#I am not and have never been in a financial situation where this makes any sense

[zomboivex]

Getting personal for a moment. But I feel it’s important to share, anyways.

When I was married, everyone in my life gaslit me to believe I was terrible with managing my money. Any personal expensive was noted as frivolous and wasteful. Bought some fabric for my hobby of dress-making with money I earned from a bonus?

That could have been used for the water bill next month!

Had a $1000 bonus? No. That’s for the house mortgage that he didn’t let my name exist on even though I paid for majority of the renovations because he was content letting the kitchen sit in disarray with thick dust in the air. Causing me to have severe allergy attacks every day.

Called off sick?

How could you? We have bills to pay!!!!

Go through extreme harassment at work?

No. You’re making it up. It’s an excuse to take a day off and relax.

Ignore the fact that he called off regularly because he had headaches while I was shamed into going to work despite having the flu.

Set up a joint account where only I contributed to put money in for bills to pay. Because he would pay from his account. Then he’d constantly drain the joint account for ‘bills’ and then spend his money on who even knows. We had 2 maxed out credit cards in his name.

But this was so normal to me. Because I grew up like this. I grew up with my ‘support system’ telling me this is normal. Telling me that I am the problem.

And I believed it.

I believed that everything that was wrong was me.

I didn’t know he was $7,000 in debt until our divorce where he was demanding I pay it off.

I never did find out what he used that money on. I suspect it was on his gaming addiction and my alleged ‘best friend’ he was sleeping with.

When I finally got out of that relationship, I was in financial ruin. I had nothing in my name. At 30.

I lost everything. (Except for the car that I begged for him to let me take and 3 of my 4 cats).

I lost the house I lived in for years. It was all in his name. There was nothing I could do about it. Because we were ‘only married for 3 years’ despite being together for 10.

I had no furniture to take with me. Save for a couch. That I couldn’t actually take because I had no place to go. I was couch surfing or sleeping in my car at this time.

I lost my dream job because my ‘friend’ worked there as well. And while they were beyond accommodating to my situation, I could no longer mentally handle being there nor could I handle the hour drive once I did find a place to live.

$1000 down on a new apartment.

Car broke down a month later. $1000 down on a new car.

Said car was stolen twice. Can’t even begin to tell you how much money that leeched out of my savings.

$23,000 (with health insurance) for surgery due to appendicitis.

All in a year after divorce.

It was defeating. It was so fucking hard.

In a span of a year I went through multiple life crises events. I can feel how it physically changed my ability to process information. In a way, I’ve become ‘dumber’ because of it. I can’t hold onto information. I have a hard time reading and staying focused.

Only reason I was able to even financially get through all of that was because I had some money saved from a lawsuit at the job that was harassing me that I wound up winning after the divorce. That and I finally caved in and got a credit card (my credit score was good) and a couple of personal loans.

I’m still paying it all off. It has been so fucking hard.

And I’ve been going through waves of hating myself for being so naive to feeling terrible for what I’ve been through because I didn’t see anything wrong with what I experienced as it was happening. And I’m finally coming to my own form of peace with this. But it was hard.

I had been with him for 10 years.

I don’t love easily. But I did love him. Even if I showed it in odd ways. I wouldn’t have married him, otherwise.

And then when everyone around me said I was the problem, I believed them.

Even now, I have an incredibly hard time understanding when I am truly in the wrong with a situation or if my reaction to things are justified.

I didn’t realize I was being put through mental and financial abuse by so many people around me.

I wish I could hug me from a few years ago and let them know they are so strong for going through all of this. But that they shouldn’t have had to be so strong for so long.

I wish I could hug every woman on the planet that has been through anything where they had to ‘be strong’ to survive while thinking it’s normal.

Baby, it’s not normal. You deserve so much more in this world.

You deserve your own freedom and a support system that values you and lets you know when you’re going through actual bullshit instead of painting you as the villain.

To all the women out there who go through these things; I love you. I see you.

maybe i’m a joyless bitch but i actually do NOT think it’s funny to see women being like “the house is just in my husbands name” or “my husband makes all the money” or “i don’t even know who our mortgage is with” or “the only bank account/credit card is his and i get an allowance” like i do NOT find that cute or romantic and i am begging these women to Stand Up. you should at least be named on the deed to your house and the title to your car and the bank accounts even if you don’t pay for them/earn all the money. you can’t stop existing in the eyes of the law and the credit unions simply because you have a husband. if you’re raising his children and washing his socks half of everything he’s got is yours and it needs to be yours LEGALLY BY NAME. "he takes such good care of me :)" girl you are a PRISONER!! that’s all

[spacedoutwitch]

Dropping in at random on a Monday night because my arms are wack, but not quite as wack as my brain refusing to let me buy Chants of Sennaar.

[cno-inbminor]

praestigia

NOTE: this is the completed version of the fic, including part 1. some minor edits have been made to part 1, but that's about it. once again, thanks sylus for being my first lads fic! as always, much love to spence for bullying me into finishing this

plot: formally speaking, sylus is a...sponsor. more colloquially, he's your sugar daddy -- and you're starting to wonder if he might actually want more. (wc: ~13.1k)

cw: this is all AU and does not include, like, any game lore (aside from that it's happening in linkon city). afab!reader, also a phd student, toxic behavior [miscommunication], explicit smut [dom/sub dynamics, slight bondage, underwear as a gag, size kink if you squint, fingering, some degradation, possessiveness, squirting, overstimulation, some choking, no protection aside from implied birth control], angst, some fluff, open ending. mdni!

[ao3]

-

The skyline of Linkon City never fails to captivate you, blinking lights of tall, corporate buildings, the specks of light dotted across the sky, the blur of beams weaving through the roads – no matter which angle you look at it from, the view will inevitably take reign over your focus. So much so, that you do not notice the imposing figure approaching you from behind. He can only draw your attention by placing both hands on your shoulders, jumping slightly as you blink and remember where you are. A wave of flashbacks crashes through your mind as you are gently turned towards him, your back facing the window now.

“Perhaps I should find it somewhat offensive that the view never fails to take your attention away,” Sylus remarks, his tone unmasked in his teasing and playfulness. His scarlet eyes peer past your shoulder to see if there was anything interesting or out of the ordinary. “Do I need to start booking rooms without windows?”

“Don’t be silly,” you gently admonish, moving past him to grab a drink of water. His eyes burn the skin on your back, though you are familiar with this gaze. “Thank you for letting me rest here.”

“Do you really think that after all this time, I would leave you to pay for a hotel room yourself? Or to find your own transportation home?”

“It’d be understandable. I can see where you would be coming from if you made those requests.”

“I must say, I am a little wounded, kitten,” he drawls in mock pain. Instead of waiting for you to return and remain close to him, he situates himself on the bed first and leaves ample room for you to lay next to him.

The gesture invokes warmth, exudes comfort, and stands familiar as you climb onto the mattress with ease and memory. Sylus stretches out his arm next to you, and his pose quietly begs for you to cuddle into him.

And so you do. Sylus’s stature and frame, of course, never fails to envelop you during these moments of tranquility. Your chest pressed against his side, a leg crossed over his, your nails drawing patterns over his bathrobe and exposed abdomen – security, strength, and affection, once again, never fails to help you relax.

Because this is what happens after every gala, every fundraiser, every grand opening, every social event that you accompany Sylus to. This routine of being in hotel rooms so high above ground with breathtaking views, burrowing into him, oftentimes burying himself inside you, and separating the next morning with an implicit understanding of exactly where you stand, is what you two had agreed upon all those months ago. And in return, your financial stress disappears into thin air, leaving you to study and engage in hobbies without such a heavy burden on your shoulders.

Despite his constant reassurances that he can clean up whatever mess you may end up making, they do not negate just how tiring and draining these events end up being. Constantly putting on airs, overexposing your practiced smiles, making sure that there is not a single hair out of place, switching to what you like to call “fancy people table etiquette” – Sylus sponsored and, in a way, hired you to be as close to perfect as possible, and so, you must do as such to uphold your end of this business relation. Tonight has been a little more taxing than usual, as somewhere along the way, he felt the need to buy you anything that captured your attention for more than a few seconds. He would bid a ridiculous price that would dissuade any other potential customers, their expressions of defeat when they pass by causing him to secretly gloat that everyone has learned at least one thing about him: he will get what he wants.

You had caught onto this shenanigan after the third item, and you made sure to school your gaze away from the auctioned items. But because he always seems to know what plays in your mind, he complains, “You never let or ask me to buy you things anymore.”

Your eyes had closed shut during your time of reflecting on tonight’s events, and they continue to remain as such. “I have very little closet space. At this point, I think I’ve probably swapped out 90% of my wardrobe because of you. People are starting to get suspicious.”

“Then why not move out and find a bigger apartment? You know I can afford it.”

“Sylus–”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts. If he were anyone else, you would have scowled at him. “It would be too far from campus, become inconvenient, and you feel it is too much to ask for.”

As the conversation suggests, this is not the first time Sylus has brought up this proposition. What remains unsaid is how you would be closer to his residence if you were to move to one of the many apartments he had in mind, all of which would reduce your commute to his place down to walking a block or two; not a twenty-minute drive.

“Just say the word, and it will be done,” Sylus murmurs into your hair. When he realizes he has received no response, your soft snoring greets him before he can inquire any further. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out and switches the nightstand light off, leaving the darkness to swallow you both. His eyes fall shut in tired ease, but his grip around your shoulders remains firm.

-

It comes to no one’s surprise that you feel less than well-rested when your alarm starts blaring at 5:45AM. You had an early class today, so you had to give yourself ample time to make it home, change, wipe away any lingering smudges of last night’s makeup, and try to appear as…casual as possible. Not wanting to wake him up so much that he cannot fall back asleep, you reach out for your phone and click one of the volume buttons, rendering it silent. Sometime in the night, your position had changed to Sylus spooning you. His limb slung over your waist is heavy, making it all that more difficult to leave – not just physically, but mentally as well.

Like ripping a bandaid off, you have every intention to quickly remove yourself from his embrace. But Sylus, being the infuriatingly light sleeper that he is, immediately tightens his hold around you as soon as you attempt your escape.

“Sylus, I need to go,” you whisper.

He presses you impossibly closer to him. “I will drive you to your apartment. Sleep.”

“No, I’m taking the subway.”

“Why take the subway when you have me?”

“If anyone needs rest, it’s you,” you say pointedly, because it’s true. Being the CEO of a business that may or may not be totally legal (you never ask because honestly, the less you know, the better) is not exactly a 9AM-5PM job. There have been more times than you can count when he would be pounding into you and forced to take a phone call. Granted, that doesn’t stop him from grinding into you and grinning devilishly when you bury your face into the nearest pillow to muffle your moans and whines.

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbles into your hair. “You haven’t gotten more than six hours of sleep every night for the last week.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” As soon as you ask, you already know the answer.

The app for– “Your smartwatch.”

“One of these days, I will disconnect my account from that app.”

“I would like to see you try.”

And you will. Just, when you’re not trapped in his arms.

“I’m still taking the subway,” you backtrack, though your voice is quieter than before. A tiny sense of relief fills you when his embrace loosens, and you can finally crawl out of bed. It’s harder than it seems to squash the distressed voice in your head complaining about how easy it was for him to let you go. As you pick up all your clothes and make your way towards the bathroom, you notice his phone sitting innocently by the room’s coffee machine. After looking over your shoulder, you swipe it off the counter and bring it with you.

Guessing his passcode is harder than you thought – the man has an ego the size of the entire universe, so you figure it would be something personal: his inaugural date as CEO, his birth year, his birthday, or others. On your last, desperate attempt, you type in four digits and find yourself absolutely floored at the view of his, now, unlocked phone.

Your birthday.

There is no time to dwell on the implications of it all, and you chalk it up to the fact that no one really knows you outside of being his typical date or escort. Therefore, the passcode would be that much harder to guess than the route that you had originally gone for. Yes, that’s all it was: an extra layer of security.

Sylus’s phone is surprisingly unorganized, random apps thrown into folders that they do not belong in, leaving you to search for the fitness app that your watch is not only connected to on your own phone, but somehow also on his. You press the buttons necessary to delete your watch data from his end. When you are ready to close the app, you cannot help but notice the preview of his messages app and the texts within. Your thumb swipes away the fitness app and shakily taps the messages window that stares hauntingly at you. It had been left open on a conversation with another woman, if you had to guess based on the name sitting at the top.

My parents are getting antsy, and so is your grandfather.

That is none of my concern.

Unfortunately, it is. They’re not exactly happy about the woman you keep bringing as a partner.

Our arranged marriage is not a publicly known detail.

And I’d like to keep it that way. But Sylus…

What?

We can’t delay this much longer. You’re running out of time.

The exchange tells you enough, just enough for you to realize the situation you find yourself in. You suddenly recall an incident in the beginning of this relationship with Sylus when he described this arrangement, him as your sugar daddy, as a means to an end, preferably the end of something that he clearly did not want out of desire for his own freedom. There was not enough detail for you to give it much thought after that night of discussion and negotiation, but now, it all makes sense.

Your thumb takes it back to his home screen and presses the lock button. In a haze, you get ready and dressed before exiting the bathroom, completely unaware if you even have your clothes on right or your hair somewhat kempt. As quietly as possible, you place his phone back where you had found it. Though common practice at this point, it now feels far too intimate to plant a featherlight kiss on his cheek. It causes him to stir, but you’re halfway out the door before he can fully register your departure.

Whoever passes by, whatever zooms past, however something tries to gain your attention, you have no recognition of your surroundings. A thick layer of tension settles itself into your brain, allowing you to think of nothing but the fact that this entire time, Sylus has been in an arranged marriage that you, apparently, were supposed to be instrumental in destroying. To find yourself back in your apartment maybe forty minutes later is a miracle in and of itself. You return to the plane of reality when you open your closet doors to toss your dirty clothes into the hamper and are greeted by the many items bought with his money.

Contrary to popular belief, jealousy does not make itself known in your system. You’re not exuding shades of green or red like an angry Christmas tree. If anything, you come to a quiet acceptance that this…partnership with Sylus will come to an end, and soon. It would do no good for him to keep seeing or supporting you while formally married, which means you have to get your life in order. Sylus has given you more than enough money to put you through your last two years of your postgraduate career and maybe a year into your postdoc, but you should still remain frugal. If you’re lucky enough, the money you earn during postdoc would be enough to live relatively comfortably on.

Alone. Without him.

It’s fine, you think to yourself as you turn on the shower. It’s totally and completely fine.

-

A couple hours later in class, your phone vibrates with a message that reads, “You actually managed to disconnect your watch from my phone.”

The slight smirk tugging at your lips is inevitable as you type out a response: You told me to try, so I did.

“I will be changing my passcode.”

If you want. There’s nothing else on there that I need to delete, right?

“Oh sweetie, wouldn’t you like to know?”

The subtle, possessive curl of his message coils around you tenderly, making you temporarily forget that you are in class and should be exhibiting a poker face. But you still shift in your seat, a warm pool of heat forming in your core as you imagine his expression and his voice reading the message out loud. Forever a tease and a flirt, Sylus knows exactly what he is doing by sending you that message.

Your best revenge in the moment is to leave him on read, on the edge of his metaphorical seat. It takes too much effort to bring your conscience back to your current lecture and actually take some notes. Your phone buzzes once, but you ignore it – and in hindsight, you’re glad you did. Sylus, in all his infinite wisdom and glory, took it upon himself to send you a picture of himself after a shower – the skin of his chest glistening under the fluorescent lights, grey towel hung low on his waist and barely holding on, veins on his arms frustratingly visible because he knows what they do to you, his biceps flexed just enough that you want to take a bite at them. The fucker full well knew you were in class and, you know, in relatively close proximity to other people who would have, no doubt, gotten an eyeful.

As you walk towards the subway station to go back to your apartment, head down and focused on typing out a message, a giddy smile can’t help but break out across your face. Your thumbs tap, “Should you really be sending photos like this to someone who, in the public’s eye, is just a friendly escort?”

After not even thirty seconds, your phone buzzes, the notification of his call sliding in from the top of your screen. You almost roll your eyes as you bring the device to your ear. “You have five minutes before I lose signal underground,” you warn, your tone still playful nevertheless.

“‘A friendly escort’, you say? I suppose that’s what the young ones are calling intimacy these days.”

“You knew I was in class. And stop it, I know you have some stupid smug look on your face right now,” you chastise.

