my last year of highschool, and I became really good friends with Chrissy. Average height, blonde, on the thinner side as most cheerleaders are, but she stood out from them. She wasn’t homophobic for one, but there was an aura around her, that compelled you to be friends with her. She invited me over to watch Brokeback Mountain; she had a huge crush on Jake Gyllenhaal while I was jacking off to Heath Ledger almost every night. I’m not anymore. That afternoon, we went to hers straight away. She was still wearing the school’s cheerleading outfit, the green and white suited her nicely. She opened the front door which wasn’t even locked and to my surprise I heard voices inside.

“Your parents are here?” I whispered to her, stopping at the entrance.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. Don’t worry Eds.” She closed the door behind us with a loud thud.

“Chrissy? Honey is that you?” a female voice erupted from within the house, Chrissy’s mum, my guess was.

“Yeah. Eddie’s here, we’re gonna go upstairs,” Chrissy shouted back, grabbing my hand and taking me towards the stairs.

“Keep the door open at all times,” a male voice exclaimed, weary clear in his voice.

“He’s gay dad!” Chrissy sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, heard that before,” his tone shifted, this time he sounded tired.

Chrissy rolled her eyes once again, mumbling something under her breath.

However, with how the world’s started to progress now, and how people started to accept the queer community, this has changed a bit. Now, every time a gay guy befriends a man, people immediately assume they’re going out. And with the media internationally making stories about straight men ‘turning’ gay, let’s say some like to butt their noses into others business. But gay men can be friends with straight guys without any kind of subtext to their relationship.

“I think I’m in love with you!” are the first words I hear from my best friend, Steve Harrington, the straightest man I know. And I think to myself.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Steve’s puppy eyes catch me off guard. Shit I said that out loud.

“Uhh what are you saying Harrington.” I let him in and just now I realise the guy is drenched, the rain chasing him as I close the door behind him.

“I- I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and that was just… I think I’m in love with you.” he stutters horribly, which is unusual for Steve. I squint my eyes at him.

“Man, we’ve been friends for the twenty hears that we’ve been alive. You’ve seen my dick more times than any guy I’ve been with. If you were in love with me I would have realised.” I laugh it off, not meeting his gaze as I pick up a pillow off the floor and throw it on the couch. But I can feel his eyes boring into my head.

“Eddie, I’m not kidding.” His voice is stern, confident all of a sudden. I turn to look at him and fuck, am I in trouble. I have to admit, I have always thought Steve is beautiful, hot and everything in between, but nothing more than that. Never really had the hots for him. But fuck me, the way his eyes have darkened, brows slightly furrowed, his pinkish lips closed in a tight line. He’s angry and I’ll be lying if I said that wasn’t turning me on. What the fuck?

I grab his hand and pull him towards the door with a ‘you come in you’re dead’ sign, the door to my room. I push him in, slamming the door behind us and leaning on its surface, my head down, curls covering my vision.

“Prove it,” I say, my voice cracking slightly at the words that escaped my mouth. What am I saying?

I can’t see Steve’s face, but I’m waiting for him to tell me it’s some stupid joke, so we can laugh about it in ten years time when he’s happily married with little Harringtons running around and screaming. He’d have some high position job at a company, maybe he’d be a CEO, and we’ll keep in touch, barely but we will. He’ll tell me about another happy year with his wife, while I’ll tell him about another couple week relationship of mine that failed because the guy was either secretly married or fucking other people.

I’m so focused on my own spiralling thoughts that I just now come to my senses when I feel huge hands cupping my cheeks. Steve is now standing right in front of me, the tips of his white sneakers touching with the tips of my black combat boots. He brings my face up to meet him eye to eye. The brown of his eyes so much lighter than earlier in the apartment’s living area. So warm, the intensity of his stare is making me feel all giddy inside. His eyes shift between mine and my lips, he flutters them closed and kisses me. The softness of his lips is reflected in how softly he’s pressed them to mine. A little reluctant, or maybe just affectionate. I wouldn’t know, all the guys always kissed me with such fervour, this is a nice change. The initial shock passes and I fist his yellow shirt to bring him closer to me, our chests closer together. My lips move on their own, returning the kiss before I can think about it further, as if on instinct. Usually I’m more composed, I don’t let the moment get to me, so why? Why today? And why with him?

