#also forgetting the birthday promotions

[kiromori]

How we feeling EN twst?

[readymades2002]

good LORD that was the worst week ive had at work yet.

[jedisupernova]

life with choi subong (thanos)

notes minors dni contains life before games, fem and aged up reader (same age as subong), always written with plus size reader in mind but truly anyone can read, a lot of made up lore to fill in gaps & build dynamic between subong and reader, smut (no distinct section. it is imbedded throughout; sexting, dirty talk, oral f and m receiving, vignettes of sub!subong, handjob, p in v, non-protective sex (don't be stupid,) public sex, foreplay, squirting), angst (lying, deception, miscommunication, arguing and gaslighting: cursing, pushing each other, one body shaming remark, a lot of name calling, insults, mentions of death, just being mean; this does not having a happy ending), toxic dynamic, mentions of drinking, drug use, problematic reader if you squint, i don't know how crypto works so don't yell at me, blatantly problematic subong, reader deserves better, a lot of dumbassery and some typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! this is also my very first post, and i want to show what i can do! this is really long. like, really long. this is my interpretation of the character, i hope you like it and please be nice!

he was the nail that chipped the day after you painted them; the incessant promotional email that never filtered to the spam folder; the fly you repeatedly missed when swatting; the shoelaces that always came undone; the built up phlegm after a particularly nasty cough; the shirt that shrunk when you left it in the dryer too long. but what could you say? the dick was too fucking bomb ...

you met on the night of your friend's birthday. some time past eleven thirty pm on a saturday night at some dimly-lit nightclub in itaewon, you nursed a margarita, chatting with your friends and paying no mind to the re-arranging happening on the small stage some feet away from your table—a couple of speakers and a mic stand—nor did you look when the club manager made a half-assed announcement, followed by his exit and an old school hip hop instrumental filling the acoustics of the club.

subong was performing that night after begging the manager for weeks on end. it was a particularly difficult feat, considering the rap battle night he and seven other underground artists were part of two months prior ended in a fist fight after a set of insensitive bars about subong's opponent's family lineage spewed from his mouth without remorse. oh, can't forget the time he stole three bottles of cuervo tequila, or when he got so high he squirted someone in the eye with lime because they looked at him funny, or when he left such a monstrous shit in the toilet that he ended up flooding the bathroom when trying to flush.

alas, alas ... the melon streaming numbers spoke for itself (over 95k streams in total for his most recent mixtape), he just reached 10k followers on instagram, and all attention is good attention if you know how to work it ... and subong did, considering bookings went up when he announced he'd be performing this weekend prior to getting approval, cornering the club manager into a checkmate.

you noticed the slight commotion reverberating through the crowd when the music blared, but not enough to divert your attention wholly. when his set finished, he snuck into the crowd, snagging a rogue bloody mary from the bar and downing it without hesitation, turning his head sharply when someone from your party shouted his name.

your friend's boyfriend went to high school with him and hadn't seen him in years. with the way subong reacted, you would've thought they saw each other last week and were the best of friends, slinging his arm around his shoulders and capturing the attention of your table in a flurry. he was overtly charismatic, slowly coming around to your side of the table, eyeing you up and down without an iota of shame. he liked what he saw—his tongue running over his bottom lip.

he looked a bit try hard-y, in his loose fitting clothing, singular golden chain, and his black hair in an awkward stage of a grown out buzz cut—but admittedly he was fine. then you saw the layer of sweat shining on his tan skin ... oh ... he's fine.

"you like what you saw?" he shouted over the music, placing his hand on the table, inching towards you. he gestured to the now empty stage with a subtle flick of his head, leaning in to hear you. "that was you?" you said back. "i'm sorry, i wasn't watching!"

subong smirked, thinking you were joking, but his ego inflated nonetheless. "i—i rap!" he shouted, laying his palm against his chest. "i don't!" you quipped back with a grand smile, shaking your head. he had no idea his dick could get hard that quickly. "i work at a firm!" you say.

it could have been the sight of your glossed lips .. or his big brown eyes .. or your curvy hips .. full thighs .. his tattooed hands .. or the way his lips brushed against your earlobe for you to hear him .. or how your fingers brushed his hair back so he could hear you .. but next thing you know, his lips caught yours, and the next thing after that, his knees were on the porcelain tiles of the bathroom stall, head caught between your plush thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved.

subong's arms held your waist in place, not stopping your back from arching or your hands grasping onto either the wall or his hair, your breathy moans making his jeans feel as if he was wearing tight spandex. when you came—and you came hard—he pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into your hand, "number. now."

"fucking christ, i just came." you said, breathing labored. "hold on." when he stood up, you reached down, pulling your underwear up. you eyed the time on his phone whilst adding your number to his contacts, sending yourself a text. you caught sight of his bulge when you gave his phone back. "you'll have to take care of that yourself. i have to go." you say, running your hands through your hair in an effort to not look too disheveled, even if your friends were smart enough to put two and two together.

you noticed subong take a prolonged look at you. he read your mind: "taking a mental photo for later." he explained, inhaling sharply through his nose. a smirk tugged at your lips. "oh yeah? i'll make it 4d." you palmed his bulge. he nearly lost balance, his gasp sounding more vulnerable than he would've liked—"f-fuck—ngh!" he bit his bottom lip, planting his forehead against yours. your touch was slow and calculated but firm, applying enough pressure to make his vision go fuzzy. "you're f-fucking crazy," his voice shook pathetically, eyebrows contorted in deep pleasure. "y-you f-fucking—ngh!—crazy bitch!"

you stopped abruptly, grabbing subong through his pants harshly. he mewled pathetically in pain. "call me that shit one more time and see what happens." "i'm s-sorry! f-fuck, i'm sorry! i'm sorry! please!" his breath hitched. "oh my fuck—please, baby, i'm so sorry!"

you gradually began palming him again, feeling his deep breath brush against your skin as his forehead returned to yours. his lips eventually latched onto yours, and you couldn't help your thighs rubbing together from how long and slender he felt in your hand.

your phone started to ring in your purse, which hung off the hook at the top of the bathroom stall door, undoubtedly a friend looking for you. you broke the kiss and ceased your touch, stepping around him and fishing your phone out before slinging your purse over your shoulder. "you better fucking call me." you say, kissing his lips again. "i will, will."

you eye his tent. it looks like it hurts and the zipper could break off. you didn't even realise you were biting your bottom lip until your phone rang again. "best dick i'll ever have." subong heard you mutter as you walked away, his cocky smirk stretching across his face in no time. he bit his lip when he saw the wet spot on his jeans. unbeknownst to either of you, this night would become the defining vignette of your relationship.

he called you the very next day. when you didn't answer—because your phone was charging on your nightstand whilst you showered—he sent a dick pic with the bottom half of his face visible in the upper left corner with the accompanying text: Like what u see? he chuckled reading your response: should have kept it a surprise

from that point on he spent his spare money (he didn't have much to begin with) on e-cigarette refills, pills, eyebrow threading appointments (he swore you to secrecy), and, perhaps his most beloved purchase, condoms. he always kissed the wrapper before putting one on.

subong tries to give the impression of someone who fucks but the reality is .... well .... he wonders how he got so lucky whenever he's stood at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it after he's knocked. it's been a lot longer than he'd ever admit under sworn oath, but his erratic thrusts gave it away so quickly it was concerning.

don't get it twisted, it felt ... fine. maybe okay on a good day. he filled you up at the very least! but if only it could last longer ... and didn't feel so ... jabby ... and if only you didn't have to keep in your laughter when his forehead fell to your shoulder ... after he came so hard his vein bulged out of his temple and his breathing was deep enough to power a fucking windmill .. only for you to glance at the time on your phone when a notif popped up and think to yourself ... has it really only been four minutes?

so when he's thrusting into you from behind one night, panting like someone's choking him and drilling into you feverishly, you take his temporary halt to catch his breath as your moment. "subong..." your voice ruminates with lust, aided by the intoxicating feeling of his cock resting inside you. you look over your shoulder at his glistening body, illuminated even in your dimly lit bedroom. "you feel so good, baby." you half-lie, internally cringing. either way, he can't tell, he's too fucked out.

"but how about we ... go a little slower? so we can last longer? hm?" you say. his breath hitches when you roll your hips slowly, his palms laying against either globes of your ass lifelessly. you were struggling to keep it together, eyebrows contorted and mouth agape, stretching yourself out on him.

"like this, yeah?—mmf!" you bite your lip. this is the feeling you've been wanting ... you've been aching for. "it'll feel so much better, subong ..." "yeah, yeah ..." he was breathy. his palms slid to either side of your hips, pulling himself in slow and deep. you gasp, "yes! like that! start slow, then go faster ..."

the moans and whimpers that escaped your lips ran every single porno he's ever seen into the ground. he pounded into you when you told him to, feeling the gumminess of your tight walls hug his cock so divinely that he felt for a split second that maybe, just maybe, the cross he always wore served a different purpose than carrying his stash of pills. subong, unsurprisingly, did not last long, but for the first time, you didn't either. "b-baby! f-fuck—i'm gonna, i'm gonna!—" you clenched around him, and he saw white. subong thought he had transcended ... what better way to go out ... death by the best pussy ... he came so hard and so much that he felt himself drip down his thigh.

you first started calling him over on sundays. then he started to come on fridays ... then staying the weekend ... then he came by on wednesdays for a mid-week fuck .. and slowly, but surely, he essentially lived rent free in your apartment. it was a major plus for him. he'd just been floating from one friend's couch to another. your studio apartment was small as is, barely enough for someone a few years into the workforce and even less on affordability—you barely scraped by on groceries. you'd have to make a wish on a shooting star if you ever needed repairs or healthcare. subong, on the other hand? he finally got to sleep in a bed again, and he gets to not only bum it out on another couch, but also eat pussy, get his dick sucked, and fuck on it. 10/10 no notes from him

and christ did you fuck ... one ankle on the coffee table whilst the other rests atop the couch, him pounding into you deep and deliberately, his eyes boring into your face as yours rolled back, mouth agape. once he found his rhythm and knew your body more, it was over. by the grace of the universe, his stamina heightened, too. he thought about reading war and peace and the meticulous process of the seasonal fermentation of various vegetables to thwart his orgasm from coming too quickly, but fell into a mumble of incoherent whimpers and profanities when he heard your beautiful voice tell him to "h-harder, s-subong, harder," or the cacophony of stuttered grunts leaving both of your chests; sexual pleasure in its rawest form.

one friday evening he was sat at the top of your now shared bed with his back against the wall, legs spread and looking up at you with his mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed in inexplicable pleasure, watching you bounce up and down in fucked out bliss. you had a bullshit ass day at work—something about being denied a raise or being unfairly told off at a meeting—he didn't remember or really care, all he knew was he suggested you use him to relieve frustration, and you obliged. "that's it b-baby. give it all to me, u-use this dick." he bit his bottom lip, squeezing the side of your thigh as you slammed down onto him. "give all your stress to—ngh!—me. your subongie will help you relax." his hands trailed up your waist and kneaded your breasts, making you gasp. you rolled your hips to catch your breath, biting your lip.

you put your hands on his chest for support. "such good dick." you said breathily. "all mine." "that's right." he affirmed. one hand stationed beside your knee, the other reached to the nightside table for his e-cig, bringing it to his lips. you opened your eyes when the cloud of smoke brushed against your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the faint scent of strawberry.

"fuck you and your fuckass puff bar." you said, trying to take it, but he raised it in the air with a shit-eating grin. "what? are you jealous? hm? is my baby jealous?" he jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, chuckling when you swat the e-cig out of his hand. "the fuck would i be jealous about you destroying your lungs for?" you retort. he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "you think you're too good to be fucked by me that you needed to take the edge off." you say, throwing the e-cig onto the floor and ignoring his protests, only for them turn into sharp sucked-in breaths when you rolled your hips again. "th-that was my—shit!—my b-best fucking one," subong shuddered. "you want your best puff or pussy? hm?" you said sharply. with a whimper, he said "my best p-pussy." "i thought so. now say you're sorry until i believe you." you said, hearing him let out a wall-shattering moan when you began riding his long cock again. he would never admit to this in a million years, but this was his favorite way to fuck.

you were in denial for a long time that things had become more romantic and vulnerable. since it was unspoken between you two when he inconspicuously moved in (as irresponsible it is) ... to when he started calling you "my baby" two months in and him "your subongie" a couple weeks later ... to when steamy makeouts before bed remained just that, even through the hushed whimpers and dry humping ... to when he'd smoke a cigarette on the balcony after you routinely complained about the smell, him having you sit on his lap because "the cigarette doesn't hit the same," only to end up sucking the life out of his cock or him rutting into you from behind ... to when you'd wake up with his arm slung lazily across your waist and his head tucked into your neck ... he'd run verses by you and you'd unironically compliment them ... he unironically started going on grocery runs with you, and picking out your jewelry ... and to when sunday mornings became a lot more quieter than they used to be, you two sat on the small couch together, clad in nothing but your underwear, drinking stale black coffee as one of four channels you have play on your dinky tv. it might be due to the limited space, or something more, but his hand lay on your knee whilst yours mindlessly traced the tattoos on the back of his neck, or toyed with his cartilage piercing.

you couldn't kick the question out your mind anymore. "subong?" "hm?" he responded, eyes glued to the tv. "what are we?" he didn't budge. you nudged his shoulder, earning his attention but with a flutter of irritation. "huh? what'd you ask?" "i said what are we?" his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean?" you raised your eyebrows, losing patience. "you know exactly what i mean."