“You know me so well.”

“Actually, speaking of,” you say as your eyes flit down to your watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?”

“I stepped out.”

Your heart and feet skip a beat, almost causing you to fall flat on your face and absolutely eat shit in the middle of the sidewalk. It’s hard not to let your mind race at all the implications, that this tirelessly busy man decided in a heartbeat that he would step out with a desire to call you over something so minor; to do no more than simply tease you. In the grand scheme of his life, you have very little significance – your temporary companionship where you may see him four or five times a month, sometimes with weeks in between and other times mere days. Text messages were never a guaranteed daily activity, though as of recent, he has been texting you more often. But amidst his employees, his connections, his partnerships, his family, you’re just…you.

You didn’t realize you had been stunned into silence long enough for him to ask, “Are you still there?”

“I am, sorry,” you apologize, scrambling to think of an excuse. “Uhh, an email came in and I was reading it. Didn’t hear you.”

“I’ll get you some wireless earbuds.”

“Please don’t.” Your rejection is immediate, firm. The lack of room left for argument stands apparent. “That’s not necessary.”

“And what’s stopping me from just ordering you a pair regardless?”

“Me.”

Sylus responds with a contemplative pause, which is...unusual. He has always been so quick to reply with wit and banter, but there is a chance that maybe something distracted him, like what you had said as a poor attempt at a viable excuse.

“I suppose the kitten is starting to make use of her claws now.” His voice rings softer, quieter, almost as if disheartened by his own statement. “First you disconnect your watch, and now you won’t even let me buy you earbuds.”

“I just don’t want you to buy anything that’s not necessary. Covering my tuition and all the dresses is one thing, but wireless earbuds, I can do without. My wired ones work just fine.”

Your eyes catch the sign for the stairs leading down to the subway up ahead. “I’m about to go under and lose signal. Was there anything else?”

“Come over tonight.”

Your mouth works faster than your brain. “I can’t,” you lie, a pang of guilt creeping into your heart. “There’s a study group tonight for an exam.” Not a lie. “Besides, we just saw each other yesterday.”

“Has that ever stopped us before?”

“W-well, no,” you splutter because it’s true. There have been a handful of times when you spent two, sometimes three consecutive nights in the past – but things were more hot-and-heavy then, a time when you couldn’t get enough of him and vice versa. “I’m just saying.”

“Then come after the study group.”

“It’s gonna run pretty late because we have an exam in a few days.” Again, not a lie. “Who knows if the subways would still be running by then?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“But you might be asleep.”

“Highly unlikely, little one.”

Quickly looking around you, you quietly hiss, “Sylus, you should be asleep by the time the subways stop running. Why would you still be up at 2AM?”

“In case I have to refresh your memory, you do remember that I am the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in Linkon, right? The work never ends.”

“You need time for sleep, you know, like everyone else??”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

Your eyes close in frustration as you groan. Your feet have reached the top of the stairs, and you couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing. “Okay, I’m at the station so I’m gonna hang up. I’ll come over another time, alright? Talk to you later.”

“Sweetie–”

Moving forward to race down the stairs and smashing the hang up button is your way of desperately trying to not lose resolve. Any longer, you would have given in and rolled yourself straight back to square one with nothing but dread. You have never been more relieved to see the little “No Signal” sitting in the top left corner while you swipe through a gate and manage to get down another flight of stairs without tripping over your feet.

Wired earbuds in, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie, letting the wind tunnel threaten you to topple over, you do everything in your ability to not think about him – to not think about the messages that may flood your phone once you get signal, to not think about the pushback you may receive because Sylus is someone who figures out to, somehow, always get his way, and to not think about the weight of his earlier words: “I stepped out.” You pretend that you know nothing about this arranged marriage, the curiosity having caused your thumbs to twitch in anticipation at maybe looking up who this woman is. You ignore the now glaringly close deadline that will terminate your relationship with Sylus forever, and most of all, you ignore any semblance of pain that knowledge makes you feel.

Cup half-empty, spoons tossed the window, the subway window across from you is greeted with a blank stare. In a rare moment of mindfulness (or is it dissociation?), you think of nothing until you find yourself standing by the foot of your bed and ready to face plant into the middle of the duvet. With your last shred of working consciousness, you set an alarm for thirty minutes before the start of the study group and promptly fall asleep.

-

As you predicted, the study group runs late into the night. Despite the several digressions into conversations that were very much not academics-related, all of you feel relatively good about the subject matter for the exam on Friday. Everyone comes to a unanimous decision to reconvene in a couple of days. Given that it was Monday, one more study session Wednesday and some independent review Thursday night would be beneficial.

For your own sanity, you had left your phone, stashed in the recesses of your backpack, tossed into the corner of the study room, on do-not-disturb for the entirety of the night. You had it programmed to still chime and alert you if family contacted you, mainly because it doesn’t happen often, and if it does, that means something big happened. The device remained silent for the whole time, and part of you wants to avoid confronting what your notification screen might look like. But before you can muster up the courage to do so, one of your friends speaks up.

“Hey, you took the subway here, right? I can drive you home,” Jiho, a doctoral student in the same year as you but doing research under a different professor, offers. A part of you is beyond relieved at the perfect example of an excuse to not check your phone because it would be so incredibly rude (not really) in a social context.

“You wouldn’t mind? If you have somewhere to be, I can just walk.”

Jiho rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

He drops you off in front of your apartment complex about ten minutes later, and he shoos away your offer to buy him coffee as a token of gratitude. You wave goodbye as his car pulls out of a guest parking spot, and only then do you notice the conspicuously sleek, grey sports car sitting a few meters away. Your heart pounds, and your palms begin to sweat as you get closer and closer to your unit, afraid of who you might find once you get inside. You spot the fluorescent glow from underneath peering out from underneath your door, and it takes everything in you to not drop your keys as you unlock the deadbolt.

“So the kitten has finally decided to come home.”

“How–”

Sylus, looking severely out of place in your humble abode, sets down the stack of papers in his hand on your coffee table. With his other hand, he points to the fixture on your wall by the door where your keys typically hang. His own set now occupies one of the hooks, and you spot the spare key you had given him a few months ago. To your knowledge, he has never used it before, and you can count the number of times he has stepped into this apartment on one hand.

You quietly shut the door behind you, locking both deadbolts in place before setting your backpack down. “It’s so late,” and even you wince at the shakiness in your voice. “You should be asleep. At home.”

“Perhaps I would be if someone had just checked their phone once in the last fifteen hours.”

Well, you don’t have much of an excuse for that.

Sylus sits on one end of your couch in loungewear, though somehow, he still makes it seem like he’s in something formal enough for business casual. You cautiously sit on the other end away from him.

“I passed out as soon as I got home, and then I was running late for the study group, so I just left my phone on do-not-disturb.”

His silence speaks volumes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

But maybe you did.

Maybe, subconsciously, you did. Maybe you wanted to test the limits of his affection. Maybe you wanted to see just how far he would go to make sure you were okay.

Maybe you simply wanted to get a taste of when you least expect radio silence, an appetizer for how things may turn out when Sylus calls for the end of your arrangement.

“Look at me.”

Tension weighs you down as you slowly turn your body towards him, but you avoid his gaze and aim to study the logo on his shirt instead.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

The command snaps you into compliance, his tone firm and undeniable. You expect to see anger, frustration, disappointment. After all, it would make sense, for there is a set of expectations and rules put into place to ensure trust between both parties. Transactional, contractual, institutional obligations and conditions set by both the company matchmaker and individuals are put in place to conveniently manifest and quickly disintegrate these business relations, to avoid messes.

But you realize all too quickly that the mess will be inevitable, in your case, because instead of tinges of red fury in his eyes, you find concern, worry, and confusion. Dread sinks into your stomach like an anchor in the middle of the ocean, dropping further and further into the dark unknown.

“You’re hiding something from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you immediately counter. Good job, you just made it more obvious.

Sylus pins you down with a look that means nothing other than “you know better”, and your heart threatens to burst from your chest out of sheer anxiety.

“Since you refuse to tell me otherwise, tell me how you got home,” he says, and though he may seem cool and nonchalant in the way he rests an arm against the back of the couch, you can see the irritation pulsing through the veins on his forearms.

“A friend from the study group drove me home.”

“And you were simply too busy to look at your phone during the drive?”

“I had to give him directions.”

Sylus cocks an eyebrow at the mention of this friend’s gender. “Him?”

“Jiho, sweet guy. Does research with another professor.”

“I suppose I have him to thank for bringing you home safely. Regardless, you should have called me to pick you up.”

You have one last card to play. “That’s not in the contract.”

His eyes harden and narrow the slightest bit, the curve of his jaw growing tense in building irritation. “How so?”

“There’s a line somewhere in there about making sure I would not contact you for personal favors that are outside the scope of our,” you hesitate to find the right words, “relationship.”  You can’t remember the last time your palms sweat so much.

“I offered.”

“And I am not obligated to take the offer. While kind, I did not see the need to bother you.”

“I clearly remember stating that it wouldn’t be an issue, especially considering I asked you to stay with me for the night.”

“But I told you I couldn’t,” you retort.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

The bitter note in his voice on his last word matches his steely gaze that is undoubtedly determined to pick you apart, to peel off each layer of whatever walls you may have put up. He’s not ignorant or oblivious by any means – something is going on, and you’re not telling him. You answer him with deafening silence, blaming your late-night fatigue for it.

Responding directly to his question would only make this worse, as you cannot see yourself getting out of the ensuing conversation unscathed and alive. Instead, the couch dips as you cross the distance between you two, hesitantly straddling his hips in case he doesn’t want you to. But he allows your move, his hands almost instinctively resting on your thighs as you settle yourself into his hold. His skin feels glassy smooth beneath your fingers as you caress his cheek, studying every detail of his face and avoiding his eyes.

Perhaps there is a part of you that is trying to commit the minutiae to memory in preparation for the days when you will no longer see him so intimately. You should have never let yourself get so attached, no matter how much tenderness and adoration Sylus has been lavishing you with. The realization hits you in a bittersweet manner, and the featherlight kiss you place on his lips only makes it hurt more.

Yet you move past the pain to accept the fall, the descent into oblivion as you feel Sylus respond to your kiss, deepening and increasing in fervor. The heat in your core is more than just lust as it sinks deeper and deeper into you, a testament to the depth of your affections. Somehow, his touch as his hands roam your figure burns hotter. It almost makes you want to shy away from his grasp, but part of you welcomes the trails of fire as your punishment for deceiving him.

You gasp out his name as his lips leave your neck scorching, each nip of his teeth and lave of his tongue adding to the haze slowly overtaking your rationale. But beneath the man’s ardor, you manage to recognize his irritation and annoyance – the way his fingers grip your waist, his nails digging into your back – about how this whole night has progressed.

Apologize, his eyes seem to scream. Seek forgiveness as I seek vengeance, his hands draw on your skin.

Beg for me.

“You test my patience in a way that others have never done before,” he says in a dangerous tone as you gasp at the chords of delicious pain running down your back.

“I’m– ah – sorry,” you gasp as his arousal grinds purposefully against yours.

The answering swat against your ass stings, and you attempt to ignore the rush of slick dampening your panties even further –  a reaction that Sylus does not fail to miss. Instinct calls and beckons when your eyes slip shut the moment a hand rakes up to get a firm grip of your hair, pulled towards him so he can kiss you fervently again.

So lost in a hazy reverie, you barely register when he lifts you by your thighs and makes his way to your bedroom. Or at least, you think he’s going there, given that he’s only been in your bedroom once before. But Sylus makes strides with the confidence of someone who has visited here countless times, and the aura he exudes both thrills and frightens you.

In mere seconds, he strips you down and regards you with an appreciative gaze. The glint and apparent desire in his eyes never fails to flatter you – to be wanted is addicting, especially when wanted by a man as powerful as Sylus. You should be alarmed by how natural it feels to be in this current state of undress and debauchery.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you obey without a second thought. “Good girl.

“As much as I cannot bother to care about disturbing your neighbors, I know you do,” he concedes, but not without balling up your panties and stuffing them past your parted lips. “All of this could have been avoided if you had just let me pick you up.”

The argumentative whine that slips off your tongue is resolutely muffled, serving no purpose except to further Sylus’s sadism. His approving smirk immediately quells your anger, and you can only watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothes at a painstakingly slow place. Normally, you are the one to grant him a show at his command, but tonight, you deserved a taste of your own medicine. Your wrists become bound by his belt as he finds his second home between your legs. Tears prick the corners of your eyes when he purposefully lets his shaft drop on your clit.

“Always so wet and ready for me, kitten,” he praises, his tone low, teasing, but appreciative.

His smirk widens as he moves to hold his cock and tap it menacingly against the puffy bundle of nerves, taking in each twitch of your body, each dampened mewl, each falling tear. With each tap, the string of slick between your cunt and his length becomes more and more prominent, spreading across his skin. “Tell me, sweetie, who this belongs to,” Sylus compels with a drawl, jutting his chin towards your carnal source of torture before meeting your eyes. He knows very well that the word you're trying to say is “you”, but he takes great pleasure in knowing that there is no way the sounds will come through the soaked cotton in your mouth. “Hmm? What was that?” The frustration of not being able to clearly convey the right answers only adds to your arousal, turning the heat in your core into molten lava. At his clarifying question, you, undoubtedly, feel a pool of precum drip from your pussy, and when you see his eyes flit down to his cock in hand, you know he's fully aware of it too. They hone in on how easily the tip slips into your beckoning entrance, attempting to entice and draw him in for both your pleasures.

You keen as Sylus slides two fingers into your entrance without warning – they’re a far cry from his cock, but thick and long in their own desirable way. The tips of his fingers easily find the spot that makes you squirm, moan, mewl, and you’d have to be blind to miss the wicked expression splitting across his face. Despite the teasing attitude from earlier, he wastes no time trying to bring you to your peak. Your muffled cries only spur him on, even more so when he’s able to fit a third finger inside you. “Maybe I should let your neighbors hear us. I imagine it would get the message across that you’re not exactly…available.”

Embarrassing, what you would give in this very moment to be nothing more than his. Your hips follow the drag of his fingers, unwilling to let yourself feel anything less than filled. But before he lets you come, he stops.

Why?

“Greedy little thing.” His tone is mocking, yet highly amused, as he removes his fingers – and as much as he would like to play with you to his heart’s content, to break you down and tear you apart, his veins thrum with impatience and apprehension. Sylus seeks to punish you in a different, more overwhelming fashion, that would require you to beg him to stop rather than to start. It takes everything in him to not force you down his entire length. Instead, he devises to lull you into a false sense of security with the way that he takes his time sliding into you, no matter how much your pretty cunt desperately tries to suck him in. Sylus is sure you would be able to see the restraint painted across his face if you didn’t have your head thrown back and back arched from being stretched open. The sight of your bare stomach and chest makes it all the much harder to reign in his desires.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His cock continues to bully its way through your pussy, slowly and languidly, until it’s fully trapped inside you. When your thighs meet his v-line and your clit brushes against his skin, you whine and buck against him for desperately needed friction. But Sylus quickly traps you and pins you down from your thighs, restricting your movements with a devilish grin. “You never answered my question,” he reminds you, a clear taunt. In the blink of an eye, he leans back to land a firm yet stinging slap on your puffy clit and revels in your muffled cry. “Who does this belong to?”

Your dry sobs only intensify as you fight to respond with a clear answer, but it’s impossible. The way you grind your hips against him, seeking any sensation that could help quench this insatiable thirst in your core, should say enough. Sure, you could simply point at him, even with your wrists tied together, but you’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants the words of possession to roll off your tongue at times like these. And if you tried taking the cloth from your mouth…needless to say, you would be lucky to survive the night.

He chuckles when he feels the walls of your pussy tighten around his cock, a different tone that deviates from the vicious shake of your head to signal that despite your complaints, you would much rather be gagged like this. “Cum for me,” Sylus demands in a low voice. “Cum for me, cum from me just being inside you, and I will give you what you’ve been begging for this whole time.

“Even better yet, make a mess.”

The coil in your core tightens more and more and more until it suddenly snaps, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm and your throat hoarse from your silenced screams. “Good girl,” he praises when he pulls out, hungry eyes roaming every inch of you, as he rapidly swipes his fingers against your clit and relishes in his ability to make you squirt, fluids flying and landing messily in the near vicinity. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get over the high, oversensitivity from his fingers as they continue to stimulate you. Barely coming down from your climax, Sylus stuffs three fingers inside you and continues to fuck you, purposefully and forcefully rocking against your g-spot.