Part 2 ->

[otherpeoplesheartachept1]

People are talking abt how Cecil won even tho he's not ""technically"" sexy, abt how he won bc he's beloved by Tumblr, a symbol of hope and acceptance and being unapologetically weird for all of us when we were younger. Which is lovely. And I do think that's accurate to how Cecil is thought of in current day tumblrina minds. But, do you guys not remember that back in the day he absolutely fit the stereotype of a tumblr sexyman?? Are we forgetting how much fanart there was of him as a skinny white bleach-blonde twink??? Are we forgetting twink Cecil in a suit vest and purple tie? Are we forgetting twink Cecil's eye and tentacle tattoos? Are we forgetting people drew (and wrote fanfic of) him with actual TENTACLES. Guys, Cecil is our cool gay dad/uncle, but he's also a sexy tumblr twink, pls don't ever forget that.

[bachissidehoe]

that's classy

chapter 7 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Isagi steps out of the shower, wrapping the soft fluffy white towel around his waist. He lets out a breath, making blurry eye contact with the condensation-covered reflection of himself in the mirror. He grabs a second towel, ruffling his soaked hair with it, letting the droplets slide down his warm body. It was a nice shower, and he has plenty of time before tonight’s event, more than enough time to relax in his towel for a while-

“You done in there?” 

The sound of a cheerful voice that can only make Isagi smile, even though it should annoy him. 

He opens the bathroom door, his hair towel hanging over his head and another towel around his waist. 

“Bachira?” Isagi sighs, a few loose drops of water dripping from his wet hair. 

“Hey! You’re only showering now? We have to get ready!” He prances around the room.

Isagi shouldn’t have expected anything different, his fake boyfriend has made quite a habit of breaking into his apartment recently. 

“We don’t have to leave for another hour, I can throw something on and get ready in like five minutes.” Isagi groans, walking toward his closet to find some boxers to throw on. 

He’s gotten more comfortable with existing around Bachira over time. He’s accepted the fact that he enjoys it in this capacity a little more than he feels he should, but also that it’s not super weird to be shirtless or even pantless around him. Whether his feelings toward him are unclear or not, it’s still very normal to behave this way in front of another guy.

“No you can’t! Thank god I came over early, do you even realize what this event means for this plan?” Bachira’s prancing becomes more panicked as he follows Isagi into the closet. 

Isagi drops his towel, sliding a fresh pair of boxers onto his bare legs. “Wha-!” Isagi jumps, quickly pulling the boxers up before Bachira can see his naked bottom half. 

“Oop!” Bachira giggles. “Sorry.” 

Isagi sighs.

“What clothes do you even have?” Bachira scampers over to Isagi’s freshly drycleaned suits, still in their plastic. “A fuck ton, actually.” 

“Yeah, a lot of the time I end up with a new one for different interviews and stuff.” He starts sifting through the fabrics of mostly black suit jackets and black pants. 

“Huh. Which one were you planning on wearing?” Bachira asks.

“I dunno, was just gonna throw one on and leave. But you said that’s not allowed. They’re all pretty much the same.” 

“Of course it’s not allowed. Part of being gay is looking the part, and if there’s one stereotype I actually meet, it’s that one.” Bachira chuckles, starting his own survey of Isagi’s clothes.

Isagi finally gets a chance to take in Bachira’s appearance, and he’s definitely right about his ability to dress. That much is clear. 

He wears a perfectly pressed pair of dark maroon suit pants with a black button down shirt, the top two buttons strategically left undone to show off the gorgeous silver chain around his neck. Over his shirt, he wears a matte maroon vest, perfectly matching his pants. Tying it together is a pair of black dress shoes and a black belt with a silver buckle, complementing his silver chain. The top layer of his hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail, with his blonde bottom layer resting just below his shoulders. A few of his blonde bangs still rest on his forehead, giving his hair a scruffy yet appealing look. Isagi would never be able to pull together an outfit like that.

“Oh, yeah you look great honestly.” Isagi observes, unable to help his gaze from lingering on him just a bit longer than it should. Those undone buttons leave just enough of his bare chest visible for Isagi to wonder if others would find him attractive, if maybe people would look at him and stare for a little too long, just like he’s doing right now. The thought makes him slightly uneasy, for some reason. 

“So let’s get you looking the same.” Bachira winks. “How are you wearing your hair?”

“Uh, down?” Isagi replies. He didn’t have a plan besides drying and brushing it. 

“Wrong.” Bachira sighs. “Oh, this is perfect.” He pulls a pair of black dress pants and a black blazer, both with thin silver lines through the fabric. “These would look great on you, especially the pop of silver, it would make you look taller.” 

“Are you calling me short?” Isagi scoffs, folding his arms over his bare chest.

