#the combo is simply unholy

[aprill-99]

If the Bridgerton Family is the family of “Fuck Around and Find Out” …

… then the Rokesby Family is the family of “This Might as Well Happen.”

Prime Examples:

1. Colin Bridgerton finds out Penelope is Whistledown and goes “there’s a few things we can try here, but in fact my grand plan is to announce this to everyone. I’ve got the popularity to spin this out. This’ll be fun look…”

2. Edward Rokesby wakes up with amnesia, is told he has a wife, and instead of asking all of the very legitimate questions he could ask, his response is “Okie Dokie. So I guess that’s a thing I’ll be incorporating in to my personal identity. I’m sure past me had good reasons. Why doesn’t she have better housing?”

[jjoongiesbetter]

✎ᝰ. mon's ateez fic recommendations (part 1)!

mdni!

│hi there! i haven't read much lately so the first part came across as a bit shorter than i expected but the next ones will surely be longer!

— as a writer myself, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all the authors for sharing such incredible writing, your hard work is truly appreciated! thank you for sharing your writing with us! ♡

──────── ♡⸝⸝

⤷ kim hongjoong x reader

♡┆ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore; the whole mini-series is just amazing and i enjoyed each part a lot! once i started i couldn't stop reading! loved how well hongjoong was written! the build-up of the first part was top-notch! and the character development... i should thank the author on my knees for writing this masterpiece. one of the best authors out there! definitely will read again!

♡┆swapped by @daisykihannie; the prompt is just so fun and interesting, one of the most creative ones i stumbled across! i haven't read something like this before. enjoyed it very very much!

♡┆punching bag by @mulloey; i must admit it was so just so undeniably hot, angry hongjoong and also so well-written! you will find me re-reading it an unholy amount of times.

♡┆clumsy hearts, steady love by @edenesth; WHAT IF I TELL YOU I CRIED? i already commented on this one on my main but im going to repeat myself! incredibly written, hongjoong suits the concept so well, my heart hurt a bit while reading but it's hongjoong, of course, i forgive him. somehow still very cute.

⤷ jeong yunho x reader

♡┆active recovery by @k-hotchoisan; y'all so i was always so shy about commenting on smut but tbh don't we all read it? author killed it yet again! got me hot, bothered and i am starting to consider a gym subscription!

♡┆the drill by @byuntrash101; look i know this one was posted last year, and i am so mad for not reading it sooner😭 i loved the storyline, wooyoung as a side character was just so funny, yunho without rizz altered my brain chemistry. i can't lie i was thinking about this fic for days after i read it! it's the perfect blend of fun and smut.

♡┆private lessons by @bombuni; i must admit i love professor yunho and it is always a pleasure finding and reading such fics, especially when it's as good as this one! (would love to see a part two one day)

♡┆muffled by @desirehorizon; the plot!!! the writing!!! the smut!!! and it was funny too!!! what more can i want? perfect!! imma say it once again but i enjoyed every word of this fic!!! can't wait to read more from the author!

⤷ song mingi x reader

♡┆still your biggest fan by @byuntrash101; good god it was just so incredibly hot, we need to appreciate the idea because it surely is creative! who doesn't just love teasing mingi? let's agree that we all do.

♡┆sour candy by @0097linersb; loved the idea🙂‍↕️ needy mingi is my favorite mingi, it was very very hot. you better find the time and read it!

⤷ choi jongho x reader

♡┆minor nuisance by @everyonewooeverywhere; i tell you they are in love love! trust me, you definitely need to read this one! jongho was just so sweet, a great fluff/smut combo and now i need jongho in my life even more :(

♡┆freestyle lap by @bro-atz; we all should know by now that bro is just simply one of the best when it comes to smut and they never, never disappoint. i definitely needed to read this one after i saw that pool jongho pics. if you haven't read it yet, what are you even doing?

♡┆falling and sleeping by @seonghwaddict; it was posted earlier this year but i just had to include it :( it was just utterly cute, jongho is adorable. well-written, and melted my poor heart.

multiple members:

⤷ choi jongho x kang yeosang x reader

♡┆the post show high by @bombuni; i must shamelessly admit while reading it i felt like the author somehow got into my brain and just picked one of my fantasies, hope it's not tmi. so saying i loved it it's an understatement! one of my favorite authors for real!

pairings:

⤷ kim hongjoong x jeong yunho (hohong)

ao3 ♡┆darling, you will bury me (before i bury you) by SunshineAndRayne; cute cute cute! i loved every letter of it, yunho is so whipped and i am living for it!

ao3 ♡┆waiting for you by marspacz; i absolutely loved this one so much! my heart needed this, had me smiling the entire time i was reading! and then the shotgun scene—damn, that was hot!

[razorblade180-heated]

Lewd headcanon for Sunflywer

I don’t know why but the first thing I thought of was the tension during sparring. Every block and pin just becomes this moment of friction and expression of strength that the other finds down right sensual in a way that fills the air.

Yang feels pretty Nora-adjacent in the sense that she would bring bright, good energy towards whatever she wanted to do with him, but she wouldn’t tug on his arm and be giddy about it. The two of them would be pretty good at matching each other’s energy.

Yang definitely has her calmer moments but I also think Ren would know how to jump to a more assertive attitude and actively display outward confidence at a club scene or playful challenge.

Of any couple they might be the ones that shower the most together. More I think about it they just be yin and yang in perfect balance lol. Someone would see them pull of Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon combo on a person and everyone would go “Yeah, makes sense.”

Both of them would enjoy quality time together but Yang also leans more into physical touch so she’s always hugging him somehow or likes it when he drapes himself over her. He finds it cute that she got more into Tai Chi and meditating to spend more time with him. On the flip side, Ren definitely has become a little more chatty and quicker to say something that might lighten the mood.

In terms of sex life, Yang is smitten. She definitely flirted first but it was Ren who took the plunge after months of teasing. Yang quickly learned an assertive Ren is incredibly hot and she might not be as much of a top as she thinks. If anything, their sex is just an extension of their sparring. One tries putting on a brave face and making the other buckle.

It typically ends with fits of laughter and swooning as Ren gains the upper hand and happily expresses just how badly he wants her in the moment. Yang appreciates the passion and his pleasantly surprised to learn he’s more fixated on her stomach and hips rather than her chest. If anything it makes her want to show them off to him more. Meanwhile she might actually be obsessed with that man’s hands for many good and unholy reasons. By the time they’re halfway through their session, Yang finds herself embarrassingly like the girls she playfully mocks for becoming essentially moldable clay and simply taking their lover’s passion.

Aftercare is a given. The two of them never really stopped smiling and laughing through the experience for the most part. All and all, the experience is like a runner’s high.

[soylent-crocodile]

Exarch (Monster)

(Inquisitor Exarch by Igor Kieryluk)

(The Exarch cycle is most well known for the blue member- the Deceiver Exarch- which was part of the infamous Splinter Twin combo that formed the backbone of an incredibly powerful combo/control deck in the youth of the Modern format. If those words were jibberish, don't worry, Splinter Twin doesn't matter any more.

They were originally printed as only having the creature type Cleric, no species or race, and have a pretty interesting and coherent visual design. This makes them perfect to slot into the mid-level support role of Phyrexian monsters.)

CR10 LE Medium Aberration (Phyrexian)

Exarchs are spiritual speakers of phyrexia, evangelizing their ideology of superiority and assimilation, and enforcing the religious tenants of toil and flagellation to those who have already become one. Exarchs are dogmatic and rigid; their faith is incurious, and they quickly resort to logical loops or violence if asked to defend their arguments.

Exarchs of different sects of phyrexia have superficial differences, but all are built the same; they are eyeless and neckless, their jaws simply part of their large chests, and have three arms; two weaker arms on one side, which they use to wield a staff, and a single arm on their other side, which has a large claw used to maim both enemies and members of the faith.

This vaguely person-shaped being has no head- just a sharp-toothed mouth jutting out of its chest- and has three arms; two smaller hands are carrying a staff, and the largest ends in long, bladelike claws.

Misc- CR10 LE Medium Aberration (Phyrexian) HD14 Init:+7 Senses: Perception:+23, Blindsight 90ft Stats- Str:22(+6) Dex:16(+3) Con:19(+4) Int:8(-1) Wis:22(+6) Cha:18(+4) BAB:+10 Space:5ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:119(14d8+56) AC:23(+3 Dexterity, +10 Natural) Fort:+10 Ref:+7 Will:+15 CMD:39 Immunity: Acid, Curse, Disease, Poison, Gaze and other visual effects Special Defenses: Mycosynth Flesh Offense- +1 Unholy Staff +15/+15(1d6+7+2d6), Claw +10(1d6+6/x3) CMB:+16 Speed:30ft Special Attacks: Long Claws Feats- Great Fortitude, Two-Weapon Fighting, Combat Casting, Improved Initiative, Vital Strike, Channel Smite, Command Undead Skills- Bluff +14, Escape Artist +10, Intimidate +17, Perception +23, Sense Motive +20, Stealth +13, Survival +16, Swim +13 Spell-like Abilities- (CL14, Concentration +28, +32 in combat) Greater Magic Fang, Animate Dead 3/day Spells- (CL9, Concentration +15, +19 in combat) 5 (1+1, DC21)- Flame Strike, Wall of Stone 4 (2+1, DC20)- Dimensional Anchor, Sending, Unholy Blight 3 (3+1, DC19)- Bestow Curse, Dispel Magic, Invisibility Purge, Remove Curse 2 (4+2, DC18)- Bane, Bull’s Strength, Darkness, Grace, Hold Person, Remove Paralysis  1 (4+2, DC17)- Doom, Murderous Command, Obscuring Mist, Protection from Good, Remove Fear 0 (4, DC16)- Bleed, Detect magic, Create Water, Spark Special Qualities- Channel Negative Energy (5d6, DC18, 9/day), Hymn of Gratitude, Spells Ecology- Environment- Any Languages- Necril, Aklo, Abyssal, Infernal Organization- Solitary, Pair, Mission (1 Exarch, 2 Ragers) Treasure- Standard (+1 Unholy Staff) Special Abilities- Channel Negative Energy (Su)- An exarch channels negative energy as a level 9 cleric. Hymn of Gratitude (Su)- Three times a day as a standard action, an exarch can speak an unholy word to spurn its allies into action. Allies that can hear the exarch are cured of the following conditions; blinded, confused, cowering, entangled, exhausted, fatigued, nauseated, panicked, shaken, and sickened. Long Claws (Ex)- An exarch’s claws pierce deep into the soft spots of its victims; they have a critical multiplier of x3. Mycosynth Flesh (Ex)- A phyrexian’s anatomy is both flesh and metal, typically arranged in the most disturbing way possible. As such, it may be targeted or affected by a spell as either an aberration or as a construct, whichever produces a greater effect. Spells (Ex)- An exarch casts spells as a level 9 cleric. An exarch’s holy symbol usually sits on the end of its staff. It does not gain domains.

[dancing-to-architecture]

24 - Amy Winehouse - Back to Black (2006)

Well, the only song i know going in is Rehab. Never was that big an Amy Winehouse fan...not for any real reason, i just never really was super into what I'd heard on the radio at the time, but in my defense, it was 2006.

I was a dramatically different person back then.

•Rehab-

Yeah, girl... You really should have gone to rehab. It always sucks when someone writes a really catchy song that ironically illuminates their own death, and it sucks even worse when that song is a massive hit that ultimately springboards you directly to said ironic death.

•You Know I'm No Good-

Okay, I've heard this one somewhere, but no idea where. I really dig the loungey/speakeasy vibe, but there's a point where i just have to say damn girl, keep it in your pants. You're the architect of your own pain, here.

•Me & Mr. Jones-

Can't really tell if she loves him or hates him. Probably both.

•Just Friends-

Love that guitar/smooth sax combo and oh shit it went reggae on me. Really subtly mournful lyrics, imo.

•Back to Black-

Sounds like an extension of Just Friends, or yet another similar nebulous quasi-relationship. Noticing a running theme throughout of 'wanting things she can't have', for one reason or another. Or simply wanting things, damn the consequences.

And man, she was a great vocalist.