he takes a moment to rack his brain, and then gets it. "you're my girl. my señorita." his face fell when you scoffed and pushed him away. "talk to me when you want to be serious." "i am being serious!" he says defensively. "look, you're my girlfriend. we're together." he sets his coffee down, pulling you in for a kiss. he kept kissing you until you cracked a grin, which took all of two tries. he wields his big brown eyes like katanas looking into yours, raising a finger heart and pressing it against his lips. "i like you." he says, unable to hold back his smile when you moved his hand away.

subong leaned in closer, the tip of his nose feeling the warmth of your cheek. "do you like me, too? hm? you can tell me. i promise i'll keep it a secret. i won't tell anyone." he knew your answer, but teased nonetheless, shaking his head in affirmation. you shushed him gently, actively trying to thwart how flustered you've become. he only pushed more, pressing a purposely deep and obnoxious kiss onto your skin. "i'll be the best and sexiest boyfriend ever."

it felt so wrong that your heart beat a little faster. "i'm only saying okay so that you shut up." you muttered. a knowing grin stretched across subong's face. he placed a kiss on your neck and above the valley between your breasts, laying his temple on your chest, slinging his arms around you. he smirked when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder some minutes later, his eyes fluttering closed when your lips found the top of his head.

you made him start coughing up his earnings from gigs to go towards rent. considering he wasn't being paid much, bookings weren't predictable, and he'd sometimes try to hide his earnings from you (which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, and if he did it again, you threatened he'd be out on the balcony without a blanket) his contribution wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. you shut down any chance of retaliation from him with a look he's since named "period projection" or, depending on his mood, "viagra."

when a lot of time passed between gigs, subong was woken up by a notebook and pen thrown onto his chest. "if you don't have five songs written by the time i get back from work, you're pussyless for a week." you said, slinging your purse over your shoulder. he grunted, barely opening his eyes but sitting up, the notebook and pen falling onto the bed. you grabbed his face, pecking his cheek before heading out the door.

subong talked himself up if you were being particularly hard on him, or really, just not as delusional about his success. "baby, one day you won't have to worry about shit. i'll have us partying in mykonos by next valentine's and in switzerland to see the first snow." he said one morning, standing stupidly in the middle of the apartment with nothing but his briefs and a graphic tee that had stains you didn't want to know about. "book the flights when you stop eating week old beef and using my moisturizer." you mutter, shoving the vacuum cleaner in his hands, gesturing for him to hand over the shirt before heading to the basement of the building to do laundry.

if work permitted, you went to see him perform at whatever nightclub in the city. subong found you in the crowd after his set, giving you a sloppy kiss and wrapping his sweaty arms around you no matter if you came straight from work, still clad in business wear, or in something that made you look like the rapper girlfriend of his dreams. an air of added cockiness ruminated off him when you two tag-teamed hounding the club manager whenever they tried to lowball his pay. more often than not, they caved in and gave what was agreed to and then some after you shouted said your piece. either way, you end up on the dance floor wrestling with your tongues or him pounding into you from behind in a bathroom stall. everybody wins!

when you're at work and subong's at home, he films tiktoks and posts on his instagram to get his name out there. he also tries to start beef on various naver cafés, especially when he's bored. or texting you: Did u eat the last tico?; Hi baby I have a threading appt at 5 i will meet u at your work before we go to dinner; Highh as sht88df thikning about ❤️You girl❤️❤️❤️❤️; [insert photo of him flexing in the bathroom mirror] Come home for lunch

speaking of photos on his phone, he has quite the array—advertisements at the train and bus stations he finds funny; various hair colors from the department store he wants to try; mirror selfies of him either flexing or trying on shoes; a photo of his hand squishing your cheeks when you two were waiting in line for cheap street food for lunch; another photo of you looking rather disheveled in the kitchen when you two were unfairly woken up at 6 am one saturday morning by nearby construction, an adorably annoyed look on your face because he was standing in the way of the fridge; one selfie of him in bed hitting his e-cig; the next taken six minutes later with your tit in his mouth, his eyes looking at himself. if you didn't keep tabs on him, he would've made the latter the cover of his next mixtape.

some of your friends thought you were crazy for still being with him, someone who was barely scraping by and, from an outsider's pov, was a moocher. you'd shake your head, "you guys don't get it. i know what i'm doing. you don't need to worry." and you certainly did, considering whenever you came home to subong's big brown eyes, towering height, and his smooth, low voice asking "how was your day, baby?," or when his fingers traced a fresh hickey on your neck, or when he announced his presence by placing his hand teasingly low on your waist ... oh, you were just about ready to make him a father .... even if it would lower the nation's life expectancy rate.

you've caught yourself staring at him at night when you couldn't sleep, watching the way his lips parted every time he exhaled, or how his arms were sprawled out before him after he fell asleep with them crossed. you fought the fluttering of your heavy eyelids to just .... look at him. sometimes you succumb to slumber, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek before drifting off. but one night you were simply plagued by him, looking at subong as if he was a riddle to solve, until you realized with wide eyes that you were projecting: oh fuck no. i love him.

it terrified you, that strong feeling. but not enough to sit idly by if someone became a little too flirty with him at the club, or to slow your speed walk to the bathroom after a work conference to send him a picture after he sent one that morning—lowering your volume and pressing your phone to your ear, listening to the audio message he sent in response, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together: "god, you're so fucking hot baby. how did i get so lucky .... what am i supposed to do, hm? you made my dick so fucking hard .... and it's not even eleven am yet ... is this what you wanted, hm? to get me riled up first thing in the morning?" his voice was low, sleep still fresh in his tone, followed by wet strokes. "it's sad that you're at work for so long. leaving me here—f-fuck, yeah, just like th-that—all alone ... and so needy ..."

you fucked good and hard when subong got a spot in the rap battleground competition, landing him in a position to not only put his name out there, but possibly win some money that would make a difference. you were elated enough to go condom-less. "wanna make you feel good, baby," you murmured breathily, ass pushing against the kitchen countertop, subong standing between your warm thighs. "i'm just so—mmf!" you sucked in a breath when his lips and tongue found your neck. "s-so proud of you, subongie." oh. subong just knew something was up. but he wasn't stupid enough to question it, not when he knows he's about to enter the gates of heaven. "gonna let me fuck this tight pussy raw?" he muttered in that low voice of his, continuing his slow, wet kisses on your neck to avoid melting into a puddle of his libido. his voice quivered when you didn't answer, hidden well by your moan: "hm? gonna let me ruin this pussy—" "yes!" you whimpered.

in a moment of weakness, he bit his bottom lip. he grabbed your face with one hand, making you look him in the eye. even in his attempt at dominance, you saw the flickers of awe in his eyes. nothing filled the kitchen besides the sounds of your shaky breaths, his face studying yours. could this ... could he have just realized that ... he loves you, too? subong leans in closer, the tip of his nose brushing with yours. you try to lean in, but his hold on your face stops you. you don't know what to make of his feelings with his next words, but with how his other hand comes up and combs your hair out of your face, and his forehead touches yours, its perhaps the most intimate moment of your relationship thus far: "you're finally gonna let me fuck what's mine?" he whispers. you nod silently.

subong bottomed out that night, cumming all over your stomach and back. your back arched like never before when he was pounding into you from behind, taking him deep into your gummy, warm walls. your fingernails clawed at your pillowcases and bed sheets, jaw hung open and eyes rolled back whilst his heavy balls hit the bottom of your stomach. your cunt suffocated his dick every time his palm smacked either globe of your ass—"take that fucking dick. take that fucking dick, just like that, yeah," he panted, palm rubbing over your hot skin before smacking it again. his voice cracked, "f-fuck! o-oh my god! fuck!" he squeezed your hips so hard you sucked a breath in through your teeth. his thrusts momentarily slowed, blinking hard when his vision began to blur at the sight of the creamy ring at the end of his cock. the noise was obnoxious, wet, and loud. you're everything he could ever hope for. in missionary, he tried so hard not to be a babbling mess, through his purposeful strokes. his hands held your head in place, his thumbs pressing into your temples, but his gaze failed to leave his cock fucking you. "give me that fucking puffy pussy." he murmured. he held his bottom lip between his teeth, groaning. "give me that puffy fucking—o-oh! ngh! f-fuck, you always know how to make me feel so f-fucking good, baby!"

you showered afterward together, momentarily forgetting about the water bill when your arms wrapped around subong's neck, your lips molding together. the kiss was soft and sensual. his hands massaged the same globes his palms set fire to whilst the remnants of his lust washed off your body and down the drain. he slept the best he had in weeks that night. a couple weeks later, you helped him dye his hair a deep purple a few days before the competition, just in time for him to adopt his new stage persona after becoming insufferable since watching "endgame," thanos.

the competition came and went, and he placed as a runner-up. he actually listened when you said you didn't want to head to the club since you had work early the next day, settling for a nice dinner and a bottle or two of soju instead. a group of fans of the show came up to him in the checkout line, and not only did you watch with an admiring grin, but your eyes widened surprise when he introduced you as his girlfriend after you were handed their phones to take a photo, harmlessly mistaken as a bystander. not only were you then asked to join the photo, but subong laughed heartily on the walk home upon hearing one of the girls' face dropped hearing the news that he's taken.

the bottles emptied on your coffee table, you ended the night rolling your hips atop his, holding onto his shoulders as his hands held onto either globes of your ass, looking up at you whilst you rode his cock. your dress pants for work were discarded on the floor, panties pushed to the side for his condom-less dick, biting your bottom lip when his palm massaged your breast through your blouse. nothing was in the room besides your breathy gasps, his low groans, the squeak of sweaty skin against the cheap faux leather of the couch, and his whispers . . . "you look so beautiful, baby. so fucking sexy." subong's eyebrows furrowed deeply, glancing at your swiveling hips before looking back up at you, despite your head being thrown back. "taking this cock so good...f-fuck ... know how to make me feel good, yeah? always know just how to squeeze me, how to make this big, fat cock cum, yeah? tell me, baby."

all you could muster was a whimper and your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, but that was more than okay with him. his hand trailed up the side of your neck, bringing your head forward. "come here, come here my beautiful baby. my beautiful fucking woman." his lips kissed yours, molding them together repeatedly. his tongue toyed with yours, picking up the speed of your hips, making him grunt into your mouth every time your inner thighs clapped against his lower stomach. you held onto each other tighter, the kiss becoming feverish, only to be broken when his thumb found your clit. you came in what felt like seconds, and before you knew it, the words slipped out: "i love you!" you whimpered, riding out the high of your intense orgasm, subong having pulled out and spilling onto his thigh. "i love you, i love you!" you repeated breathily. through the pounding of his temples, he heard. through your laborious breathing, you didn't register that he said nothing back.

subong loved you too. he's known for a while now. but that was precisely the problem—he knew, and he wasn't going to say shit. what was the reason? perhaps it was a fucked up way of protecting you by stonewalling that part of him, perhaps it was selfishness, perhaps it was the inferiority complex making him feel like he didn't deserve someone as patient, as transformative, and as loving as you, and he questioned every day why he hadn't been kicked to the fucking curb yet, even after a year and a half together. or maybe ... it was that fucking mg coin ...

he started watching that fuckass man a couple months before the rap battleground competition after a friend tipped him off about crypto. you peered over his shoulder after settling into bed, hearing parts of a youtube video through his phone speaker. "i stopped trying to understand that shit when they told me a picture of an ape is somehow currency." you muttered, making him laugh. "yeah. you're right, hm?" he let out a yawn, clicking his phone off before taking you in his arms, falling asleep with your head on his chest.

but then, it was like a flip switched. subong saw something you didn't (delusion), and seemed to be watching myung gi's videos at what felt like any chance he had. he watched him in the morning, sat at the small dining table in the kitchen as he ate leftover kimbap from dinner the night previous, already annoying you at barely 10 AM whilst pouring yourself cereal, sitting across from him on this rare saturday off. you eyed his phone, "i thought you dropped that shit." you said between chewing. his eyes stayed glued to his screen, putting another slice into his mouth. "i don't know, baby. i think he has a point. people are getting rich quick off this crypto shit. i might have to play my hand, y'know?" before you could respond, he reached over, wiping a rogue drop of milk that slipped from the corner of your mouth, sucking it off his thumb before pressing 'skip ad'. you reached over, clicking his phone off and turning it face down. "hey!—" "you talk like you routinely pay for this wifi." you said, looking into his eyes. "you talk about 'playing your hand' when you don't have the decency to spend 5,000 won on wired headphones so i don't have to hear this shit all day?"

his lip twitched in annoyance, eyes widening. "don't get smart with me!" he exclaimed. you scoffed and waved your hand dismissively, eating another scoop of your cereal. "i'll go get some headphones after i eat if that's what you really want, damn!" "if you invest in something invisible, you do it with your own money so you reap the punishment." you say. "i will." subong rolled his eyes, eating his last slice of kimbap, but irritably. "he knows his shit. says the coin'll blow up." he mumbled, glancing at you when you got up. you held his face, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "that's what they all say, subong." you collected his and your dishes, bringing them to the sink and beginning to wash.

he funneled money into that coin behind your back no problem. every time a check came in, the slice that went to investing got larger and larger. he kept it hidden by putting aside just enough to not cause suspicion. and turning off notifs at specific times. he said he'd transfer a few months worth of the rent when the money hit his account after rap battleground and a couple of scheduled gigs he won as well, but it was a half-baked lie. he told you the money hit way after it actually did, giving you what he promised but keeping a large sum for himself, because he surprisingly got a return on his investment.