“Please,” you beg and cry as you twitch and flinch, trying to remove yourself from the source of this unbearable amount of pleasure. But your articulation is, once again, victim to your cotton gag, leaving you to audibly dry sob and squeal in overstimulation. The satisfaction on your sponsor’s complexion should sound the alarms in your brain, but it only thrills you to pieces as clarity fades more and more from your conscience.

In a haze, you manage to pull your belt-bound wrists forward from above your head and tap his shoulder three times. Only then does he stop in his tracks, carefully removing his fingers from your core. Sylus exhibits the same attention when he holds your chin with one hand and takes the soaked cotton of your panties out of your mouth. Before you can even take two breaths, greedily gasping for air, Sylus kisses you softly, slowly. Unable to do much with your head still in a fog, you reciprocate as much as you can – to silently thank him for his punishment, as well as his mercy. He pulls back, cueing you to open your eyes and take him in, just as he assesses you in his own way. His eyes search and roam your face and figure before meeting your gaze once more.

How endearing, you believe they seem to say. He cocks an eyebrow, his way of asking are you okay? You take a few deep breaths before nodding. But before you can try and decipher more of what he may be feeling through his eyes, he bends forward, breathing into your ear, “On your stomach.”

Large, strong hands manhandle you until your head is almost buried into the sheets, hiding your disheveled state, your hands grasping at the expensive linen, and his weight planted firmly on top of you. A pillow is stuffed beneath your abdomen before he spreads your ass, eager to study the ruin he has caused on your poor, little pussy. Sylus readjusts himself so that his dick nestles comfortably between your ass cheeks. Even in your daze, the heat of his arousal almost seems to burn your flesh, and you desperately wish it was inside you. 

A self-proclaimed mind reader, Sylus drives you to the edge, groaning quietly when your cunt attempts to lure him in when he coquettes you with the tip. Every slide, every push, every instance of friction makes you fall deeper into this pool of anguish and lechery. Before you even realize it, visceral pleas for him to fuck you are spilling from your tongue, very much so to his delight. “I know you can beg better than that,” he taunts. “And to think I had trained you so well.” His voice reeks in mock despair and disappointment.

Though you know he’s not completely serious, his words are enough to send your sin-addled brain into a state of panic – so panicked and shaken to the point that you don't even register the next words falling off your tongue. Something about the practiced but genuine phrases of separation, wanting to be used, wanting to be ruined – were you pressing back into him, hoping, praying that you could draw him into you?

In response, you soak in the hisses of expletives in your ear, the comforting, mind-numbing sensation of being filled again, and the weight of his frame atop yours. He holds himself up on his elbows, and each thrust threatens to split you in two. “Mine,” his voice slips through your conscience, hanging onto the way the sound drags out, “are you not?”

Always, you nearly answer on primal instinct when he buries himself as deep as he can inside you, his cock almost feeling like it’s in the back of your throat. The inexplicable amount of pleasure stops you from giving him what he wants, which pushes him to press himself even harder against you. “I’m beginning to lose my patience, kitten,” Sylus warns, as if he’s not the very reason for your delayed responses. His fingers sneak underneath you to grab you around the neck, forcing your head up. Your pants are greedy, desperately seeking air as his hand tightens just a bit more, the haziness in your mind thickening.

“Yours,” you gasp. “Always,” slips off your tongue before you can stop yourself.

The silence that hangs still is enough to make you question whether or not you fucked this whole thing up. Dread begins to drip into your system as his grip around your neck loosens, even more so when his hand slips away entirely and he begins sliding out of you. “Wa–”

In the blink of an eye, his hand pushes your head back into the sheets, his fingers curling around your strands at the scalp. Sylus’s cock fucks you into the mattress, his pace almost frantic, yet punishing. The realization that you’re going to be incredibly sore in the morning is an accepted assumption at this point, leaving you with little warning of your release approaching the precipice. Silenced cries, Sylus fervidly ensuring that your pussy is forever molded to the shape of his length, your sanity slipping – his impassioned murmurs of how tight you are, how easily he can pound you into oblivion, how your pussy makes it so easy for him to sink into the very depths of your core – all drive you to your peak. His last sign that you’re going to come is the dissipation of your whimpers.

Sylus wraps his hand around your neck once more, turning it so that he can capture your lips in a bruising kiss. He swallows your screams as you topple over the edge, your climax so intense that your whole body trembles for what feels like eternity in his hold. Your pussy compels him to remain buried deep inside you, and he’s more than happy to comply. But it doesn’t stop him from grinding against you, driving you into overstimulation.

“So good,” he groans against your lips in between kisses. “So fucking good, taking my cock so well, I’m gonna–”

“Y-your cum, please,” you urge. “Please give me your cum!” Your voice dissolves into sobs.

“Fuck!” Sylus spits out. The hand that was on your neck now covers your mouth as he spills inside you with a deep moan, his teeth buried into your shoulder to muffle his own voice. You relish in the sharp pain, as if he’s trying to engrave his mark into your skin, and can’t help but keen as his cum fills you up. Each pulse and twitch of his cock sends a shiver down your spine and almost tempts you into begging for more.

Catching his breath, he refuses to leave your warmth. His tongue softly licks the area where his teeth had embedded themselves into your shoulder, and follows them with reverent kisses. You remain quiet, only letting your breath hitch when Sylus slips out of you. He gently presses your back into a deeper arch so that you can present yourself to him, and he watches with apparent satisfaction as his cum leaks from your pussy. A hand on your ass, his thumb reaches over for your entrance to push and give him a better view of his undeniable claim on you.

As infuriating as he can be, you observe with bleary eyes as he leaves to grab a damp towel from your bathroom before returning and carefully wiping his cum away. After doing so, he tosses it to the floor and picks you up bridal-style, carrying you the short distance to your bathroom. He starts the shower and hums some nonsensical tune with a faint voice as you wait for the water to warm up. When he deems it hot enough, Sylus offers you a hand and helps you into the shower. Compared to his apartment, your shower stall is barely enough to fit the both of you. But he makes it work, taking the utmost care in cleaning you up, his touch so cautious yet heavy with care.

You barely remember making it out of the shower, much less when he dries you off and brings you to bed. There’s a faint memory of his warmth wrapping around your frame when you awaken later that morning, a delicious ache stretched through your muscles. Yet the side where he laid is cold.

It, along with the unread text from your bank notifying you of a, no doubt, sizeable deposit, is to be expected, you remind yourself. The sticky note by your phone that reads, “Early meeting, sweetie. -S” is the only truly physical (and unexpected) sign that he had been here in the first place. He never owes you an explanation, and you never expect to get one.

Just another day, another transaction.

-

Friday rolls around, and when the sun has set beneath the horizon, you find yourself perched in Sylus’s home on the kitchen island, a speckless slab of black quartz that you just know you’re leaving fingerprints on, as he throws together a salad. Something is in the air fryer, and he has a bottle of sparkling cider waiting to be opened. Sylus had stopped you with a look of “don’t you dare” when you tried helping out with something – anything – so the only thing you could do was sit and try to look pretty.

“Pick a salad dressing,” he commands when you grow silent. You eye the three jars that have been placed in front of you.

“I’m fine with any of them.”

“Not an answer.”

“I’m serious though!”

“Pick one.”

You groan as you look at the jars and point at the middle one. “Happy now?” you ask passive aggressively, sending him an exasperated glare.

Sylus, swift and silent, swoops in and steals a kiss from an unexpected you. Saying nothing, he pours some out into the salad bowl and mixes it all together with adept flicks of his wrist – no utensils needed. With a pair of tongs, he drops some greens onto your plate before taking the rest and tending to whatever is cooking in the oven.

It’s not the first time you’ve been here, and it’s not the first time he’s cooked for you. But it is the first time since accepting that you may feel something more than obligation and friendly affection for this man. This whole experience feels wildly domestic, as if you belonged…here.

On this counter.

Accepting impromptu kisses.

Waiting on food cooked by him.

Knowing you’re staying over for the night.

As if you were meant to be a part of his life.

The thought terrifies you, without a doubt, but you like it. Settling down with Sylus, forever attached at his hip at events, is a dangerous fantasy.

Lost in your thoughts, the what if?s, the possibilities, your daydream breaks when he pulls the curtain closed in front of the balcony door, completely blocking a wonderful (and surely, very expensive) view of Linkon. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you had been looking past the windowpane when frolicking around in your imagination, and you’re reminded of the night before you disconnected your smart watch from his phone. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You feel the heat rushing into your cheeks, knowing they would be warm to the touch. Turning away from the now-concealed nighttime skyline, you direct your attention to the fridge meters away from you. “Just thinking about my test.”

“It’s too late now, if you realize you got something wrong. We’re here to celebrate it being over.”

“I know.” You sigh. “Thank you for doing this, by the way. I was getting a little tired of eating out.”

“I was as well. Too many business lunches and dinners the last couple of weeks.”

“How did those go?” you ask just to keep the conversation going.

“They went fine,” Sylus says without any further detail. “Come, let’s eat.” Before you can come down from the counter yourself, he already has an arm wound around your waist and is semi-carrying you to the dinner table. The distance between the table and the kitchen was maybe fifteen steps at best, closer to seven given Sylus’s long strides. It would’ve been a short walk regardless, and you’re flustered with the unexpected royal treatment.

Unceremoniously (but still carefully), he sits you down into a chair and pushes it in before going to his seat. Sylus places himself next to you at this round, mahogany table that seems a little too big for a man who lives alone. Largely used for serving several different dishes, it just looks a little out of place compared to the rest of his penthouse, all sleek and sharp. But you’ve learned to stop questioning things you’re curious about when it comes to his personal life, because clearly, he’s not very open to sharing those details.

Dinner isn’t anything special, as Sylus lets you prattle on about your research and other office gossip. He never divulges any of the gossip in his own workplace, but you understand it’s for confidentiality reasons. And he may just not care that much. At this point, Sylus knows a little too much about you while you know very little about him outside of his preferences and inclinations for food, media, and general daily habits.

Understanding the reality of that stun locks you for a few seconds – the duality of the word intimacy, the realization that you don’t even know Sylus’s favorite color. You could guess, sure, but you don’t definitively know. Why is it that you know the exact amount of shaved truffle on his pasta at that fancy restaurant by the river, but not his birthday? How do you explain your ability to pick up on details of his facial expressions at events and banquets, therefore knowing when to intervene so he can get a break from these people, but not the makeup of his family?

“You’ve been staring off into space quite a bit lately,” Sylus muses, ripping you away from the beginnings of your mental breakdown.

“Sorry, I just thought of something about my exam again.”

“What a terrible host I’ve been then, to allow your mind to wander so often. How can I keep your focus on me?”

You hum, looking around his apartment and then at the table. “Let me wash the dishes.”

“I own a dishwasher for a reason.”

“Please? It’s the least I could do since you made dinner – which was wonderful, by the way. You ever consider becoming a chef?” you ask with a slight chuckle, taking the opportunity to grab his dishware and utensils and carry them to the sink. Stainless steel shines brightly at you, whether from a recent deep clean or lack of usage, as you start to run the tap for warm water.

Large, familiar hands find their home on your waist, the heat burning through your sweater. They pull you against his frame, and you allow yourself to lean back a little bit as you start scrubbing the porcelain. Arms wind around your middle and hold you tight, his senses becoming muddled as he loses himself in your scent and touch. He gently paints the column of your neck with soft, faint kisses – so soft that if you hadn’t been so tuned into him, you would’ve missed them.

“You’re taking too long,” Sylus murmurs against your skin.

“What, never had to wait a tiny bit for a treat you want?” you tease, and chuckle when his teeth bite into your shoulder.

“Brat.”

“I’m almost done, I promise.” 

It’s so hard to not like–

Your brain freezes – but somehow still commands you to scrub the plate in your hand. Moving on pure muscle memory now, you have maybe five seconds to figure out your own thought process.

This is a contract, you remind yourself. This is a mutual relationship to satisfy both parties’ needs without getting personal feelings involved. Sylus made that very clear in the beginning. But the less logical part of your conscience creeps in like a phantom on your shoulder. So how does that explain Sylus’s actions recently? How does that explain this very moment of what would appear to anyone as a sweet, pure, domestic interaction?

He’s just comfortable, you rationalize.

Why does he insist on you staying the night?

Because that’s what this contract entails.

Why does he keep asking you to move closer?

It’d be more of a problem if he was asking me to move in with him.

Would it be though?

Of course??

You sure about that?

This is NOT the time for--!

A small pinch on your waist brings you back to reality, your synapses firing on overdrive to try to get you back to a functional level. You cannot hold back your “ow!”, which seems to be just enough of a reaction to satisfy this man.

“What was that for?!”

“Something is clearly on your mind,” he says in a low tone, the tone that indicates he’s starting to become agitated.

“No there’s not,” you retort and fail to hide the sheepishness in your own voice.

“You’re doing a terrible job at convincing me to accept that. What are you not telling me?”

“It’s–,” you pause, scrambling for words. “--trivial, at best.”

Sylus’s arm extends in front of you to forcibly remove the plate from one hand and the sponge from the other. You relent to reduce the risk of breaking anything, but somehow, it’s still not enough. He grabs a tea towel hanging on the oven door behind him, spins you around so that your back is now digging into the edge of the sink, and proceeds to furiously dry your hands. You can’t help but wince when he tries to rub off some dried soap residue, but there is no time to dwell on it.

Not when Sylus slings the towel on to his shoulder and bends at the waist to meet your eyes. Not when he cages you between his arms as his hands bear his weight on either side of you. Not when he pins you with an expectant glare, demanding your full honesty.

“It’s really nothing.” Your tone is firmer now, but he doesn’t fall for it.

“Is it something personal?”

“...yes.”

“Does it have anything to do with your family?”

“No.”

“Is it something that I’m able to fix?

Technically, yes. But you’re not stupid.

“No.” Your voice softens, lowering to a murmur at best.

“Tsk,” Sylus clicks his tongue. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you have a large enough influence to make you think that you can fix anything you want.”

“Precisely,” he responds pointedly and, perhaps, a little too proudly. “So tell me. Tell me what’s bothering you, and I’ll have it resolved within 48 hours.”

You didn’t realize that you had stopped looking him in the eye. And when you do, your breath hitches. So determined, so resolute.

And yet, so heartbreaking.

You can’t help but let your fingers ghost over his cheek, tracing the edge of his jawline. He stands firm even when you step forward and press a light kiss against his cheek. As if on instinct, he turns and immediately parts his lips to slide against yours, but you pull back before he has the chance to deepen it, and with it, your affection.

“You have enough to worry about as it is,” you murmur. “I’m fine, really.”

Sylus’s eyes turn disapproving, doubtful. But he knows when to back off when needed.

“Don’t forget that I can help you, should you need it,” he gently reminds you. “Do you understand?”

“I do, don’t worry.”

He sighs. “Very well then. Now come, we’re here to celebrate the end of your exam, after all.”

You take his outstretched hand, but you fail to leave behind your troubled heart.

-

Two nights later, at four in the morning, you stare blankly at your phone screen.

[Are you sure you want to request to terminate this contract?]

The only contact you've had with Sylus the last two days is sporadic texts about little things, like how your day was going or if you'd heard about the results of your exam yet. You do your best in suppressing the quiet loneliness that pushes your heart to your throat and a dagger into your stomach, the undeniable sensation of realizing that you miss Sylus.

Missing him as if he were your actual partner and not just one for show with dollar signs behind the scenes.

Worrying enough to wonder if he's getting enough sleep and eating enough food outside of whatever work dinners or lunches he may be obligated to attend. Just yesterday, you had ordered delivery to his office with your own money, and he had texted you a simple Thank you, little one. To which you responded with a casual, You're welcome 👍.

Smooth.

You're not sure how long your eyes linger over the [Yes] button, the midnight minutes blinking by as you contemplate your next move. Is this the right call? Should you wait until Sylus comes around and tells you on his own about the arranged marriage? Should you just wait until he makes the request instead?

No. You want a clean break. You want to call this off on your terms, essentially saving yourself from the path of destruction that you would undoubtedly set off on. One tap and a press of the lock button immediately after, you burrow yourself into your blankets and will yourself to sleep.