•Love Is A Losing Game-

Those subtle string stains in the background really elevate this one, imo. (Then again I'm a big fan of Florence, so i might be biased towards strings.)

What a sad song to use as a midpoint.

•Tears Dry On Their Own-

I really like the Ain't No Mountain High Enough remix going on. Very upbeat, especially right after the last song, but still sad within the lyrics.

This is the exact moment you switch from loneliness to solitude. Sure I'm by myself but damnit, right now, I'm fine with that.

•Wake Up Alone-

When the almost manic euphoria from Tears Dry has faded a bit, it's two months later, and you are still doing what you can to be strong.

Damn it, it's hard and you knew it was gonna be hard but you've gotta get through it regardless of how your dreams fuck with you.

•Some Unholy War-

Anthem for those Ride or Die folks. Except it feels a LOT more like "Ride *and* Die" in this particular case.

•He Can Only Hold Her-

Okay i reread the lyrics like 5 times and oi honestly can't tell if she's in another relationship or if she's in a coma.

Could be I'm just not getting this one. Love the instrumentation, though.

•Addicted-

Nothing worse than a guy coming around and smoking all your hard earned weed without even offering to throw in. 100% behind Amy on this one, bring a bag with you or fuck off out of here.

It's a damn shame that she died so young, but she seemed like a woman out of time. She seems born to be playing a smoky club room filled with nervous drinkers 70+ years ago.

That said, a banger opener, a banger closer, and the saddest damn song on the album right smack in the middle...

Favorite Track: Rehab or Addicted, honestly. Both are incredible.

Least Favorite Track: He Can Only Hold Her, only because I'm really not sure what it's even about, and the lyrics on every other song on the album felt so much stronger than this one.

[unholy-hymns]

Hello, I’m Bunby! He/Him ; 25+ This isn’t a “personal” but it’s not an rp blog either. I don’t know what it is exactly.

It USED TO be an rp/ask blog combo, but I don’t think I could handle that as actively as I used to anymore. Though I do accept asks ic for my vampire oc if you’re into that. Despite my perpetual state of exhaustion, I’m a story writer at heart and adore the process of writing stories with others. So please, if you enjoy story building, you’re encouraged to send me any old ask. Anon or not, to see how I make Nicholas react. If I have the energy I may even draw something new about it.

If I follow you and you’re an rp blog, don’t worry. I wont interrupt your feed. I’m simply a nostalgic sort of person who enjoys watching rp dashboards but not contributing. I wont spam like your blog, I wont reblog your rps, I wont interact at all. I’m simply here to exist. I hope you’ll exist with me too. (Exceptions made for kudos given on art you may have posted. I love art and want to send my praise to you for showing off what you’ve done.)

BYF: This blog is an LGBT+ safe space, I find ableists annoying and cringey, and I will queue-reblog tasteful partial nudity once in a while that I do not tag, so approach with caution if you’re underaged. Curate your own online experience, the TOS protects me from what you don’t protect yourself from.

For more info on this blog, go to (https://unholy-hymns.tumblr.com/nick)

[purplejan]

hi cece!!! how are ya? i hope you’re doing well!! <3 this… isn’t a question. sorry about that. anyways: give someone a compliment. it can be about anything—their blog layout, something they said/posted that you liked, their writing, anything. it’s a nice day to be positive, let’s spread some positivity today!! (bonus points if you leave a different person a nice ask!!! and, of course, it can be on anon if that's more comfortable for you <3)

hiii gii 💕i'm gonna start first with you cause !!! i'm very much obsessed with the way you go out of your way to interact with so many of us in the fandom and help make it that much more fun, and especially with such interesting and sweet asks?? like idk it makes being here so much better and you're a big part of making this whole place be more welcoming so yeah, you're the first person i'm complimenting. tysm for being this great 💕

it got long so under a cut kcjnwkjnwek

@stillgoode: strawberry i cannot express enough how fucking hilarious i find you?? like i'm certain your posts are the ones that make me laugh the most in this whole site. also? i know i haven't read all your fics but literally every single one i have read i've loved?? you're premises for them are always so unique?? so, have a kiss from me <3

@petitmonde: eliii!!! literally one of the most creative people out here?? your fic ideas are such a breath of fresh air, also?? you're one of the most fun people to entertain the unholy fic ideas with. so happy to call you a friend, sending you a kiss bestie <3

@myhusbandharryhamilton: going back to funny people, jiji i needed to mention you here cause!!! i'm obsessed with how smart and funny all the drph headcanons on your tumblr are!! like sometimes i don't have time to read them during the day but almost always go through them at night cause i know the combo of drama + funny stuff you created with anons will be incredible. so, here's a kiss for you <3

@sweetlikesunflowersandhoney: mar bonitaa!! i find you one of those people who are so easy to talk to?? like conversation just flows with you and i'm so happy to be friends with you <3 also?? your mind?? so many good ideas?? the way you write and can put very specific emotions into the characters it's wild to me. un besito pa ti también<3

@sweetestberryofthebunch: luu!!!! first your tumblr's always so put together aesthetically talking? i love it. and god your writing!! i'm so glad you write for so many of the ships i'm obsessed with cause it has made me read some of the best fics out there?? like the way you build a whole universe for your characters?? also the drama!! so well written i'm obsessed. kisses all the way to canada babes <3

@fuckyeah-dragrace: nattie you are one of the loveliest people on this site?? like?? always so kind?? also your fluff fics are simply incredible?? the best remedy for a bad day and i live for them. and of course the cows!! i'm obsessed. have a kiss from me <3

@hannahlovesdance07: hannah <3 i'm sure i've said it so many times but i'm in love with the roommie au?? like it's ridiculous the amount of times i've went back to read the whole thing again. also you are literally such a sweet person?? so, talented AND lovely? best combo methinks. big kiss for you hannah <3

[pacificgasandelectric]

once again thinking abt my plan to Fix Surnames, which is that a child simply gets one surname from each parent, and then when that kid gets married and has children, they and their spouse each contribute one surname to those children.

if you don't get married, you just give your kid both your surnames. if you don't like your family or ur surnames, you just give your kid both your spouse's surnames. it's flexible, allows for parents to either keep their own surnames OR change to the new 'combination' one, and doesn't wind up with children having an unholy four-name-hyphenated-combo two generations down the line. everyone should consider doing this.

[neoculturetravesty]

Rough but soft

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Johnny x Reader Genre: smut, pwp, romance, angst Warnings: 18+, soft dom Johnny, oral (female receiving), protected sex, rough sex, fingering, anus rubbing (female receiving), mild choking, hickeys, lots and lots of angst. Reader wants Johnny to have at her but she also wants so much more. Readers comes with lots of self-doubt, baggage and insecurities. Word Count: 8.2k+ words of straight up filth and angst aka my fav combo

Summary: You’re so tired of trying to find a man who would understand the deep complexities of what you need, sleeping with him, being utterly unsatisfied and then spending the next few weeks avoiding him because you were too ashamed. You were tired of baring your soul, your body, the inner workings of your mind to yet another man who couldn’t satisfy you. So when you meet Johnny Suh, you know right away that he would be the man that makes all your wet dreams come true. But you shouldn’t want him. He’s an idol, and you work for him. You have no right to want him, to lust after him... and you definitely have no right to catch feelings for him.

A/N: This one is for all my Johnny stans! I didn’t plan for this one-shot to get so long but ugh, once I started writing, all my demons were unleashed. Hope you like it! 

You could’ve sworn your apartment was the hottest it had ever been. You didn’t remember messing with the thermostat or closing any windows. You weren’t exactly dressed warmly, either. You were just in your underwear with a pretty spaghetti sleeved top on. Perhaps the heat had more to do with the fact that you were sat on the lap of a man you really liked or the fact that the two of you had been furiously making out for the past ten minutes. 

Johnny’s hands were all over you. They were in your hair, pulling you towards him, angling your head every which way to get more purchase with his tongue. Then his hands were on the small of your back pushing up into your top to feel your bare skin. And when his hands had enough of the skin there, they were up and down the curve of your legs that were curled up into him as you sat side saddle. While your pants laid discarded on the floor, his clothes were still fully on but you supposed there was some use for that by how strongly you were clutching onto the lapel of his jacket. 

Your brain was so fuzzy with the scent of him that you couldn’t even remember what had brought this on. The last thing you remembered was Johnny showing up at your door unannounced, a couple of bottles of soju in hand. Your past few meets had been similarly unplanned, so for convenience’s sake and definitely not anything else, you just went ahead and gave him the code of your apartment. Yes, it was way too early on in the relationship--if you could even call it that, whatever the two of you were doing. You could sense that he was taken aback by it. Whether he was moved by it, or whether to be polite, he had pulled you into him and kissed you.

Now the soju laid abandoned on the table as you drank one another in. He kissed you deeply now, as you sat on him on the couch, like he had been thirsty for days and your tongue quenched him. He was taking the lead in this unrestrained makeout session. But you knew that. He knew that. It’s what you had wanted. It’s what you had asked of him.

You were really putting yourself out there, sharing your deepest secrets and unholy desires with a man you weren’t supposed to be with. But the moment you had met Johnny, you could tell that he felt your energy and you certainly felt his. You knew right away what the both of you had wanted from one another, even if you didn’t say it. You knew it in the way he would entrap you with his gaze when you talked to him. You knew it in the way his arm would pull you in when someone passed by you. You knew it in the way he would let his touch linger any time his hands accidentally brushed against you. It had taken a few dates for you to get to this point, but now this… this was the point of no return. You had to be brave and finally get what you had always craved; or chicken out and go back to being unsatisfied as ever from yet another relationship.

Other men did not give you what you wanted, what you truly wanted; which was to feel a controlled loss of control, not just of the body but also of the mind. You wanted someone who could, quite crassly, hold you down and have at you, but also whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he did so. You wanted a cerebral connection of the souls and you wanted an animalistic gratification of the bodies at the same time. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too. You were so tired of the cycle--of trying to find a man you thought would understand the deep complexities of what you needed, sleeping with him, being utterly unsatisfied and then spending the next few weeks avoiding him because you were too ashamed. You were tired of baring your soul, your body, the inner workings of your mind to yet another man who couldn’t satisfy you. 

When you first met Johnny, you knew right away that this man had what it takes to make all your wet dreams come true. Like his presence validated all that you felt without having to use the words. You felt it in your gut, even when you hadn’t been with him. Your gut could very well have been wrong, because God knows you’ve been wrong so many times before. But your feeling was strong this time... and you just had to find out. So you had approached him.

You knew you were being reckless by being with Johnny in this way. He was, obviously, a famous person, but also--you worked for him. You were a young professional who had finally landed a job in a big company. If someone were to find out, that would mean the end of your career. Johnny could possibly get away with an apology letter that his team would help him curate. But you would be done for. You knew it was risky the first time you slept with him. You knew it the second time. But now as you met for the third time, hungrily kissing one another, you knew things were different. Because, finally, the two of you had been honest about how you wanted one another.

Over the past couple of weeks, you had finally started to communicate in words what the two of you had already felt in one another’s energy. He admitted that he craved you in a much coarser way than he had let on the first couple of times. And you had told him about all your indecent fantasies and how wilfully you wanted to be used, to be claimed, to be made to feel something. 

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Johnny had chuckled back then and you supposed he was right. That’s how people saw you. The quiet one, the determined one, the one that gets her work done on time, the one that never breaks the rules. Onlooking men thought you were some sort of a righteous Virgin Mary because of the innocence on your face. Part of you wondered if being with Johnny was a rebellion against all those men who had ever put you on that unwarranted pedestal. But you also knew that it wasn’t. Because you didn’t just want a body to unleash your lecherous demons on. You wanted it with him, with Johnny, with the man who was slowly lighting your fire, no matter how much you told yourself that it was a bad idea.

That man in question was now softly panting in your face, because his lips had finally unlatched themselves from yours for the first time in 10 minutes. He smiles at you and then buries himself in the junction between your shoulder and neck, kissing and sucking and talking.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I couldn’t get any work done because I kept thinking about you.” He says into your neck, sucking down on the skin and you knew he was marking you because it makes you moan out. There is a smile on his face as he pulls back to look at you. He takes your hand in his and leads it to the inside of his thigh, making you feel his hardness through the rough fabric of his pants.