“Aren’t we, like, the same height? If I was calling you short I’d be calling myself short then too.” He throws the two garments toward Isagi, forcing him to catch them. 

Isagi stumbles, quickly catching the clothes. 

“Hm, oh!” Bachira finds a maroon bowtie among Isagi’s accessories, holding it against his own shirt. It’s nearly the exact same color. “I have a great idea.�� He grabs a black button down shirt and black belt, also hurling them in Isagi’s direction. “We put you in the all black look, then wear this bowtie, and BOOM! We match. Like a high school dance.” 

“Oh stop it.” Isagi rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusting in that familiar pink he’s become quite accustomed to since hanging out with Bachira so frequently. 

“Let’s put it on and see.” Bachira wanders over to Isagi, taking the pants out of his hand, then kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Alright step in.” He looks up. 

Isagi stutters. “I- I can put them on myself!” He nearly loses his footing. Seeing Bachira kneeling on the floor in front of him like that, in that outfit, looking up at him with those cheerful eyes. It’s too erotic. It should be illegal. 

“You’re holding all that other stuff.” Bachira grabs at Isagi’s ankle, helping him step into each leg of the pants. 

The way Bachira glides the pants up Isagi’s legs feels like he should be taking them off him instead. He’s soft and slow with it, nearly sensual. His soft hands trace up the fabric, leaving what feels like a static layer on Isagi’s skin. He stands up, buttoning the pants before reaching for the zipper. 

“Ah-” Isagi tenses, willing himself not to react to Bachira’s fingers so close to his-

Zip! 

“Alright now for your shirt.” Bachira grabs the black button down shirt from Isagi’s hands, helping him pull his arms through each of the sleeves. 

Isagi still can’t even process what happened, willing his brain to remain empty while letting Bachira continue to dress him. If he thinks about it, if he thinks about just how good it feels for Bachira to trace over his body like this, to delicately hold him still while he makes quick work of dressing him, his body may just react. 

Bachira pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, scrunching his nose while he works on fastening the buttons of his shirt. “Alright! Now to tuck it in.” 

“Ah- I c-can do that!” Isagi quickly drops the rest of the articles of clothing, hoping Bachira will keep his hands away from his crotch area. According to Isagi’s calculations, he’s not exactly hard, but he’s not quite soft either. Bachira tucking his hands into his pants may just bring about irreparable damage. 

“Geez, fine.” Bachira holds his hands up, defeated, instead moving to gather the scattered garments on the floor from Isagi’s panicked moment. 

Of course, there’s a very real possibility that Bachira knows exactly what he’s doing, that little tease. There’s no way it’s going unnoticed, the slight bulge in Isagi’s pants, the stutter, the redness on his cheeks, Bachira must realize the effect he’s starting to have on his fake boyfriend. But as far as the both of them are concerned, it’s much easier to avoid complicating things any further. They’ve been dealing with enough stress already. 

Isagi opts to finish dressing himself, adding his belt and blazer, and finally using his full length mirror to fasten his bow tie. 

“This actually looks good.” He says, turning slightly to the side to look at his full outfit, tucking his hands in his pockets like he’s posing. 

“Hold on-“ Bachira pulls at the tucked shirt, loosening it just enough to give it more of a casual look. “There we go.” He smiles at his work, clearly proud of himself for the success of Isagi’s outfit. 

The silver stripes were definitely a good call, Isagi feels quite dapper as he looks at himself. He’s never been the type to care about his appearance or concern himself with the way he dresses, but maybe he should. Without even putting on his shoes or doing his hair, he already feels the confidence radiating through him.

“That looks so good. The all black fit could be your signature look.” Bachira says it softly, clearly admiring Isagi himself. 

Isagi clears his throat. “Thanks.” He replies, redirecting his gaze from the mirror to Bachira, who looks at him with a kind, soft expression. It reminds Isagi of how he looked before he kissed him. Pretty. 

If he gets wrapped up in that feeling again, he’s worried about what might happen. He doesn’t want to add that level of complication to their fake relationship, he doesn’t want to go back to a phase of thinking about nothing else besides kissing Bachira Meguru. He’s moved past that part, he can’t let himself jump in again. 

But he wants Bachira to be the one to move away, to stop looking at him like he wants to lean in closer. If he backs up, Isagi doesn’t have to worry about doing it himself. At least Bachira would be the one to ruin a potential moment, and Isagi doesn’t have to wonder what it would be like if he just went for it. 

Then again, he doesn’t have to wonder, he can just ask. He can just lean in a little more, tilt his head like he did before, press his lips to Bachira’s. He could. He might. 