he kept going and going, the high of it all rivaling his pills. he bought limited edition shoes, a pair of earrings you'd been eyeing for a while for your anniversary, and got a couple new tattoos. all of it was hidden well behind his coincidentally coinciding success of his music in the wake of the competition ... damn ... he could get used to the universe dickriding him this hard ...

until it all came crashing down that night on the couch. the same night you confessed, he got a notif from one of his crypto apps that he had lost 30 million won. he bolted out of bed, leaving your sleeping, clueless form behind to smoke a cigarette outside, pacing back and forth in the street, trying to calm himself down at 2:30 in the morning. he stared at those numbers like they were going to change, ultimately convincing himself that it was a mere fluke and that money would come again in no time, stomping his cigarette into the asphalt and heading back upstairs.

it was like a routine: watch myung gi, take notes, invest. watch myung gi, take notes, invest. subong took it to heart when he said viewers would be foolish not to bet. he resented being made to feel stupid. even when the returns were slimmer with each swipe up to refresh, he kept going. he looked you straight in the eyes with an admiring grin on his face, lying through his teeth saying everything was okay. what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? right. but it ate away at him. subconsciously, then viscerally.

your confession hung at the back of subong's head for weeks. he tried to avoid it, even attempted to put that frustration into his music, but nothing was satisfactory. his inner turmoil flooded to the surface—avoiding your kiss in the morning before you headed to work, landing your lips on the corner of his mouth before he pecked yours without much thought. you didn't say those three words again, but he saw them on display in the softness of your eyes gazing up at him. he couldn't bare it. it was so easy for him to lie to your face about his whereabouts, how much of a fucking coward was he to not say three words back? especially when he felt them, too?

you noticed the change as well. he'd be gone for longer hours, only texting you back in the later evening. his hand stayed to hisself on sunday mornings. kisses were quick and choppy, not sensual and slow. sex was more rough and rushed. it made you feel so deeply embarrassed, like a teenaged girl made to feel silly and begging for her boyfriend's attention. you hated the feeling, but hated the fact that you let that confession slip more. you always felt he wasn't one to open up like that, but a girl can dream, can't she?

then it descended into utter madness. you came home from work later than usual, having to finish last minute assignments for someone who didn't show up. you nearly exploded at the haze of smoke filling your apartment, dropping your purse on the floor. there were bottles of soju and half-eaten food littering the kitchen counters and floor, the fridge left wide open, sure to have spoiled the rest of your leftovers. your eyes then found subong and his friend, a stranger to you, so fucking high that drool leaked out of the corner of their mouths.

"out!" you yelled, enraged. "get the fuck out!" neither of them moved until the piercing sound of the soju bottle you threw at the wall, shattering into pieces, jolted their senses awake. you grabbed the friend by his tank top, yanking him out of his seat like a fucking rag doll, and shoved him out the door. "the fuck! get ... get your—tell your bitch to fucking chill, bro!" the man's words slurred, only for him to nearly stumble down the stairs when you hurled another bottle at him. "don't ever fucking come back here!" you yelled.

"jesus fucking christ, you're so fucking loud." subong muttered, now standing and rubbing his fingers against his temples. "what the fuck is wrong with you! you've never done shit like this before!" you yelled, paying no mind to his wincing. "the fuck are you talking about? i get high, you know this—" "yeah, i do! but never like this. in our fucking house, subong!"

it was then that you saw the syringe and tinfoil on the coffee table. even in your blistering anger, you took his wrists in your hands, looking over his arms. "since when did you do hard shit? huh?" you muttered. his eyebrows furrowed, looking over to the table with hooded eyes. "what? i...i don't." his words slurred, a low burp gurgling out from his lips, shaking his head. "my friend fucks around with that. not me. i stick to pills and vape, baby. i swear."

you let go of his wrists, running a hand through your hair and pacing. the smoke had cleared. you turned around, seeing him laying his temple against the fridge, mouth hung open and eyes closed. you slowly walked up to him, not sure where to begin, your hands reaching up and holding his face. "baby." you said, him grunting in response. "i don't ... i don't know what's going been going on with you lately. you've been so distant and ... and cold. and then coming home to this ... subong, you're—you're scaring me a little."

he groaned weakly, chin sinking downward before you caught him, holding his face up whilst looking into his hooded eyes. your heart felt punctured. "is it ... is it because i said i love you? is it because of that?" his eyes opened, making way for his frustrated grimace. he shook his head, lip curling in what you mistook as disgust, when in reality he was outwardly sickened by himself. "you don't know fucking shit about anything, bitch."

your face fell, eyes watering. you let go of him, his cheek flattened against the fridge, barely stabilizing himself against it. you took a step back. a million thoughts ran through your mind, but one prevailed amongst all of them: what i've been avoiding has shown itself to be true. a tear escaped your waterline, but your voice was stable. "get out." you sniffled, wiping your cheek. "get out, subong."

"huh?" he mumbled, gradually opening his eyes. "i said get the fuck out of my house, subong." "what? i'm not going—" he burped again. "i'm not going fucking anywhere." he wagged a finger in your face. you swatted his arm away, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt and yanked him with all of your might, pushing his back, shoving him out the door even after he tripped over your purse. you slammed the door and locked it before he got to his feet again. "hey!" he yelled. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "open the damn door, you fucking bitch!" he pounded on the door with his palm. "come back when you stop acting like a fucking child!" you yelled, hitting the door back repeatedly. "and not turn my place into a fucking trap house, you piece of shit!"

"what about all that money i gave you, huh!? for rent? and your fucking groceries? give me those fucking earrings you have on, you never fucking deserved them anyway—" "fuck no!" you shouted over him. "this is the least i fucking deserve after your fucking pennies, you cheap piece of shit! if you're so loaded, then fuck off!" subong pressed his mouth to edge of the door, seething. "throwing your boyfriend out like this? when i'm making it big, huh? you'll come to regret this—" you bursted out laughing almost maniacally, a very strange mixture of anger, frustration, and hilarity brewing in your chest. he could be so fucking ridiculous. "m-making it big?" you repeated, laughing so hard you clutched your stomach and wiped tears from your face. it was cathartic. "i-if you're 'making it big,' subong, then—then i'm a lost member of the royal fucking family!" you exclaimed. "how's the fund for greece, huh? still plan on taking me for valentine's? or are you going to continue to clog my toilet because you're still too cheap to buy fresh meat?" "shut the fuck up!" he roared, slamming his palm against the door and wiggling the doorknob.

a neighbor opened their door, avoiding eye contact and stepping around the broken glass to take out their trash, visibly not wanting to be caught in the firestorm taking place in the hall. subong grew embarrassed, turning back to the closed door with a new plea to avoid the atomically sinking feeling. "open the door. please, baby. let's talk this out." he spoke, trying to keep his voice level, wiping his nose with the side of his thumb. when you didn't answer, he kept going. "i'm sorry for all the trouble, baby. let me make it up to you, yeah? just open the door, and we can talk this out. c'mon, baby, the neighbors'll hear—" "let them fucking hear!" you yelled, making him flinh. you leaned closer to the edge of the door, directly parallel to him. "what's that bullshit you always say, huh? any attention is good attention, if you know what to do with it? well, eat your fucking words then, subong! be a man for once in your stupid life!" his eyes widened, vein popping out of his temple. "fuck you, you fucking whore!" he slammed the door repeatedly, the two of you creating a cacophony when you started hitting it, too. "fuck you too, dumbass!"

it was eerily silent that evening in your apartment. you, alone, cleaning up the mess he left behind. carefully sweeping up shattered glass, plastic bags, food wrappers, washing the dishes, cleaning out the fridge, etc. subong was universe knows where. you didn't have the energy to think about him, not even bothering to look around on your walk to the convenience mart to buy ramen for dinner. the emotional turmoil sank into your chest when you sat at the same kitchen table where chaos unfolded at mere hours ago to eat. you barely swallowed the first mouthful before you sank into tears, shoulders shaking, pressing the back of your hand to your lips to console yourself. how could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

you and subong didn't speak for three months. he called and texted those first couple weeks, but that fizzled out, and you didn't answer at all. you didn't owe him anything, especially after the shit he put you through. the wound was still felt too fresh, sensitive enough to do anything but wallow in the silence, heading back out to bars with your friends on the weekends.

none of your friends dared to say much. you were offered apologetic words, but a fool wouldn't notice the air of i told you so in their tone. even with you ceasing caring to cover the healing hickies, being much more subdued on nights out, or your eye bags deepening in the wake of the break up, you were mainly left to wallow in your own grief. you felt it was half deserved and half fucking rude.

but as more time went on, you felt hurt by the fact that subong didn't show back up. not once. not even a mean note on your door, or sign of attempted entry. did he really not fucking care that much? he was just a man, after all ... but then again, not every man is reduced to grateful tears after eating pussy. or looks at you like a renaissance painting come to life when you're retouching his fucking hair dye. when you got home one night, a little tipsy from the cocktails you had, you clicked on those unread text messages— ranging from Baby i'm sorry please talk to me; Stop being so fucking stubborn; ileft my keytthere I dont wantt it back u fknng cnutt; to I don't deserve you i fucked up please baby—and listening to those voicemails.

one resonated with you, even in your inebriated state: "hi ... um, it's been, like, four days since we ... and i, uh—i feel weird. and i don't like it at all. i know you're at work right now but i can't bring myself to show my face and i fucking hate it. i don't like being a coward. but you ... you're ... you're just ... you need to stop. you can't keep doing this to me. you make me feel things i've never felt and it fucking scares me. and you cut me off before i could even say my bit. how is that fair? you can't just come into my life like that and walk away before i get a say. you can't change my life and me and then just throw me away. i know ... i know i'm not the best guy. but even i don't deserve to be thrown out like—" he was cut off and did not call back. "oh my god. what a fucking idiot." you murmured, rubbing your temple with your fingers.

but the universe loves to throw curveballs, because you saw him two weeks later at a bar a few blocks down from the club you first met at. subong saw you long before you saw him that night. he'd spent so much of the last four months feeling a spectrum of emotions, coping with his frustration by daydreaming about what he'd say the next time he saw you—all of the insults to suffice for his anger, all of the things he'd say to make you feel bad for how you treated him—all cogs in his self-deflection apparatus. but when he actually saw you, sat alone at the bar with no friend group in sight, drinking what looked to be martini, he was at a loss for words. even his emotionally daft ass was aware enough to sense something was different about you. more muted, more subdued. that's what she fucking gets. his inner monologue was unforgiving, only for him to peer over a tall strangers shoulder to keep his softened eyes on you. but she ... she can't be alone. not here.

subong was really good at blending into the crowd, until he got too close, and by chance you glanced up and saw him. he was close enough to hear you suck in a breath through your teeth, and see your eyes widen in panic the same time his did. without thinking, you got up from your seat, grabbing your purse hanging on the back of your chair, forgetting you hadn't even taken a second sip of your overpriced drink. subong stepped out of the crowd, "don't go." he said gentler than anticipated, before remembering he was supposed to be livid. his expression hardened, lips tightened, hand grabbing for your arm. "we need to talk."

"i don't have anything to fucking say to you." you say sharply, not looking at him, keeping your voice low to not cause commotion. "yes the fuck you do." he bit back. you tried to pull your arm out of his grip, failing. "let me go or i'll throw my drink in your face." "really?" he smirked. "i didn't take you to be so careless with your money." you look up, eyebrows raised, meeting his eyes for the first time in months. "oh, that's funny. do you still think you're up and coming? or have you come to terms with the fact that you're an illiterate fuck who steals IP just to still write shit fucking bars?"

subong closed much of the remaining gap between you. "shut your fucking mouth, you bitch." he seethed through gritted teeth. you look him dead in the eyes, "see what i mean? you still can't come up with anything new, and you've had all this time." you pulled at his grip again, but he was strong. "let me go." "you didn't listen to me before, so you're going to listen now." "like the fuck i am!" you looked at him like he was crazy. you pulled again, finally freeing your arm. you grabbed your drink, purse in your other hand. "now leave me alone." you say. "or i'll throw this drink right in your fucking eyes."

you turned and walked deeper into the dimly lit bar; just anywhere that was not where he was. you found an empty booth, sitting down with a huff, taking a hefty swig of your martini. you shot up when you saw him walk over, putting your arm in position, only for subong to put his hands up, one hovering over your drink. "don't throw it! don't!" "do you not know how to fucking listen!?" "you don't know how, either!" he shot back. "why did you never respond to my texts or calls?" "don't ask me that with that stupid look on your face like it's as bad as you bringing a fucking stranger and hard drugs into my home!" you exclaimed. "which, by the way, in all of your rambling voicemails and texts, you've never once apologized for." "so you did read them?" "that's not the fucking point, subong!" "yes, it is! to me!" "and what? you don't think it matters to me that you never said 'i love you' back? that i felt like a fucking teenage girl, waiting at her boyfriend's beck and call to care about her?"

people were starting to stare, but your sense of decorum was long gone. he got up in your face, and you took him up at that challenge. "i care! i fucking cared!" he stared into your eyes in frustration, pushing his fingers into his chest in a desperate gesture. "well, you didn't do a good job of showing it. because at some point, i felt my loneliest even when you were beside me, snoring like fucking pug and dutch ovening the blanket."

subong, at a loss for words, too choked up on his anger and long-suppressed complicated feelings boiling to the surface, turned to what he knew best: low hanging fruit. after a moment, he collects himself. a smug smirk stretches across his face, taking a step back and glancing at the dated wall art behind you. he shook his head, looking down at the floor with a chuckle. "and here i was, thinking you were secretly pregnant with my kid or something." he said. your eyebrows furrowed, deeply confused. this was stupid, even for him. "what?" you shook your head. "what the fuck are you talking about—" "—it makes sense that you wouldn't want to tell me. too much for you too handle. but then i saw you tonight, and you looked more bloated than usual, so i thought i was right. but then you were drinking—" he yelped when the cold gin splashed in his face, flinching at the glass bouncing off his chest, shattering next to his foot. gasps erupted throughout the room. subong hastily wiped his eyes, feeling them burn. "fucking bitch!" "your children would be lucky to never know their deadbeat of a fucking father."

you stormed off, heading into the nearby women's bathroom. heartbeat in your throat, you turned on a sink, rinsing the alcohol off your hands. you didn't look up when the door hit the wall, or when subong yelled "fuck off!" to the other three women in the room, causing a brief scurry of heels out the door. he pushed you out of the way, rinsing his eyes. "i should go and file a fucking police report on you." he mumbled. he looked up at you, expression angry, even with his squinting eyes. "i should've written 'sex slave' on my tax forms, too, with how you treated me!"

you pushed him right back, collecting a handful of water from the running sink with your palm, and throwing it at his face. "when was the last time you paid your taxes? hm!?" you exclaimed. "do you even know where your bank is? did you ever buy a new toothbrush after the one you had became a clump of bristles and i had to get one for you like a fucking mother!?" you yelled, using both palms and throwing more water; some hitting the floor, some splashing on yourself, but most wetting his face and clothing. "hey!" his voice boomed. he took a step forward, slipping, but caught himself on the edge of the sink. he turned the water off, landing your hand atop his in a failed effort to stop him. "you don't get to speak to me like that!" he yelled. "i can speak however i want to!" you yelled louder, making him wince, cursing under his breath. "you lost your chance when you made me feel crazy for loving you. i don't know how i could've even liked you!"