With light sleep at best, you watch with bleary eyes as the sun begins to rise, casting your room into a hue of its golden hour, signifying contentment and new beginnings. But it only elicits dread as you wait for the inevitable end.

-

The shriek of your phone rips you from your mindless daydreaming, and you know who it is before you can even get a good look at the screen.

“Hel–”

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice rings dark, irate, with what you think is the slightest hint of panic laced beneath each syllable.

“Sylus,” you start, but he interrupts you again.

“If I did something to upset you, then you need to let me know. Otherwise, I am at a complete loss for your sudden request to terminate our agreement.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Your attempt to subdue his worries may be futile, but you at least have to try.

“And I’m sure you can see why I don’t believe you for even a second.”

“I mean it though,” you refute. “Look, I’ll explain more when we meet with the company rep.”

“My patience is running thin. Tell me now.”

“Please, please just wait until we meet this evening,” you beseech, on the brink of breaking down while walking back to your apartment from class.

“It was simply a mistake, right?”

“Sylus, please–”

“Fine. Don’t be late.” The beep that follows indicates he has hung up on you. You suppose you got what you wanted, but it feels a hundred times worse.

There will never be enough time in the world for you to be prepared for this moment, standing in the ascending elevator of a discrete yet well-kept high-rise building while clutching a manilla envelope in your hand. The last time you were here was to outline the conditions of the situation with a representative there to help mitigate and ensure that both parties would be satisfied. You suppose they’ll be doing the same thing today, except it would be to ensure a clean split.

As the secretary walks you to the designated conference room, your legs tremble, even more so when she casually adds that Sylus was already here, waiting. She stops and knocks on the door in front of her, announcing your arrival. A sound of approval from inside cues her to open the door and let you in, and you nervously step inside after thanking her. Not that you didn’t believe her earlier, but actually seeing Sylus in the flesh somehow adds to the gravity of the situation.

“We have both parties here now, so let us begin,” the representative says after greeting you with a handshake. Calling out your name and gesturing to you, he states,” You are the one that called to terminate this contractual agreement, is that correct?”

“Yes,” you confirm in a shaky voice and clear your throat. A copy of the contract sits in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the letters that are starting to blur and swirl together. If it means that you don’t have to look at Sylus, you’ll take it.

“Is the reason for the termination due to any violations of the terms and conditions set at the initial meeting?”

“No.”

Despite keeping your head down, you see and hear Sylus shift in his chair. A sudden chill wraps around you, and you slightly shiver.

“Mr. Qin, to your knowledge, did she violate any part of the contract?”

“No.”

“Now let us discuss financial compensation.” Looking towards you again, he asks, “Have you been financially compensated for your services?”

“More than adequately.”

“Per the contract, are there any services you have not been paid for?”

You shake your head. “Sylus does not owe me anything.”

“Then as per company policy, once one party calls for the termination of the contract, the request must be honored to protect the safety of both parties. Any services that were not compensated for would have to be done here in this meeting, but that is not a concern in this case. Please give me a few minutes to draw up the agreement to terminate so that you both can sign it.” The representative gets up and leaves the conference room.

Sylus steals the opportunity to ask the one question that has been on repeat in his mind since he received the notification.

“Why?”

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Sylus relatively well over the last year. Given your lack of explanation over the phone earlier, you know your words alone would never be enough to placate him. With shaky hands, you retrieve the envelope from your lap and slide it across the table, even daring to finally look up at him now. His crimson eyes nearly break you, but you’re grasping onto every last straw to keep yourself sane.

Inside the envelope contained a couple of pictures found online of Sylus’s arranged fiancée, as well as several news articles discussing how her company may be heading towards a merger, but it was unclear on exactly when it would happen and who it would be with. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that you’ve seen her several times in passing at various events and fundraisers, and that she and the man sitting across you seemed to avoid each other in public as inconspicuously as possible. You warily watch as he pulls the contents out and freezes, his gaze snapping back to you.

“How did you…?” he inquires.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” you respond softly before switching to a more matter-of-fact tone. “We knew this would come to an end at some point. Considering your arrangement isn’t known to the public yet, it was fine to be seen with me. But when this news breaks out, and if you’re still associated with me, it wouldn’t look good for either of you. You don’t need the reputation as a two-timing womanizer, and she doesn’t need to be publicly perceived as some poor woman who couldn’t keep a hold on you, therefore undermining her achievements.”

“You should have talked to me before going straight to nullifying our contract,” he fires back.

“That would’ve made it harder.”

Sylus leans back in his seat, now regarding you with piqued curiosity. “Made what harder?”

“Maybe that’s not the right expression.” Your palms are starting to get sweaty again, even as they curl and clench tighter than ever, your fingers digging into your palms. There's nothing you can do that would eradicate the shakiness in your voice. “I just meant that talking before now would've made everything complicated.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do elaborate.”

 “Well, I thought,” you stammer. “I mean– it’s just talking would’ve, would’ve– let some—” You pause again, desperately trying to find the right words. “Would’ve let some things be said that would’ve, you know, been better to be left unsaid. About us. Between us. Does that make sense?” Your hands have been drawing inane shapes in the air as if they would help aid in Sylus’s (and your) understanding.

“Better unsaid by you or me?”

After a few seconds, you answer hesitantly, “Both, maybe?”

For the first time in months, there are no emotions in his eyes. You have always been able to pick out at least something he may be feeling – affection, frustration, fatigue, lust – but to be on the receiving end of his blank stare like it’s the first day all over again, is unnerving. Agonizing, too.

When he finally opens his mouth, his tone dripping with disdain and mockery, he derides, “Who knew the little kitten thought so highly of herself?”

His words immediately trigger an alarming amount of shame and embarrassment. Have you been reading too much into his actions? Was it all in your head? Did it all occur out of some desperation for something genuine from him?

Oh God.

It’s at this moment that the representative comes back with the papers in hand, and part of you is ready to believe that there may actually be a higher power in the universe. “Thank you for your patience. Once you both have signed the termination agreement, I will make copies for both of you.” He seems completely unaware of the tension that has solidified between you and the CEO, even as you take the pen from the representative with a slight tremor. You quickly scan over the contents because you’re having an increasingly difficult time finding the brain cells to scrutinize each sentence and sign on the indicated lines. After you all but shove the papers across the table, you push your seat back and grab your purse.

“Oh, miss,” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“You can just email me a copy of these. Excuse me, I have something urgent to get to.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before giving a corporate smile. “Of course. Thank you for coming in. Have a good rest of your night.”

“Thank you. You as well.” Your platitude is rushed, almost harsh sounding. You mentally note that you need to send a card that is both a thank-you and an apology for scurrying off like this when you were the one to initiate it.

The walls feel like they’re closing in on your brain and consciousness, so much so that you suddenly find yourself out in the lobby of the building with no recollection of how you even got down here. A gust of fresh air hits you as you step out the doors, and it’s a little easier to breathe now. But it doesn’t mean that your chest isn’t ready to burst, your ribcage threatening to tear open and leave you passed out on the street. It doesn’t mean that Sylus’s words don’t hurt you any less, and the pain of your own embarrassment only compounds on them.

The uncharacteristic chill on this summer night scrapes against your cheeks and ears. You finally will yourself to walk towards the nearest subway station, all the while blinking back tears that just won’t stop coming. Never mind the other pedestrians who may catch a glimpse of you wiping away any physical manifestation of your grief, the other subway riders who may observe you desperately hiding in a corner of the carriage, or even the other residents in your apartment building who watch you furiously tapping your phone while passing by.

With nothing to stop you, not even your own will, you let the tears flow, streaming down the sides of your face and into your pillow as you trace the ridges of your wall, your phone lying innocently a few inches away. Despite deleting his phone number and officially disconnecting on the website, you can’t bring yourself to discard his message thread. There were too many memories, too many reminders of what you once had and will probably never have again.

Your pillow becomes damp with tears of confusion, shame, and regret. How could you be so stupid,so caught up in your own delusions that Sylus Qin, tech mogul and CEO, one of the most secretive and sought-out individuals of the current decade, with connections you couldn’t even dare to dream of, somehow held a shred of genuine affection for you? How could you have thought that his demands to see you night after night were anything more than just wanting some type of company, the kind that does what he says and strokes his ego? How could you have convinced yourself that you were actually special to him?

How could you have put yourself at so much emotional risk for something that was nothing but transactional to begin with? 

The next morning, with one look at your morose expression and the puffiness of your eyes, the other people in your cohort know better than to ask if you’re okay. During the lecture, Jiho silently hands you a piece of gum, a tiny, reoccurring gesture of camaraderie throughout these years of graduate school, as an attempt at providing some type of normalcy. Your movements are sluggish and lethargic as you fold the strip into your mouth, but it’s the first time in the last 18 hours that you feel like things might…just be okay.

-

Two days later, an email comes from the company telling you it is policy to change your phone number, and they will financially compensate for the cost of a new SIM card since it is an inconvenience to you. Hours later, you find yourself in front of a cellphone technician who is setting up the new SIM card. As they type in a few things on their computer, they hand you a pin to help eject your current one. You’re not looking forward to the hassle of telling everyone that your number has changed and fixing it in everything you have that involves your number, but even you understand that this is the first step to a fresh start. Sylus is probably going through the same process, if he already hasn’t gotten it done.

And as your phone sets everything up with the new number, you stare at your closet, now stuffed to the brim with dresses and skirts that you may never wear again. Nothing you do from now on would ever require such formalities. The knowledge of it stings to some degree when you find a large, empty bin that was used when you had moved in. Without ceremony, you begin the mindless task of removing said clothing items from their hangers and folding them into the container. You don’t want to cry. You don’t expect to cry. But the steady streaks of tears dripping down your face is enough to show how much you grew to cherish your time with Sylus.

Time that you will never be able to return to.

[fin]

.

.

.

.

“How did she know?”

“Sylus, what are you–”

“She knew,” Sylus cuts her off. “How could she have known without you tipping her off?”

“Think about this logically. I want this arrangement gone as much as you do, so why would I tell her? She’s your key to dissolving all this.”

“She was more than that.”  

“Was?”

“Shit,” Sylus curses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“...she left you?”

“No,” he retorts. “Not willingly.” At least, that’s what he wants to believe. “But I’m not discussing this with you.”

“And I don’t really care to know the details. So…what are we going to do?”

Sylus’s hand tightens around his newly acquired phone as he stands and gazes out the window at the city skyline from his bedroom. He might be starting to understand why you seemed so entranced by the view.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“I really hope so, Sylus.”

-

-

“Hey boss, we’re here for the daily debrief,” Luke and Kieran announce as they slip into his office and all but collapse into the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m listening,” Sylus says, keeping his eyes trained on his monitor.

“It was the usual. She woke up, skipped breakfast, went to class, stayed in the small office for her professor’s grad students for like, five hours. Uh, what else?”

“Bought a snack from that place in the library that sells coffee and shit,” the other twin adds. “Then she–”

“What snack did she buy?”

“Just some chips, from what we saw.” The twins look at each other and give a slight shrug.

“Did she eat lunch?” Sylus’s tone suggests that he could care less, despite having posed the question.

“She ate something while in the office, but it didn’t look like anything substantial. Oh, but she had a sandwich for dinner. She watched some TV – one of her comfort shows again – and scrolled on her phone while in bed. Did we miss anything?”

“I think that about covers it.”

Luke and Kieran sit in silence, waiting for Sylus’s dismissal. Said man continues to type away on his keyboard.

“Hey boss,” Kieran starts and immediately earns a “shut the fuck up” look from Luke. “We’ve been doing this for a year.”

“Which is fine,” Luke adds right after.  “We’re not complaining.”

“Right, we’re not complaining. But uhh,” Kieran continues. “How long do you expect for this to go on for?”

“As long as it needs to. You’re dismissed.”

Not long after the twins disappear from his view, he runs a hand through his silvery locks, frustration and tension evident in his strained tendons and veins. Sylus locks his computer and grabs the coat off his chair before sauntering down to his car many, many floors below where the parking garage is. But instead of walking towards his sports car, the one that had sat in a visitor spot of your apartment parking lot all those months ago, he makes his way to an unsuspecting black sedan, its brand common and inconspicuous. Without any need for a GPS, Sylus pulls out and drives to your apartment complex.

In the darkness of twilight and beneath the shadows of beechnut trees, he leans against the steering wheel and gazes up at your window, a luminescent yellow shimmering through the curtains. They haven’t been pulled completely shut, but there is nothing to see in the light regardless. The minutes that pass do not feel like time in any way as he sits in a somewhat meditative state, and the only thing that could snap him out of it is when your bedroom lights switch dark. In reality, fifteen minutes pass before he watches your shadow, then your figure, approach the windowpane.

Sylus takes the little time he has to observe you, to see if you appear any different than yesterday. Did you have a full meal? Was your research stressful? Were you making use of the money he had paid you before everything ended? Were you getting enough rest and nutrition?

When he can no longer see you, he falls back in his seat and lets out a heavy sigh, exhaustion weighing heavily on his eyes. Sylus starts his car and throws it in reverse, and he spends his twenty-minute drive home thinking about nothing but you, his cold, empty bed, and how maybe, as much as he wants to deny it on all fronts, you two were not meant to be. Yet he holds onto hope that he can defy that fate eventually, because whether you know it or not…

You will always be his.

[pink-amethyst-tarot]

🤍 Why You Should Be Proud Of Yourself 🤍

credit to @crystallilytarot for the idea 💕

P I L E 1 P I L E 2 P I L E 3

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the pile that you think is the one for you ♥

P I L E 1 - You have come so far! Four of Swords, The High Priestess, Two of Pentacles, Eight of Pentacles, Ten of Pentacles, The Fool, The Magician

The first thing I heard before even pulling cards is The Party's Just Begun by the Cheetah Girls and that feels like a sign that you should be having fun, dancing and living your life to the fullest! Your life can be so beautiful if you let it.

You know much more than you think that you do. I feel like you are back and forth between losing faith in yourself and feeling like you are finally breaking through. (I know what that's like, I've been there too much.) You've got to cut yourself some slack. Yeah, it's not perfect now but, you have made so much progress and that is important. You are so much closer to the finish line than you realize. Don't give up now. You've worked too hard and have come too far to give up now.

party cuz you know the future's all yours // dance 'til your feet don't touch the floor // celebrate the day you've waited for // party like you're ready for so much more // do it like you know it's never been done // go a little crazy // have too much fun //today's the day, c'mon everyone // the party's just begun //

Channeled song - The Party's Just Begun by The Cheetah Girls

P I L E 2 - Going With The Flow Two of Pentacles, Nine of Pentacles, Two of Wands (Reversed), Six of Pentacles, Justice, Queen of Pentacles, Eight of Swords

Despite your fear of change, you have overcome, finding your balance in your life and either now or soon, you will be enjoying the fruits of your labor. That could be financial abundance for this pile - it seems pretty likely, considering all the pentacles. You have been a very giving person and now it's time that people start giving to you in whatever way that may fit you.

You should also be proud of yourself for getting yourself to a point where you don't feel sorry for yourself. You've done the work to really see the truth of the situation - where you have been both right and wrong - and you've seen that you aren't as stuck as you once thought.

P I L E 3 - You've opened your heart again! King of Cups, Ten of Swords, Seven of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Swords, Eight of Pentacles (Reversed), The Moon, Ten of Cups

You've been through some hard times. I feel like your heart was really bruised and batter but, despite the things you have been through, you have taken your lemons and turned them into make lemonade! I can see some of you turning to writing, journaling, or posting on social media. You have been working on yourselves and you are so happy with the progress you've made. You should be proud of yourself; I know I am! This work you have done on yourself is leading you to a new beginning in your life, a change of pace that you have be dying to have!

Your dreams are coming true and your intuition is spot on! You are about to get everything you wanted and then some so you can relax and know that your life is about to change for the better.

If you are looking for a personal reading, you can look on my shop on Etsy at PinkAmethystTarot, DM me or send me an e-mail at pinkamethysttarot@gmail.com

If you feel called to tip:

C@SH@PP: $oddlycozycottage

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Thank you all so much for interacting with me and my readings, it really does mean the world to me!