“You feel that? I’ve been like this all day thinking about you.” he says while you look at him with your lips parted. He kisses you again, making you lean back, feeling his heat build under you. 

“I want you to feel the same. I want to make you feel exactly what you do to me.” He says and now his warm hand is slipping into the front of your underwear and you feel the quickening of your heartbeat. You begin softly moaning before he’s even done anything, simply from the anticipation. But then his fingers are flush against your warmth, rubbing up and down, no purpose yet, just feeling.

He’s close to you, too close, you can feel the heat coming off his face on your own skin, you can feel his breath fanning against you. His lips are close enough that they brush against yours as he coos at you “My pretty girl is so wet for me.” The heel of his palm is steady on your clit, pressing down but not giving you as much friction as you need, while his fingers move over and between your folds, feeling your warmth, your wetness, spreading it around as if to see how slick he can make it. His lips have found their way to the base of your throat now and he’s kissing, he’s nipping and he’s sucking and fuck your life because it is turning you on so much you feel like you would spontaneously combust. You’re melting against him at the same time you’re tensing and Johnny can feel your want grow on his fingers. He pulls back to see his work on your skin.

“Mmm, are you going to spend the next week hiding this away, baby?” He asks while his palm keeps cupping your sex, fingers feeling you up, overheating your flesh. It’s rude, the way his hand is down your underwear, the way he is marking you, the way he is talking to you. But your skin is on fire and you’re putty in his arms and fuck, you wouldn’t mind if he were ruder.

“Let me mark you where it would be easier to hide.” He says sweetly and suddenly, his hand that was cradling the small of your back is at the delicate strap of your top and his fingers are looping at your neckline, gently pulling down till he’s made your breast bare and he’s bowing into it, sucking on the first spot of skin his lips could find. Your own lips part and your fingers find his hair as he makes quick work of you, pulling away with a wet, vulgar sound, smiling down at the growing redness on your smooth skin. He blows on it, making you shiver.

“There. Fuck, baby, you look so pretty wearing my marks.” he sighs and then fixes your top over your shoulder so you’re covered again, and somehow, that chivalrous act makes you more bashful than being exposed did. His lips are back on yours and his arm is behind your neck, supporting you. His fingers in your underwear are becoming bolder, circling your needy hole, loving how the more he rubs it, the more you leak out your need onto him. He enjoys having that control over you for a moment, breaking the kiss just so he can watch the contorts of your face as he continues his slow torture. But seeing you like this stirs something more feral in him and suddenly his hand goes lower and starts to rub you where it feels forbidden. You freeze. 

For a moment, your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes shoot open. Fuck, you can’t think. This man has actually put you on your wit’s end. He’s rubbing you there like he knew how you’d react and he just wanted to have this power over you. A display of his claim over your body. You suddenly feel impossibly shy, though the emotion is too mild to truly describe the storm that’s building in you. Your mind is racing, wondering fuck, fuck fuck, do you want this? Do you really want this? Was this something you had talked about with him? Fuck, you can’t remember. But if you’re not sure, why the fuck is it making you so fucking wet?

His lips pressing into your forehead bring you out of your commotion. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” he says gently, like he read your mind and Jesus Christ, you almost come from the striking contrast between his soft words, his nurturing kiss and the absolutely filthy action of his fingers on your pucker, rubbing not to pleasure but to feel, to claim, almost as if to say ‘Look, I can touch you here.’

“Johnny, please, do something.” you plead at him because frankly, you’ve had enough. Now you just want him to rip away at your remaining clothes and have at it, to have you, to fuck you like he was too polite to do the first couple of times.

But one thing you’ve learnt in the time you’ve been working together (and also the time you’ve spent under him between the sheets) is that Johnny is a patient man. He’s smiling when he looks at you and his voice is so caring in contrast to his presence when he says “Does my baby want more?”

“Yes, please, Johnny, please.” you’re pulling onto his jacket because your hands can’t find purchase anywhere else and you’re whining because you’re needy and the anticipation has been building up for a couple of weeks and you’ve had enough. You want him and you want him now.

Thankfully, he doesn’t tease you any longer because he withdraws his hand from your underwear, hooks his arm under your knees whilst the other cradles your shoulders and he’s lifting you off bridal style and making his way to your room. It blows your mind how Johnny can be filthy and romantic at the same time. He sets you down politely and you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he takes off his jacket. You’d be lying if you said that Johnny simply taking his jacket off wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You had yourself a fine man in front of you and he had made it tonight’s mission to please you. Your eyes were hooded as you looked at him lustfully. He notices and sinks to his knees, pulling your legs till you were on the edge of the bed.

“My girl’s been waiting for this, hasn’t she?” he says and peppers kisses on the inside of your thigh before he loops his fingers around the band of your underwear and slowly slides it down your legs. He looks at you lying bare for him, basically nude and he inhales. “What a pretty sight.” he mutters and then his lips finally go straight for your clit, his tongue rolling over it and over it, his hands holding your legs apart and you let out a deep exhale because yes, yes, yes, this is what you wanted. He’s wasted no time because you told him you needed more and he was all too happy to oblige. So you lay back into the sheets, taking deep breaths, being fascinated by the rise and fall of your own chest. Johnny had learnt early on that you were the quiet type in bed, but tonight, he was determined to make you moan more than you had before. 

You let your head fall back and your eyes close as you feel his warm tongue roll generously over your nub, his mouth servicing you till your hips are grinding against him. The need builds and now you want an erotic visual to help you along so you lift up and tug on his shirt and he understands because he straightens up and pulls it off of him. You see the beautiful caramel planes of his toned chest; your mouth waters. He’s hovering over you now, kissing you with lips that are still covered in your scent till you’re crawling back into the bed. He adjusts your head onto the pillows, making sure you’re comfortable which tells you that he’s not nearly done. 

He puts another pillow under your hips and settles between your legs once more. He holds your gaze as he lowers himself and slowly spits down onto your clit. He looks at you, as if challenging you to stop him and uses the pad of his thumb to rub the slobber around. The sight is as vulgar as it is titillating and suddenly you find yourself thanking the heavens above that you found Johnny Suh. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks with a voice like honey and you look down at him.

“Yes. More, Johnny, please, I want more.” you tell him because fuck, you need it bad, and he nods. He brings his hand to your opening then and gently rubs till he is covered in your slick, then carefully eases his middle finger into you. You’re impossibly wet and he likes it. He wants you to be this turned on. 

He starts to move his finger, slowly fucking you with it then brings his mouth hot on your clit, licking deep, luxuriously strokes onto it. “Is this better, baby?” he asks but you reply with a pent out moan, your hands instinctively going to clutch your breasts, squeezing them through your top that isn’t doing a very good job at covering you. 

Johnny watches and he is pleased with himself. Pleased that he is making you this way, that you’re getting what you want from him. You both shared in your greed of a very similar sexual palette. Lately, you had been open to him about it and Johnny was so grateful to have met you. It turned him on to be with a woman who was so in tune with her needs. It turned him on more to know that he was the one fulfilling them. 

“More, Johnny, please… faster…” you guide him and he hurries to add another finger inside you and suddenly you’re smiling wide because it feels so fucking good. Your hands go to his hair, tugging on it, pressing his head into you even more and you’re grinding up into his face like a harlot, because frankly speaking, you don’t remember being this fucking horny in a good while. You can’t bring yourself to be self-conscious in this moment because it feels so good, so decadent, so freeing, and you can’t tell if you’re being louder than usual.

Johnny can. Because he’s not stopping and now he’s moaning into your slick warmth and his entire mouth is sweet with your taste and he knows you’re close so he only lifts up briefly to say “Come for me, baby.” and you’re pulling his hair, biting your lip, digging one heel so far into the mattress your leg is numb and you’re coming apart on his fingers. Johnny doesn’t stop through it, prolonging your orgasm while your entire body tenses, then comes to life before you let out a deep, happy exhale and Johnny finally lets go, rubbing the insides of your thighs to calm you. 

You grin at him and sit up to kiss him, your fingers splayed behind his neck, kissing him in gratitude for making you feel good, tasting your nectar on his lips, then rubbing your palms on his firm chest. You look down towards what could only be his growing need and your fingers fumble to undo his fly. You begin to get on your hands and knees but he stops you.

“Johnny, let me--” you begin wanting to reciprocate the favor, looking up at him but his expression makes your voice get caught in your throat. His eyes are hooded, dark, lustful.

“No. I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you, right here in your pussy.” he said shortly, and you think you might die. How could those curt, pornographic words turn you on so much? It’s not like you hadn’t heard them before from several other men. Perhaps it was the fact that this particular man had only ever spoken to you with polite respect before. To hear such filthy words from his handsome mouth was an experience you were never going to forget. You wanted him with all the heat that was building up between your legs. But, also... there was something else that you wouldn’t allow yourself to think. That you wanted him because perhaps, you were falling for him, no matter how much you tried to stop yourself.

Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He finds a condom and holds the foil between his teeth while he gets off the bed to rid himself of his pants. Suddenly, and without any sort of a warning, your heart begins to sink. 

You don’t know what it is, but while you sit there watching Johnny strip himself, you feel something deep in the pit of your stomach. You don’t recognize this emotion… this sinking feeling. Is it despair? It can’t be, but it comes close. Is it fright? No, that definitely wasn’t it. You try to think back to all the times you’ve had this feeling in your belly and finally, you identify it. This feeling felt a lot like heartbreak.

You couldn’t understand what was going on inside your head. It was as if behind your crazed sexual want for Johnny in your conscious, your subconscious was fighting you with another, more pressing craving. Like watching him pull out that condom had confirmed some sort of a fear, but you simply couldn’t put your finger on which one it was.

You’re confused. All this man did was extract a condom from his wallet. Why did that break your heart? Shouldn’t you be happy that for once in your sexual escapades, a man had been the one to be prepared? Shouldn’t you be relieved that the man you were sleeping with was putting your safety first? Then what was this strange feeling in the pit of your stomach? You’re still pondering it over whilst Johnny rolls the culpable rubber onto himself and makes his way to you. And when his lips are on yours again, you finally work it out. Your traitor mind had had a thought that broke through the giddiness of your happy orgasm and put a stinging doubt in your heart: ‘He brought a condom because he only came here for sex.’ 

Johnny notices a change in your demeanor by the way your kiss is less present. He pulls back and strokes the top of your head. “Are you sure you still want it that way, baby? We can go easy if you’ve changed your mind.” He kisses you again as if to tell you that he means it.

“I don’t want you to go easy. I want you to show me how far you can take it.” you say resoundingly. You’re not sure why you’ve said this despite the tempest in your mind. Maybe your fucking libido is betraying you again. 

He looks at you for a moment as if trying to read your face, then kisses your lips once more. “Okay, baby. But remember, you can tell me to stop any time, okay?” he assures you and you’re reminded that he really has the patience of a saint. Because his cock is thick and angry with want yet he’s still taking the time to communicate the logistics of what you’re about to do. 

“I will.” you nod. “Johnny, please… just… just fuck me, please.” You beg because you’ve decided… this is what you want. You want it this way at least once, because you won’t be able to stand not knowing. If your heart breaks at the end of this, so be it. You were used to it. And if this would be the last you would see of Johnny, you wanted to make it count.

He doesn’t need telling twice because now that you’re begging, his mind is clouded with the need to own you. So he pushes your legs back into your chest, laying you bare and open for him. You feel vulnerable in this position, too vulnerable, especially with what your mind is doing to you. Usually, it would take you some time to build up to this stance but he wants to start here, where he’s in control and that’s the shit you signed up for. Your breath is quickening in your chest from nervous anticipation and you cry out when Johnny makes his first, unforgiving stroke straight into your core. 

Your eyes close and you’re not sure if you moaned out from pain, pleasure, frustration, emotion, or everything rolled into one. Johnny stills, bracing himself on the backs of your thighs. His own eyes are closed as well and you’re both getting used to the sensation, the fullness, the tightness. He exhales, and brings his lips to your forehead and then to your lips and then he stays there.