“I gotta help you with your hair.” Bachira says, stepping back and scampering out of Isagi’s closet. 

Isagi takes a breath. It’s good. It’s good that Bachira stopped himself, that would have been embarrassing. 

“Uh, what are you trying to do to it?” Isagi asks, following Bachira to his bathroom. Isagi’s never thought of his hair as needing much work, it’s just straight. Like him. Nothing needs to be done to it, it can just exist by itself. 

“You need to put it back.” Bachira starts rummaging through Isagi’s bathroom. “Wow you really have no products or anything.” He scoffs. 

“Um, no.” Isagi leans against his bathroom door. He’s stopped caring too much about Bachira’s tendency to act like Isagi’s stuff is also his stuff. It’s not like Isagi is the epitome of organization, it might be helpful for Bachira to cause some chaos. That way, Isagi can see what stuff he even has. 

“Oh, here’s a straight boy gel.” He pulls an old container out of the back of a drawer. 

“Are you making fun of me?” 

“Of course I am. Sit down.” He points to the bed outside the bathroom, sending Isagi to sit with his legs dangling over the edge. 

“Are you gonna do my hair like I’m a little girl?” Isagi pretends to be annoyed.

“Nooooo~” Bachira hums, raking his fingers through Isagi’s still-wet hair. “I’m gonna do your hair like you’re my boyfriend.” 

Isagi’s lucky that Bachira started the hairdryer immediately after finishing his sentence. Otherwise, he may have heard the loud thump of Isagi’s heart falling into the pit of his stomach. 

Isagi doesn’t even know if Bachira has any clue as to what his words tend to do to him. He’d like to think Bachira knows he’s being a bit of a tease, but then again, Bachira is just like that. He might say things like that to anyone and everyone. 

Isagi hopes he doesn’t though. 

“Done! Okay, have a look.” Bachira turns Isagi around, showing him the look he’s created. 

Isagi is honestly stunned, he didn’t know it was possible for him to look like he belongs at an upscale event. His hair is pushed back, with a few of his bangs curled over his forehead to look like he ran his fingers through his hair and let it fall naturally. He looks so professional, especially in his suit. 

“Woah.” He says. “You’re a genius.” 

“I mean, you gave me something to work with.” Bachira winks playfully.

+++++

The event is for the team’s qualifying placement, marking the end of the tournament series for the regular season. It’s not Isagi’s first time at a team event, but it’s definitely his first time at such an important team event. 

It’s held at one of the most upscale hotels in Tokyo, with the ballroom decorated from floor to ceiling in the team’s colors: blue and gold. There are people everywhere, way more than just the team and their plus ones. It’s staff, administration, journalists, anyone with money who was interested in attending. 

“Oh, fuck.” Isagi nearly gasps, taken aback by the atmosphere. 

“This is insane.” Bachira whispers, following Isagi’s gaze up to the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

“Promise me you won’t be getting super drunk again.” Isagi looks toward the bar, noticing that a substantial line has already formed. 

Bachira giggles. “I won’t, I promise.” He takes a breath. “As long as you promise not to be super awkward when straight girls ask you questions.” 

“What are you talking about?” Isagi brings his attention back to Bachira. That statement makes no sense. 

“Ah. So straight girls really like gay guys. Like an unhealthy amount. So just- be prepared to answer some weird questions.” Bachira explains. 

“Why would people think it’s okay to ask weird questions?” Isagi scrunches his nose. 

Bachira shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“That’s classy.” Isagi breathes out, his gaze finally falling on the familiar face of Itoshi Rin on the opposite end of the room with Oliver Aiku. “Oh, there’s some of the team.” 

Despite Isagi’s unease going into the party, it actually turns out to be an enjoyable event. As usual, Bachira can get along with anyone, even though he does technically know some of Isagi’s teammates from back in the Blue Lock days. Everyone loves Bachira, and how could they not? Even when Isagi starts to get tired and feels his social battery wearing thin, Bachira is just getting started, excitedly frolicking to the dance floor to join the much drunker individuals at the party. Isagi watches him walk away, feeling almost like a proud boyfriend, like someone who’s proud to show off somebody like Bachira Meguru. 

“You guys are just so cute!” Aiku’s date squeaks, earning an awkward smile from Isagi. 

Aiku introduced her earlier, but Isagi already forgets her name. He won’t have to remember anyway, it’s Aiku’s date. She will never be around again. Every single game, every event, pretty much every day, Aiku has a different girl in attendance. There’s no need to let any of them stick in Isagi’s mind. 

