In the very first scene of The Wire, Garak asks Bashir if he was up late “entertaining one of (his) lady friends.” Bashir explains that no, he was up really really late reading a boring book that he hated. Why did the important space station doctor deprive himself of sleep reading a terrible book that he didn’t like? Oh, because this guy he has lunch with likes it.
I want to point out that Garak’s question was obviously intended to serve as the official “No Homo” announcement for the ensuing (very homo) episode, as was obviously necessary for super gay episodes of tv in the 90’s. However, Julian’s response was so gay, I submit that it instantly Homo’d the No Homo.
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Sorry if this is weird but I wanted to say it's so comforting to know that there are other lesbians in their mid-to-late 20s who haven't had their first kiss or anything. I know gay people in general tend to reach those milestones later than cishet people but I've always felt like I was way behind even my gay peers, and it has really put a dent in my sense of self-worth. So, you mentioning that you've never kissed anyone made me feel a little less alone. :) Love your art and hope you are doing well.
You should look at the concept of "your first kiss" less as a milestone you have to achieve at a certain age and more of an intimate thing that happens when YOU want to do it, if you even want to do it at all.
I have no idea what your situation is like, but personally I literally just haven't felt a super strong urge to kiss anyone near me here in this very South Texan city. People aren’t really “visibly” queer here with pride flags and stuff, including me. We’ve only had 2 small Pride parades before and that’s it. I'm sure this would eventually change if I lived somewhere more queer-friendly with more sapphics who were my specific type (butch and nonbinary lesbians are pretty much nonexistent here. I once got embarrassingly excited when I saw one(1) online who lived here. It’s like all the real attraction I’ve been deprived of all my life hit me like a truck. No, I’ve never talked to them lol)
......but I'm not saying the girls here aren't ever cute or anything. They’re beautiful actually. Mostly bisexual latinas. I've definitely had some gay moments here and there. It just wasn't enough to spiral into more than light flirting and a cheek kiss, I guess. There’s also the severity of insecurity and mental illness that makes one a homebody, but I don’t want to get into that right now.
So while I want it, I love the idea of it, I'm not really that ashamed about being inexperienced this late in life. Seems more common than people are willing to admit tbh. ANYWAY, I rambled too much. My point is you shouldn't tie this to your self-worth and don't let anyone, even other queer people, make you feel bad about it
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Hi Ari!! Omg congrats on 11k your blog is doing so good!! 💕💫
and nsfw thought: just imagine you’ve been in a shitty mood so you were bratty with jj all day. And when you both get home he just fucks all the attitude out of you until ur crying from the relief omg I need him 😩
JJ MAYBANK — 18+ (i changed it up a bit i hope that’s ok!)
“you gonna behave?” “y-yes, j, fuck!” you moaned as jj pounded into you from behind while tightly gripping your hair with one hand and holding your hip with the other. he was fucking you like his life depended on it, fed up with your bratty behaviour throughout the entire day. so when you both finally got home, he hauled you into the bedroom and ripped your clothes off, his demeanour shifting abruptly.
“nah, i’m not convinced yet.” he swiftly flipped you over so you were on your back and immediately started thrusting into you again, his hand travelling towards your throat. the new position allowed him to hit your g-spot so perfectly, causing you to moan his name with your mouth agape. “feels good, hm? you love my cock, don’t you?” he asked, his voice laced with a fake sweetness that you foolishly fell for as you instantly replied, “hmm. feels so fucking good, j”
“too fucking bad, princess. brats like you don’t deserve to cum.” he growled, his voice darker and deeper with the false sweetness from earlier gone. your eyes sprung open right away with tears slowly filling your eyes as you begged and pleaded, “n-no, i need to cum, please, i swear i’m gonna be good. i’m sorry, okay! please baby” he simply chuckled in return, fully enjoying seeing you desperate like this. “yeah, that won’t do. you can cry all you want but i’m the only one that’s gonna cum tonight.”
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Stobin Appreciation Week 2023 by @dailystobin!!!
Day 4 : songs/lyrics/poems 🤍
spongebob // The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket // A little life, Hanya Yanagihara // Ribs, Lorde // Normal People, Sally Rooney // Frog and Toad, Arnold Lobel // Stuck with me, The Neighborhood // Just Kids, Patti Smith // (pic) Troy and Abed (quo.) Winnie the Pooh by @/catbandits // Ryan O’Connell // Written on the body, Jeanette Winterson // Trista Mateer // Smoke Signals, Phoebe Bridgers // Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides, Anne Carson
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Bakugou loves you, he really does, but he can’t help but be a little prickly sometimes. it’s not because he’s mad at you or anything that’s actively your fault, no. Sometimes he just likes to pick and be an ass to you because he finds your reactions funny, likes how your lip pouts, and how you huff at him whenever he pokes at you.
But it always irks you whenever he rejects your physical affection. It’s playful, the way he softly taps your fingers away from him when you wrap your arms around his middle while he cooks. You bite at his shoulder blade and he wiggles in your grasp, grumbles for you to stop fucking with him while he makes your damn soup.
And that irks you to no end, more than usual, for some reason. Chalk it up to pms or the weather or whatever the fuck, but you’re sick of it. You step beside him, turning until your butt hits the counter, folding your arms as you glare up at him.
“Well, if I can’t touch you, then you can’t touch me.” You declare childishly, and it makes Bakugou smirk at your petulance. He stirs the soup a few more times in silence, adding in more seasoning with a shake of his head while you stare him down.
After what feels like forever, he lays the spoon beside the pot and faces you with a hand resting on the counter and the other on his hip. He cocks his head at you, grinning now when he meets your frowning face.
“My poor baby,” he coos to you condescendingly, reaching out to grip your hip but you lightly smack his fingers away, same as he did you earlier. He expects that, and the next one, and the next. However, he doesn’t expect for it to last for the rest of the night, being unable to touch you.
At this point, he thinks he might be going stir crazy. He’s so used to the casual touches; squeezing your butt when you walk past, patting your cheek when you eat, rubbing your shoulders, massaging your calf on the couch. But he’s been rejected every time, and goddamn you, it’s not funny anymore.
So he blocks you in where you stand trying to leave the bathroom. To anyone else, he would look menacing, but to you, he just looks like an overstuffed teddy bear as he hunches his shoulders to his ears. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead at your mouth, as he grumbles,
“M’sorry for being stupid. Now lemme touch you. Please.” He tacks on when he sees your eyes narrow. You stand there with your arms crossed for a few seconds, before humming and placing your hands on your hips.
“I’ll forgive you if you let me hold your boobs.” You counteroffer. His face scrunches up for a second at that.
“They’re not—you know what? Go ahead, have at it.” He tells you with a dramatic sigh, mirroring your position as he looks up to the ceiling. But as you cup his chest in your hands and squeeze his pecs and bury your face in it, Bakugou can’t help but smile a little. As long as he gets to do it back to you, he doesn’t mind one bit.
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