His left hand keeps holding onto your leg but his right hand creeps up your body till it softly closes around your throat. You feel the effect of this simple action in your core and in the way it squeezes around him, making him hiss.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay baby?” he says to prepare you and you nod and suddenly he’s slamming into you and it’s pulled such an infernal keen out of you that you’re sure this is it. This is what you’ve always wanted, this is the feeling you’ve been chasing all your life. Your head had rolled to its side, your cheek pressing into the pillow to absorb the intensity you feel while Johnny is hovering over you, hand braced around your neck, pumping into you right from the start.

Your body is jolting up in time with his thrusts, your breasts lewdly moving under your top. Johnny is looking down at you in wonder, timing his movements to his grunts and watching your face through all the emotions. It’s too much too soon and your hands are flying meaninglessly to grip at something, something that would anchor you because fuck, Johnny has set a pace that you can’t possibly match right from the start. You try to grip at the sheets, or the pillow under your hips but you finally settle on Johnny’s arms. You’re pulling at him as if you want this to end, as if you’re telling him to stop but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

“Is this what you wanted, babygirl? Is this how you wanted to be fucked?” Johnny asks as he keeps slamming into you. Why the fuck did it hurt so good? You usually liked there to be a build up, to have it start low and slow and build to it’s crescendo. So how come you were allowing this man to use your body like this and how come you never wanted this moment to end?

“Yes, yes, yes, Johnny, please… don’t stop, don’t stop…” the sound of your own voice shocks you, almost like you’re having an out of body experience and you’re actually dismayed by how manic you sound. Your voice is thick with lust, it is breathless, your pussy is the wettest it has ever been because you can feel your own slick running down your cleft. You can feel Johnny stirring places inside you you weren’t sure existed. His own moans have picked up and his hand around your throat has tightened, as if he were truly using it to anchor himself.

“Can I go faster, baby?” He asks with a strained voice and you take no time in answering “Yesss!” even though your eyebrows knit together from how much this is already.

His eyes close and he bares his teeth, almost like he was in pain and was trying to absorb it and then he lays over you, his head is by your shoulder while his hand never leaves your neck and suddenly, he’s moaning out, going faster, fucking you into the mattress.

The carnal sounds of your skins slapping and Johnny’s deep moans probably mask the fact that you’re crying out. Your hands are around Johnny’s wide back, your head is pressing into his shoulder, you’re clinging onto him with everything you have… you’re almost hanging onto him while he fucks you down, going so fast you feel lightheaded.

“Johnny please, I need to come.” you whimper and you’re not sure if you’re sobbing or not.

“No, no, baby, just let me go a bit longer.” he whines into your neck like he was in heaven and never wanted to leave. So you take deep breaths, you try to lay back and let Johnny have at it, give him what he needs because he was giving you what you needed. But his moans are hot in your neck, his weight is luxurious over your body, his length is so good inside you that you can’t really hold out any longer, no matter how much you’re trying to let him have his time.

“Johnny, please, I need to come or I will die.” you all but growl at him. You’ve never heard your voice sound like that but you can’t bring yourself to care.

He pulls back and then brings one hand to the top of your head, cradling it, stroking it. “Look at me, baby.”

You try, you really try but he’s giving you so much pleasure, it feels almost sinful to take it with eyes wide open but his hand on your neck has come up to grab at your jaw, holding your chin.

“No, no, no, baby, don’t hide from me. Look at me. I’m not going to let you come if you don’t look at me.” he says and now he’s using his words to own you, too, not just his body and this doesn’t help the matter. You get so fucking turned on that you want your release now and you realize that the only way you’re going to get it is if you obey. That thought alone is as profane as it is freeing.

So you look at him, and you’re worried about how wanton you look, how disheveled you look, how disoriented you look. But he’s holding your head prisoner, grabbing your chin, cradling the crown of your head, looking down at you so tenderly while he fucks into you.

He pecks your lips romantically and says “Come for me now, pretty girl.” and you finally meet your sweet, sweet relief. You’re whining, you’re panting, you’re frowning, every single muscle in your body is tensing against him, but you dare not look away. You don’t even realize how deep your fingertips are digging into both his biceps while you come on his cock and he moves in you through it all, holding your gaze. 

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you...” he keeps assuring you, stroking your head while you shake and quiver under him.

It’s the first time you’ve done this, looked at your partner through your orgasm, being made to keep your eyes open just to connect with him in a moment of complete and utter vulnerability. It is godless. It is liberating. It is the most erotic thing you’ve ever done.

You didn’t realize you were straining your neck till your head falls back into the pillows and you feel the tension subside. You feel spent and you thank the heavens above that Johnny has stilled in you. In your euphoria, you didn’t register whether Johnny got to finish or not. He’s kissing you in a way that is--dare you say it? So loving. You push that thought away to let your mind ponder over something else: damn, Johnny Suh is a talented man. He’s smiling when he looks at you and kisses you deep.

“You look so beautiful when you come for me like that.” He strokes the side of your face sweetly and then his hands are tugging your top off of you, making you completely exposed to him. The hickey he gave you earlier is blooming now and he hums deeply in his chest as he sees it. 

“You need a matching one here.” he says and begins to mark you on the other side, but it doesn’t extract quite the same reaction from you as the first one had done because you’re too spent. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind because he’s letting you lay back as he kneads at your breasts, tongue circling over your peaks. You lazily run your fingers in his hair. He comes up and kisses the side of your face.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks kindly and you nod, pulling his head into a slow kiss as your answer. 

“Mmm, okay, good. Because I’m not done with you yet.” he says in between kisses and that’s when you realize he’s still hard. So he hadn’t, in fact, finished. 

He brings his fingers to your clit and circles gently but you jump away from his touch, grabbing at his wrist. “No, I don’t think I can take that anymore.” you tell him desperately and he takes mercy on you. 

“Then flip over for me.” He pulls out of you carefully and it’s then that you realize how swollen you are. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you know it. When you take too long, he grabs at your waist, turning you on your belly and swats at your ass. You gasp, more at the sound of the impact than the impact itself and then your motivation is back. You want to please your man. You want him to come for you. 

Johnny takes a pillow and places it vertically and lays you on top of it, giving you something to hold onto. It feels soft and comfortable. He’s been chivalrous so far. He’s been taking care of you and so he feels like he’s earned his keep. He can have you any way he wants. So he spreads your cheeks with both hands and licks at your hole a few times, just to make sure you’re still wet enough for what he’s about to do. He takes his hardness in his hands and lays himself on top of you carefully, not with his entire weight, though… he’s still supporting himself on his free arm that’s on your side. He rubs his tip against you a few times and you gasp with how swollen and sensitive you feel.

“Ready, baby?” he says in your ear and you can hear him so much more intimately in this position. He listens for your approval and then he pushes into you so fast, it has you yelping, it has your chest lifting off the pillow you’ve been hugging, it has you panicking, saying

“Johnny, wait, wait, wait, wait, please…” your sentence ends in more gasping sounds of discomfort. Johnny snakes an arm under you, holding onto your shoulders and his lips are on your temple, kissing over and over.

“Shh… baby… shhh, it’s me, it’s only me…” he reassures you and you know in your heart he’s never going to hurt you, but you simply couldn’t have held back your visceral reaction. He feels it, feels the anxiety in your body because he’s easing your head into the crook of his elbow and his lips are kissing at your temple and your shoulder so tenderly, you feel like you’re going to cry. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” he tells you softly. He cradles you with his arm that’s around your shoulders and snakes his other arm under you, his hand splaying out over your abdomen. He pulls you up into him, kissing your skin repeatedly to communicate care and then he starts moving into you, slow.

You whimper, but there is no pain now, only pleasure. You’re biting your lip because somehow it still feels intense, even at this pace. Rough or soft, this man was making you feel things you had only ever fantasized about. ‘Is it always going to be like this?’ you wonder, but you stop yourself. You didn’t have the luxury to have such thoughts because there wasn’t going to be another time. The thought has tears stinging in your eyes and you hide your face in Johnny’s forearm that’s encasing your chest. 

Thankfully, it works because Johnny is cooing in your ear again “Does it feel good now, baby?” and it does, fuck, it does, but you don’t want him to be this nice if it’s going to make you have such treacherous thoughts. So you say,

“Faster. I want it hard.”

Johnny turns your head with his hand so he can look at you when he asks “Are you sure, baby?” 

You nod and while he’s not totally convinced, it’s what you’ve asked. It’s what you’d been asking the past couple of weeks. So he has to oblige. He strengthens his cradling arms and pulls you into him tighter as if to buckle you up and then he lifts his hips and starts moving into you faster and you hear the slapping of his skin on yours once again. 

His forearm moves higher from the planes of your chest to your neck and suddenly, he’s holding you in a headlock, and even if he’s not applying any pressure, it’s enough to make you moan. His breaths are more labored now and so he talks.

“Fuck, Y/N… I think about you all the time. All I ever do is think about you. Did you know that?” he groans right in your ear and your heart swells. You feel hopeful again, like you were before he had pulled the condom out. Your moan comes out in a broken laugh, like a sound of relief but you’re pleading at him again.

“Faster, please, please…” you beg and he wants to give you everything so he lays his entire weight on top of you and really pins you down. It takes a lot of effort, but he wants to please you and soon he manages to build a rhythm that’s so impossibly fast that you feel nothing but him, hear nothing but him, think nothing but him. You don’t realize that you’re chanting his name over and over, you don’t realize that you’re pulling onto his forearm around your neck as tight as you can, you don’t realize that you’re writhing so much under him that you’ve exploded on him, you don’t realize that you’re not falling for this man. You had pretty much already fallen for him.

“Ahh… Y/N…” he gasps and he’s said something else as well, but the ringing in your ears made it difficult to hear it.

You feel the absence of him when he pulls out of you abruptly and he’s sitting up, urgently stroking himself, groaning as he finally finds his own release. 

A moment of stillness hangs in the air. Like the calm after a hurricane. The telling sounds of your impieties have ended, leaving only your breaths in their wake.

Johnny leans over you, combing your hair away from your face as if to check on you as you lay on your stomach unmoving. He kisses your cheek, then strokes the spot tenderly with the backs of his fingers. Your eyes close because you don’t know what’s going to happen now. Johnny moves away, sitting on the edge of the bed to discard the condom and you sneak a peek at him. You watch the muscles in his broad back protrude and you miss him already. He lifts off and walks away for a moment and your heart yearns for him. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to him next to you. You close your eyes again because his words from earlier are still ringing in your ears ‘I think about you all the time.’ They sounded so sincere, though men would say whatever you needed to hear during sex. But they came from him, and he’s never made an empty promise.

You feel the warm wetness of a washcloth being carefully dabbed on your skin, between your legs, over your sex and suddenly your heart is so full. He’s softly turning you around and easing you into a shirt he probably found in your closet. How could you not fall for such a man?

“Come here.” his voice says and you open your eyes to see that he’s laid down again, wearing only his boxers and he’s pulling you into his chest. You lay your head over his heart and listen to it thrum in his chest. This moment is surreal and you can’t help but feel like this is where you belong, and that feeling is solidified when you feel his arms wrap around you, his lips on the crown of your head. You’d never had afterglow feel this sweet, perhaps because you’d never had sex that felt this good. This is what you had wanted all your life. This feeling right here. No one had understood your needs better than this man. Johnny knew perfectly how to take you rough but soft. To make it coarse but sweet. To make you feel used but safe. To make you feel docile yet liberated. And he had told you that he thought about you all the time. You feel a smile grow on your lips as they pressed against his chest. This moment felt absolutely perfect.

“I have to get back to the dorms.”

And there it was. 

You turn your head to the sound of his voice and he slowly sits up. “I’ve got an early morning schedule tomorrow and I don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t come in with the guys.” He says as he gets off the bed and starts dressing himself. You nod because, well. What did you expect? You stand up as well, picking up your discarded underwear and sliding it on, keeping your back to him because you couldn’t stand to see his face.

“I’m going to see you there, anyway, right?” He asks and you try to keep your face as devoid of emotion as possible.

“Right.” You reply because you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. You feel like your chest has been hollowed, like someone has sucker punched you in the belly. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t hope. You had told yourself that you just wanted to see if Johnny could give you what you liked in bed. That was all. He hadn’t promised you anything else. He wasn’t obligated to stay. And what he was saying made sense. You both had the same appointment tomorrow, both for different reasons, but you both had to be at the same place at the same time. You knew everything in this situation was logical. So why was your heart shattering in your chest? 