"hey!" subong's voice echoed off the walls. "your voice is so fucking shrill! you're giving me a fucking headache!" he pushed his fingers into his temple. he pointed at you, unwavering when you smacked it away. "don't act like you're fucking innocent, either—let me fucking finish!" you closed your mouth, crossing your arms over your chest. "see, this is what your problem is. you don't let anyone speak, or want to do anything i like. all those times you laughed in my face, didn't take me seriously, or tossed my career away like it was garbage, like some fucking fly you couldn't swat away." he waved his hand in front of his face, mimicking the gesture. "well, i'm sorry i put a roof over your head when you were piss poor broke." your voice was eerily leveled, staring so hard into his eyes you could've burned holes into his retinas. "and didn't act like you were nominated for grammys in fucking return."

"'laughed?' 'didn't take seriously?'" you repeated his words, eyebrows furrowing. "who dyed your stupid fucking purple hair? who reminded you to write songs? who pushed you to call clubs? who yelled at pervert managers to get you fair pay!?" your voice escalated. subong's eyes drifted to the tiled floor, head hanging lower than before. you took a breath. "subong, i—" he met your eyes at the mention of his name. "i invented you."

his expression soured, hating that you were right and faced with his own cowardice once again. but he would rather give himself up to his loan shark than show it. "invented is the right word." subong spoke lowly, nodding. his hand came up to his head, making a screwing gesture. "false ideas—you have false ideas of who i am. you played with me like a toy." you were in disbelief. "p-played you? like ... like a toy?" you began to stutter through this newfound upheaval of anger, something that made your face feel hot and stomach churn, increasingly irritated with each second you couldn't get the words out. "you!—you!" you hit your palm on the edge of the sink, sending your purse to the floor. "you came so hard that i thought i had to go to urgent care to get you an oxygen mask!" every word sounded more strained than before. you inhaled deeply, running against a ticking timer in your head to when he'd open his mouth next. you gestured at a bathroom stall door, but in your head, it was a memory. "you held onto me so tightly after your performances or at home or—or eating dinner to the point where i had to eat with one hand!" you closed the gap, your pointer finger brushing against the tip of his nose. "at some point, you couldn't fall asleep unless you felt my fucking heartbeat, motherfucker!"

"and you did all of that," you gestured around you. "just to fuck me over, and make me realize i've wasted my time loving someone who doesn't give half a fucking shit whether i live or die!" "i care!" his voice boomed. "how many times do i have to say that!?" "until your last goddamn breath." you retort without hesitation. "and with how you live, that should be right around the corner." "are you saying i should die?" "what? no, subong. of course not." you shook your head. "that's not what i—that's not what i meant." "so what did you mean?" "what i mean was—no, stop distracting. you know exactly what i meant." with your next look at him, you saw them: his manicured hands, equipped with different colors on all fingernails. oh, you hated how quickly your mind shifted gears, how quickly the worries of the imaginary teenage girl clouded your logic and best judgment, but none more than this being what your eyes began watering over. "who ... who did that?" you asked, your suddenly quieted voice catching subong off guard.

"what?" he asked, confused. his eyes followed your gaze, landing at his hands, eyebrows raising at the realization that this was his chance at getting the upper hand: "someone i saw." he lied. it wasn't wholly untrue, but dubiously framed; the nail tech was a woman, so he did see her, just not in the way he just purposefully vaguely implied. he needed something to jab at you, to knock you down a peg like it was a schoolyard fight, but even he couldn't smirk at the hurt on your face. in fact, he regretted those words the moment he said them. "who is she?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. subong had never seen you look so devastated like this before. it made him feel an instinct that straightened his posture, unaware of what to do next, standing awkwardly. he attempted to say these next words with venom, but he couldn't even believe them himself, almost sounding as subdued as you: "it's none of your fucking business."

your heart drops. you feel nauseous. if subong had blinked, he would've missed your curt nod. you didn't bother wiping the tear trailing your cheek, his eyes watching as you pick up your purse from the floor, ears perking at your sniffle. "okay." you whispered, but you were so quiet that your voice nearly blended with the air vent. you started walking, fully intending to never turn back around, until his hand on your wrist stopped you. "wait—" "stop!" you said sharply, yanking out of his grip before he could close his fingers entirely. you held your hands in the air before circling around, your eyes landing on his. his face fell. you looked perishable, drained of an essence he couldn't fathom you without. oh, he'd really done it this time.

you lunged forward, nail of your pointer finger scratching against his nose. "you don't get to do this to me, s-subong!" you exclaimed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tears stifle the effort. you couldn't contain the sob. he was mortified at the sight. "it's ... it's not fair." you whispered meekly. your hands trailed to his chest, balling into fists as you cried. he stood there, frozen, mouth agape like a fool. subong raised his hand, petting your hair with a light, unsure touch. "it's fi—" he sucked in a surprised breath through his teeth when you started swatting his chest, pushing and shoving at him in a pitiful tantrum. subong took it silently, putting his hands up, face contorting uncomfortably at the sound of your cries. his bottom lip started to quiver as time went on. he couldn't tell what he hated more: the fact he lost the fight, or the fact he cared about that to begin with.

"that's enough. hey—" subong inhaled sharply through his nose. he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place. "that's enough." he hoped to whatever higher power you didn't hear the quiver. he swallowed, resting his forehead against yours. your hands went limp. he let go, feelings your palms trail up to his face. "you're mine." you spoke weakly. his mouth fell open, staring at your lips whilst you begged for his eyes; earning you such when your hand on his cheek guided him to your gaze. "do you hear me?" you whispered. "you're mine, subong. no one elses." you shook your forehead against his, your tragic desperation ailing him. "mhm." his hands trailed your waist. "i'm yours, baby. all yours."

with a shaky hand, your fingers ran through his hair, thumb so close to his lips he pressed a skeleton of a kiss onto it. "i'm sorry i threw my drink at you." you cry, voice stuck at a whisper. "i'm so sorry, subong—" "stop." his low voice shushes you, nose nestling beside yours, slowly trailing to your neck. he inhaled your scent, eyes rolling back when your fingers brushed past his cartilage piercing. "i had it coming." his nose found its way back to your cheek, pressing kisses onto the warm, wet skin. "why didn't you come home, subong? i .. i've been waiting for so long." his bottom lip quivered again, but his voice was utmost steady: "you never asked."

"i—i shouldn't have to!" you swatted at his chest. "you idiot!" "i know, i know. i've been really fucking stupid." his voice cracks. subong leans in, but you turn away. "i can't. it's not good for me." "can't you see we're dying without each other?" he pleads, his hands turning your head to look at him. "look at me, look at you! just one, baby. please." his breath brushed against your cheeks, his hands holding either side of your face. "i can't ... i can't go on without you."

with a shaky breath and fresh tears falling down your cheeks, you closed the gap. a guttural moan rumbled through your chest, subong whimpering desperately. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, your hands holding his face for dear life—the kiss slow and purposeful, making up for lost time, a conversation no words could say. subong's palms made way to your ass, acting on pure muscle memory. he angled his head, introducing his tongue into the equation, having to quickly bend his knees to catch your fidgety form. "i'm not going anywhere." he unintentionally stifled the most heavenly moan he's ever heard from you. you broke the kiss for air. subong wasted no time, returning to his favorite spot on your neck, holding you in place firmly. your head fell back, letting him do whatever he so pleased—your hand on the back of his head wielding the power of casting a centuries-long trance.

he sucked and licked with precision, like a day hadn't gone by. he even hummed in concentration, mouth popping off of your soft skin until the bruise was to his liking. "s-subong." you whined, needing his lips back, your fingers messily carding through his hair. "i'm almost done." he was gentle, even if he was ignoring the concrete fucking lump in his pants and starting to sweat over your warmth against his. he latched off, fingers tracing the bluish-red spot with satisfaction. "come here, pretty girl." his slightly swollen lips made your eyebrows furrow pathetically, the kiss felt sticky, your lips sown with his. "i need you." you murmured. "i need you." "stall. the bathroom stall."

you grabbed his hand, rushing to the closest one, pulling him inside. neither of you think to close the door, letting it bang against the wall after swinging it open. subong's lips returned to yours, but his hands pat his pockets, feeling his phone and wallet, unsure: "i don't—i don't have a condom." "it's okay, it's okay." you assure truthfully, hurriedly kissing him as if he'd disappear if you let go. "it'll be just like how we used to, hm?" "turn around for me."

you do, placing your hands on the bathroom stall wall to hold yourself up. subong pulls your pants down to your ankles, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough to grind his hardened cock against your ass, leaving nothing to the imagination, even with the barrier of his briefs and your underwear. "s-subong!" you gasped, back arching, pushing your ass farther onto him, feeling his cock closer to your aching pussy but not quite there yet. "how could you take this away from me?" he whispered into your ear, breath hitching vulnerably as he tried to keep himself composed, the plush of your round ass making his mind mush. "from us?" subong's hands snuck past the hem, grabbing at the powdery softness of either globes of your ass. his bottom lip suffered between his teeth, watching his hands work underneath the fabric, squeezing firmly. your nails clawed at the wall, eyes fluttering closed whenever his cool rings cinched around your hot skin. "stop teasing." your cheek collided with his nose, not realizing how close his face was to yours.

subong kissed your supple skin like instinct. "you'll take this dick like a good fucking girl, right?" he was so close to your ear the tip of his nose smushed against the stall wall. "y-yes!" you helplessly paw at the wall. his hand pulled down your underwear, rutting himself against your bare ass. his fingers maneuvered between your legs, middle finger sinking between your folds and encircling, keeping you steady between him and the wall. when he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, he feels faint, cursing under his breath as your guttural grunt that bounced off the walls. "s-subong—" your voice sounded dry from the earlier arguing and succumbing to your illustrious libido. "i know, baby, i know." his fingers were unrelenting. christ, you were so fucking wet. "just wait for a little longer, and i'll fuck this pussy like the good boy you know i fucking am."

his fingers came to a gradual halt. whilst your chest heaved, he sucked on the tip of his middle finger, licking it clean. "i'm getting on my knees. don't move." he pulled your underwear down, peering up at the puffy lips he has to thank for opening his third eye. you cover your mouth, his warm tongue delving between your folds, scared of what you might sound like if you let go. for the next minute, all that fills the bathroom are the lewd sounds of his tongue nursing your sweet pussy and your muffled whimpers. a crude smack on your left globe followed by a harsh squeeze was the unspoken: let me fucking hear you. "o-oh!" you cried out. "o-oh my fucking god!"

you pushed your ass onto his face, your eyes crossing over the vibrations of his satisfied moan against your clit, squeezing them shut. he lapped your hole repeatedly, swallowing, taking a breath before adjusting his knees on the floor. subong's thumbs spread your lips apart, latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking. the curvature of your back deepened, head thrown back, a cry of pure lust brewing out of your diaphragm, heartbeat stuttering when his tongue lapped the bundle without mercy. "r-right there! just, just—ngh! hngh!—just l-like that!" "where? here?" he asked knowingly, tongue replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit mercilessly. his other hand fished his cock out from his briefs, beginning to stroke himself.

it was a cacophony of wet slick, choked moans, and squelching heat. nothing could deter it, not even the pair of friends that walked in the bathroom, chatting away and completely unaware, only to quickly back out of the room widened eyes and whispers of "oh my god, did you see them?" and "on a tuesday?" it was a sight to behold: your ass in his face; a mixture of his saliva and your slick trailing down his chin, quickly wiped by the back of his hand when he took a breath, but smearing nonetheless; his precum leaking onto the floor; your moans so delicate and raw any erotic film director would beg on their knees to cast you; and subong's affirming mhms and thats rights as he sucks and laps your clit.

