doesn’t a glory hole sort of defeat the purpose of you being hot and blond and me wearing glasses? In which John has his first real homocrush and does stupid shit in effort to alleviate it.

The Inquisition Law Offices provide a wide array of services to a select and not-so-select clientele. Working in Haven is a complicated business for Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan, who balances actually bringing justice down on those corrupt while casually having his team manage negotiations to keep his city safe and peaceful with the Trevelyan twins in the dark lower streets, the Valo-Kas' warring Tal-Vashoth factions in the Qunari district, and the Carta's pair of rather dangerous contacts, the Cadash siblings. In comparison, The Iron Bull and his Chargers are a breath of calm, relaxing fresh air. Cullen Rutherford, head of the Inquisition Law Offices' Employee Resources department, has been blissfully unaware of all of this until meeting the love of his life in a jazz club bar fight. Cremisus Aclassi was not planning on a six-foot-and-change boyfriend, but hey, when life gives you oversized blushing men, you roll with it. Dorian just really wants Mob Wives of Thedas to stop trying to get him on their show, and his definitely-not-husband to stop interrupting him at work to make out in the Archives.

"Really, Xie Lian, you don't even jerk it??" Shi Qingxuan insists. "I mean it's none of my business and you can tell me to fuck off, but holy shit, lady." Xie Lian laughs, feeling her cheeks color, and shrugs again. "I don't know, something about the mechanics of it just never made sense to me," she admits. "And anyway that's time I should be spending studying." -- It comes out that Xie Lian's never had an orgasm. She goes to Hua Cheng for help. • theyre lesbians

“No one told me what prayers to recite,” Johnny forces out, trying to summon the well of anger that usually burns within him when he enters the church. “‘Spose they’re not used to trussin’ up somethin’ that can talk back.” Father Simon says nothing, his footsteps echoing out on the stone; growing louder as he approaches. “I can baa for ya if that’d make it more familiar,” he spits, some remnant of himself flaring and he strains his arms, struggling in vain against the ropes binding his wrists. He follows the hem of his robe as he circles him; his keen eyes heavy as they study the sigils on his skin until he finally comes to a stop behind him. He’s not even to see his death. Johnny curses himself as only now does grief come at being denied a final look into his eyes. Even now, you can’t help but chase sin.

They call Ghost a tease for never posting videos or pictures with him fucking more than his hand; some even offer to buy him a fleshlight, just so they can get the chance to watch his cock in action. None of them know the truth. Ghost's cock doesn't belong to him. Not when he can't use it properly.