He’s dressed now and he’s looking for his phone, his keys and his wallet outside in the living room. You follow him slowly, wrapping your arms protectively over the shirt he put on you. He gets everything he needs and heads for the door and you walk him out only because it feels like the right thing to do. He turns to look at you at the door and you look at him. Words remain unspoken. You’re not sure what he reads on your face because he looks like he was going to say something but he changed his mind. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says and he’s polite enough to smile. He turns on his heel, and is out the door that closes with a finalizing shut. And just like that, he’s gone.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, looking at the broad expanse of wood he’s just disappeared behind. You’re not sure why your shoulders are shaking or why your breath keeps choking your throat. You turn around because what’s the point? You’ve done this before. This has happened to you before. Why should this time be different from any of the other times?

You don’t know how you make it back to your room because your legs are so weak and your vision is so blurred. You really thought it was going to be different this time. That he was going to be different. But once again, your heart has been broken. He had used you good, left his marks on you so you would see him, feel him for days, and just like that, he had left. 

Why did no one ever stay? What was it about you that made men look at you like a pump and dump? Why did you bare your mind, your soul, your body in front of yet another man when you knew what was going to happen? Why did you never learn? Why did you keep hoping that things would be different? Why did you give yourself so easily when no one ever wanted you? Why were you so unwanted? 

You’re pretty sure you’re sobbing because your hand is instinctively clutching onto your heart. The heart that had already been broken too many times, but this time, the injury felt much, much worse because you were in love. You were in love with Johnny. You knew that now. You know you were foolish to have fallen for a man you weren’t allowed to want. You had known it all along. You had never meant for things to go this far. No, you had hoped that things would go this far. Hoping was, in fact, the biggest sin you had committed in this strange tragedy. And you had paid the price for it. He didn’t want you, he could never want you. Why would a man like him want you? What were you to him? You were just another willing girl that threw herself at him. The man had been happy to sleep with you like normal people did, but no. You asked him, practically begged him to take you like a back alley whore. So of course, he was going to fuck you into oblivion and when the blood wasn’t rushing to his cock, he would realize how fucking deplorable you were as a woman for allowing this to happen to your body. Of course he couldn’t want you. You were unwantable. Suddenly, you can’t hold yourself up anymore… it was too much, it was all too much. It hurt so bad. You didn’t expect it to hurt so much that your legs couldn’t hold you up and you were sinking to your knees.

Strong hands grabbing at your shoulders, turning your around. 

You look up, tears blurring your vision, your breath hitching faster than your heartbeat, like you’re hyperventilating. You’re still clutching onto your chest like you’re trying to hold yourself together but failing. And he’s the one holding you, the one who caught you before you could fall to your knees. It’s him. He’s here, right in front of you. He’s looking back at you, with eyes intense, nostrils flared. And you’re looking back at him, unable to hide the outpour that he had left when he walked out that door. And you remember--he had your code.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?!” he asks urgently, holding onto your shoulders tight.

“I didn’t know I could.” you reply truthfully, your voice shaking and it makes you cry more and you can’t fake it anymore. This is what you feel and he’s seen it now. There was no point in hiding it.

“Y/N…” he takes your face in his hands strongly and kisses your tears. “Y/N, can’t you see? Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?” he says at you with such a burning intensity that it puts a halt to your tears.

“Huh…?” you look at him with round eyes, your self-doubt making it so hard for you to take in his confession.

But he makes it clear. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while. I didn’t tell you because… I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted. If that’s how you wanted to be with me. But I see it now, Y/N. I know you’re in love with me, too. Am I wrong?”

You can’t find your voice because the emotion is welling up inside you again. So you shake your head furiously. You weren’t like Johnny--you never could find the right words at the right time. You communicated everything physically. That’s why you pull him into a kiss and though your face is streaked with tears, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

He pulls you in strongly, kissing you like a victory, kissing you like a promise.

You don’t believe this. After years and years of searching, trial and error, getting your heart broken and doing it all over again, you finally got the man. You finally got a man who wanted you in the same way you wanted him. You had yourself a man that cared for you and loved you. You had yourself a man that was willing to be patient with you when you couldn’t put in words what you felt in your heart. 

You had yourself a man whom you could ask to stay and he would.

So tonight, you laid on his chest and he held you impossibly close. Telling you that he won’t go anywhere as long as you wanted him. Telling you that he loved you exactly how you were, broken pieces and all. Telling you that you were worth the effort he would have to make in the morning to seem unsuspicious to prying eyes. Because in exchange, he got to hold you close into the night. Tonight, you prayed for sleep to take you quickly because you were excited to wake up. Because in your heart, you knew that when you did, he would finally still be next to you.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

My MC Headcanons (Potions)

Awkward Potion

• Smell - An empty but clean room. Not dusty or super clean, just that odd middle ground of ‘not lived in but livable’.

• Taste - Like room temperature water. Only difference is the barely noticeable film on the top of the potion to show it’s not plain water.

Thick Potion

• Smell - Air, but ‘thick’ air. No I won’t explain further.

• Taste - Exactly like thick water, down to the almost syrupy consistency. Only way to differentiate the two is the vague potion fumes the Thick Potion gives off.

Mundane Potion

• Smell - Barely there vanilla that’s so insubstantial that most people miss it.

• Taste - A very watered down wintergreen oil flavor that almost blends into the vanilla scent.

Potion of Healing

• Smell - Healing potions have a strong natural sweet floral scent, similar to roses or meadowsweet. It can be overwhelming if you smell too deeply.

• Taste - If you make the potion right then it has a fresh olive oil that goes down smoothly and leaves a little tingle on your tongue.

Potion of Strength

• Smell - Smells strongly of cinnamon with turmeric undertones. 

• Taste - Very flavorful, like sugary spiced cinnamon. Some have described it as tasting very similar to the Red Hots candy. Some find it nice while others dislike it. It’s just a matter of personal taste.

Potion of Fire Resistance

• Smell - An almost milky room temperature strawberry custard that smells like it was cooked in the pot a bit too long and almost burnt.

• Taste - It tastes heavily of cream cheese with some bursts of strawberry. The burnt flavor is stronger when tasting than smelling.

Regeneration Potion

• Smell - A bag of pretzels. Just a regular bag of pretzels.

• Taste - The dominant flavor is still actually pretzels. But the aftertaste is less nice. Because it tastes like your sweat. You know when you’re sweating and you lick your lips and you get a brief salty taste of your own sweat? Yeah that is the aftertaste of this potion. Enjoy.

Night Vision Potion

• Smell - Carrots, obviously. But it’s not as strong as you’d expect. 

• Taste - Again, carrots, clearly. But there’s a gentle sweetness to it as well. And besides that you also get an almost buttery twang at the end. 

Potion of Swiftness

• Smell - Roses, but very strong. Very sweet smelling. Enough to make you at least wrinkle your nose and lean back to escape the overly fragrant scent.

• Taste - Candied rose petals. Cloyingly sweet enough to make your jaw buzz from the sugary taste.

Invisibility Potion

• Smell - A faint acrid scent, almost like old socks. Unpleasant. 

• Taste - It has a mild fermented flavor thanks to the fermented spider eye, but it also has a slightly bitter, earthy undertone that some have described as being similar to aged Stilton cheese.

Potion of Water Breathing

• Smell - It really depends on how fresh the pufferfish you used for the potion was. Fresh pufferfish gives the potion a sea breeze scent. But the older the pufferfish the more ‘fishy’ it will smell. 

• Taste - Again, it depends on the freshness of the pufferfish. The fresher it is the better it will taste, like a subtle cool taste with a hint of iodine and cucumber. But if older pufferfish is used then it tastes uncomfortably salty. 

Potion of Harming

• Smell - Honeydew and melted butter. A very disarming scent for something that can hurt you. Best to keep out of reach of children since the sweet smell is often very misleading to those who don’t recognize it for what it is. 

• Taste - Melon but it tastes utterly artificial. And it’s so chemically sweet it causes pain in your teeth and jaw. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the aftertaste is likened to fermented liver an onions. The utterly jarring shift from the saccharine sweetness of the melon to the malodorous flavor of the liver and onions has been said to make the damage you take from the potion SO much worse.

Potion of Poison 

• Smell - Vaguely like vinegar on first whiff but if you go in for a second smell you’ll be surprised to note a strange and unidentifiable sweetness underneath it. 

• Taste - Like slimy uncooked shrimp and a mystery spice. Not terrible but not in any way good either. But strangely fitting for a potion of poison.

Slowness Potion

• Smell - It has a heavy musky scent to it, like the air wafting off of the potion is somehow more dense than the air around it. But aside from the musk it smells quite similar to agar.

• Taste - Awful, just simply awful. Like fermented soybeans blended with raw goat milk. If you can get this potion down without gagging then you’re not normal.

Potion of Weakness 

• Smell - The unpleasant scent of burning cinnamon that feels like it’s singing your nose hair with every whiff. Very unpleasant. Hurry to cork this potion so the whole room you’re in doesn’t stink like it.

• Taste - It tastes like warm pickles and sweaty candy corn. A truly dreadful combo that will definitely make you gag.

Leaping Potion

• Smell - It’s stinky, but in that good way that all pets stink. A comforting stinky. Which is a bit sad considering you had to kill a rabbit to make this potion.

• Taste - Almost tastes like tepid bone broth. Not a terrible taste all things considered but try not to burp after drinking it or you’ll start to taste cartilage. Which is less nice.

Potion of Slow Falling

• Smell - It has a salty odor to it. Not particularly overpowering to the point where it would knock you off your feet but it’s still the aromatic equivalent to a slap to the face. Likened to Spirit of Hartshorn.

• Taste - Somehow slimy and watery at the same time. And tastes suspiciously like bland calamari and mushroom broth. How well you handle the taste depends on how much you enjoy raw sea food.

Potion of Luck

• Smell - Fresh morning dew and peaches. A bright and nice scent that gives you a boost of energy. Or so the few who have had this sought after potion have said~

• Taste - A bit of a peppery flavor (but not too strong) on top of a fresh crisp taste. Almost like seasoned raw watercress. Really puts some pep in your step.

Turtle Master Potion

• Smell - Strangely enough this potion smells like salted meats, a jerky scent. Most find the smell pleasant or at least not bad. 

• Taste - Like a fatty meat, savory and delicious. Some have even likened the flavor to that of cooked veal. Though it’s not spiced or seasoned at all so it’s a good taste but not necessarily a great taste.

Potion of Decay

• Smell - The unholy combination of rotting meat and rancid compost. I feel like if you smell this and then drink it anyways then you deserve the wither effect.

• Taste - The taste is three times as bad as just the smell. It tastes like you’re drinking stagnant fetid swamp algae. But again, why are you drinking this? 

[chubbology]

The Munchies

prompt: a stoner feedee's girlfriend uses him to test out new edibles and deals with his munchies

Remmy returned home from visiting relatives on the last day of December, and he was very glad to be back. They’d fed him well and his pants were tight, but all the small talk and bad vibes had been as much of a drag as usual.

He opened the door to his apartment and breathed in a familiar, potent scent.

“Baby!” Brianna ran from the kitchen and tackled him.

“Happy almost New Year! Wanna hear my resolution? Baking and getting baked. Check it out.”

She brought him over to the counter, where she was almost done filling up three containers of what Remmy had no doubt were various edibles. He ignored the kitchen mess.

“I’m liking what I see,” Remmy laughed.

She preened and then pinched his love handle. “I bet you do."

"These aren’t your typical brownies, though," she said. "This is gourmet.” She kissed her fingertips in a muah.

The first container was full of moist shortbread, the second with a kind of apple crumble dish that looked divine. Last but not least, the third had a jumble of what like peanut butter cups.

“Try something!” Brianna gushed. She seemed to be a little floaty already. “You’re gonna be my new taste tester. I think I could really be good at this. Make some cash, too.”

So Remmy tried one of the peanut butter cups. His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Bri, these are incredible.” He ate another.