“Oh, thank you.” He smiles kindly, hoping the conversation ends there. 

“He’s still the same as he always was.” Rin sighs. “An annoying little shit.” 

Isagi chuckles. He can’t help but look back fondly on his time in Blue Lock with Bachira, listening to his stories about trying to break through to Rin. In all fairness, Rin hasn’t changed much either, still acting like an antisocial angsty teenager any chance he gets. He didn’t bring a plus one tonight either, something that’s common with him. Isagi used to think they were similar, people who didn’t often think about getting into relationships or hooking up with girls. But now- Isagi feels like Rin may just be unlikeable. 

“You can’t say that about his boyfriend!” Aiku’s girl shrieks, flirtatiously slapping Rin on the shoulder as if she didn’t meet him two hours ago. 

Rin dusts his shoulder off as if the girl’s carrying some sort of disease. 

“Nah, they know each other, it’s fine.” Isagi chuckles. 

“Rin says whatever he wants anyway, can’t really do anything about that guy’s attitude.” Aiku jokes, snaking his arm around his date’s shoulder. 

She giggles in that annoying way girls do, probably because she’s more than a little tipsy at this point. Aiku just has the capacity to pick out the most annoying women. 

“Oh, now that he’s gone I’ve just been dying to know,” the girl stumbles forward slightly, like she’s trying to lean into Isagi to be subtle, even though she continues speaking at the exact same volume. “Who tops?” 

Isagi nearly chokes, his face turning bright red as he processes the question he was just asked. 

“I- Wha-” He stutters. 

Rin can’t help but crack a smile, followed by an ever so slight chuckle. “Hey now, you can’t just ask someone that question.” He comes to Isagi’s defense, even though it is pretty funny to watch Isagi suffer. 

“Huhhhh?! It’s just a question! It’s hard to tell with those two!” 

Isagi feels like his head is spinning. Is it hard to tell? Should that be a compliment? Who would top anyway? Thinking about it more makes him realize he has absolutely no response to that question. He doesn’t even have a quippy remark to change the subject. There is absolutely no way he can act cool.

Bachira was right, straight women ask the weirdest questions. 

Aiku laughs. “Come on Mami it’s time to go dance.” He turns the girl around, leading her away from Isagi and Rin. Aiku looks over his shoulder, shrugging to the two of them before continuing his quest to get this girl and her weird fucking questions out of here. 

“Was her name Mami, or is that just what Aiku is calling her?” Rin asks. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgets her name too.” Isagi chuckles, grasping for his sanity as his heart rate starts to slow down. Maybe he should have been prepared to receive those types of questions. 

He follows Aiku and the girl’s path to the dance floor, catching sight of Bachira. He looks like he’s having fun, dancing with a few people Isagi doesn’t recognize. Even from here, his golden eyes sparkle. His hair still looks good despite the few droplets of sweat sliding down the side of his face. 

“Isagi.” Rin interrupts. 

“Hm.” He answers, but doesn’t look away. 

“Bachira’s fine.” 

Isagi finally looks away, his cheeks turning a light shade of red as he realizes that he was clearly caught staring. At least Rin knows already, at least he doesn’t have to explain himself. Not that Rin would be interested in giving a fuck. 

“Yeah.” He responds. 

“Are you sure this is still fake?” Rin asks, sending a shiver down Isagi’s spine.

Isagi sighs. “No.”

[allthecastlesonclouds]

did you know the bad kids are just guys sometimes? and i think they’re very fun? bc they are.

id under cut!

[begin ID] a sketch page of the bad kids and their allies in a circle-ish drawing style. there are seven drawings on the page.

the first drawing, in the top left corner, there are two headshots of Tracker, a tan girl with a side cut, and Kristen, a white human girl with red hair and a halo. they are grinning at each each other, and a red heart floats between them.

the second drawing is in the top right corner. fabian, a black half-elf with gray dreadlocks, and riz, a goblin in a purple suit. fabian is looking down at riz and smiling, asking a question. riz is gesturing excitedly, happily talking. there are eight speech bubbles coming from riz, indicating how much he’s talking.

the third drawing, in the middle left, shows adaine, a white high elf with blonde hair. she is sitting on a shelf between a jar labeled ‘cocoa mix🖤’ and a fruit bowl. she is holding a cup of hot cocoa with two marshmallows in it. she is grinning. the drawing is labeled ‘elf on a shelf’.

the fourth drawing is a headshot of ragh barkrock. ragh is a half-orc, with shaved sides of his head and black hair. he is grinning and saying ‘gay!’ the drawing is labeled ‘Ragh Barkrock! HOOT GROWL!’