Page Divider by @cafekitsune

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

[doraminatook]

We're About To Get Playfully Blasphemous Here (or...The Metaphorical Death and Resurrection of Me)

2023 was the year I turned 33, and in case you didn’t know, many religious scholars cite that as the age Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead.  Now, within literature there’s a trope called the Christ-like figure in which a character sacrifices themself and from that death, something happens in order to advance the plot.  Usually that something is either the “dead” character rising from the ashes and obtaining new powers (think Gandalf the Grey battling the Balrog and then coming back as Gandalf the White) or the protagonist being so moved by the death of this secondary character that they are reborn in some way (think Red Badge of Courage’s Jim Conklin (JC…get it?) whose death changes Henry’s opinion on war.)

Because I’m a storyteller and have a dark sense of humor, I began to wonder if I would somehow have a Christ-like-figure-moment within my thirty-third year of life.  (Not long after my birthday, I told my mom that I just had to make it to 34 and then I would have “beaten” Jesus; being a good Lutheran woman, she did not appreciate this joke.)

Now, I may be reaching or forcing figurative imagery into the literal world (isn’t that what artists do?), but I think I did have a “death” and consequential “resurrection”.  

I’m at a strange place in my writing career in that I am not famous (by any means) but I’m also not considered emerging.  Recently, I was told by a theater that I should “sit this contest out” and give someone else a chance but at the same time my work has not been produced enough to catch an agent’s eye.  (It doesn’t help that theatre companies have an intense fixation on world premieres.  They want to be the first one to do the show, apparently assuming that as soon as a piece gets produced once, that means it’s finished.  But that’s a rant for another day.) 

Currently I live in Milwaukee and for a long time I thought (or at least hoped) that I could maybe just make it work here; it is technically a theater town.  Add to that the fact that my whole family lives in Wisconsin, my financial situation was not ideal, and my best friend (platonic soulmate) had made it fairly clear to me that she did not wish to move away from Milwaukee.  When I was honest with myself, I knew that I wanted to get out, but there were so many things holding me back from making the jump.  

As soon as the thought of moving away entered my head, Anxiety would perk up.  Always eager to be the backseat driver, it would shout things like, “Isn’t life here good enough for you?  You’ve got a roof over your head, a job that allows you to pursue your passion, and you’re perfectly healthy.  Be grateful for what you have and stop expecting something more!” 

I attended a workshop for other playwrights from the area and, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I didn’t have a lot in common with many of them.  Discussions and questions whirled around about how we find time to write, where we get inspiration, and how we format a script properly.  Some of the writers present had never even finished a full script.  I certainly am not bringing this up in order to shame anyone, but it was an eye-opening experience for me.  Was I a proverbial big fish in a little pond?

My anxiety had an opinion for that, too.  

“Wow!  Way to be egotistical, D!  You think you’re so much better than everyone here?  Get over yourself!  You’re not special.  You’re just another ‘artist’ who thinks they’ve got something special to say!”

A few weeks later I was at my cousin’s wedding and after the ceremony, he approached me to offer congratulations for all the success I’ve had…only to then immediately cut me off guard with the question, “So when are you moving to New York?”  As the groom, he was quickly called away for photographs and I never really got to answer his question.  

If this moment had been in a play, the spotlight would have hit me right then and there and I would have begun some contemplative soliloquy where I openly pondered, “New York, eh?  Maybe I should go to New York!”

Obviously, as a theatre person, the idea of moving to New York had crossed my mind; it’s the theatre capital of the US for obvious reasons.  But, at the same time, New York just didn’t feel like me.  (I have a lot of opinions on NYC, especially when it comes to the outrageous ticket prices.  When it costs a small fortune to see a Broadway show, art becomes a luxury rather than a necessity.  But that’s a rant for another day.)  It certainly seemed daunting, and every good dream should be at least a little daunting.  But New York was daunting without being exciting.  It felt like something I should do…something that was expected of me.

LA didn’t do it for me, either.  Nor Seattle.  I considered many locations, but nothing really made me sit up and take notice.  I wasn’t about to dive headfirst into debt and throw away a good thing unless it was something that truly excited me…something that was enticing enough to spark a change.  

Again, Anxiety spoke up, “Calm the fuck down, D!  New York?  Even if that is what you wanted, they’d eat you alive there!  You’re a soft midwestern girl who can’t take criticism and cries at the drop of a hat!  You really think you could handle New York or LA?  Also, the cost of living in any of those places is way more than you will ever hope to make!  Stick with Submission Helper.  Stick with the contests and the festivals.  Go back to dreaming only as big as The Milwaukee Repertory Theatre.  Sit down and shut up!”

It may have gone on like this…if not for the summer of 2023.

Close your eyes and picture it: WGA strike, Barbenheimer, The Eras Tour, OceanGate, the Grimace Birthday shake…and in the midst of it all, I was having an epiphany.  

A favorite television show of mine dropped its latest season and I eagerly pulled out the Chardonnay and the popcorn to binge it all.  The vast majority of the show takes place in London and features several actors whom I admire greatly.  Between the giggles, sobs, and various twists and turns of the emotional rollercoaster that was Season 2, something all at once occurred to me.

This is what I want.  

That’s where I want to be.  

I want to move to the United Kingdom.

Was it daunting?  Hell yeah, it was daunting.  

And it was exciting.  

It was a dream that excited me.  

It burned inside me.  

It raged.

It burned so hot that I didn’t know what to do with it.  I paced around my tiny apartment, simply stunned by the prospect of it all.  

Anxiety was in the process of drinking a quad shot espresso con panna and promptly did a spit take upon hearing this new idea.  In a frenzied panic, it bellowed, “Are you nuts?  What the hell do you think you’re doing?  YOU can’t move to the UK!  It would be so difficult!  You’d need to apply for a Visa…or something like that!  Do you even know how to apply for a Visa!”  

“No,” I metaphorically replied, “but I could learn.”

“I bet it’s super difficult!” Anxiety shot back, trembling in fear, “I bet it’s expensive and complicated and you’ll never figure it out!  I bet your sense of humor wouldn’t translate!  I bet you’d end up broke and living under a bridge and crying because you threw away this good thing you had!”

For a split second, Anxiety almost won…but somehow, prompted by the promise of this new dream, I dared to ask, “But what if it worked out?  What if I could figure it out?  What if I somehow scraped up the money and did the research and filed the paperwork and just made it work?”

If it were a play, I would have been standing center stage, staring out into the audience like some kind of dramatic hero and whispering hopefully, “Yes…what if…?”  

It has been a long road to get here, but, despite what Anxiety likes to tell me, I did figure it out.  The process has been stressful enough to induce atypical Shingles and a few anxiety attacks, but it’s happening.  It’s actually happening!

This October I’m going to grad school at the University of Essex where I’ll pursue my masters degree in Scriptwriting.  I’ll hone my skills as a playwright while learning the ins and out of writing for film, television, and radio.  I’ll take the train into London on the weekends and see every show I can at the National Theatre.  I’ll get new life experiences.  I’ll do my best to explore every inch of that beautiful island.  I’m going to do something new because it’s scary and, most importantly, it’s exciting.  

(To add to the awesomeness of this new adventure, my best friend (platonic soul mate) is moving with me and pursuing her own dreams of studying acting…also at the University of Essex.)

My “death” was not as dramatic or world-changing as Jesus’s, but it gave way to a new life for me.  The power of storytelling combined with a newfound confidence was enough to catapult me into something new, something different.    

And I know you’re wondering what show I was watching that prompted this sudden change; if you know anything about me, you’ve probably guessed it already.  

Along with seeing as much theatre as I can on my visits to London, I also plan to have surreptitious meetings at The Bandstand, feed ducks some frozen peas at St. James’s Park, and maybe help avert an apocalypse (or two).  My birthday is in January and it just so happens that Season 3 is scheduled to begin filming around that time; perhaps on my winter holiday, I’ll put myself onto a train and take myself up to Edinburgh.  I have so many thoughts on what could possibly happen next to my favorite angel and demon…but that’s a rant for another day.

(Fun fact: I say this line at least once a week...if only to myself.)

[sanjoongie]

𝕮𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝕷𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌

ღPairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader (f) ღAu: sugar daddy au, rich! hongjoong, ballerina au, poor!reader ღTrope: one sided pining, acquaintances to lovers ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut, pwp ღWarnings: sugar daddy themes, sex for money, pre-agreed upon free use, rough sex, spit play, oral, fingering, manhandling, sex without a condom, choking, finger sucking, degradation, multiple orgasms, slight corruption kink if you squint, dacryphilia, ass slapping ღWord Count: 1,632 ღSummary: with no where to go but to the man who is willing to pay money for access to your body, you give it to him for twenty four hours in order to pay rent ღDedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland for suffering through the beta-ing of this fic 😜

The first time you offered your body up to Kim Hongjoong, he smiled with all of his teeth and none of his eyes.

“What am I, your tithe lord?” The problem with Kim Hongjoong is that he was smart… and he knew it.

You were terrified of not making rent and Hongjoong had been offering to be your sugar daddy for a while now. Well, he had wanted to be in your life at any capacity and the want extended to any way to get his claws into you. He'd take sugar daddy, at the very least, to get access to your sweet body.

“I've never had a ballerina,” Hongjoong announced when Wooyoung introduced you to his friend group.

Yunho sent him a look of disbelief and then extended his hand to shake yours. Yunho’s was serious. When Hongjoong pushed out a tatted hand, fuck you spelled out between one middle finger and the other, black nails chipped but there, you wrinkled your nose at him.

You were as clean-cut as could be. You were a ballerina after all. Someone like Hongjoong smelled of bad mistakes and lost causes. You knew to stay far away from him. 

But Hongjoong was having none of that. He pursued you relentlessly and was more smug than a cat with his cream that you were wringing your hands on his couch, tears in your eyes about your financial situation. 

“24 hours.”

You sniffled loudly. “Excuse me?”

“I get your body for 24 hours and I get unlimited access,” Hongjoong proposed.

“Are you…” You swallowed nervously, “Are you talking about free use?”

Hongjoong folded his arms behind his head. “Fuck you to my own personal preference. I’m not soft either, darling.”

“I…” You didn’t have much of a choice, did you? Either not pay rent or get fucked within an inch of your life. “Okay,” You nodded resolutely. 

It took Hongjoong all of a few minutes to send the money to you digitally and then he was moving down the couch, his thigh touching yours. “Twenty four hours starts now.”

Hongjoong stripped you of all your clothing until you were spread out on his bed, ripe for the taking. He spat on your cunt, letting a large glob gather at your hole, and then licked upwards with a grin. He worried at your clit roughly, sending sparks of pleasure immediately through your nerves, despite your protests that it was too much too soon. His fingers wiggled into you soon enough, vigorously pumping inside of you, tapping the spongy part inside of you that made you squirm. Hongjoong ripped your first orgasm from your body with his rough treatment of your body and you laid there panting and dizzy. 

If you had enough energy, you might have eyed his straining cock against his tight jeans but you were too busy trying to catch your breath to even contemplate what was going to take place next. Hongjoong pushed and prodded your body until you were sideways and tested out your flexibility. He pushed your right leg to be adjacent to your body, foot higher than your head, and he pushed into your hole. You groaned at the stretch. Even with the orgasm and Hongjoong scissoring you, you still weren’t prepared for how fucking fat his cock was. You whimpered and Hongjoong chuckled. “What’s wrong, darling? My cock too big for you?”

You shook your head, despite the tears beginning to form at the corner of your eyes. “No. I can take it,” You denied.

Hongjoong didn’t even bother to bottom out inside of you, he simply began to fuck your wet pussy. He watched as your lower lips hugged him as he pulled out, genuinely surprised at how well you were taking him. A loud, low moan pulled from your lips when his cockhead passed over that spot inside of you and he grinned. 

“Finally understanding that a good, rough fuck is something you need, huh darling?” He moved his hips against your body, leg over his shoulder now, searching out for his release. He wasn’t one to come easily but he did fuck you through a second orgasm, in which your entire body tensed and a silent scream kept your mouth open. 

Hongjoong attempted another position, hoping perhaps he might fill you with some of his cum and see how much your tiny body could take of his type of sex. You were on your knees next, his hand wrapped around your throat, loosely at first. Once Hongjoong found a pace that had you bouncing on his dick and kept his dick firmly inside of you, his other fingers filled your mouth, countless, breathless cries muffled now because of his digits. He constricted your throat a few times, enjoying the way your cunt squeezed him when he let go and your pleasure was heightened. 

The third orgasm took longer for you to reach, but Hongjoong wasn’t in a hurry. He was genuinely enjoying how fucked out you were looking. Clearly no one had ever fucked you like he had and he was starting to think that you were missing out. 

“Gonna shake through another orgasm for me, darling?” Hongjoong said in a mocking sing-song voice, “I haven’t even cum once. You really are that fucking desperate for some dick, huh? You didn’t have to pretend you couldn't have paid rent. I could have fucked you good a long time ago.”

You shook your head, hands clawing at his forearms, he didn’t even care if you drew blood, he just wanted to fuck you through another mindblowing orgasm. “Hong--joong--hong--joong,” You said through each gasp he permitted through your throat. 

“You gonna beg? Beg to cum on my cock again? My cock really must be that good if you’re cumming a third time, hmmm?” Hongjoong continued to mock you, stroking his ego beyond reproach. 

“Puh-lee-ssss-uhhhh,” You said in a long drawn out breath.

Hongjoong let go of your throat in favor of grasping both of your hips with his hands. Your upper body collapsed against the bed. The only part of you upright, because of Hongjoong’s insistence, was your lower half. You practically screamed through your third orgasm, it hitting you so hard that you saw stars and didn’t know you were a corporeal being until Hongjoong slapped your ass and brought you back to reality.

“You’re not going to pass out, are you? I still need to stuff you with my cum, darling, come on now,” Hongjoong teased.

You almost spoke, but had to cough, because your poor throat was abused and it wasn’t even because Hongjoong had been squeezing it. “I don’t think--”

Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow at you. “Tapping out so quickly already? Twenty four hours, remember?”

Your pride wouldn’t let you tell him to stop. You had also never been fucked so well and thouroughly in your entire life, so you weren’t about to tell him to stop anyways. “I can do it,” You said weakly. 

Hongjoong laid down on his back, black t-shirt straining across his tits and patted his hip bone. You moved to straddle him, not quite sure how this position would continue to help him pound into you. But you did appreciate how angry and red and hard and leaking his cock looked. He needed to cum as badly as all three of your orgasms had fucked you up.

Hongjoong brought your entire body down to his, mouth latching onto your nipple to suck and nip at the sensitive flesh as you sunk down on him again. His pace was still relentless but you had come to crave it now. Your moans are punched out with each thrust into you. The unabated slap of skin against skin laces through Hongjoong’s noises of satisfaction as he fucked you and sucked at your breast. He is getting a feast with you and he’s finding that perhaps he’s become addicted to giving you exactly what you need. 

Finally, he can feel his orgasm approaching and he groaned loudly, but halted his rough fucking. You look like a little lost deer, eyes big and wet, searching out a reason to why he’s taken away your pleasure. Hongjoong almost reverently laid you down on your back, on his knees now, fisting his cock above your head. “Open your mouth and push out your tongue, darling,” Hongjoong instructed in a quiet voice, finally removing his t-shirt and his plethora of tattoos.

You wished suddenly that he was coming through with his threat to fuck you full of his cum, because watching him above you, all those tattoos painting his glorious skin, you knew that this image would be burned into the back of your retinas. You do what he bids, however, opening your mouth and obscenely sticking out your tongue. He comes with a messy rope of cum all over your face and chest, as if he was holding back his cum just to cover you with it. 

Hongjoong’s moan is deep and melodic, with a hint of a whine at the end as he coaxed himself through his first orgasm of the evening. Your old self would have been relieved that finally this insatiable maniac would no longer be pounding into your pussy; that perhaps you might get some sleep this evening. But this new side of your brain, the one that wanted to be fucked within an inch of her life, well that slut wanted him to recover quickly and put you through more rounds.

And when Hongjoong opened his eyes to see you covered in his cum, your eyes shining with anticipation, he knew he had changed you. You were going to be his good little slut now and he was going to have a sweet, tight cock sleeve to fuck for the next… twenty four hours.

[angelicbeaut]

Being (the “I am” state)

(Long post)

I think the most common instance I see in the community when interacting with asks and reading different struggles we all have/have had during our journey, is that people don’t just let themselves be.