“Take it easy. Two should get you stoned. So says the recipe anyway.” Brianna rubbed his pudgy forearm as he eyed the rest in the container, biting the inside of his lip. “Hey. If you’re just hungry, I can fix that. You wanna eat?”

“I’m starving,” Remmy said. A lie, since he’d had a big lunch before driving back. But he could eat.

“Okay, I’ll get you something! Pay day was Monday. Let’s splurge. What do you want?”

McDonalds, Remmy’s mind supplied easily, in an almost salacious tone. His relatives thought they were too good for McDonalds, and now his body thrummed with the desire to just get a truckload of those greasy combos and revel in the guilt and satisfaction of eating every last unhealthy bite.

Then again. Brianna probably wasn’t okay to drive right now, he didn’t feel like getting back in the car, and the scale told him he’d hit 240 recently, “Let’s just order in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

That night, as they ignored the idiots on television bringing in the New Year, the two of them picked at the apple crumble - which tasted as brilliant as Remmy had suspected - and lounged around, enjoying their high. Brianna barely touched her Chinese takeout, and Remmy ate all of his. Then hers. Then he started grazing the kitchen for more food.

Over the course of the next week, the two of them finished off the rest of what she made, plus some more recipes that turned out delicious. Brianna got a pleasant high every time, and Remmy enjoyed the edibles, too, although his experience was slightly different. It was just—

He just—

He got hungry. Munchies but on unholy overdrive. Cranked to eleven and a half. With every high, Remmy became a little more overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food he felt compelled to pack away, savory and sweet. Takeout and fast food and quarts of ice cream. Nuts and fruits, too. Jar of peanut butter here. Tub of icing there. He’d never been very active, so it came as no surprise when his clothes began stretching over his chest and belly and thighs and ass. He popped a button getting dressed one morning and couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. He hadn’t realized it would happen so quickly, his body converting all the calories into flab. Flab that padded him out chubbier than he already was, and then more on top of that. In the mirror, he started to look big.

Brianna seemed unfazed by her boyfriend’s growing girth. She took to her baking resolution with as much gusto as she did anything that interested her, and even into March, April, and May, she was selling the edibles well and raked in money that almost made her day job obsolete. Remmy was constantly praised for being “the bestest taste tester ever” and enjoyed a steady stream of free highs to balance out the lows of spending most of his time working his IT job from home.

Working, gaming, watching old movies. Remmy already stayed sitting most of the day, but as he gained weight, gained a lot, filling out his desk chair to its limits, crumbs becoming his constant companion, he felt even less like standing up. His weight climbed to 280, 290, 300.

June, July, and August passed uneventfully, and pretty happily, too. Brianna stopped asking him what food he wanted from the grocery store and just bought him things. Bought him things she knew he’d eat when he got high, things that made his ass spread wider on the couch, his arms round out like sausages, his pudgy chest start to really droop. The scale said 320, 330, 340.

Remmy gave up trying to gain control of the new appetite Brianna’s heavenly edibles seemed to install in him irrevocably. When he craved, he ate, and he ate. And like a dam breaking, his body surged with so much excess fat he began spilling out of even his newest clothes.

He was a little ashamed, sure. But quite a few of his relatives were fat, so they couldn't talk, and it felt like sweet revenge to embarrass his irritating parents by becoming so overweight. As for everyday life, well, he just moved around from room to room slower, wore the same stretchy clothes a lot, and that was it. Remmy did mention his weight in passing sometimes to gauge Brianna’s feelings about it, but Brianna only ever giggled, called him cute, and passed him her venti sugary monstrosity of a coffee concoction, which he thoughtlessly sucked down to the dregs, ingesting a thousand-plus calories just like that. This made her eyes sparkle, huge and utterly endeared.

“Like a piggy,” she said, thumbing his fat cheek. “Always willing to eat.”

In bed, she made it clear she liked him the way he was, and was becoming. And it wasn’t long before Remmy realized he was into how big he was becoming, too.

They continued like this. Getting high together and watching movies and making out and snacking. Well, Brianna snacked. Remmy feasted. Gorged himself, to put it precisely, with Brianna’s enthusiastic help. “You look good soft,” she’d tell him, playing with belly fat that his stretchiest t-shirts couldn’t cover anymore.

Remmy would swallow another bite of a snickers and spread his huge thighs a little, with effort. “You call it soft, but I’m the one who gets tired moving from the office to the kitchen.” I’m so heavy, he wanted to say. God, I’m so heavy.

“Just move your computer to the kitchen then,” she said. “Duh.”

It was a seed planted that came to fruition a month later - when Remmy’s food cravings became unmanageable and his weight climbed past 360 - that he felt he would simply be more productive during his day job if his breaks to get food from the kitchen were shorter.

By November, whether he was high or not, Remmy was grazing all day, everyday. What Brianna got from the store became insufficient, and he started a habit of ordering take out most days. In big portions. His scale creaked at 375. When Brianna wasn’t home, he sometimes ate takeout on the scale to see if the number would rise.

On Remmy’s birthday in early December, Brianna made a fresh batch of his favorites again: the peanut butter cup edibles. After ordering pizza for delivery, she got in the shower, and Remmy scarfed down three of the big cups as soon as they cooled. Then he waited, leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, belly hanging, feet hurting. He didn’t want to go to the effort of sitting on the couch and getting back up again when he could just stay in the kitchen, where he knew he’d end up anyway.

He scratched his supple underbelly. Found a pack of Twizzlers and started eating those.

Soon enough, his breathing slowed as he felt the high slowly come over him. And, as expected, his whole body immediately began to tingle for satiation. Fattening food sung to him from the pantry and fridge and freezer all at once, and it was all going to make him so huge and heavy he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own wide feet, but he wanted it anyway.

He didn’t care if he was pushing 390 now. He’d blown up, yeah. Inflated from a thick guy to obese and waddling. At this point, he was so pumped so big with blubber that he couldn’t twitch without jiggling, but so what? He was hungry. Being high made him want to consume, and so he did. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

Remmy opened the fridge and took out his birthday cake, which Brianna must have stuck in there after getting home from work. He couldn’t wait to eat it properly. There was no way he could wait until after the pizza came. Besides, it was his birthday. Remmy took off the plastic lid of the round, triple chocolate cake and felt his nerves light up with anticipation. He was going to eat it all, and there was no stopping him.

He found a knife and cut himself a slice three times the size any reasonable person would take. Desperate to get the goodness into his mouth without delay, he skipped a fork and bit right into the gooey, dense cake and mouse and fudge. God, Brianna was so perfect for getting him the unhealthiest cake imaginable. She knew he didn’t care if he was ten pounds heavier tomorrow, if his fat ass ripped his sweatpants open, if he ate so much he couldn’t haul himself to bed—she knew he needed this.

He ate slice after slice, and it was mostly gone when Brianna got out of the shower, looking sexier than usual in her matching purple lingerie. She’d gotten chubbier with so much junk food in the apartment, and fat clung to her in all the right places. But her pudge was a far cry from his angry-red stretch marks and neck rolls. Hell, his moobs had grown bigger than her tits.

She found him in the kitchen, eating and holding his drooping belly, and she rubbed his back, cooing at him when he apologized.

“It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait all night. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Remmy said, but all he could think about was getting his next bite. As she watched him, he tried to hold out. Tried to prove he could stop eating for two seconds. Three seconds, four - his resolve broke and he crammed the rest of a slice into his mouth and chewed, choking back a moan.

“You get the munchies so bad, don’t you?” Brianna grinned and leaned against his belly, patting and cupping his weighty breasts in the way she knew pleased him. “Let’s get you sat down. I’ll bring you what you need. Just sit and relax and watch whatever you want.” They moved to the couch and Remmy sat, the cushions wheezing, his thighs and belly quivering. Brianna tucked the remainder of the cake into his pudgy hands. “Don’t worry about a mess. It’s your birthday. And there’s more where that came from.” She winked. “I just needed to keep this cake refrigerated because it’s fancy. There’s a whole sheet cake on top of the fridge that’s cheap and huge. Covered in icing. Perfect for munchies.”

Remmy could only feel a wave of relief at this news. There would be more cake. And after that, there’d still be more junk in the cabinets. There was pizza coming. His high was just right. Brianna turned on the television to his favorite show and he settled further back into the cushions, feeling his second chin swell out and engulf his first. Everything was just right. He was lucky to have Brianna and food. So much food.

A year later, around the same time, Remmy skipped his usual trip to see his relatives for the holidays. At 520 pounds, it was simply too much effort to move.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[deluxeloy]

Game concept: [title pending]

This one’s not (necessarily) a video game!

A basic card game in the style of your classic pokemon TCG, or Magic, or Hearthstone etc. The rules would be fairly simple themselves, allowing for basic creature cards with stats, simple resource management, some cards that do stuff when played, and a win condition. However, there is one notable gimmick twist...

Rule cards.

An important part of deck-building would be to decide what rules you and your opponent should play by. Each player gets to play one rules card before the game even begins, and its effects would warp the entire match in ways described on the card. Both (or all!) players’ rules cards would apply to both themselves and their opponent(s), so choosing one that fits your playstyle is just as important as adapting to your adversaries’!

For example, maybe you have a cool deck with lots of resource generation and cheap cards, but you don’t also want to include things to draw those cards? Simply add a rule that instead of drawing one card for free at the start of your turn, you can draw as many as you want as long as you pay for them! Your opponent can do the same, but they’re not prepared. However, maybe your opponent is running a rules card that says running out of cards to draw makes you lose! Their strategy is to force you to draw cards and mill out your whole deck, so you need to be careful about drawing too many voluntarily...

Or maybe you decide to run a deck that can bring used and defeated cards back from the discard pile... So why not include a rules card that says both players discard to the same pile? Maybe your opponent plays a card you like, and then you can just yoink it for yourself! (You’d have to keep track of what cards belong to who, though.)

If you really want to get wild, why not play a rules card that says you can put multiple rules cards in your deck and play them as if they were regular cards? You could slowly trap your opponent in a bureaucratic nightmare of exceptions and weird edge cases for some unholy arcane rules combo that leaves them with no options. The possibilities are endless!

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch③

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major

※ mlist | ① ② ● ④

there is no greater hell than finals week as a college theatre major.

and this year, on top of juries to prep for, studio scenes & dance combos to rehearse, essays to write, exams to study for, and rehearsals to attend for the show you’re in, your chemistry teacher decided to assign a final project in addition to the final exam. rejoice.

it was enough trying to study for the written final while staying on top of all your other assignments and obligations - you’d busted your ass so hard leading up to the exam that you hardly had time to think about the project until a week before its due date. and even when you do start thinking about it, you barely understand what you’re supposed to be doing, much less have the time or energy to try and figure it out.

you end up texting kuroo in desperation and make him agree to meet up with you for an extra tutoring session, however, due to your extra-chaotic schedule this week, the only time you’re both able to meet up is after your all-day rehearsal the sunday night before the project is due.

it’s better than nothing, you suppose.

still, you don’t fully realize the consequences of your choices until you’re exhausted on your way back from your second consecutive day of 12-hour tech rehearsals - a pretty standard tech week schedule in the professional theatre world, but not very convenient for a college student during finals.

needless to say, you’re dead tired. the last thing you want is to fry your brain even further with chemistry & kuroo’s smart mouth, but at this point you have no choice.

as you approach him in the library, you notice he’s dressed way more casually than usual. this shouldn’t come as a shock, seeing that it’s 11pm on a sunday, but the way his t-shirt and sweatpants accentuate his figure is actually insulting. somehow the way the fabric stretches around his pecs makes his chest look even broader, and christ you were not expecting his arms to be THAT toned.

NOPE. now is not the time, you remind yourself. you have a project due in ten hours. you can feel a headache coming on as your stress levels rise again.

“evening,” he greets you with a smile.

“hey,” you respond shortly as you set your stuff down, “thanks for meeting with me this late.”

“of course,” he replies, “anything for my favorite student.”

“…are you being sarcastic?”

“no.”

“i’m your favorite?” you question skeptically. “jesus, who else are you tutoring…”

“well I didn’t say you were my best student—“

“cool, i’m gonna stop you there.”

he just giggles. asshole.

you let out a fatigued sigh as you plop down in your chair. this feels like your first moment of rest all day, but in reality it’s just the start of the most difficult battle of them all. you attempt to gather up the remnants of your brainpower, silently praying that kuroo will decide to behave himself.