subong knew you were close when your thighs began to shake. "give it to me." his hand ceased pumping his dick, both thumbs separating your puffy lips farther than before, running his tongue over your clit. "give it to me, mama," your moan made his dick twitch, eyebrows deeply furrowed, fucked-out gloss coating his eyes. "give it to me, baby, come on—" "ngh!" your body squirmed, nails scraping against the wall, one hand reaching for the top, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm took over your body. subong was stubborn—his palms pressing your back down further, tongue unrelenting through your high, swallowing whatever you gave him. he slowed when your breathing leveled, suckling one last time before rising to his feet.

he pushed your shirt up, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder. "hey," he said gently, hearing your shaky breaths. "still with me?" "mhm." you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth, trying your best to remain standing. his lips kissed your temple, "everything okay?" "mhm," was all you were able to muster. "f-felt really good. needed it." "me too. i dreamt about you, baby." he whined, lips pressed to your skin. "i dreamt about you so much." his breathing became ragged, tip of his cock red and angry. "tugged at my dick so much and i never came as good as when i was with you. now you made me cum just from eating your pussy. do you see what you've done to me? do you see what you've done to your precious subongie?"

you feel dizzy, lifting your head for air. "put it in." you whisper. you push your ass into him, moaning at the feeling of his cock rutting against you. "put it in, subongie." he slowly pushed his tip in, eventually enveloped by your gummy walls. his face contorted—"how're you so much tighter than before!?" his voice was notably higher, barely moving his hips, slowly inching out of you. "h-haven't had anyone else," you sucked in a tight breath. "b-been waiting for you—hngh!" oh, you were so back ... you couldn't help the satisfied smile that stretched across your face, ears filled with his needy whines and blubbering incoherently about how much he missed you, and his girthy cock stretching you out in the way you deserve. "fuck me, subongie," you said breathlessly. "fuck me the way you dream about." "i won't last, you're so fucking tight!—" "—be the good boy you said you'd be!"

with that, he got to work. his pelvis hit your ass, not rapidly, but with reverberating force, moaning and whining like it was the last thing he'd ever do. your mouth fell open, body shaking with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut. you gasped when his hand reached into your bra, holding your left breast, biting your lip as your nipple hardened against his palm. you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of your jiggling globes every time he thrusted. "faster," you said. "faster and harder, s-subong. i—fuck!—i n-need you so b-badly!" he grabbed either side of your hips, pounding into you through his intensifying blurry haze, balls slapping against you so unapologetically that, if someone got close enough, it could've been heard from outside the door. subong wasn't showing off; he wasn't outdoing himself, to him, this was making love. here he was, fucking the woman of his dreams (he got her back!!,) hearing those moans he was so afraid would escape his memories, and fortunate to be feeling and fucking her divine pussy. talk about a jackpot.

"a-agh! f-fuck!" he cried out, hips stuttering as you began fucking him back. he looked down at the sight, watching his creamy cock disappear and reappear at your volition, his indescribable pleasure displayed on his face, envied by empty canvases wishing to capture such raw human emotion. "n-no, no!" he gasped, feeling your pussy clench around him, that knot forming in his abdomen. "y-you're killing me, baby," he panted. "b-baby—ngh!—s-stop, need to f-fuck you. m'gonna cum s'quick if you—if you, f-fuck!" you stopped abruptly, slamming against his pelvis with a shaky breath. "i'm almost there, too." you said. you sunk a little lower, pushing your ass against him. "k-keep going, my love. you're doing so good. always know how to fuck this pussy so good, hm? yeah? best dick i've ever fucking had." you whine, feeling his cock pulsate in your cunt. you look over your shoulder, feeling his hand squeeze your left asscheek, "wanna cum in me?" wanna cum in me so much that i make you a daddy? yeah?" a wall-rattling gasp shattered out of your lungs when he thrust into you hard, once. then twice. "you're going to be the fucking death of me."

subong pounded into your tight pussy mercilessly, brushing against that spongy spot deep in your cunt with little effort at the angle you were in now. "right there, right t-there! o-oh my god, f-fuck—fuck! s-subong—subong! keep going! you feel so f-f-fucking good!" your whorish mewls were no match for his. he was a goner; bottomed out; becoming lightheaded. he kept going, kept hitting that spongy haven, but it wasn't a knot in your abdomen that fleshed goosebumps across your skin, embarking on its unravel—it was deeper, more carnal than that—but before you could register it, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your leg felt wet. "o-oh—oh my g-god—" you were a mumbling mess through this indescribable orgasm, wholly aware of your body but lost in your lustful haze. subong knew exactly what was going on. it brought him over the edge. "f-fuck! fuck! fuck!" warmth coated your walls, chock-full of his cum, trailing down your thigh with your squirt. he slowed his thrusts, moving so delicately it was as if his cock was made of glass.

he stopped moving, cock resting inside your warm cunt. you were in your own world, weakly holding onto the wall, ears ringing, temples pounding. your senses cleared albeit minutely with his hands holding your shoulders, helping you stand up better. you raised your arm, planting it before you and resting your forehead against it, taking deep breaths. subong pulled out, tutting softly hearing your quiet gasp, palm tracing your lower back as a silent i know, i know. his chest heaving, subong's hand reached over, trying to tuck your hair behind your ear to talk to you, but stops when he sees your earrings—the ones he gave you all those months ago; the ones he said you didn't deserve during that explosive argument. unexpectedly to him, his eyes started to water, quickly pressing a kiss onto the back of your shoulder, mouth muffled against the fabric of your top. in the midst of your labored breathing, you don't overhear: "i love you," he whispered. he pressed another kiss. "i love you."

after a few moments, you stood up steadily, making subong lift his head. your hand aimlessly reached behind you for him."you made me ... you made me—" "—i know, i know." he spoke gently. your senses found him when his arm wrapped around your waist, lips pressing a kiss to your temple and staying there. your hand reached up, coaxing your fingers through his hair. "have we ... have we ever done that before?" "i don't think we did." "yeah ... i figured." your eyes were still closed, slowly opening when his lips peppered kisses on your jaw. "i don't—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "i don't know if i can walk straight." both of you couldn't help but laugh, his forehead resting against your temple. "you know," he cleared his throat. "i think someone came in when i was eating you out." "oh god." you murmured. "did they say anything?" "i was kinda busy to notice if they did." he chuckled lowly. "right, right."

the heat of your apartment woke you up in the middle of the night, lazily tugging the duvet of your sweaty body. subong's light snores became background noise after a press of a button, the air conditioning kicking in. in your sleepy state, you squinted at the time on the oven: 4:27 AM. shuffling to the bathroom, you emerged a few minutes later, filling a glass of water from the kitchen tap. after taking a sip, you walked to the ac unit, eyes closed whilst you cooled down, wind flowing modestly through your hair.

feeling refreshed enough, you headed back to bed. you carefully slid your glass onto the nightside table, hoping there was a enough space on the already small and cluttered surface—equipped with yours and subong's charging phones, hair ties, ibuprofen, whatever else you were too lazy to properly put away, and not lit since there was no room for a lamp—but guessed wrong, accidentally sliding both phones off. a loud clatter rang throughout the apartment, "shit!" you cursed under your breath, quickly eyeing subong. he didn't flinch, snoring peacefully. you picked the phones up, plugged his back in, and set them onto the table securely. a notif came up on his screen. by chance, your eyes glanced over. what was a mere peek became a full on stare.

it was from a crypto app. you didn't have to be a genius to know; the word was in the name of the fucking app. you read the notif before his screen went dark: You have an update on your investment. Tap to view. you have got to be fucking kidding me. you thought to yourself. without thinking, you unplugged his phone, tapping his screen to see it again. but the notif was now hidden, requiring his face id or passcode to view. is his passcode still the same as before? you wondered, thinking of those times he'd let you use his phone to connect him to the wifi, or send yourself photos from dates he'd always forget to. you look over your shoulder at his sleeping form, clueless. forget ethics, forget respecting privacy, forget trusting your partner; your brain was in overdrive. this better fucking work. you swipe up, typing 6969—it works. you tap the notif, the app loads quickly. your eyes run over an interface filled with lingo you don't know or care for and usernames that should be put on a watchlist, but then you find it: his profile. you click the icon on the bottom right corner, seeing the Investments tab with an encircled 1 next to it, clicking it, waiting for the screen to load. it only took a couple of seconds, but it was long enough to make you nervously gnaw at your bottom lip and tap your foot. then it loaded.

-850 MILLION KRW — in unmissable red at the top of the screen, above a graph you could only guess illustrated the fluctuation of his money, and other bullshit you couldn't comprehend in the moment. you stared. in silence, numb. before you knew it, the number changed: -1.19 BILLION KRW. your thumb acted before your brain could, scrolling, finding the extensive histories of his investments. he was betting hourly during the day with money he certainly did not have, losing thousands. you scrolled even deeper, finding investments from before you broke up. 50,000 krw here, 5 million there, 30 million another day .... he'd been lying that entire time. selfishly keeping more for himself, all the while consoling your crying state from not being able to make rent in time, even with what you suspected to be all he had ("i'm so sorry, baby. you don't deserve this. we don't deserve this. i'll fight your landlord for you, don't worry.") what utter bullshit.

it was all lies. it was all deception. and now he was back in your bed, peacefully asleep like everything was okay. you let him back into your life, thinking everything was going to be fucking okay. you squeeze his phone in your hand, arm shaking. your other hand sinks your fingers into your knee, as if to prevent from screaming; trying to find another outlet for the anger—fuck it! irate, you grab your glass of water and rush to his side of the bed, throwing it onto his face. he shot up immediately. you paced back and forth, eyes rolling at his coughing fit. "wha—what?" his voice was gravely, wiping his eyes. "was that—was that water?" he asked stupidly. "yes it was fucking water!" you spoke loudly, irritated at the sight of his barely opened eyes."what're you yelling for?" his voice was lower than usual, clouded by looming sleep. "it's, like, four in the morning, baby."

"don't you fucking 'baby' me." you muttered, marching up to him. you showed him his screen. "the fuck is this? hm?" "what?" he asked, wiping water off his forehead. you threw his phone onto his lap. "check your fucking investments." he picked up his phone and scrolled. he didn't say a word. you continued to pace like a madwoman, back and forth, nothing filling the air but the skid of the heels of your feet against the floor. you mentally cursed and screamed, thoughts so scrambled that if you opened your mouth all that would come out would be jibberish, so you paced. and paced. and paced. it could've been anywhere between five or ten minutes when you stopped. "well?" you asked sharply, arms crossed over your chest. "how much money did you fucking make?"

"why'd you look at my phone?" asked subong. he was trying so hard to avoid openly showing his shame; his pride prevailing. "that's—" you stuttered. "that's seriously what you're asking right now?" "yes, that's what i'm fucking asking right the fuck now." he looked up at you, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. "you just threw water in my face. i get to ask questions." "you're a billion in debt!" you whisper-yelled, afraid your eyes would water if you were any louder. you trudged to his side of the bed, eyes wide and finger to his chest. he stared at you blankly, a twitch of his eyebrow outed his mounting frustration at his stifled shame. "you're a billion in debt, subong. where did you ... where did you even get all that money?" you swallowed, taking a step back, eyes looking everywhere but him to thwart the mounting glossiness. "why did you lie to me? all those times, all those times where i felt like it was the end. where i felt like i was at a dead end." you gestured to the couch with your hand, staring at him. "and you ... you lied. you were selfish, and didn't want to help. i ... i saw everything, subong. i know you kept on lying about your earnings when we were together."

another beat of silence. "subong, why did you put so much money into—" "—why'd you look at my phone? hm?" he interrupted, eyes wide. "why couldn't you just mind your fucking business?" "you're a billion in debt—" "i didn't owe you anything!" subong suddenly yelled, catching you off guard. he ripped the duvet off, marching up to you, finger in your face. "i didn't owe you fucking anything." he repeated, breathing hard through his nostrils. "what was it you said to me? hm? that it's my money, my punishment to have? so let me fucking have it." "you owed me everything!" you yelled, smacking his hand away. "you owed me the fucking truth!" he turned around, walking to the window leading to the balcony, hands roughly rubbing his face and hair. "why didn't you just tell me? why did you hide—" "—i did it all for you."

your eyes widened and jaw fell, appalled. "oh my god." you muttered to yourself, but he overheard. "i'm going fucking crazy. i'm going fucking crazy." you ran your hands through your hair, pacing. "i know you did not just ... i know you did not just say that." you shook your head. "how could you be so fucking stupid. how could i be so fucking stupid?" subong whipped his head around. "hey! don't call me stupid!" he walked up to you, growing angrier with your ignoring him. "hey!" he exclaimed. "don't call me stupid! i'm not stupid for taking initiative, or, or doing shit because i care about you!" his arms flailed.