A lot of us believe(d) that we have to work hard for everything, and we take that and apply it to manifestation. Maybe you feel it is too easy to just provide to yourself in imagination, you think there must be something else you have to do, that it can’t be that easy. Well, my love, I see you, I hear you, and I have been you. But, I am glad to inform you that when you reach this beautiful garden of truth and learning yourself and how this world works, that it is in fact, that easy.

As children, we played so freely in our imagination, even when we did not have the best days. We were always enthralled with our wildest dreams, excited by the mere glimmer of something new, even if we may have lost the ability to return to that sanctity as life become complicated, and imagination was thrown away for the sharp and harsh situations that life may have thrown at us. But I assure you, that you never lose the ability to imagine, it is never gone for good, maybe put to the side but never lost.

Imagine states being in a big shopping mall. You can try on any state you want, you can fill your cart up with fancy coats and dolce bags if you embody being rich (I am rich, I am financial free, I am always receiving gifts), you can fill your cart with heart patterned sweaters and lovely smelling candles if you are focusing on manifesting love or self love (I am loved, I am chosen, I am beautiful), and if you are trying to embody the state of being unloved you can fill your cart with no happy ending romance books and candles that smell like cat piss and back way alleys after it rains (I am unloved, I am not appreciated). Best deal is, it’s all on the house, all you have to do is pay in your mentality and accept this state as your own.

Now, let’s say you get to the register and you realize you don’t have enough mental bucks to spend on feeling rich today, let’s say life has been going crazy and you can only lay in bed, you feel overwhelmed by everything and you can’t raise your vibes right now.

Well, you’re in luck!

There is a layaway where you can store any state you plan to return to, even if you just need to wallow for a bit. The person at the register doesn’t look angry or upset, the look at you with the same witty smile, and hand you slippers, comfy socks, and a complimentary box of chocolates! You get your receipt and it lists all of what you have on layaway, waiting for you at any time! You can leave confidently knowing that you still have them, they just have to be picked up when you’re ready!

Now let’s break this down:

Clothes and different items you can place in your cart = the state you are wanting to be in

employee at the register = your subconscious, you

Layaway = an infinite amount of states that are always accessible to you because everything is you, they never go away, they are just not being made aware of to come into fruition

The register = the point of deciding, from the moment you make that transaction and put on your new clothes, you are now occupying that state, and the unfolding begins.

My love, those parts of you that you may feel like you have lost due to the harshities of this world are never gone, you just had to put them down because all you had the energy to focus on at that time was what you had to get done (working to make ends meet, dealing with a tumultuous relationship, having mental health issues) and that is okay. It may feel like you need to apply that survival mode to get these good things too. But no my love, you do not. You have been doing this since you were a child, your gift is limitless and always exists inside of you. Use your beautiful and boundless imagination internally to give yourself what you want externally.

When you are down, when you are sad, when you feel like you cannot hold yourself to a new state, work through your current one, do not run away, do not ignore it, do not fight against it to be perfect. You are already perfect and you always will be, Angel. Imagine yourself on a throne, as a famous movie star, go into the depths of your imagination and soar, feel the essence of what is like to be your true self. That doesn’t require you to lift a finger, so be gentle with yourself. No one is angry that you didn’t stay in the state today, you are not a failure, you are learning, and time is not your god, you are god.

when you feel as though you cannot do it today, don’t, but when you can, return to yourself as a child, and bask in your boundless imagination, treat yourself to bliss and never stop and your 3D will have no choice but to give it to you. All you gotta do is go shopping, and that mall is always there for you sweetheart. It is never too late to shop for a new look, you can change it at any time.

I love you, from my gracious heart to yours,

Luv, che 🌷

P.S

PUT THE 369 method DOWN, GET SOME SLEEP AND WATCH A COMFORT SHOW! 💕

[captainsophiestark]

Husband, Not Handyman

Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day Sixteen Prompt: "No, I'm not okay."

Summary: Colin's feeling insecure about how self-sufficient his spouse is, so they set him straight.

Word Count: 1,223

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I grinned and put my hands on my hips, hammer still held loosely in one, as I admired my handiwork. In a matter of hours, I'd fixed our lopsided bookshelf, realigned and remedied our sticky door, and nailed down a loose floorboard that liked to trip me at least once a day. Not bad at all for a day's work.

My husband, Colin, had been helping his brothers with some business or other all day. So, with our house to myself, I'd gotten to work on a few of the projects we'd been meaning to deal with. For me, the accomplishment and satisfaction that came from fixing something with my own two hands was almost unbeatable.

I smiled and sighed, then started to put my tools away when the door came swinging open.

I turned to find Colin standing there, a tool kit of his own in-hand. He looked incredibly surprised to see me standing in the middle of our sitting room with a hammer.

"...You fixed the bookshelf. And the floorboard."

"And the door," I said happily. "I had quite a bit of time today, so I figured I may as well just take care of it all. I have to admit, I actually enjoy being handy."

"Oh. That's... wonderful."

Colin sounded almost robotic, the words coming to him anything but naturally. His motions were jerky as he turned around, taking his toolbox and heading back towards the door. I frowned.

"Colin?"

He just gave me a very noncommital noise as an acknowledgement, and continued out the door. I set down my hammer and quickly followed after him.

"Colin!" I caught his arm in the hallway, and when I turned him to face me, he had a pained look on his face. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay." I took a step closer as Colin huffed a breath. We hadn't been married very long, and I'd never seen him acting like this before. I wasn't totally sure how to handle it. "It's just... I feel a bit... useless."

"...What?"

"Oh please! You don't need me. You don't need me to fix things, you don't need me to navigate when we go into town, you don't even need my help building a fire! I just... I don't understand what I'm supposed to do, why you chose to marry me, if you don't need me at all."

Colin stared at me once the confession was off his chest, looking frustrated and devastated. I just stared back at him in shock for a few moments, trying to let his words sink in. Finally, I shook my head and held up my hands to rest on his arms and chest.

"Darling... are you serious? I'm from one of the wealthiest families in the Ton. If I needed a man to fix things around my house, I would've called one! Not married one! Please, tell me you're joking."

"I'm not joking!" Colin huffed, taking a step back and brushing me off. I frowned. "If you don't need me, why am I here? It's supposed to be my job as your husband to take care of you, to provide for you. What am I for if I can't do that? If you're better at it than I am?"

I took a long, deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. I let it out slowly, then finally met Colin's eyes again. He looked as upset as ever, but I was determined to knock some common sense into his head, whether or not he wanted it.

"Colin. I did not marry you—nor would I ever marry anyone—because I needed you to take care of me. It's true that, if I never married, I'm in the fortunate position where I almost certainly would've been fine, both financially and in terms of fixing things around my house. The reason I am married, Colin, and in fact the whole point of the thing, is because I love you. You, the man who makes me laugh and who shares my love of travel and who I know I can trust with any secret, situation, or request. Not what you can do for me."

Colin shifted, his expression moving from firmly negative to a bit more neutral. But he still looked somewhat uncertain.

"Listen to me very carefully, Colin Bridgerton," I said, stepping forward and gently taking Colin's free hand. He let me, although he still watched me a little warily. "I married you because I love you. I love you because of who you are. Who you are makes me happy. That's it. Life is better and much more enjoyable when you have someone to share it with, and as far as I'm concerned, you're my perfect person to share it with. And with all of that said, if I ever do need somebody, I know you'll be there to have my back. Just like I'll be there to have yours. Okay?"

Colin bit his lip and frowned, but he stepped closer to me. He set the toolbox down on the nearest hall table, then took my other hand in his, too.

"Are you... sure? You're not going to wish for something different? Or someone different? I just feel a bit more... replacable. Since you don't need me."

"My god, no." I stepped forward, bringing my hands up to cup Colin's face. He tentatively wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me ever so slightly closer to him. I smiled. "I know you might not hear as much from your friends or whoever else, but believe me, you should be more secure in our relationship because it was out of choice, not necessity. I turned down quite a few suitors in the Ton because I didn't want to be with them, and I promise you, they were all perfectly capable of fixing floorboards and doors. But I didn't like any of them nearly enough to want to commit to spending the rest of my life with them if I didn't have to. And since I didn't have to, you, Colin, are the only person I've ever met who's passed the test. By miles."

Finally, a smile broke out on Colin's face. His arms tightened around me, holding me close to his chest, and I let my hands wander to his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

"You know, that makes me feel much better to hear."

"I should hope so!"

"I'm sorry I didn't realize. And I hope you know this already, but I would choose you every time, too. Over everyone else. You're... you're my best friend. And the best person I've ever met in my life. I love you."

I smiled, then leaned in to close the distance between my husband and I, pulling him in for a long, sweet kiss. His mouth chased after mine when I pulled away, and I put a hand on his chest with a laugh.

"I love you too, Colin. The most."

He grinned, all our earlier troubles forgotten as he kissed me again. I smiled into it, letting Colin sweep me away in the moment. Even though we'd had a few bumps in our early courtship and marriage, I really did love him with my entire heart. Hopefully this would be our last bump for a while, but even if it wasn't, I knew we'd get through that together just like we had everything else.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Bridgerton Taglist: @cherrybb-ily

[thesensteawitch]

About Your Future Potential Partner!🌹❤️

Pick A Pile Reading

~valentine's special ✨

(Left to Right - Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls! 🌹

Thank you for the love you gave to my last blog! I am so grateful for all the reblogs!✨

Now, this reading is about your future potential partner.

This reading is purely based on your current energy. So the partner that comes out is based on your current energy/life situation.

Valentine's day is coming and if you wish to attract the right kind of love then book “finding true love reading” only at $10. Below I am sharing the links:

💌Booking Form|My Rate Card|Tip My Blog💌

Pile 1

Tarot Cards- 10 of cups, The Wheel of Fortune, 3 of Cups, 4 of Wands, 10 of Pentacles, Judgement, 5 of Wands

Hello, my beautiful, pile 1. I literally have tears in my eyes right now! I AM FEELING SO SO SO HAPPY FOR YOU! What I am about to say might feel unbelievable to you too. I just saw 10 of cups I was like wow. And then I saw 10 of pentacles and there was another wow. And then I read in a card, “You're very close to achieving your goals!” And currently, I hear, “I have waited long enough to finally say ‘I do’.....I swear I always knew. It's always been you!” There are other favorable cards too in this pile. So I see one thing very clearly an old relationship or a situation where you already knew this person is being renewed!!!!! My God! And I'll tell you why I had tears in my eyes. It's because I feel you had no hope. For you, it was over. Some of you even felt like or still feel that you have been on a waiting period for a very very very long time now. And even if it hasn't been that long it did feel that way. This person is going to bring the world to your feet. They will be looking for stability and something long-term. You've been in this period of recovery and finding yourself. I see rebirth! Wheels will be turning again and this time will bring a book into your love life. You'll finally have this partner for the long term. The only thing that I feel may stop you is the thought of the past because I see that things didn't go so well with this person in the past. You have so many doubts. You aren't capable of trusting them again. 10s and 20s may be significant. Everything will fall in place with this person again at divine timing. (If any of you guys' relationship has been toxic and you don't want them back in your life then this is not your pile my dear. I suggest you to choose another one.) For some of you, I also see that in the past there was third-party involvement and insecurities from one or both ends. Now let's talk about this person. Though I don't think that I have to tell you about who they are still I'll tell you about their intentions. They are looking for a family with you. They see both of you as an end game. I also sense that they are very emotional. I also sense that they are hardworking and care a lot about financial stability. If nothing's happening right now then know that they are exhausted with their life. But when their true nature is quite playful. I think they are going through something challenging right now and are trying to resolve some things in their personal lives. You're being advised to not think too much and surrender this situation to God. Energetically you need to let go of something from the past to let something new enter. I also hear, “They didn't even put up a fight. They didn't even make a sound. I found a way to let you in but I never really had doubt. Standing in the light of Halo I got my angel now.” You're just not supposed to do anything about this situation. Just focus on yourself. That's what the universe wants you to do. Don't even stay in the waiting energy. Just surrender! Book a reading with me if you want to manifest your true love. The reading is only for $10.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards- The Devil, Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, 2 of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles

The first thing I heard was that your future potential partner is not going to make you wait at all!!!! They are going to be so assertive and will follow you like crazy. Don't worry they won't stalk you, haha! They will have pure intentions! But I see they love to talk and love to say things out loud. They will be the kind of person who is always up to something. They will just see you and they will know that you are their person. You will travel with them a lot. They will be someone who takes no pride in going after what they want. They won't be egoistic at all. They can be quite blunt or brutally honest at times. But as quick they will be it will take a lot of time for them to finally have you. Their manifestations take time to come to fruition. They are someone who will have big dreams! They will be quick learners and will have a lot to talk about. They may also be drawn towards spirituality or their path will take them that road. I also sense that they will be someone who is always outdoors, enjoying life. They are so so so outspoken! Their talk will just blow your mind and your heart will race listening about their wonderland. I also hear a message from them, “If we go down then we go down together! We'll get away with everything let's show them we are better.” So I also sense that they won't want anything casual with you. Everyone will know about you and them. Participating in their wildest fantasies might scare you off or put you off guard. I also sense that deep down they have this fear of being left alone. That no one will ever join them in their crazy ideas. They won't be delusional. They will be someone who wants different things compared to the crowd. And it will be a quite transforming journey for you if you join them and I don't think you'll regret it. Their view of the world will be quite different. Though they will be fond of the sun there's a sun burning within them that lights up any room they enter. The challenge for you will also be to understand their wounds because that is what will make you irreplaceable in their lives. I also hear from them, “Nobody ever knows. Nobody ever sees. I left my soul back then and now I am too weak.” Their past relationships were too damaging for them. They can be someone with abandonment wounds. But I see they'll work through all their wounds they just need genuine connections. Because deep down they hold a lot of past wounds and they know what losing people truly means. Nevertheless, they will be a full package of love and light. Book a reading with me to manifest your person. The reading is only for $10.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards- Ace of Wands, Page of Wands, 6 of Cups, Ace of Cups, The Devil, The High Priestess, Wheel of Fortune

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. Silence by Marsmello is your future person's vibe. They will have strong water placement. They are so stuck in their past! They just hold onto what happened to them and only reveal bits and crumbs of their life. They will also have trust issues. I hear from them, “How do I love? How do I love again? How do I trust? How do I trust again? I stay up all night. Tell me I am alright...Every night I am dancing with your ghost.” For some of you, I also sense that this is someone who knows from your past. This future person can be a past life partner too. (If you were attracted to pile 1, do read it. I think it may have a message for you.) This person will look for escape rather than facing their wounds. They will be someone deeply wounded. A wild panther who has been hurt by many people. They can also be an overthinker. They'll be overflowing with emotions but won't know where to navigate them and how to express them. Some days they may burst out with sentimental words and then the other days they may just waste overthinking about every action of yours and theirs. Honestly, they'll be too naive when it comes to love. They will be so lonely and maybe someone who would give in to temptations or will just put themselves into lots and lots of work so that they can run away from their true emotions. You should be cautious dealing with this person, pile 3. There may be parts of yourself that you need to heal to not let this toxicity consume you. Because for some of you, I see that you may end up talking to them because they will be someone from the past, someone who was dear to you. No matter what their experience has been nobody deserves to take in other people's toxicity. So they can be someone who just pulls back their energy as soon as they see a single sign of danger. I do see major shifts happening in this situation when they enter your life. A lesson that you may need to learn from this person will be surfaced. It's very specific but I see that they can be someone who sings or something about their voice will be very captivating. I feel that you'll be someone who will be a blessing from the universe in their lives. They may or may not recognize it. Choosing you will make their lives better but ghosting you and avoiding you will only mean that they are missing out on a blessing they wished to have when they were at their lowest. What a tragedy! You've got nothing to do. You just be yourself. Walk away immediately when you're not valued. Keep yourself elated. You are the light that the world needs perhaps that will be your role in their lives. Wish them well but never let yourself down. Honestly, your light will trigger them because they would have been in darkness for such a long time. Just a warning, that they will change their mind often and you're not supposed to keep getting into on-and-off situations with them. Be very clear while communicating. They may even self-sabotage (already warning you). But it's okay. At least you'll know your answer and walk away. To attract the right kind of connection either through this same person or from someone else book “Finding True Love” reading with me only at $10.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling a (now ex-) mutual a stingy asshole?