“you don’t seem like you’re in the mood for chemistry tonight.”

some prayers must go unanswered.

“yeah, i’ve had a long day,” you reply unenthusiastically, “so i’d really like to get this done as quickly as possible.”

“really? that’s gonna be difficult in your condition,” he jeers.

“well i don’t have much choice, do i?” you snap back a bit too aggressively.

“guess not,” he shrugs nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair with his hands resting behind his head. what is with this attitude? is he really just being a dick right now? and WHY do his arms look so god damn tasty??

you can already feel your sanity slipping away as you try to will yourself to focus on anything that’s not kuroo’s juicy biceps flexing through the fabric of his t-shirt. or his chest. or the little strip of exposed skin that’s appeared just below the hem of his shirt - fuck.

focus, you instruct yourself. your brain, however, is already giving out, the stress of not just the day, but the whole week finally catching up to you. the possibility of having something passable to turn in by tomorrow morning seems further and further away.

“look,” you sigh, leveling with him, “we both know i’m awful at chem—“

“really??”

“shut up,” you cut him off quickly, “and i’ve had a long ass week dealing with all this other shit on my plate and i’m really fucking tired and i just want to get a good grade on this so i can graduate, so can you please, PLEASE just—“

“if you’re gonna ask me to do the assignment for you, I already did it.”

a pause.

“wait. what do you mean-“

“i did the assignment for you. project’s done.”

“um,” you stutter, dumbfounded. “excuse me?”

“what, you thought i was gonna let you do it yourself? after you procrastinated it til the literal night before?” he says with an especially wide grin, “it would be irresponsible for me as a tutor if I let my student do so poorly! granted, she’s really bad at this—“

“ok shut up,” you cut him off. your mind is swirling with a mixture of shock, gratitude, and rage as you process his words. “when did you—“

“this week. after you texted me.”

“what?” you cry, “why are we even meeting up then?”

“i dunno,” he responds with a coy smirk, “it would’ve been rude to cancel.”

the swell of gratitude in your chest is overtaken by the growing wave of rage.

“so you decided to waste *more* of my time,” you state pointedly, “when you literally have enough to do an entire final project just for funsies. cool.”

“hey, show a little more gratitude,” he whines, quirking an eyebrow in annoyance, “you’re the one who left it til the last minute.”

“i’m the one?” you shoot back, “you still think i’m just procrastinating because i’m lazy??”

“look, i know finals are demanding—“

“no, I don’t think you do know,” you cut him off, now fuming. “you want a rundown of my week? i can give it to you.” you list off all the assignments you had to turn in, all the finals you had to prep for - both written and performance, all the meetings with scene partners and voice teachers and rehearsal pianists you had to arrange, all the hours you had to spend in rehearsal, including the 12-hour tech day you just came from. kuroo just sits there, taking in your words. when you finish, you let out an exhausted sigh, “so if you’d like to tell me when the fuck i was supposed to work on this stupid project, be my guest. i’d love to hear it.”

this might be the first time you’ve seen kuroo look shocked. for once he doesn’t seem to know what to say. is that a trace of guilt in his eyes too?

“i—“ just as he’s about to speak, he is cut off by an unholy sound coming from your stomach. you both sit there frozen for a second.

“um… when was the last time you ate?” he asks, cautiously breaking the silence.

“uhh,” you think back, “like 3pm.”

“okay, well it’s past 11 now,” he says, “and you need to eat. get your stuff, let’s go.”

“huh? go where?”

“to get food,” he states simply, “i’m driving, come on.”

“kuroo,” you protest, “i’m not gonna make you drive me—“

“you’re not making me,” he interrupts, “i’m making you. let’s go.”

you let out a sigh of defeat and grab your bag. with the rage beginning to melt away, that swell of gratitude begins to stir in your chest again. it’s still weird when he’s kind to you, but you’re starting to mind less.

—

you hadn’t realized how hungry you truly were until the smell of oil and salt hits you.

after grabbing your food from the drive thru, kuroo pulls around and finds a spot in the near-empty parking lot. you waste no time scarfing down your food, which he even insisted on paying for. whatever, it’s just mcdonald’s, you think. but still, the gesture is nice.

“you didn’t have to do this you know.”

“i think i did,” he says, jokingly referring to how hard you were just stuffing your face.

“funny,” you respond sarcastically, “but seriously.”

“it’s no big deal,” he says, looking away slightly. is he blushing? you can’t tell in the dark. “anyway, i figured i owed you one for making you stress about the project.”

you can’t believe your ears - is he actually apologizing?

“yeah, you really let me suffer all week, asshole,” you respond teasingly.

“i didn’t know it was that bad, alright,” he says, slightly defensive. a brief pause, and then, “sorry.”

you can hear the remorse in his voice - he means it. the corners of your mouth twitch upward.

“thank you,” you say gently, “that means a lot.”

his gaze darts back over to you. you’ve never seen his eyes look nervous before, yet somehow his stare still feels piercing.

“you’re gonna have to buy me a lot more nuggets before i fully forgive you though,” you joke, breaking out your own devilish smirk. he chuckles too, relieved.

“how many are we talking?”

“as many as i want.”

“fine,” he relents, “guess you’ll have to hang out with me more then, if i’m gonna be buying you all these nuggets.”

“whatever, i’m immune to your bullshit by now.”

“oya~? you’re starting to like me, y/n??”

“is that what the fuck i said?”

“no, but it’s what you meant,” he responds with a smirk.

“and how would you know?”

“‘cause i’m a genius,” he says, reaching over to swipe a fry from your lap. you halfheartedly swat at him.

“sure, keep telling yourself that.”

your banter feels natural now, strangely comfortable. for some reason it actually feels good talking to him. he did do something really nice for you tonight after all, despite your continued bickering. no matter how much you insult him he always has something to say back. but as much as it pisses you off, you’re not sure what you’d do if he ever stopped.

—

as kuroo drives you back to your place for the night, your mind begins turning over the events of this evening. in the time since you’d met up with him (which somehow feels longer than the literal 12 hours of rehearsal you were in earlier), you’d not only found out that the final project you’d been so stressed about had been taken care of, but you also hung out with him for the first time outside of tutoring. and he was nice to you. it’s a lot to process.

it’s not like you aren’t used to spending time alone with kuroo - like you told him, you’re immune to his bullshit by now - but this feels different somehow. it’s more peaceful, maybe even comforting. you figure it’s probably because of the rollercoaster of a day you just had, not to mention how unusual it is for him to treat you like this.

“why are you being so nice to me?” you finally ask him, turning to steal a glance at his side profile in the dim glow of the streetlamps.

“huh?? i needed to make sure my student got their nutrients!” he replies, as if it was obvious.

“what nutrients? you took me to mcdonald’s.”

“okay fair,” he says, “but nothing else was open!”

“sure, but you didn’t need to take me anywhere,” you protest, “much less spend money on me.”

“maybe i’ll just cook for you next time then,” he smiles.

“next time!?” you squawk, “what, are you trying to get into my pants??” the words leave your mouth before you fully have time to process them, but either way, you aren’t expecting the sudden silence that falls over him.

a flash of anxiety darts through your mind, but it only lasts for a second before he laughs quitely, almost to himself.

“not if you don’t want me to,” he mutters.

your breath catches. is he joking?? your heart feels like it’s in your throat. he’s definitely joking.

“what are you cooking?” is the only thought you can manage to put to words.

another pause.

“um. probably fish.”

“EW, WHAT THE FUCK?”

“what???” he gripes, “you could use more docosahexaenoic acid!!!”

“you are such a freak.” you’re relieved that the subject has changed, even though his earlier response is still circling your mind.

“okay but can you tell me the chemical formula for docosahex—“

“no, you are not bringing chemistry into this car, absolutely not. i already took my final.”

“what about the molar mass—“

“NO.”

—

you arrive back at your place not long after. kuroo’s comment is still eating away at the back your mind, but you don’t say anything as you gather your belongings. it was a cop-out response, and he was probably joking anyway.

“thanks for everything,” you say gingerly, “the project, and the food, and the ride, and the help with the semester, all that.”

“anytime, princess,” he replies with his signature smirk. usually that kind of response would trigger a jolt of annoyance in you, but this time it feels different. maybe because now you’re actually grateful to him.

in fact, you’re very grateful, and you feel like you should be expressing it more, but you’re not sure how. plus you’re too embarrassed, and have way too much pride. so instead you wish him goodnight and head towards your front door.

he waits to drive off until you’re all the way inside.

you think about him a little differently after that.

a/n: why is he so obsessed with docosahexdhfafdjh acid.... making me have to google how to spell that shit smh. anyways thank you for all the love on this fic so far!! if u actually enjoy this self-indulgent fantasy of mine know that i love & appreciate u to the ends of the earth ;-;

[fae-ray-anthem]

A set of Warcraft characters done up by @luxarts https://twitter.com/Luxar92

Specifically A Night Elf Shaman, Night Elf Paladin, Undead Paladin, & Troll Necromancer. Warcraft players can probably note those aren’t currently choices and while it is always a favorite pastime of fans to advocate for the expansion of race/class combos, in this particular instance I wanted to demonstrate what I think World of Warcraft could have launched with instead of now needing to inject new lore.

For instance, I think no one would have blinked twice if Night Elves had launched with shamans, its just that Blizzard toyed with the idea of making Shamans/Paladin faction exclusive at first (ultimately proving incapable to balance). Night Elf fans love to have their cake and eat too, taking one off comment from Grom Hellscream about being “more savage than High Elves” and looking at some concept art displaying this idea more thoroughly. In any case the line between Shamanism and Druidism has always been thin in their themes of balance and reverence for nature (heck we got fire elemental druids not too long ago).

In particular I thought it appropriate for Night Elf totems to carry their theme of animals since we saw exploration of “animal totems” with every Night Elf being assigned a spirit animal (in concept art) and every Druid formerly belonging to a “totem”. The totems also literally root themselves in the ground like plants, since we carve things when you can grow them?

Next is the Paladin of Elune, much like Blood Elf “Blood Knights”, Tauren “Sun Walkers”, or Zandalarri “Prelates”; I don’t consider a stretch that the armored, bow wielding, priestess we saw in Warcraft 3 would have been just as relevant to transfer into the “Paladin” archetype as they were for the clothing wearing “Priest”.

In fact I think this would have more properly balanced the initial release with 3 Horde Shaman to the only 2 Paladin races available. But Blizzard was still particular about Paladins belonging only to the lineage of the Silver Hand at the time (even Dwarves were a stretch) and hadn’t yet budged that their powers could come from anything but “The Light”.

But that brings us to the Undead Paladin, or more appropriately an “Anti-Paladin/ Dark Knight” as seen the corrupted nature of her armor and former symbols of holiness. Again working off the principle that the classes weren’t at first faction restricted, I believe Undead would have been the first choice for the Horde at launch. Remember that the idea of Troll Prelates/Freethinkers and Tauren Sun-Walkers wouldn’t be fathomed for several years. For the sake of balance, I believe Blizzard reluctantly gave Undead priests and would have preferred they use only shadow if they had the time to give every spell an alternate but equal “flavor” (like simply changing spell effects to shadowy magic). But since Undead can canonically wield the Light, gloves are off. 

Now its at this point I could go on a long technical diatribe about The Light and the fact we’ve actually seen a lot more undead paladin ncps than priests, but I would have actually liked them to wield “Unholy” Light like we see with the fallen crusaders in Icecrown and skip the whole debate.

For the character in particular, I also added stitched-on elf ears and bolted-on metal elf eyebrows. Another dream of mine in Classic was Forsaken elves. Not the pale, beautiful, “turn me into a necrophiliac” dark rangers or death knights seen today or the want for the Vampiric San’layn as an “allied race” in the future. Simply I would have liked for the feature option to give Forsaken long ears, much like what we seen in the Wretched models. What with having Scourged 90% of the High Elf population and all. Though this Undead’s past as an elf is suspect.