"oh..." you shook your head, facing him. he felt like a first grader being told off by his teacher, frustratingly shifting his weight between his feet, unsure of where to put this uncomfortable energy. "oh no, subong. this isn't caring. this is being a complete and utter dumbass." you said, eyes porous in realization. tears were no longer in the realm of possibility. now, it was just pity. "there's no coming back from this." you made sure he knew. "you're fucked." "i know that!" he yelled, vein tight in his temple. "you don't think i fucking know that!?" subong's eyebrows furrowed. it was his turn to avoid crying. he looked away hastily, cursing repeatedly under his breath as if it'd ward off his blurring vision. he blinked hard—"i ... i tried everything." he muttered, bottom lip quivering. "i ... made deals with dangerous p-people." he cleared his throat. "i slept on benches. my own mother wouldn't pick up my calls. i've disappointed her too many times. and you ... you," he cleared his throat again. "you weren't an option." he shook his head, a tear landing on his arm. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "but ... but i have this one last chance—"

"—you're hopeless." you cut him off. "you're the worst person i've ever fucking met." subong looked at you, silently pleading to take those words back. "no." he sounded wounded. "you don't ... you don't mean that." "i do. i mean every word." you nodded. "i must have done something really horrible in a past life to be cursed with loving someone as hurtful as you." "no ..." he shook his head, his palms flattening his hair. "you don't mean what you're saying." "i do!" you yelled, voice cracking, heartbeat in your throat. a shaky breath left his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling and blinking fast, waterline feeling heavy. "no ... no, no." he muttered to himself. he took your face in his hands, eyes darting around your features, making them out even in the meek lighting of the slowly emerging sunrise. you stared blankly at the floor, emotionless between his palms.

"you don't mean those words. i know you don't." he spoke aloud, trying to convince himself. "you don't mean them." his fingers combed your hair out of your face. "i've been trying so hard. i'm so fucking scared, baby." subong shook his head quickly, but it didn't halt his falling tears. "i f-fucked up so bad." he whispered, lips quivering. he pressed kisses to your supple skin, attempting to fill the eerie silence. "but i promise—" his lips peppering your face. "i promise i'm going to fix all of this. i have a plan." subong tasted something salty, seeing a tear having fallen down your cheek. "no, no." he tutted gently, kissing it away. "don't cry. you're too beautiful to cry over a loser like me, baby." he kissed that same spot. "no, no. don't cry. here, let me hold you. come here." his lips trailed to the back of your jaw, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. even in his desperation, he was unsure. his eyes glanced at the glimmer of your dainty diamond drop earrings. "the earrings look good on you. you've always had good taste." he muttered against your shoulder. you didn't move. nor say a word. the silence was killing him. "i've been scared for so long." he whispered. your shoulder felt wet. "please ... please hold me."

he said no apology. no "i'm sorry," no "i regret this." it was a tale as old as time: redirected sympathy; a murky, multi-layered distraction, him avoiding taking full responsibility. you sympathized with his pain, you felt his hurt and the monstrous circumstance, but at some fucking point, there is only so much you could do. there is so much strength one could muster; so much mercy a heart could offer. this wasn't your problem, and you weren't going to go out of your way to make it yours. it was time to draw the line. right here, right now. you didn't recognize the man before you. he was a stranger: "subong?" "yes?" he responded quickly, a hint of hope in his tone. "when were you going to tell me about your debt?"

subong was silent, but you spoke for him. "when i get a promotion? when i get laid off? when there's an eviction notice on my door? after we elope at the courthouse, or when i tell you you're the father of my baby? hm? when were you going to tell me?" your voice was unexpectedly gentle. his shoulders started to shake, quietly sobbing. "when, subong? when?" "forgive me." he pleaded. "forgive me. please, baby—" "—get off of me." you pushed him away, slipping out of his embrace. he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "you're—you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." "you're the worst!" you exclaimed. "it's exhausting loving you! it's torture! i'm decaying from the inside!"

you took a breath, looking at this pathetic form. "i've forgiven you too much." you shook your head. "you've made me a stranger to myself. you take, and you take, and you take. i share my home, i let you fuck me, i let myself think you respect me—" "—i d-do, baby, i do! i lo—" "—i let you into the deepest, darkest pits of who i am, and you let me cry over your fucking nail polish while you were throwing away millions into something that isn't even fucking real. and you have the audacity to say it was for me?" you gesture to yourself. "as much as i tried to fix you, stupidity is in incurable disease. you're the dumbest person i've ever fucking met. you're not even smart enough to say 'i'm sorry.'"

"i never want to see you again." you turn around, your back facing him. "you don't know me. i don't know you. get out." this was it. you didn't move your eyes from the kitchen floor tiles as you heard him collect his things—the clinking of his belt; his shallow breaths; his heavy, stuttered footsteps; the clean swoosh of his pants as he put them on; over-pronounced inhales; his shoving of his feet into his sneakers—punctuated by the slam of the door. you slowly turned around. the oven read 4:53 AM. you sat on the couch, the silence heavy, only moderately cut through by the sporadic chirping of the birds outside. you sunk into the cheap cushions, hands coming up to your face, chest convulsing.

subong didn't know how long he'd been walking for. he was numb; eyes wet, cheeks swollen, snot dried, sneakers carelessly dragging against the sidewalk. the sun had risen. he could hear the taxis driving by, or catch in his peripheral vision the sight of people hurriedly leaving their apartment buildings as the morning commute commenced, but his gaze never shifted from aimless. he was wandering; nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. his chest heaved and his heart pounded in his temples, feelings buried in an overly complicated web that made his ears ring. subong's tongue was dry from breathing through his mouth, but he was so out of it he didn't bother to close his jaw.

it was the ring of a pedestrian's bike bell that temporarily took him out of this trance, stumbling a few steps to the right, letting them pass. "i'm sorry." he muttered weakly. it was only then that he looked at his surroundings, realizing he was walking along a bridge. seeing the water flow below him without issue made him feel so inconsequentially small, almost as if the car driving by or the subtle whispers of the leaves rattling in the wind told him that no matter what he did, or what he went through, or what he said, nature will be there before and after. "excuse me, sir." a voice said. subong's head felt heavy, but he turned it nonetheless. it was the man in the suit from a week ago. "i forgot to give you this after our game last week." he handed subong what looked to be a business card. "my sincerest apologies. i kindly ask that you forgive me, sir." with that, he walked away.

you woke up on the couch in the late morning, having slept through your phone alarm. you had the day off, so that wasn't exactly a concern, only to jolt awake from seering pain on side of your neck and lower back from falling asleep in such a cramped, awkward position. it was hot in the apartment again. you gradually stood on your feet, carefully stretching. "fuck." you mutter under your breath. you moved to the bathroom. you peeled your clothes off, throwing them mindlessly into the hamper. before you stepped into the shower, the glimmer of your earrings caught your sight. you tucked your hair back, staring hard into the mirror. memories of the night previous came rushing back. your quivering lip made you mad all over again, quickly taking the earrings off, throwing them into the trash bin without second thought.

you did errands. you went to work the next day. you quit your job three months later, having landed a better paying one on the opposite side of the city. a year later, you were longed moved out of your small studio and into your one bedroom abode, equipped with an in house dryer and washer. you had new friends. you had a new life. in the end, you really did get your wish of never seeing subong again.

[bcmbiquinn]

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson Headcanons

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d always make mixtapes/playlists for you for any occasion, “songs that remind me of us” “we should make out to this rhythm” type of thing.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d drag you to every underground metal concert he can find but he would also go to any concert you want.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Following the above, he would do anything to get you tickets for your favourite artist, like anything! Camping the night before to be early in line -modern Eddie would have a laptop, 3 phones and a tablet to get you tickets-

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Late night drives with your boy, yup! Blasting music, windows down and taking random turns until you end up in a secluded spot and make out for hours. (Maybe more)

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie is definitely a total romantic, he would write you cheesy love notes on scraps of paper, make poems for you, showing up late at night outside your window with a flower he stole from your neighbour yard.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would try on making breakfast for you, but it’s mostly just burnt toast and half cooked scrambled eggs, he tried tho!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Touchy touchy, this man can’t take his hands off of you, pinching your cheeks, hand on your lower back, on your knees, caressing your arm, kisses on your forehead and neck and so on.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie definitely needs a lot of reassurance, deep inside he always feels like people would eventually leave him, he desperately wants you to reassure him but struggles to ask for it, but once you do it and tell him there’s no one else you’d rather be, he melts instantly!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s really into matching tattoos and would love to get one with you but if you’re hesitant about, he’d just draw one on you with a sharpie.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ ridiculously overprotective, you stub your toe, he’s like “Who did this to you?” Then proceeds to flip of the chair or hit the couch with his foot and ends up hurting himself too!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He’s sooo dramatic when he gets a cold, acts like he’s dying, all tucked acting like he’s on his deathbed holding your hand dramatically “my love…i don’t think I’d make it this time”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He can’t lie and definitely can’t keep secrets from you, if he has planned a surprise for you, he’s going to mess up immediately “Okay but when we get to the… I mean the totally normal thing we're doing! Forget what i said that!”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would stole your snacks and leftovers, his logic? “What’s yours is mine, love. That’s how love works”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He takes fake offence to everything, if you say you don’t like a band he loves he would act as if you just stabbed him.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s genuinely protective of you, if someone upset you he goes full beast mode, “do I need to kick someone’s ass?” He doesn’t play about you or your safety.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ if he’s ever mad at you, he would never be mean, he may cross his arms and grumble but the moment you give him puppy eyes he melts “you’re so lucky I love you, you little gremlin”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Our boy is a crybaby but he never had someone to rely on until he found you, he would try to hold his tears but the moment you hug him and whisper “I got you, Eds” it’s over, he buries his face on your shoulder shaking as he sobs.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He loves making gifts for you, he thinks it’s way more romantic, he would spent hours making the perfect necklace, ring for you, love letters, a scrapbook with all the memories you’ve made together, concert tickets, Polaroids.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He totally loves your quirks, if you’re into collecting rocks, you better believe he would get you the prettiest rocks!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He would give you one of his rings and if it doesn’t fit on your finger because it’s too big he would turn it into a necklace.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧he would give the most out of place birthday cards “congratulations on your promotion” “yaaaaaaaaay”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He gives you his stuff to you for no reason, his jacket? Take it, his favourite band pin? Take it. If you ever mention liking something he has, straight right into your hands “No, really take it, I don’t even need it” he probably does need it.

We’re close to valetine’s day baddies!

Divider: @adornedwithlight

[sungiescheotluv]

am i the asshole? ⭑.ᐟ lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, meet not-so-cute turned cute, (excessive) swearing, crack (if you squint - or read any of my fics really 😭)

summary: things are looking up for you - a promotion at work propels you into a new, more extravagant apartment that has all you need and more. too bad you forget to look down.

notes: hi hi, i'm back with a new fic! it's been really fun to crank out all these fics in such a short amount of time :) i usually spend a stupid amount of hours mulling over word choice and reading too much into things, which i've tried to abandon with this blog and just write whatever inspires me and makes me laugh honestly. i'm not sure if this is funny for you guys, but i enjoyed the care-free time i had writing this and hope you enjoy it the same reading it! wishing you all the best and thank you, THANK YOU for all the love on my fics! it means so so much to me 🥹💗

also, this fic wouldn't exist this prompt list from @corvase so big big thank you to them! much love! <3

If there is one word to describe Jeno, it’s doting. 

Ever since the moment you two met, you’ve been living a life of luxury. Not necessarily in terms of monetary means (except for the very pretty promise ring Jeno got you a few months back), but in more valuable, sentimental places. Someone by your side that treasures the ground you walk on, someone that makes the effort whoever big or small, someone who’s totally and utterly obsessed with you. For so long, you thought you had your head in the clouds, imagining such a love as an abstract, fictional thing. Like it could never materialise beyond the limits of your mind and yet, there it is. Three years ago, the love you’d wished for on many stars, many birthday candles - right in front of you. 

You meet in a rather…unconventional way. Nothing shady or anything, but it’s a bit of a blunder in comparison with the wholesomeness of your relationship. You’d just moved into your new apartment building, your new promotion uplifting you as the future brims bright. You’d seen it in person before getting the keys and your jaw dropped every time. Admittedly, the office assisted with most of the expenses to keep you in close vicinity of the main building, explaining the lavish skyscraper of a building. Marble floors, polished elevators, key-pad locks. To you, someone who didn’t come from much, this was the high life. A merit your family let you know you deserved for all your efforts over the years, whether it was in academic ventures or familial affairs. Either way, as you are driving through the front gate, the security guard tipping his hat at you, you’re beaming with glee - nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could ruin your day. 

Except this.

For someone so accommodating, you lacked understanding (and patience) for what you, in a flare of anger, called ‘stupidity.’ Unfortunately for you, this is one of those moments. Pulling up to your assigned parking space (underground, might you add), your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you. There’s a car in front of you making an awkward turn, almost as if they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they’re new like you, you reason. Your understanding drains from there, as the car goes back and forth, turning its wheels and frankly, looking like a hot mess. You try not to be an asshole, because drivers deserve some grace, especially Learners judging by the large ‘L’ on the back of their car, but just as you’re about to offer some help, you squeal.

The learner attempts to manoeuvre out the tight space it’s wedged itself into, having to reverse generously due to the sheer size of the car and in doing so, it nearly rear-ends you. If you hadn’t had the sense to put more distance between the two of you, the front of your car would’ve been mangled. This time, you honk, a slam of the hand on the steering wheel as you yell, “The fuck are you doing!”

The driver offers an apologetic hand out their window, somehow managing to squeeze into the parking spot they’d been trying very hard to get into. As grateful as you are for the stupid ordeal to be over, a pout forms on your lips as you squint at the parking spot the driver’s parked into. 

Your parking spot.

You’re out of your car before your brain registers, the slam of the car door accompanying the echo of your loud voice as you say, “That’s my parking space.” 