So to start, I (NB20) am in a pretty rough situation, I'm facing homelessness soon, transphobia at home and work and my hours have been getting cut resulting in me making even less money that can sustain me. I have a toyhou.se forum post up stating I have emergency commissions open to help me out and to please support me if you can. This is where the situation begins. I have a mutual on toyhou.se who I'll call Apple (MTF22) I talk to sometimes to the point I'd say we are friends, not super close but friends nonetheless. She made a bulletin telling people about my commissions and to please comm me if they could which I'm very grateful for since I did get a few customers from her because of that. The thing is, a few weeks later, she made a bulletin talking about how happy she was so many commissions she bought were finished around the same time and posted all of them with the artists tagged in the post. It was honestly... quite a few, I'm talking like 9 pieces of art of her fursona and even a custom vtuber model she got of her sona. I was going to reply all happy for her, but it made me think... how much did she spend on those commissions?? So I went through all the artists socials to find their commission prices and came to a total of fucking $385!!! More than half of my current goal I'm trying to make through commissions to stay out of homelessness!! So I messaged Apple saying since I saw she bought a few commissions if she was interested in buying a comm from me. She replies saying "Ohh! I'd love to <333 but im just not in a place to buy any more comms right now :< sorry >.<!!" So I casually reply really? because it seems like your in the perfect place to help me out after already spending over $300 in commissions. She tells me she's sorry and really wishes someone would be able to help me out but she just wasn't that interested in my art or a custom to which I tell her she could've easily donated to my ko-fi which I have always had since she clearly has money to spend? To this, she straight up IP blocks me. So still fucking annoyed, I vented in a discord server I share with a few friends from being in a few shared CS together, saying how annoying it is rich assholes like her would drop half a thousand for a picture of their fursona but don't even blink twice at their so called friends. anyway, one of my friends takes a look at Apples th profile and notices she has a new bulletin up and sends me a screenshot, but anways the bulletin reads like "hey!! just saying, but please dont come into my dms acting like you know my financial situation better than i do, just because i buy a lot of commissions doesnt mean im made of money! and please dont think that me commisioning artist 1 means i hate artist 2? thats so weird, thanks!!!!!" and seeing all their subscribers just kissing her ass pissed me off so i made my own bulletin that just stated "i thought it was pretty fucking weird to know how bad ur friend's situation was and to go buy a bunch of comms instead of buying a comm from or even throwing a buck to help me out? like yeah im gonna think i know ur situation better than u, you stingy fuck!!!" Anyway, she mustve been block evading (which I reported her for) since she unblocked me, took a screenshot of my bulletin, then went on about how she lived in an abusive household; her dad had thrown her into a sink and chipped her tooth, bruised half her face and scarred it pretty badly. She bought a bunch of commissions immediately afterwards in a panic to make herself feel better, paying everything with her savings. Which to me.. isn't an excuse. Ive been hit and abused and still found scraps of money to pull together to give to mutuals who need it and Ive been bumping my own post like crazy and she had literal weeks to donate or comm me. Not to mention Ive had exmutuals of hers come to me saying that shes never donated anything to them either despite advertising their posts but always had money for plushies, comms and other crap, meaning Im not alone in thinking shes a stingy asshole. This is getting long, so here, tumblr AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[shitty-writers-blog]

THE ONE WHERE YOU ASK FOR HELP [EP.1]

I also am still getting to know Colter Shaw. He is being written as I depict him so far, and hopefully, later on, I will be able to know how to write about him perfectly.

Hey guys, this is my first ever fanfic. I know it's not gonna be the best, so please be nice to me.

Please feel free to tell me how I can write better and maybe send it request? I hope you guys enjoy/like this first part.

Colter x F! Reader

You had been pacing back and forth unable to decide whether to worry about your brother who you haven’t heard from in a week, usually he would call after he arriving to his destination, your brother had caught the traveling bug at a young age like you mother. Unlike you who hated the thought of traveling due to all the responsibilities you had to take in as a young teenager, your mom was always traveling to New places whether it was in the country or international, your father had decided to spilt from you and the rest of the family because he’d grown tired of your mother’s antiques. If you weren’t so protective of your brother you would have left with your dad as well, but because your brother didn’t want to leave mom you ended up sacrificing your childhood, your father still provided financially, but emotionally or physically he wasn’t present.

During all this you had your best friend Colter Shaw to keep you afloat, soon y'all started dating junior year and continued all through your college journey it wasn’t, until Colter decided he wanted to be a rewardist and travel to find missing people for money, you tried making it work, but you were exhausted at the idea of him traveling and doing the long distance thing so you did something that you never wanted to do. You ended things with him, as he was in the middle of proposing, he tried to convince you to work with him, but you explained your issues with traveling and then that was it you never saw or spoke to Colter again.

That is until your brother potentially went missing, you still had Colter's number at least you hoped you thought to yourself, you kept messing with you lips, with furrowed eyebrows, thinking deeply about wondering if you were being to overprotective, that maybe he was alright and you’re just worked up over nothing because let’s be honest your brother wasn’t the best at calling you to assure you he’s fine.

“Fuck it.” You said as you picked up your phone from your bed and scrolled at your contact list until you found his name Shaw you pressed call and as it started to ring your heart started to beat fast and loud, you inhaled and exhaled as you continued to pace in your room, as you were about to hang up, you heard his voice.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” you heard his voice with a lace of worry and confusion, you face palmed yourself wincing at how stupid you probably were- “uh, hello? Y/n are you there?” he interrupted your train of thought “Oh um, yeah hey Colter!” You said a bit more enthusiastically than you intended you cringed at yourself as you shook your head in annoyance why can’t you act cool for once you thought to yourself. “um, sorry to bother you Colter and I wish we would talk under different circumstances, but um- are you still doing that rewards job by any chance?” you asked hoping he would be able to help you with your situation, you heard a chuckle as he answered back a simple yes and asked what was going on with you. You explained to him the situation and he told you how lucky you were because he had just finished a job, he told you how he’d drive up to your place since he was 2 hours away, you thanked him and then hung up the phone.

I decided it would be better if I got dressed, so I took a quick shower even used my favorite scented exfoliator because why not. And did my normal shower routine, then I decided to do my routine that I always do after a shower. I decided to clean up a bit even though it was already pretty clean, once I turned my wax melt on I heard the door bell ring. I straightened myself and checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked okay, I took a deep breath in and I exhaled it as I opened the door. “Wow! Um, hey, I uh got lost- how is it that all these apartments look very identical?” I laughed Stepping to the side as a sign for him to enter, he smiled as he entered my house noticing I had a shoe rack by the door and he started to take his shoes off. “Thanks for taking your shoes off, most people who visit never do and I’m always to shy to say something.” I explain while shutting the door behind me, he nodded and gave a small smirk, “well I’m very observant and I’ve known you since we were young, every time I entered your room I always had to take my shoes off. Only difference now is I don’t have my own inside pair of slippers to put on.” I frowned a bit at the memory, but let out a breathy chuckle, “I bought a new pair for my brother Chance, for when he crashed at my place. You two have the same shoe size so you can have those,” Colter smiled nodding as a way to silently thank me, I walked up to my little storage closet and got the pair out and handed it to him, he went and sat on my couch and I sat distantly close to him.

I looked at the floor nervously because this was the first time in years we’ve seen each other and first time seeing him, I realized those feelings were still there towards him, and the fact that he had a major glow up. I bit my lip trying to come up with a topic to converse, but my mind wouldn’t stop going down memory lane about how we used to be inseparable and the last thing I said to him was no to becoming his wife. There has always been a part of me that regretted saying no, to breaking up with him just because he chose to do this for a living and the fact that it involved so much traveling, I just couldn’t go through what my mother put me through with Colter. “Y/n?” I looked up confused at him, “I asked you to voice your thoughts.” I looked away a bit flushed at how well he could read me, I even thought for a second he was able to read my mind. “oh well, it's nothing, really.” I tell him making eye contact with him for the first time in 10 minutes, he raised his eyebrow as a way to tell me he didn’t believe me and gave me that look he would always give me that said to spill it or he’d get it out of me. I rolled my eyes and told him how annoying he still was, and that made him laugh, “yeah okay, I hate to mention this, but your brother, why do you think he’s missing?” I sighed, putting my legs up to my chest, looking at my coffee table, taking a deep breath and bolting myself up, starting to pace back and forth, telling him everything I knew and didn’t know.

[that-hazbin]

With your reblog of the What-If scenario where Alastor’s mom is a kinda bad mom, I am now picturing a combination of that What-If with your Blackout AU. I mean, not having any parental affection growing up in combination with a father who is so physically abusive he beat his wife to death, and then living through the early 1900’s in New Orleans as a mixed race man—is it any wonder his brain decided to “nope” out of super stressful situations?

And in the scenario where Alastor’s mom and Alastor reunite in Hell, what if she finds out about the blackouts and the fact that Alastor did not know what landed him in Hell?? I’m just picturing it as being a bad time for everyone involved, like that has some serious angst potential.

God that would genuinely be so, so messed up.

Alastor's lack of love during his formative years would honestly not even be the worst of his trauma, but damn did it have permanent consequences. Honestly it would be a good explanation for why his relationship with Mimzy is the way it is— he's so used to loving without being loved in return, and therefore has 0 problems with being used by the people he loves. He's just a bag of Horrific Brain Issues.

I think Alastor's mom would still go to heaven. She may not have loved Alastor, and as a result was a pretty bad mom, but she wasn't a bad person. She still did her best. Honestly speaking, Alastor mostly doesn't blame her for not loving him specifically because he knew her own circumstances were absolutely abysmal. His dad was a wife-beating scumbag and Alastor was a product of rape. As far as Alastor is concerned, his mother was a fucking saint just for not hating his existence on principle. She stuck around and tried her best.

(Of course, he knows she's thought horrible things in moments of weakness. She once stood over his bed with a pillow in her hands when he was seven. It was a bad night, one of her eyes were swollen shut, tears running down her face... Alastor pretended to sleep, silently watching her in the mirror. She stood there for an hour, shaking like a leaf, before leaving. He kept this memory to himself.)

I think if she ever takes a visit to hell and finds out about the blackouts, she might actually have a really bad initial reaction. Alastor always did his best to never act anything like his father, despite sharing a similar face with him. His mom would not take kindly to knowing that he gets violent in any capacity.

When she finds out that it's entirely involuntary, and that Alastor didn't even know it was happening when he was alive, she's definitely going to have a bad mental breakdown. Her first thought would be that it's her fault. She already felt guilty for the way she treated him in life. She couldn't love him the way he deserved, never looked him in the eyes, had a hard time even going through the motions of a "proper mother." Was the lack of love the reason why his mind is so broken?

Finding out the first time he ever had a blackout was the day she was murdered would break her. Alastor loved her so much that her death destroyed his mind.

(The fault isn't solely hers, but she wouldn't be in sound enough mind to recognize this. It's the fault of Alastor's father, for being an abusive asshole, for everyone who outcasted Alastor based on his race, for being a "mixed bastard." It's the continued fault of war, financial instability, hunger, segregation, police brutality, etc. She may have been part of the initial spark, but she wasn't the sole cause.)

As for the rest of the hotel, I think some of them might actually get super annoyed with her guilt. Because to them, it might look like she's making Alastor's suffering all about her. Which would definitely lead to some tension, between her and the rest of the hazbin crew, as well as some tension between the crew and Alastor. Because he would not appreciate their line of thinking.

Despite the tension, it would take a lot for them to move on from the opinion they built on Alastor's mom. Namely that she definitely does not deserve the absolute unconditional love that Alastor showers her with.

[sykestarot]

messages meant to reach you

1-2-3 (left to right)

I DO NOT OWN THESE IMAGES

Hi guys! heres your weekly reading :) ! I hope you enjoy this and it resonates for you, also I found these pics and thought they were so cute lol ! Thanks for stopping by! <3

Pile 1

“does it ever make you sad to know that was 7 summers ago?” (The Lovers; 7 of wands; knight of cups (rx); knight of pentacles (rx); 9 of pentacles ; 6 of swords (rx))

Hi pile 1! Before I even started channeling, my cat was very interested in my tarot set up which usually he isn’t so maybe you have a kitty? Perhaps one that passed that misses you and wants you to know they are always with you. For you guys I feel a sense of heavy grief either in the recent past or the present. I also feel like you’ve been avoiding your own feelings about the whole situation. I feel a sense of disappointment from you that things didn’t work out the way you wanted. I feel like you either broke up with someone due to differences in worldviews or you might have had someone pass recently that you thought you had more time with. First of all if someone did pass recently, I am so sorry and I’m sending you so much love and light. But I do feel like this might've been a sudden thing, without warning, and you just want to continue on with life without processing just how traumatic it was for you. This person wants you to know that they love you so much and that when you're ready to unpack your grief and trauma they will be with you whether you realize it or not. Now if you had a break up recently I see this person really missing you. They dream about you and want you all to themselves again. I feel like they have pride though and won’t approach you again. I also feel like you’re genuinely done with this person though. Like this isn’t the first time you guys have had fights about this stuff and they really pushed you to your limit. This might’ve happened a while ago too and they’re just holding onto it and pulling on your energy. I really do feel like they’re wallowing in regret about how they treated you but like not enough to change. Like they regret it but they feel like they had to which is so fucked up in its own right. But I digress. I do think an energy cleanse would be best for you, however you choose to cleanse your energy and space will do. I also say get rid of any items they gifted/gave to you. I’m proud of you for knowing your worth and  letting bygones be bygones. Signs: nice house; highways; red rusty pickup truck; red in general; water; creeks; fireflies; old dock; tall can beers; sentimental views (?)

Pile 2

“i aint even got the miles to trip on you” (2 of pentacles (rx); THe Lovers (rx); 3 of pentacles (rx); Wheel of Fortune (rx); knight of pentacles; 9 of pentacles (rx)) Hi pile 2! So for you guys I actually had to restart your pile a few times it was hard for me to really connect and get a message for you guys but when I did I understood why. The message coming through is from someone you simply don’t want to hear from lol. It’s probably an old partner that’s begged and pleaded to be back in your life multiple times and you just don’t care, which is such a power move. But yea overall this person just throws a pity party for themselves and how they lost a good thing and it sucks to be them I guess. But I wanted to get a message for you from your guides at the very least so heres that! All in all your guides are very happy and proud of you!! You’ve really put in the work pile 2! I see you enjoying financial blessings and i feel like your heart and mind have found peace. Whether your with someone or not I see you ina state of stability that you never thought you’d get to. Maybe things feel a little monotonous for you but I do feel like you enjoy your life and where you’re at right now! I also feel like you guys are experiencing things you never thought you would, like an engagement or getting the promotion/job you always wanted! I keep hearing that you made life your bitch LOL!! I also see you guys paying no mind to wagging tongues and you let people think whatever they want about you because at the end of the day you just don’t care. You not only enjoy your job but you enjoy your hobby’s your house, your car, and so on and so forth. I see though that you guys should work on being proud of yourself because YOU did that! No one else did!! Go treat yourself to something nice and sit back and relax pile 2 you deserve it fr!! Signs: restart button; push to start car; nice handwriting; minecraft; jeans; interior design; iron; birch wood; big healthy plants; big windows; elevators; CAPRICORN 

Pile 3

"i'm in too deep and i'm trying to keep up above in my head instead of going under" (Judgment (rx); 6 of swords (rx); 4 of swords; 10 of swords; 2 of pentacles (rx); knight of swords (rx)) Hello Pile 3!! For you guys I see that you’re a really unique person and don’t really care about people's thoughts. I feel for your message though that you might be running in the wrong crowd or with the wrong people. I feel like you choose people based on whether or not they are in the same subgenre as you, or present the way you do. Which is understandable thinking if someone dresses the same they might have the same values but I see that the people in your life don’t. I also see that they just don’t care about you as much as you care about them. I believe that you know this somewhat or you have gut feelings about this, however I think you’re hoping one day they’ll pick you. I do see though that you know that they won’t and that you know you’re not meant to be there. I see that you just want to fit in with a group of people so badly, that you need validation that people like you. But honey, lots of people like you!! They just aren’t presenting the way you are. I see that for lack of better term “conventional” people admire your bold and unique expression of yourself. I see that you have prejudice towards these people and immediately put them in a box they you guys wouldn’t get along. Lemme tell you though as much as you advocate for not judging a book by it’s cover I feel you doing that to others. Maybe this is apart of your shadow that you need to work on. I get quite a youthful energy from you though, maybe you’re in highschool? You don’t have to change everything about your life tomorrow but you can make small steps. The only person who can make active change in your life is you! So get out there and do as much as you can without regrets! I promise you’ll enjoy the things that you didn’t think you would. Plus life is meant for mistakes and learning from them. Don’t let others perception of you ruin your experience on this earth! You got this pile 3, you’re a beautiful soul, let others see it. Signs: 111 ; wizard of oz; cheshire cat; leather; vests; studs; piercings; boots; alt fashion; old sedan; empty parking lots; cigarettes; nose rings; bleached hair

[fuwaprince]

HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP PLEASE

Hi everybody, how are we doing? I hope you're enjoying the beginning of fall. Now that I'm done just being hospitable, can I just be honest? Can I vent? Can I be heard? Am I allowed to express my hurt? Can I please request for aid?