the fifth drawing is a drawing of an album. above it, it is labeled ‘sig figs album- Phoenix Tour’. the album shows fig faeth’s head, hanging upside down, in front of flames. fig is a tiefling with light pink skin and red-brown eyes. she is smirking with a fang poking out. her braid hangs down the middle of the album- her hair is brown with streaks of pink. she has an upside down pentagram of fire on her forehead. in the bottom left corner of the album, the title reads, ‘Walk in Fire’, and in the right corner, the fig and the sig figs logo is drawn.

the sixth drawing is in the bottom left corner. gorgug thistlespring, a half-orc with black hair + streaks of white, is lying on his back and tossing a drumstick in the air. he is wearing a gray sweatshirt and purple sweatpants, and is smiling softly.

the final drawing is of the Hangman. The Hangman is a charcoal gray dog with ‘cracks’ of orange fire. he has fire climbing up his back, indicating he is a hellhound, and he is growling. a thought bubble coming off of him says, ‘i don’t like yous’ and an arrow points to the drawing of riz from the second sketch.

next to the hangman is a lesbian flag, a trans flag, the bi flag, the aroace flag, the rainbow flag, and a purple heart. [End ID]

[sswirlicuee]

I just finished OPLA (skipping the parts I didn't care about, though). I'll make it short (spoilers ahead):

Things I like:

- Some writing choices. I liked that they weren't afraid to tweak the narratives a little to accommodate the storyline. Kudos for Zoro getting his wounds taken care of by Zeff, Luffy's & Sanji's parents bonding etc.

- How bold the production was with Zoro's sexuality ("You're asking the wrong guy." *Grabs own sword out of some naked blond guy's hands composedly* etc.) I think the intention might have been to depict Zoro as asexual, but it just ended up making him openly gay. End of story.

Things I find questionable:

- The casting, but not the cast. The first thing I need to emphasize is that all of the casts delivered their performance beautifully. There's nothing wrong with their acting skills. But the casting choices just didn't suit the characters at all in my opinion. And it's not a problem of chemistry either. Usually, when I have my reservations about the casting, it'd be like, oh, this guy works as Character A, but it was honestly a terrible decision to put him together with this guy as Character B. With OPLA, the chemistry between the crew were great, and I really enjoyed the bickering between Zoro and Sanji, BUT there's just that one thing that made them not Luffy, not Nami, not Zoro and not Sanji. (Not so much Usopp though).

- The production. I've already made my points about sneakers. Luffy cajoling around IN Converses!? What on earth. Flashback!Sanji walking around the kitchen (and subsequently on that rock) in crisp white sneakers!? What WAS that. And I think they totally butchered that Sanji Flashback scene. I'm not an advocate of eating disorders or putting child actors through food restrictions etc, BUT after 75 days of being stranded on a rock with barely anything to eat/drink, young Sanji still looked as fresh and healthy as he was on day one. His lips were not even chapped in the close up shots. I felt like they could have made more efforts on this.

- Adaptation... but to what extent? Does adaptation mean following the original to the T? Even when some elements were not even crucial to the storytelling (and hell, OPLA will go on for what, another 2 seasons max? some easter eggs might not even mean anything)? So some of the props were entirely unnecessary and so badly executed it made the whole show cheap and ridiculous, like that dog hat Garp was wearing AND the mouse ears on Nezumi. Especially the latter. It might have worked in the manga and anime, but we could have totally dispensed with those.

Recently in Japan, there has just been a production of One Piece On Ice (figure skating adaptation of Alabasta arc -- highly recommend to check it out on Youtube). It was a totally different form of storytelling, but the casting was perfect. In my humble opinion, the actors there fit their roles WAY more than than this cast did in OPLA. I'm not saying OPLA was bad, though. I enjoyed some bits of the show. It just doesn't really stick overall.