The driver hoops out of their car, a large grey hoodie shrouding their face as they step into view. Under the fluorescent lights of the barren car park, the stranger reveals their face, shadows enveloping the sharp edges of his high cheekbones and jawline. You nearly lurch back, because what the hell? Why is the driver you’d nearly had an aneurysm over unbelievably hot? Handsome? Cute?

At this point, you’d throw a whole dictionary full of words to describe how attractive he is, his pink lips folding into an apologetic grin, bowing to you deeply. “Is your car ok? I’m so sorry. It’s my first time driving this big ole thing - it’s the only car I could fit all my belongings in.”

Then, you see it. Items, belongings cluttering the pick-up truck, and if you really look, you’re pretty sure a pillow’s obstructing his sight from his rearview mirror. 

You exhale, a wave of sympathy drowning the fires of your annoyance. “It's fine, thanks. Just a word of advice, you shouldn’t be driving with something blocking your rearview mirror.”

Why did you have to tell him this? If he's a learner, surely he 1) knew this and 2) had someone in the car with him.

Just then, the passenger front seat opens, another figure in an oversized black hoodie coming round the vehicle. Were they-?

“Jeno, you forgot your dog treats in the-” the passenger cuts themselves off at your presence, lowering their hood to reveal another handsome face. What is this? A traveling circus of hotties? How many more were hidden in there? “Oh, hottie alert.”

Instantly no. 

In the face of a man also sculpted by the Gods, with his big brown eyes and irresistible smile, you scowl. Maybe even vomit a little in your mouth because did he just say ‘hottie alert’ about you…in front of you? 

Nevermind you calling him that first.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the stranger - Jeno, you’re assuming - looks even more embarrassed, shuffling to shield the glaring ogling his friend does. “He’s got no filter. No sense either, now that I think about it.”

“Since when did the samoyed become the owner?” you make out his friend say, in a headlock that he forces himself out of with a bite through Jeno’s sleeve. 

Samoyed? Owner?

The longer you watch their bickering, the more confused and honestly, more annoyed you grow. A promotion and new apartment, what is meant to be an upgrade from your previously cramped but friendly neighbourhood, only to find yourself caught in the middle of a quarrel. With some themes of petplay, too, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that you’ve got a long day ahead of you, and they’re prolonging it by snatching your parking space. 

“Sorry to interrupt but,” their heads turn at the sound of your voice, having the decency to look embarrassed as you continue. “You’re parked in my space. I’m D7. So, in case there’s been a mix-up-”

“Thing is, sweetie,” Jeno’s friend addresses you, the latter hanging his head in shame. “Unfortunately, someone’s parked in our sweet Jeno’s place. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and your space was the only one avail-”

A car honk makes you jump, your head on a swivel, mortified to find a car behind yours, luckily trying to exit the underground space.

Now you look like the asshole.

You huff, exhausted already. “I’m gonna let this car through, and we’re going to solve this, alright?” 

They both nod, the enthusiasm that Jeno nods with earning a fond smile from his friend, Jeno’s sleazy partner ruffling his head of long black hair.

In the end, when you’ve circled back, the person parked in Jeno’s space comes out and profusely apologizes for the inconvenience, citing an emergency they had to take care of and since Jeno’s space was free and close to the building, they snagged it. So, you get your parking space back, a small victory. Jeno’s friend, who notices you’re moving in too - Jaemin is his name - offers his help, to which you politely deny, catching the pure apologetic nature in Jeno’s shiny eyes. 

Minor blunder. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing worth losing your mind over.

Except when you’ve managed to heave your first few belongings to your apartment, the door next to yours opens, Jaemin’s bright smile greeting you as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely coming over to yours more often.”

So, yeah. Not that romantic - your first meeting.

Heck, even your second and third meeting isn’t too great because on one exceptional morning where you’re running late, you collide into Jeno on your way out, your possessions and fingernail flying in the air. You’re lucky your nail-bed remains unscathed, but not so lucky the days following that when you’re walking in the open courtyard of your apartment building, out for some fresh air, time to decompress for the mounting work you’re quickly submerging in.

You’ve got your headphones on, noise-cancelling ones you got for Christmas - how nice. What isn’t nice is that you miss the yell behind you, and the strange texture you step onto. Your body freezes, nose twitching from a foul smell that wafts upwards and when you gaze down to your shoe, you find the worst. The absolute worst.

Shit. Huge, putrid clumps of shit.

It’s so shocking that you slip your headphone off down to your neck, deciding between screaming or crying. Your decision is cut off by a familiar voice, yet again so apologetic.

“I forgot her bags upstairs. I didn’t think anyone would…” Jeno cuts himself off, eyebrows pinched together like he may cry. “Can I-can I do anything for you? Wash your shoe? Scream? Disappear into oblivion?”

“All of the above.”

He chuckles, the furry friend he’s accompanied by nudging their wet snout against your hand, smiling at you like there are no thoughts behind their eyes. Your eyes flicker between the dog and Jeno, the white samoyed eerily similar to his owner.

Was this what Jaemin was referring to when you first met?

“Don’t worry about her, she’s harmless,” he comments, the ghost of a grin appearing against his face. “Except when she takes a dump.”

You have to laugh. Otherwise you’ll cry. “Too soon?”

“No, no - I needed that actually,” you sigh after your fit of chuckles. “Today’s been…well, shit.”

“You don’t say,” Jeno muses, handing over the leash his dog is on. “Do you mind?”

You take it without a word, securing his furry friend as he slips off one of his shoes, bending down near the scene of the crime. Without a peep, he cleans around as best as he can, undoing your shoe and casting it aside, slipping his one on your foot.

“Well, I can’t scream because it’s non social hours,” he leads, wrapping your shoe in one of the bags. “And as much as I’d love to disappear into oblivion, I’ve got a shoe to wash.”

He then hesitates, parts his lips like he wants to say something. There’s something adorable about his loss for words, how his gaze is downturned, flicking side to side in indecision. God, all these awful run-ins robbed you of remembering how cute he is. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes. “So, we don’t have to drop each other’s shoes off like some fairytale.” 

“It is almost midnight,” your quick wit earns a chuckle from him, eyes moon crescent and you can’t believe your own. How tragically pitiful and handsome he is. “Why not? I’ve got no ball to be at.”

So, instead of spending your night wallowing in the darkness of your apartment, you’re next door, laughing at the failed attempts of Jaemin’s ‘flirting’ Jeno tells you with his samoyed, Ari, cuddled into your side. Once your shoe dries, that’s when you say you’ll leave - what you infamously tell yourself, picking up the bone-dry shoe hours later, belly full of Jeno’s special bowl of noodles and heart full of infatuation for your neighbour. 

Again, not so romantic. But your following run-ins prove to be a turning point, the close relationship you develop unveiling a world of romance you thought were reserved only for movies and books. Somewhere along the line, your elevator talks stretch into rambling dinner dates, rotating between your place and his depending on the meal since Ari once stole a whole steak off your plate once. You take Ari on your nightly walks Jeno accompanies you for, you meet his friends and he meets yours. You make space for each other, carving out time to spend binging the latest season of your favourite dating show or over a bowl of kimchi stew you reward him with for getting the spider out your apartment. 

It’s like your puzzle pieces come together, initially ill-matched but now, the perfect fit for one another. And even if Jaemin jokes you were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ (code for an asshole) when you’d first met, Jeno kisses the denial out of you, making sure you know how much better his (and Ari’s) life is with you in it. 

[redrose10]

Can you do an enemies to lovers with #18 Let’s play a game… with Yoongi please. 🙏😊

This is kind of like a lovers to enemies to lovers thing. I hope that’s okay! It’s also longer than I intended…

< Sprinkles >

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of cheating, tiny hint of homophobia, Divorce, Smut (oral, unprotected sex, breast play…)

Enemies to lovers

#18 “Let’s play a game…First one to make a noise looses.”

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

Yoongi: I swear Y/N if she’s not ready when I get there…

You: Omg Yoongi it was one time and she had an accident right before you got here. Let it go already…

You sighed as you tossed your phone aside. He was on his way to pick up your daughter for the week and apparently was set on never letting you forget the one time he got stuck in rush hour traffic on his way home because your daughter wasn’t ready as soon as he got there.

Things hadnt always been this bad between the two of you. At one point you were a loving happy couple and that only increased when your daughter, Hana, was born. Yoongi was the most the incredible husband and father and you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

But a few months after she was born things started to fall apart.

Hana suffered from acid reflux so she was up most of the night crying. You and Yoongi took turns tending to her but by the time you would finally fall back asleep she’d wake up again and it was your turn to get up. Yoongi was working overtime trying to support all of you so that you could stay at home with the baby as long as possible so 99% of the household responsibilities also fell on your shoulders. You had reached a level of exhaustion you didn’t know was possible which led to the two of you not having much alone time together and any time you did spend in each other presence usually involved an argument of some sort.

They started as common arguments between couples like housework, bills, and making time for each other.

But over time the arguments turned into petty little things…Yoongi blinked too much, you used too many periods when texting, he didn’t like the way you said the word rainbow, he wore his green sweater too much.

The final straw was the argument on this birthday. You had put together a surprise party which he never showed up for. Instead he texted you that his boss wanted to take him out to dinner and he was really working hard towards a promotion so he didn’t want to say no. He promised to spend the entire weekend with you and Hana to make up for it.

You were beyond upset, but you understood he was just trying to better your lives so you did your best to cool down. It wasn’t until later that evening after everyone had left and Hana was asleep that you finally broke. Yoongi’s boss, Mr. Kim who you were friends with on social media, had posted a photo congratulating Yoongi on his new promotion. At first you were ecstatic. He had worked so hard for this and maybe now he could remove some of the stress and have more time at home. But then you saw it…or her.

Park Duri. She was technically Mr. Kim’s assistant but for some reason was always involved in Yoongi’s schedule. He talked about her a lot. You’d met her a few times and she seemed nice but you always got an uncomfortable feeling whenever you were around her and Yoongi together.

It infuriated you but mostly just hurt you that she spent your husbands birthday with him and also witnessed him get his promotion all while you sat at home eating cold left overs alone.

What brought you to tears though was seeing his arm wrapped so tightly around her shoulders while she leaned into him. He had the biggest gummy smile. He looked so happy. A happy you hadn’t seen in him since the day Hana was born. He certainly never looked that happy around you any more.

That night he stumbled into the bedroom after having one too many drinks in celebration, passing out on the bed without saying a word to you. That night you made up your mind. The next morning you called a lawyer and filed for divorce.

Things were bitter between the two of you ever since. The only positive was Yoongi was still a very present and loving father which is all you could ask of him. You just wished the two of you could be in a room together for more than a few minutes without blowing up at each other.

“She ready?”, he questioned as soon as you opened the door.

“Well hello to you too.”

“Hello my dearest soon to be ex wife. How are things down in hell where you come from?”, he spat clenching his jaw.

“You know what Yoongi why don’t you go fuc-“You had to stop your comment as you heard your daughter come running to the entrance way.

“Daddy!”, she shouted as she jumped into his arms.

“I missed you so much Hana Banana.”, he said giving her cheek a kiss.

“Tell your mother goodbye.”, he mumbled already half way down the hallway. You gave your daughter a hug and told her to behave before handing her the pink overnight bag she had and watched as she skipped down the hall with her hand tightly gripped onto Yoongi’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were nervous like extremely very incredibly nervous. You and Yoongi had to meet with your lawyers today to try and hammer out the last few details of your divorce. If you could get this done then you just had to go back in a week to sign everything and the divorce would be final.

“No absolutely not.”, Yoongi said making your eyes roll.

“Why not Yoongi? You get custody of Hana 50% of the time. I’m not asking for any money other than requesting we split all bills for Hana 50/50. I already have my own apartment and so do you. We have separate cars and separate bank accounts. What else could you possibly want?”, you shouted getting very irritated. Every single time you guys had tried to come to a conclusion in the divorce Yoongi found a way to drag it on just to spite you.

“I want something in here about us not letting Hana meet our future partners without the other parent meeting them first.”, he said pointing at the contract.

“What!! Absolutely not? You’re not MY father and have no say in who I date.”

“No but I am Hana’s father and I deserve to know about the men that you’re bringing around her. I shouldn’t have to find out from our five year old how you’ve been bringing some guy named Jimin, who’s apparently very handsome, around the apartment. I mean come on Y/N…we’re not even officially divorced. I never took you for that type.”

“And what.type.is.that?”, you hissed.

“The type to go around fucking other men before they are even officially divorced from their husbands.”

“EXCUSE me!! First off Jimin is Hana’s ballet teacher who’s been coming over to give her private lessons. She has a little crush on him. Maybe you’d know that if you actually talked to her and asked her questions about her life. Secondly, you have a lot of nerve accusing me like that. If I was sleeping with Jimin, which I’m not, at least I waited until we were separated.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked hurt and offended because he already knew what you were getting at.

“Oh cut the bullshit Yoongi. I know you were cheating on me with Duri and who knows who else. That’s why you always came home late smelling like another women’s perfume. That’s why we stopped being intimate. That’s why you stopped telling me you loved me. Isn’t it Yoongi?“

You were so angry by this point you couldnt see straight but it felt good to get that off your chest until you could feel tears forming. You hated crying in front of others, especially Yoongi.

Your lawyer Jin cleared his throat before giving wide eyes to Yoongi’s lawyer Namjoon. “Umm maybe we should continue this next week.”, Namjoon whispered somewhat afraid to get in between you two.

“Yes good idea.”, Jin said packing up his brief case. You stood up as well slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Y/N wait”, Yoongi said but you stopped him, “No go fuck yourself Yoongi. I’m done.”