I am struggling to all hell. On and off the streets and been homeless since June 1st. I don't need resource information- I need immediate relief in the form of financial support. My partner and I are doing our best to be strong but being strong does not help when we're in the position where we're lucky just to eat, or do laundry. Over this summer I have been robbed of my possessions (cards, clothes, cash, toiletries, my phone... all of which I struggled to get to begin with). I have been sexually assaulted and put through violent situations. Detained because people LIED and I guess that means guilty until proven innocent. Woke up undressed for reasons unbenounced to me in a house fire surrounded by flames and SOMEHOW, unfortunately survived. Somehow contracted a disease that has no fucking cure. I have reached out to EVERYONE I KNOW BEGGING FOR HELP. I have taken so much shit in exchange for the smallest amount of help, for food, for access to medical attention or a shower or for privacy. I have been homeless with a 103 degree fucking fever that lasted for days and got no help because I was too sick to move. I crawled to a shower and sat on the floor hoping my brain wouldn't melt (which it begins to at such temperatures btw). All this did not happen because I'm "lazy" or "a bad woman".

I am a woman presenting person who probably should have just been born in the right body or into the right wealthy ass family. I am in my 20s. I have been told I would make a great prostitute but I wasn't even made for of- nor am I interested. My abusive ass neglectful ass family are not helping me through my situation and my mom tells me I deserve it so that she doesn't have to cry while listening to me explain how bad things have gotten. I have a stab wound on my neck. I have burns on my body. I did not put those there myself. How could anybody deserve any of that? How could anybody do nothing to help? How can you just look at me and pessimistically say, "good luck". Or give the apathetic and unhelpful "me too" response.

My partner lost his dog after the fire. Can you imagine having to pretend like that doesn't matter because you have to worry about food? Can you imagine trying to provide emotional support because red cross never called back after you requested for health services? When your school says they can't help you because it's out of the budget???? "LIMITED FUNDS" they say. I was on the Dean's honor roll for TWO semesters in a row, almost close to getting my BA (just a few classes away). I was a student leader. UNTIL I had to finally say fuck that shit and drop. I have enough credits to graduate but I do not see how the fuck I'm going to survive until 2025.

I need help! Please help? Words of encouragement are appreciated but please help me raise enough for a down payment for a car to live in. That is what I'm asking for, at least for winter. I would like an apartment but California is so outrageous with prices, all I can hope for realistically is a car. Anything would help. Nothing is expected.

Please rb this post, if you can, it helps.

Always remember to maintain your humanity and that love persists.

Garlic haters DNI

my paypal is @garyanne

[kittygirl2210]

Stan Pines falls into the "second child" trap (small discussion brought to you by a second child)

Stan Pines discussion and why I think that he falls into the "second child" trap: courtesy of a second child. This is mostly based off of show details, I haven't brushed up on Lost Legends in a second. I believe Stan is the second twin and also second born child (if we say Shermie is younger than them, I'd put him as only a few years younger). A lot of adultification and pressure, which happens A LOT with first born children, is put on Ford by their parents, especially Filbrick, especially when it comes to get ting them out of the financial situation they're in and he wants Ford to "make it big" (evidence that I feel supports this same line of thinking is when Stan gets angry at Ford for " selfishly hoarding" his college money). Stan becomes the scapegoat second child, who is ALWAYS wrong no matter what, while Ford's the "golden child", who is infallible and never does anything wrong. Since we know very little about Shermie, I am at present putting him in the "baby of the family" category, who usually is doted upon and is sometimes seen as a "replacement" to the scapegoat second child. Shermie, however, is very much a weird outlier in this discussion.

Besides that, Stan seems to suffer from being the middle child, especially considering his actions as an adult. From what I've observed, he craves the validation and attention he did not receive as a kid and turns to reckless behaviour as a result (any attention is good attention). This, I feel, is also seen when Ford returns and refuses to thank him (which I DO think Ford should have thanked him, not to say he was wrong for that in particular), but also when the two family members he was now the closest to seemingly start to dote on Ford. He warns the kids to stay away from Ford because he's a "dangerous know-it-all" (although generally speaking, yes, Ford does wind people up in dangerous situations, there is a clear amount of jealousy expressed from Stan). He ends up running for mayor, because Dipper says Ford could be a good mayor. And when Ford half heartedly thanks him, then corrects his grammar because Ford ALWAYS has to be right, he snaps. Not to say that this isn't an indicator of any other kind of sibling dynamic, but as someone who has been in a sibling situation where children are disproportionately treated, and as the second child, I see a lot of how Stan reacts very similar to how I have felt.

[figs-and-cigs]

Ugh the poly fb groups are at it again. Shitting on hierarchy left and right. I get it, you had a bad experience with a married partner, add in seeing all the other stories of unethical behaviors, the constant criticism. So now the community seems to rally behind the idea that hierarchy=BAD.

So here's a rant about ETHICAL vs unethical Hierarchy in Polyamory.

Hierarchy is a relationship structure in which someone has (at least) one Primary partner. It is an agreement between a couple to put their relationship first either because they desire that structure or because it is necessary or both.

A married couple, for example, has a lot more to lose if their relationship ends than a couple who has a standing date once a week, or once a month. This could be in regard to finances, housing situations, familial relationships (like children), medical needs, and other long term goals. The relationship ending would mean a radical change in lifestyle for both parties (and any children involved).

When I say the relationship is put first, this is not to say other relationships lack value or importance, but that they function differently.

In unethical hierarchy the agreement to put the relationship first is usually based on fear. "We put our relationship first because we can't bear to ever lose each other, ever!" vs "over time our relationship has become structured around financial, parental, and long-term obligations we've made to each other."

While everyone experiences the fear of losing a relationship there is a slight difference between the emotional turmoil of keeping a relationship together at all costs vs. the conscious decision to make a relationship work because we've chosen to commit multiple aspects of our lives to each other. Neither is a guarantee the relationship will last forever but one is making decisions based on emotion while the other is based on reality.

The main difference between ethical and unethical hierarchy is the autonomy of the individuals within their other relationships. The reason hierarchy gets such a bad rep is because of the power imbalance a primary couple will enact on all "secondary" relationships. Any relationship with Veto Power is unethical.

In any relationship it is between the two individuals to make decisions for that relationship, a third party (like a spouse), or anyone outside of the relationship should never make decisions for the relationship.

My husband gets absolutely NO say in who I date, or how I spend my time with another person. Period. The moment we agreed to ethical non monogamous was the moment we agreed to allow each other the freedom and autonomy to make decisions about how our other individual relationships evolve.

This is where we can talk about the difference between agreements, boundaries, and rules.

Agreements are things a couple consciously chooses to do.

We've agreed that Saturdays are our date nights because that's when we have babysitting. We've agreed to raise this kid together. We agreed to create budgets for our finances, split bills, own a home, and have an emergency fund. We agreed to make financial decisions together. We agreed to be each other's emergency contacts and be privvy to each others medical needs. We agreed to parent together. We agreed to share a Google calendar. We agreed to be barrier free with each other but to use condoms with other partners.

There are often agreements with my other relationships too. Agreements in communication and when we see each other. What we do together, how are relationship is structured, and how "out" we are about the relationship.

Boundaries are things that I choose to do. I choose not to have sex on the first date. I don't enter a kink dynamic until a relationship has been established. Mondays are my rest days because I have chronic health issues. I don't answer the phone after midnight unless I'm out and about and it's my kid or husband. I don't agree to things I'm unable to do or am uncomfortable with. I use condoms with sexual partners except my husband. Every individual should have boundaries.

Now let's talk about rules. It's said again and again in the poly community that rules are unethical. This is because rules say what someone else can do. The problem with rules is that they take away from individual autonomy and can conflict with boundaries. Rules allow an outside party to dictate what happens in relationships. Veto Power and One Penis Policies are rules and are usually the main problems with unethical hierarchy.

If you noticed I have a personal boundary and agreement that are similar. My husband and I agreed to use condoms with other partners. This is an agreement and not a rule because it aligns with each of our individual boundaries. I choose to use condoms with partners who are not my husband. This is different from a rule because I can change my mind. Perhaps one day I decide I want to have barrier free sex with my play partner. The only thing is, because my husband and I made an agreement to not do that, I have also made the obligation to tell him about my change in boundary so as not the break the agreement. At which point my husband may then change his boundary. There's a good chance if I choose to be barrier free with another partner he would choose to use condoms in our relationship. It would be a rule if he said - "no, you can't do that," vs. "ok if you choose to do that, then I choose to adjust my boundary within our relationship. Our agreement to be barrier free needs to change." See the difference?

Hierarchy gets such a bad rep because of rules couples make to protect their relationship. "You can't date him because it makes me insecure." "You can't date her because I don't like her." "You can go out with them but you're not allowed to be emotionally involved." "We can only have sex with others if we do it together." "You can only date this person if we date them together." "You can't go to that restaurant, it's OUR restaurant!" Again, rules are unethical because they make decisions for relationships outside of the primary relationship.

This is the difference between ethical and unethical hierarchy. When there are rules that limit autonomy in other relationships.

"But don't agreements affect "secondary" relationships?"

Yes, and no. I like to think of agreements as a form of boundaries. Boundaries can be flexible (maybe I answer the phone after midnight because I was awake and you called and I felt like it.) Which means agreements, Consentual Boundaries made between two people, can have some flexibility. The discussion about barrier free sex being an example.

Another example could be in regards to finances. Perhaps my girlfriend wants to go to a show with me and asks if I can pay for my own ticket. I might not have budgeted for such an expense. My husband doesn't get to say no because he doesn't want me to go - I have to say no because my husband and I have financial obligations. Or perhaps I'm able to say yes because my husband was able to give me some of his dating budget.

In this regard, hierarchy may create some benefits for my other relationships. Imagine the same scenario but I am financially independent. Once upon a time I was a single mom. I had to say no to lots of dates because I couldn't afford to pay for my part. I had to cancel a lot of dates because I couldn't arrange babysitting - now I have a co-parent who is able to stay home with kiddo more consistently.

A while back I had a relationship end because I told her I couldn't stay the night Saturdays anymore after my husband's work schedule changed. This wasn't a surprise to her, I had said from the beginning that this was an agreement my husband and I had. I emphasized my desire to see her and what days/evenings I could still see her. While not directly said, it was obvious she saw this change as a form of "couples privilege" and thus unethical. Que my *eye roll*. I empathized with not wanting to lose our Saturday nights. But I continuously communicated that hubby and I hadn't had a date night in months due to his job, that the only night we have consistent babysitting is Saturdays. While quality time together is important for every relationship, it's incredibly important for us as co-parents to prioritize Saturday date nights.

It was clear she felt it was unfair that he got to see me almost every day (because we live together) while she and I had to put more direct effort into our schedules to see each other.

As anyone with a nesting partner knows, there's a huge difference between co-habitating together and conscientious quality time spent together. During that time I had the privilege to go out with her Saturday nights, on weekdays, and see her Sunday mornings. The "privilege" my husband had? He could work long hours without worrying about evening child care. Our time together was spent worrying about finances, how he could have quality time with kiddo, him passing out on the couch while we re-watched the same episode of the show because he fell asleep during it the day before. Sure, he saw me almost every day, but there was very little fun or quality time to be had. I got to see him stressed and exhausted.

My girlfriend at the time didn't realize she too had privileges. We both had flexible schedules to see each other multiple times a week. She didn't have to experience the finances stresses of trying to make ends meet at home. She didn't have to worry about kiddo's stress because dar was working so much. She didn't have to attend family therapy twice a week to help me and kiddo during this adjustment period. My gf got intentional quality time that was carefree, and fun. Coffee shop trips, art museum visits, exciting date nights.

I'm pretty sure she saw this change in Saturdays as a rule, or my husband "vetoing" one of our dates. The reality was my husband never said, "you have to stop seeing her on Saturdays." Instead *I* made the choice to uphold my original agreement to make Saturdays hubby's night. An agreement she was fully aware of from the beginning and one I explained multiple times. My primary relationships schedule is structured this way for a multitude of reasons, the main one being babysitting for kiddo.

Was it unfair couples privilege to cancel Saturday nights with her? Mmm maybe. Was it unethical? No. I argue and will continue to argue it would be unethical to not prioritize my relationship with my husband because our relationship ultimately impacts our kid. If our relationship suffers it could affect so many aspects of our lives but most importantly our child's. Period.

When she and I stopped speaking (which had more to do with communication problems than Saturdays), the only negative impact it has was on my emotional and mental health. It wasn't at the detriment of our finances, my home, kiddo's needs, or my other relationships. It sucked. That relationship was important to me, but it didn't have the same priority as my primary relationship.

There's a lot of talk about equality vs. equity in Polyamory. I might love my partners equally, but it's clear that my primary relationship requires more time, effort, and commitment than my other relationships. That doesn't mean I don't attempt to meet the required amount of time, effort, and commitments in my other relationships. Just that they're different.

I wrote a few posts recently about watching our friends going through divorces. These marriages vehemently opposed any form of hierarchy. Which is fine! I'm not trying to say hierarchy is a requirement or for everyone. However, as these divorces proceed we watch our friends worry about finances, housing arrangements, parental rights. As their marriages dissolve, that stress has also led to break ups in their other relationships. Polycules are falling apart.

I've read that there's a different between descriptive and prescriptive hierarchy. That a forced requirement of hierarchy is bad, but describing the relationship as hierarchial without any actual hierarchy is ok. Again *eye rolls*. Over and over again we've heard these non-hierarchial marriages are ending because there was a lack of commitment toward financial, parental, emotional, and scheduling needs. A wife needed a ride to the hospital, but the husband refused to cancel his date. One partner went on a vacation with their girlfriend, while the other partner had to work extra hour to make up for the lack of rent money. She became so rapt up in NRE she didn't come home for a week, and now he is the primary parent to their infant. They quit having fun together because "they see each other at home every night," and now the relationship has died.

Again, I'm not saying heirarchy would solve every problem, or that it's "the best" or every poly person should do it. I'm saying that every relationship requires a level of conscious intention. I know I'm being repetitive, but my husband and I made the intention and agreement to become co-parents, own a home together, intertwine finances etc. and with that came the decision to prioritize those things.

The good thing about these clear intentions is that it also helps define the boundaries within our other relationships. My partners KNOW they don't have to worry about my financial situation, my medical needs, kiddos well being. They know there's no expectations of us moving in together or having to wash my dirty dishes. While there will still be difficulties they're going to be different. Our time together often gets to be more fun, care free, and intentional. We know how we integrate into each other's lives without much worry about how it will affect our entire lives.

I'd argue it's unethical that the non-hierarchial marriage didn't prioritize their spouse before it led to divorce - leaving these partners in financial debt, homelessness, and struggles for child care. That the lack of priority also created enormous strain on the other relationships. His girlfriend felt obligated to let him move in, even though she didn't want a nesting partner. While her partners are happy to babysit, they can't commit to co-parenting. Their partner is becoming resentful because they can't afford date nights and had to take a second job.

Yes, heirarchy can be incredibly unethical. Failing to recognize the needs of a relationship and the way it's structurally evolved can also be unethical.

My final thought here is simply going to be that Hierarchy is not automatically unethical or bad. Like with anything there is nuance. Every relationship requires communication, consent, and intentionality. In Polyamory we consciously choose to have multiple relationships and with that comes a responsibility to recognize ethical and unethical behavior, needs, and the way each relationship is structured and integrated in each individual's life. Hierarchal, non-hierarchial, solo-poly, relationship anarchy, triads, quads, open or closed polycules etc. relationship are fluid and ever evolving but without clarity around agreements, boundaries, and needs they will fall apart.

End rant.