[margoshamangolord]

I love animes that have so much gay undertones that they are borderline a boys'love but at the same time they have exactly as much arguments to prove that they're just. bros. hey guys they are bros dont go crazy. literally confirm that one of the characters who they try to portray as bros transcended time, space and gone through countless timelines so the other one is happy and sacrificed themselves so the other one is able to go on without them and save the world on their own. their studio posts an official art with them in white suits holding flowers and blushing like they're getting married and then caption it 'they are such bros come on'. also one of them is blonde and the other is dark-haired and emotionally despaired. also there are big robots who need synchronization with the black-haired pilot to fight big religiously themed enemies. there is so much drama in the fandom whether they are bros or boyfriends that some fans are ready to raid the studio archive to prove this or that

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Colorful Fic Titles Masterlist

all that glitters is gold (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum, luke/omc T, 30k

Summary: Luke is running from everyone, including himself, and Calum is getting tired from chasing after him.

black coffee and sulfur (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) calum/ashton T, 9k

Summary: “You’re the demon,” Ashton says, voice steady. “I was right about the crop failures and electrical storms. There is a demon in Springville.”

black is the colour (of my true love's hair) (ao3) - hemmingscliffords Michael/Luke E, 2k

Summary: His eyes graze over Luke's ash blonde hair, the multitude of colours from various batches of highlights that their stylists have given him over the past year, the butterscotch coloured roots that are growing in from not upkeeping it, and out of nowhere Michael thinks that holy shit, Luke would look awesome with black hair. Maybe an ebony colour that had a midnight blue washed through it.

Blue (ao3) - Extras0fts Michael/Calum G, 544

Summary: "You're home, and whenever I'm with you, I feel blue."

blue gatorade & strawberries (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 7k

Summary: “That’s actually why I’m here,” Calum says, causing Luke to frown in confusion.

“To haunt me?”

“To ask if I’m being too loud,” Calum replies with a lopsided smile. “My sister got me these badass speakers for graduation, but the subwoofer can be kind of intense, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t bothering you.”

“Oh, are you the asshole in 314 whose bass is making it impossible for me to quietly pine after my best friend?”

Blue Masquerade (ao3) - CalumSmiles (dreamforlife) michael/luke E, 85k

Summary: Michael is in love with Luke. That much is clear. Well, to Calum, Ashton and the rest of the world anyway. Luke is blissfully oblivious to the blatant signs. He gets a girlfriend. Michael tries to move on.

Spoiler: he fails.

Color of Love (ao3) - felixandtae luke/ashton N/R, 161k

Summary: ❝Sometimes my eyes show emotions I don't even realize I'm feeling.❞

Where Luke's eyes change color based on his mood, but they never turned purple until he met Ashton.

Gay Doesn't Mean Rainbows (ao3) - walking_crisis69 michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: "Your breath tastes like smoke." Luke said as he pulled away, running his fingers through his enemy's hair. "And your breath tastes like rainbows."

he's got blue eyes deep like the sea (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton 5k

Summary: He groans, a sickening pain shooting through him. He can feel something wet beginning to trail down his leg, and in his hazy mind, he just barely manages to put together that it's slick, and he's just presented.

Fuck, he's an omega.

(or, the one where luke goes into his first heat at a party, and it all goes downhill from there.)

Milky White (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton, michael/calum M, 3k

Summary: 'Hey, where are you guys heading?' 'Woodford Folk Festival!'

Ashton is a gray romantic hard worker with his mind set on hiking through the forests and meeting nice people to become friends with. Whilst exploring the woods in Queensland, he comes across two friends who enthusiastically invite him to join them to the festival. Despite the fact they know nothing about each other apart from names, he decides to tag along and see what the fuss about this festival is all about. It all turns into a hot mess that night, with Ashton's nose nuzzling between Luke's milky white thighs he is starting to want to become good friends with.

My Baby Wears Shades of Pink (ao3) - twinkylukey luke/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Ashton now owns the Playboy mansion. Luke is the only male bunny, and the only one that suits his needs.

Pink + Black (ao3) - IfWallsCouldMuke michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 5k

Summary: Or where Luke and Michael had a summer fling and they both have feelings for each other after a year.

Purple Lipstick (ao3) - SinisterMind michael/calum T, 3k

Summary: Michael picked up the eyeliner his mother left on the side of the sink and an overwhelming desire to wear it washed over him.

or

Michael likes to wear make-up

Rare as Gold (ao3) - FalseDevotion calum/ashton E, 230k

Summary: Growing up is hard and scary and you may find yourself lost more often than not. But if you surround yourself with good people, you can always find your path.

Red Desert (ao3) - jenlouniverse G, 1k

Summary: First song from CALM: Red Desert. A quest to know oneself a little better and trying to leave the past behind.

Tongue-Tied And White Lie Addicted (ao3) - fourdrunksluts michael/ashton, luke/calum E, 50k

Summary: Michael’s just finished his undergrad and is ready to stop messing around with strangers and get more serious about his studies as he prepares for his dream job. No relationships, no sex. Which is harder than it sounds when Ashton Irwin comes into his life.