Lastly we have a Troll Necromancer. I think Necromancer and Warlock should have stood as faction specific “mirror” classes at Warcraft’s launch. Necromancers belonging to the Horde and using Frost (”Chill of Death” theme, like Death Knights) and/or Nature (disease/unholy, again like Death Knights) to contrast shadow/fire of warlocks.

Obviously summoning undead minions instead of demons (Banshee/Succubus, Crypstalker/felhound, Abomination/Doomguard ect.) but sharing the same gear. It simply seems like necromancy would be slightly less taboo for the Horde than the corruption caused by warlocks, as well as something the Forsaken Liches, Orc Necrolytes, & Troll Witch Doctors were already well suited for.

As for the character himself, I took the opportunity to “trollize” the classic Warcraft 3 necromancer look, including adding some Hakkari influence to the staff.

Expect more in the future.

[argentmocha-blog]

An Offer Your Opponent Can’t Refuse

By: Erin Jade Hess (She/Her)

This is an opinion piece.

What does it take for your opponent to scoop up the game by merely revealing private information? How does one end a game by giving away their intricate strategy? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

Like a Bond villain, Counterbalance players in Magic: The Gathering win the game by telling their opponent their evil plot before firing their death ray. A combination of Sensei’s Diving Top and Counterbalance, the deck’s pilot rearranges the first dew of their deck, reveals the top card, and can use it to counter any spell thrown against them, providing the mana costs match. 

Today I’d like to discuss a similar tactic within Argent Saga and one of the players that took game psychology to the next level.

Meet Gillian, The Witch Queen, Water champion extraordinaire. While she doesn’t offer the same hard-counter that Counter/Top features, she does offer extremely powerful card draw, especially in a Water or Water/Light spell heavy deck. The strategy is to win the game by having more answers than your opponents questions. 

What does this mean? Your opponent plays the Ergon combo, you have a bounce in response. Your opponent is swinging in at your Towers, you have a debuff or destruction in hand. You get the idea.

Much like Chess, TCGs are games of questions and answers. This is where control players (like me) find their niche, answering so many of their opponents questions effectively that they start to ask their own (putting threats on the board and winning). Games with us are long, painful, and often times only fun for one player, but it works.

Gillian thrives in this setup because your deck is already full of spells she can use as fuel, often times allowing you two draws per turn if chance is on your side. Not only will you control your opponent through your cards, you’ll also control the game through psychology.

Nobody will play their best unit knowing what horrors lurk in your hand, why waste their Twilight Knight to a bounce or removal and lose a turn of tempo? Revealing your cards with Gillian not only draws you another spell, it serves as a threat to your opponent; an offer they can’t refuse. “Hey, you don’t play that unit and I won’t send it to oblivion, capeesh?”

This is the essence of a control player, pulling the strings of every aspect of the game, the cards on the board, and your opponent can be yours to use to your advantage in the match. 

Any aspiring competitive player deserves to read Johnny Magic and the Card Shark Kids, the tale of John Finkel, one of Magic’s greatest players and original superstar. It’s a fantastic book and can be found for next to nothing on Amazon (I promise this isn’t sponsored, I just really love the book. No affiliate link here.)

There is a chapter where David Kushner describes the strategy Jon took to an official, prominent 90′s tournament. Jon would simply stare past your eyes, into your soul, and straight through you, not even at the board most of the time. Unblinking, unrelenting, unapologetic. Between this mind game and his skill at the game, he took home a handsome amount of prize money.

Curious, I tried this out during my competitive Magic days of yore. I went to a game store a little outside the draw range of my LGS, shuffled up, barely said anything past “this table?”, “good luck”, and “offer cut”. Without hesitation, I played a deck heavy with revealing information on my deck (UR Delver, sideboarded with the Splinter Twin core to keep things interesting) and fired my eye beams. A clean, perfect win. It was only after the broke down the game I would drop the act and actually introduce myself, explaining the strategy, sharing a laugh about the awkward moment we shared.

Here’s how it went down: I would constantly reveal my top card using the effect of Delver of Secrets, letting my opponent know exactly what I was holding onto. Between the threat of multiple counterspells in hand and the Finkel strategy, it closed out games handily.

Now, just as a disclaimer; DON’T DO THIS. It’s incredibly creepy and I did this for science and to write this silly article. Seriously. Please don’t. To prove my hypothesis, I played a few more games without presenting myself as an unholy cryptid, not having too much trouble (except for the Death and Taxes matchup).

Back to Gillian. Information reveal every turn, extra draw power, a deck full of answers; she’s everything I could have ever hoped for in a champion! I fully plan on building around her and having some fun test games, see how she works. 

Sometimes doing something unconventional is the right way to win a game. No one expects you to effectively play with your hand revealed, and that holds the potential for a tilt. Or shall I say... counter the balance?

Stay caffeinated,

Erin Jade Hess (She/Her)

Further Reading:

1) https://www.amazon.com/Jonny-Magic-Card-Shark-Kids/dp/0812974387 2) https://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/feature/countertop-2009-03-16 3) https://mtg.gamepedia.com/Answer

Art Credit: “Sensei’s Divining Top”, Michael Sutfin. “Counterbalance”, John Zeleznik. “GIllian, The Witch Queen”, G.R.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 and 59 with sweet pea??

Thanks for your requested prompt combo! Hopefully the Sweet Pea/Betty pairing isn’t absolutely abhorrent to you, because that’s where I went with this. Swetty fans, gather round.

3. “I’m not jealous.”

AND

59. “I’m yours.”

Although the property had legally been in Cheryl’s possession for the pastfew months―thanks to the help of ex-mayor and current lawyer Sierra McCoy―sheclaimed that Thistle House wouldn’t really feel like it belonged to her untilshe threw one of her classically chaotic parties. Since school had ended, therehad been a couple of open weekends in a row when the larger part of Cheryl’ssocial circle would’ve been able to attend, but when her cousin didn’t take theopportunity, Betty realized there was something else she was waiting for: theheartache of the latest (and final, as far as Betty was concerned) Bugheadbreakup to fade.

The arrest and incarceration of her father, Hal Cooper, AKA the Black Hood,had managed to nudge not one but several lines of dominoes, causing messycollapse throughout the community. Betty had retreated into what remained ofher family unit, Jughead into that impermeable Serpent unity; two very separatedirections, since her mother in particular couldn’t bear any furtheruncertainty and the gang had just been totally uprooted by the invasion of theGhoulies.

Cheryl, miraculously one of a very small number of them to actually be aheadfor once in her life (emancipation, house, girlfriend, etc.), had shocked Bettyby not withdrawing into that happiness and leaving the rest of them to starvefor it. Instead, she’d wedged herself solidly into Betty’s life. She babysatthe twins when Alice fell apart and it took both Cooper daughters to get herthrough it. She called Betty to get her out of bed in the morning if shenoticed her cousin was late for school. Once they’d weathered the roughestwaves and were coasting in the clear, calm but directionless, she’d beguninterfering in smaller, but even more gratitude-inducing ways. One of which, ofcourse, was the party she was hosting while Jughead was out of town, visitinghis mom and sister. And Sweet Pea… Sweet Pea was very much in town.

Betty didn’t know how it had begun, this idea of her and the tall, silentSerpent who was as quick to flash a smile as a switchblade. Had the crush originated with her or him? Or, did it exist only in giddy rumour and illusion, animplication that might never be tested, like the bite of the Serpent’s secretlyvenom-less snake? Whether she’d started it or was simply content to fan thefire, Cheryl needed to take some responsibility. Betty had told her so theother day over a milkshake at Pop’s after what was supposed to be a casualhangout turned into Cheryl and Toni grinning and plotting (mostly Cheryl on the latter, while her girlfriend stared at her with an indulgent smirk, leaninginto the corner of their booth). Her cousin, graciously, had agreed to takeresponsibility for her part, but first, she’d promised―over Betty’s protests―tomake her part worth claiming.

So Betty was uneasy the night of the party, not so much waiting for a secondshoe to drop as for a stiletto heel to come through the wall next to her headlike an arrow. At least she got a little warning, which was Cheryl saying,“Somebody find an empty bottle!”

“Seven minutes in heaven again?” Fangs asked from across the living room. Hewas standing with Sweet Pea and a couple other Serpents, which meant Bettyhadn’t spoken to him that evening, as she now had a mortal fear of being within10 feet of his best friend. “Doesn’t that game tend to go awry?”

From behind her, making Betty jump, Veronica laughed.

“You heard about Cheryl’s last big party then, I’m guessing.”

Cheryl waved them both off and dropped to the floor, crossing her legs underher.

“Not tonight, Fangs. Just plain old spin the bottle.” The hostess glancedaround at her guests, smiling. Her eyes landed on Betty, who groaned quietly toherself. “Cousin! Why don’t you join our circle?”

Betty wanted to make an excuse, any excuse, but Archie, who’d been standingwith Veronica and was apparently trying to help his best friend through herbreakup in the best way his naïve, goodhearted nature knew how, pushed herforward.

Clenching her teeth, Betty took a seat on Cheryl’s left.

“I’d feel more comfortable if you were about to draw a pentagram inside thiscircle than spin that bottle within it,” Betty muttered.

“Witchcraft, cousin? Perhaps another night. Scoot in close, everyone,” sheinstructed as their unholy circle filled in.

When she spotted Fangs and Sweet Pea, closer now but still standing, Bettysighed in relief. This game could go a few spins and she’d make her escape.

“You want to go first?” Toni offered her girlfriend. Cheryl demurred, soToni spun.

Betty was barely watching, just biding her time, until an oooh went around the group. The bottlewas pointed at her.

“Do you mind?” Toni checked with Cheryl. She shook her head vehemently.

“Nope, it’s just a game. I’m not jealous.” Her red lips spread in a killer smile that Bettycouldn’t trust.

“Do you?” Toni asked Betty, already leaning around Cheryl.

“Um, no,” Betty said, highly suspicious of the look on her cousin’s face.

If this was Cheryl’s big play, it didn’t make sense. It was inappropriate,maybe, but Betty couldn’t see any farther than that. Possibly because Toni’sface and wavy pink hair were quickly filling her vision. Just as she smelled thegirl’s last drink on her breath, Betty was grasped by the shoulder and jerkedbackwards. Instinctively, her hands covered the others, expecting Veronica oreven Archie. One of the fingers wore a large ring. She looked way up from herseat on the carpet into Sweet Pea’s eyes. Those dark eyes moved aroundshiftily. Definitely a leap-before-looking kinda guy, Betty assessed.

“You wanted to talk to me!” Betty blurted, bluffing poorly, but feelingcompelled to cover for the tough boy now showing an expression of earnestawkwardness. “That’s right, I forgot. Um, Kevin,” Betty grabbed her friend’shand, “you can take my spot.”

Refusing to meet anyone’s eye―especially Cheryl’s!―Betty hurried from theroom towards the front door. Cool air breezed her palm and she realized she’dstill had her hand on Sweet Pea’s, and that he’d followed her. Naturally. Her heartwas pounding too hard for her to be able to relax in the narrow vestibule, soBetty swung the front door open, letting in the soft sounds of midnight.Embarrassed, after a handful of seconds with the fresh air hitting her cheeks,Betty turned around to correct whatever jumbled misunderstanding had just takenplace, and walked right into Sweet Pea’s chest.

Which was, evidently, precisely where he wanted her to be, because hegrabbed her by the upper arms and kissed her.

“It wasn’t herself Cheryl was trying to make jealous,” Betty said,whispering her epiphany aloud when they broke apart, and staring, a little dumbstruck, into Sweet Pea’seager face. “It wouldn’t have mattered who was supposed to kiss me. She knewyou would stop it.”

“She didn’t know,” Sweet Peareplied defensively. “I mean, she guessed.” He sighed. Swallowed. Lowered hishand carefully to her waist. “Maybe she did know. My poker face has been forshit where you’re concerned.”

“Everybody has a weak spot,” Betty joked, then felt like her throat wasclosing up in sheer disbelief that she was somehow joking with Sweet Pea. Shebreathed hard a couple of times, glancing at the mouth hovering inches from herown. “I’m yours.”

“I’d like to think so,” he mumbled beforekissing her again.

Writing prompts can be found here if you’d like to make a request! (Yes, I’m still working my way through the ones I’ve received.)