White Lines, Pretty Daddy Golden Skin (ao3) - twinkylukey luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: Part one to a mini series! Sugar Daddy Ashton and twinky, small Luke.

White Noise (ao3) - merlypops luke/ashton E, 7k

Summary: Luke and Ashton have massive crushes on each other, Ashton throws a party, and all of Luke's dreams come true. (Maybe they're a tiny bit in love too. Maybe.)

you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else (ao3) - lifewasradical OT4, luke/calum, michael/ashton T, 20k

Summary: “Well, the color we can see is red. Well, wait, is this the color you see?” Calum asks, holding out his phone to show Luke a list of basic colors. The only box that's anything but a shade of grey is marked red. Luke nods again, looking around to place more red objects.

“I’ve never heard of someone meeting their soulmate and not seeing all the colors at once,” Calum says, leaning back against his bed.

Or, you're supposed to see all the colors when you meet your soulmate. Calum and Luke only see red.

you’re my honeysuckle rose (ao3) - merlypops Luke/Ashton E, 8k

Summary: Ash and Lu have been in love with each other for a long time, and they just want to be together.

[stinkerarchetype]

ELVIN !!

+ this cool fallout oc questionaire template i found and probably should have went to bed instead of filling out!

game said to tag some pals so. the only pals i know with fallout ocs are @publiclypining, @feigeleh, and @corvidayyy. have fun, beloveds.

[IDENTITY]

full name: if I told you I haven't decided on that yet would you believe me.

gender: unfortunately most likely cisgender but him being a little queer gender wise is definitely not out of the question!

pronouns: he/him, but probably doesn't mind neutral terms or cool neopronouns at all :-]

ethnicity: he's very white it's kind of disgusting. I may change this over time!

pre-war job: model! modeled for Nuka Cola :-) catered to the Gays..

date of birth: well..

place of birth: somewhere in someplace

current age: 224? 225? me when i get cryogenically frozen! girl help vault tech and nuka-cola stuck me in an ice cube for two centuries!

biology: human! may have some cyborg-y parts, haven't decided.

current living place: well. it's somewhere alright.

[ALIGNMENT]

chosen factions: I haven't played him in-game yet!

role: companion, mostly? not sure what this means but. if he was ever a canon character he'd most likely be a companion in fallout 4. :-9

allied factions: anyone who doesn't shoot him and tries to take his cool gun! :-]

enemy factions: anyone who does shoot him and tries to take his cool gun! :-[

[PERSONALITY]

alignment: definitely chaotic good.

main qualities: lovely to be around, extremely loyal. golden retriever kind of guy. zap, zap!

main flaws: doesn't focus very well, easily distractable. will probably get killed very quickly if he didn't have quick, impulsive reflexes. also he has no idea what he's doing, he's learning as he goes. he was literally a model.

fears: most likely hurting people or letting others down!

[RELATIONSHIPS]

status: singlest pringle in the wasteland.

sexual orientation: undecided! most likely gay? one of them boylikers..

people closest to them: well. about that.

people they hate: he never hates people. usually.

family: tugs my collar nervously while sweating

[PHYSICAL]

height: like 6'2" or something, i don't remember. something really tall. maybe 6'5" actually, holy shit

weight: uh..

build: buff <3

hair color: blonde and platinum blonde in my head sometimes but never executed in my artwork of him. may change this! who knows!

hair style: short, superman-esque. kinda? i'm not sure how to describe hair styles.

eyes color: hmm.. blue. for now.

tattoos/scars/markings: we will see! he probably has something somewhere.

body/facial hair: barely any. not only that but hes also Blonde (as of now) so..

[ABILITIES]

spoken language: english, but he probably knows a few more, like spanish and french, etc.

strengths: socializing, upping general morale, being entertaining, making mouth-made, unnecessary sound effects doing literally anything...

weakness: feral ghouls, nick valentine being annoyed by him at any point in time, cool old food he finds in buildings that he has to be reminded not to eat..

favored weapons: a cute little sci-fiesque pistol that was never meant to shoot real ammo, if any at all! and yet he fashioned it to do so and it still, somehow, works.

[RANDOM]

favorite piece of clothes: his suit! y'know the one! the iconic one!

lucky charm: not quite sure he has one yet. at least one i could come up with on the fly. maybe a special little bottle cap?

favorite food: literally anything that is now inedible considering there was literally a nuclear fallout and it's all 200+ years old and could kill a man but hey! a man's gotta eat!

favorite beverage: guess?

favorite season: he seems like a summer fella. boobs out, arms in the air like he just doesn't care. sunburn, radiation burn,