“Right back at you.”, he scoffed as you slammed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tae, he knows he’s supposed to run it by me first if someone else is going to be picking up Hana other than him.”, you said feeling bad for the irritation in your voice. It wasn’t Taehyung’s fault at all. He put his hands up in defense, “I know I know. He said it was urgent and he would explain it to you later.”

You wanted to say no but Hana had already seen him at the door and was currently dancing around the house shouting party at Uncle Taes’s and you did trust him completely so you gave in and let him take her with a mental note to scold Yoongi later.

While you missed Hana dearly during these times you did appreciate having some alone time so you were sat on the couch in your comfy pjs with a glass of your favorite wine as you got caught up on a drama you had been sucked into.

The doorbell rang forcing you to get up and answer it and you really wished you hadn’t.

“Yoongi? Hana is with Tae.”, you said feeling a slight increase in panic.

He nodded, “I know.”

“Oh my god are they okay? Did something happen?”

He chuckled, “They’re fine.” He even showed you a photo he received of Hana giving Taehyung a full beauty makeover. You felt relief at seeing her okay and happy.

“Okay then why are you here?”, you questioned.

He held up a bag from your favorite bakery a few streets away, “I want to talk. No lawyers…no shouting…no arguing. We just need to talk like civil adults.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know Yoongi. That sounds like a bad idea. At least the lawyers could call the police when we kill each other.”

He chuckled at that, “Please Y/N.” For the first time in a long time you saw something in his eyes other than anger so you agreed and let him in.

After a few cookies and a few episodes of your drama you turned to him, “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

“Well…first I want to apologize for what I said during the meeting with the lawyers the other day. I guess I was just kind of hurt and maybe a little jealous because I thought you had already moved on with someone else. But after thinking about it…I have no place to feel like that so you can do whatever you want with whoever you want. I just think we should agree to not introduce anyone to Hana for a while.”

“I agree…but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. But if you…if you want to then I don’t care.”, you quickly added though he shook his head, “I’m good. I want to focus on work and Hana for a while.”

You nodded in agreement.

“I uh I also want you to know that I never cheated on you. I swear on Hana. I’ve never even thought about it.”, he said while pulling on his earlobe, a nervous habit of his.

“You came home smelling like perfume, many times Yoongi.”

“I know…I know but there’s an explanation for that which isn’t me cheating.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh I can’t wait to hear this one.” You could tell he wanted to say something back but bit his tongue making you feel a little guilty.

“Y/N, do you remember on our first anniversary I gave you those flowers.”, you nodded, “Well I didn’t pay for them…actually I never paid for any of them.”

“You thief! Seriously Yoongi you were risking going to prison over flowers?”

“Will you shut up and give me the chance to explain?”, he barked. You huffed but leaned back into the couch.

“I had severely under estimated how expensive flowers had become. Thanks to all of our bills and our furnace breaking the week before I couldn’t afford to buy them. I started crying in the shop because I felt like the worst husband ever. The elderly woman who owned the place asked what was wrong and after some convincing I told her. She told me how her husband used to bring her flowers every week and it gave her something to look forward to no matter how tough of a time they were going through. So she gave me a small bouquet to give to you. I reminded her that I couldn’t pay but she said she only wanted a hug. So the next week after I got paid at work I went back to get you more flowers and pay her back for the first bunch but she wouldn’t accept my payment. She only wanted a hug. She did that every time that I went in there and that’s why I came home smelling like perfume. I never cheated with her…I mean… she did grab my butt once but I wouldn’t really count that.”

You chuckled at the mental picture before remembering, “And Duri?”

“Duri wouldn’t have wanted me even if I did want to cheat on you with her. She was a…she was not into men so you would’ve had a better chance than I did. She just liked me because I was one of the few people in the office that didn’t judge her.” This new information caused you to feel so many different emotions some good some bad.

“Y/N I never cheated on you. I’m sorry that I made you doubt that.“

“Okay yeah thanks for clearing that up. I’m uh I’m sorry for not asking sooner.”

“I’m also sorry that I stopped initiating anything intimate. It wasn’t you at all. I was just always so tired and stressed and then if I did want to do something you just seemed so angry and distant with me or Hana was acting up and I didn’t want to push you into any thing. But most of all I’m sorry that I stopped telling you how much I love you Y/N. There’s no excuse for that and I regret it more than anything.”

His words replayed in your mind over and over, “Yoongi did you mean you loved me?”

He shook his head, “I love you Y/N. I always have and I always will. That’s why I’ve been trying to drag on this divorce. I’ve been selfish because I didn’t want to let you go…but Monday…Monday we can call the lawyers and I’ll sign the papers. I won’t make you suffer any more.”

“I…I love you too Yoongi.,” you stiffled unsure of when you even started crying.

Quickly he pulled you into a hug, “Hey hey it’s okay. Don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“What do we do Yoongi?”

“Well…we can continue with the divorce if you want or we can try again. Go slow. Maybe see a couples counselor. I think having this talk really helped us so I think talking to a professional would be a good thing. But it’s up to you. I want to save this…I want to save us but I won’t force you.”

“Yeah I think…I think we should try to work on things.”, you nodded. He smiled and you smiled both breathing a sigh of relief.

Then Yoongi fidgeted with his fingers as he looked around the room that had suddenly become more awkward., “Well uh I guess I should get going. I need to save Taehyung from his baby sitting duties.”

“Oooorrr maybe you could stick around a little longer. I think Taes having the time of his life.”, you chuckled before flipping your phone over show him the text of a photo of Tae on the couch and Hana cuddled up next to him as he gushed about how wonderful she is.

He smiled at the cute photo before agreeing to stay since he really didn’t want to leave anyways.

Maybe it was the bottle of wine that you two had during the movie or the months and months without being touched or just being exhausted physically and emotionally that was causing your brain to go haywire but suddenly you could sense every little movement from Yoongi.

The way his chest moved up and down as he took slow breaths. The way he sat kind of slouched with his legs spread out. The way his fingers kept inching closer and closer to the bare skin of your thighs. It all sent a fury of emotions through you as you could feel your arousal building, almost making you feel silly for being so weak for him.

But you two had barely agreed to work on things less than a few hours ago so you tried your best to ignore the desires within you.

You knew that Yoongi was having similar feelings as you when his fingers continued to move slowly up the side of your thigh until his large hand was firmly situated on the top of your leg, his fingers began gently toying with the bottom of your shorts as if he was testing the waters to see if you were going to stop him. When you didn’t, he got a little more brave slightly pulling on your bottoms but then he suddenly pulled back.

“Y/N…I…We can stop if you’re not into this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that...It’s just been so long.”

“I know it has been. Maybe…Maybe I want this too.”

He scooted closer until you could feel his warm breath hitting your cheek.

“Y/N, maybe isn’t enough for me. I need a yes or a no.”, his voice deeper than usual.

You thought for a moment. You thought about the positives and negatives. He started to move away taking it as a no when you stopped him. Quickly you lifted yourself up and straddle his lap before kissing him, “Yes I want you. I want you Yoongi. I want you so bad.”

That was all he needed to send his lips searching for yours. His hands grasped the end of your shirt and began pulling it up, you shimmied to help make it easier for him.

In one swift movement you were left completely bare in front of him thanks to having forgone a bra earlier in your search for optimal comfort.

He sat staring at you making you flush red.

“Fuck I’ve missed these.”, he smiled squeezing your breasts. “Yoongi don’t make it weird.”, you chuckled yet doing absolutely nothing to stop him especially once his mouth connected to your left nipple and he began gently biting down, something he knew you loved.

The more you moaned the more it egged him on to bite and squeeze and suck and leave marks all over your naked breasts. You started to grind down on him using his growing erection to provide some friction to your wet core. The sensation making you both throw your heads back.

“Want to make you feel good.”, you mumbled against his neck leaving kisses as you went.

“You’re already making me feel good Sprinkles.”

On your first date you got really excited to find out the cafe had sugar cookies covered in sprinkles. Yoongi thought it was the cutest thing ever and had in turn started calling you Sprinkles.

Your heart jumped at the use of your nickname that you hadn’t heard him say in so very long.

It wasn’t until you felt his hips buck up into you that you were brought back to reality, “No I want to make you feel really good.”, you whispered already on your knees while your fingers quickly worked on his belt and zipper. As you finally freed him you were reminded about just how big he was.

You saw him smirk as you stared somewhat in shock, “What don’t think that pretty mouth of yours can take me any more?”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted to bite back but instead you dove in. Your tongue licking a strip on the underside. You went right into a rapid pace, sucking, licking, paying close attention to the head just like he liked.

You took pleasure in watching him come undone above you. His cheeks tinted red, his legs spread far apart giving you ample room, you gripped onto his thighs as his head rolled back on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair getting lost in the feeling and savoring the sensations of your mouth taking him fully.

Suddenly his hand came and fisted a chunk of your hair, “Y/N, Stop…you gotta sto-“

You couldn’t get your mouth off in time before he started convulsing and a warm salty liquid coated the back of your tongue.

While it definitely was a confidence booster to know you could have that kind of an effect on him it was still funny to you and you couldn’t stop giggling, especially when you saw how embarrassed he looked.

“Shut up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything but my hand.”, he grumbled.

“No no it’s okay Yoongles.”, you giggled until your giggles turned into a scream as he lifted you up and carried you to the bedroom.

Once you were laid down on the bed he wasted no time in tearing off your shorts and removing his shirt leaving you both completely bare.

“Fuck look how wet you are.”, he sighed as he ran his fingers through your folds.

“Mmmm yes Yoongi.”, you moaned finally feeling a little relief until he abruptly stopped and pulled away.

You whined at the loss of contact earning a low chuckle from him.

“Please don’t tease. I need you so bad.”, you said as your hips began shifting looking for pleasure.

Yoongi being the way that he was decided to only tease you further. This time with the head of his already hardened again cock as he would barely give you the tip just to pull away leaving you needy and empty.

“Fine keep doing that…Maybe I’ll go ahead and call Jimin. I bet he wouldn’t tease me.”, you spat somewhat playfully somewhat loosing your mind.

Without warning Yoongi slammed into you fully sheathing himself. “Oh fuck Yoongi.”, you cried blissfully at the burning stretch.

“Yeah you like that. You think it’s nice to talk about other men while I’m fucking you.”, he growled, “I’ll make you forget he even exists. Fuck Y/N.” He was fucking into you with such a quick forceful pace that your whole body was being pushed up against the bed until you couldn’t go any more.

“Don’t stop. I’m about to cum. Please Yoongi.”, you cried.

“Yeah, then cum for me.”, he said, “let me feel you squeezing my cock like you want it.”

That was all it took until you were pulsing around him squeezing with everything you had as your body reveled in the feeling. A feeling you had long forgotten about.

Once you had come down from your high he wasted no time before he was pounding into you again trying to chase his own release.

“Whoa whoa.”, you said and he instantly pulled out looking at you with a worried expression, “What? Are you hurt?”

“You get to cum twice while I only got once? That doesn’t seem fair.”, you smirked while he looked at you slightly annoyed.

“I mean I think I deserve another one…or are you too out of the game to be able to make your girl cum more than once in a night.”, you playfully quipped.

Yoongi ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in irritation, “You know you’ve become quite the mouthy one Sprinkles.“

He slowly stroked himself a few times knowing it was going to be difficult for him to hold off his already close orgasm.

“How about we make this a little interesting?”, he said lining himself up with your entrance.

“I’m listening.”, you said half moaning at the sensation.

“Let’s play a game…First one to make a noise looses.”, he said, “Loser has to cook dinner next Friday for date night.”

You head rolled back, “You’re on.”

“And I expect fresh baked brownies with my meal when I win.”, he arrogantly said as he slammed into you again.

He was watching himself disappear inside of you and reappear covered in your juices as a way to try and keep his focus when you decided to play dirty.

You squeezed your walls around his length as tight as you could trying to get a moan or a hiss but he was good. Instead he looked up giving you a look that said two can play that game.

He kept eye contact as he brought two fingers to your swollen clit rubbing figure eights to add extra pleasure as his mouth latched onto your right nipple. You bit down onto his shoulder to stifle the sounds your mouth was begging to make.

The two of you lasted at this for several minutes before you had a realization.

Yoongi was going slow, taking his time, gently thrusting in and out of you, which you knew meant he was close and trying to hold out as long as he could.

And then you decided to make the move that you knew would surely make him come undone and spill a litany of filth from his mouth.

You hooked a leg around him and with all the strength you had you pushed home and flipped over so that he was on his back and you were on top, his dick remaining inside you the whole time. You nearly laughed out loud when you saw the surprised look on his face but you managed to stifle it.

You started bouncing up and down on his cock with a rapid pace. Your were so close to your own orgasm. Your thighs were burning but you could feel his hands eagerly grabbing onto your body trying to stop it. He was so close too.

Carefully you leant forward just enough that you could suck little marks into his skin while still riding his dick. The angle allowing your tits to lightly brush up against his skin with your movements. You gave him a couple extra squeezes for good measure and next thing you knew his hands were on you holding you in place as his own hips bucked up into you, “F-Fuck Y/N. Fuck I’m coming... I’m coming. Baby fuck. I tried. I’m sorry.”

You could feel hot liquid already dripping out of you and making a mess on him as he helped you ride out your own high that quickly followed.

When your breathing had calmed he helped you off of him and quickly got you all cleaned up before laying down next to you on the bed.

“That was uh…I think we needed that.”, he said giving your hand a kiss.

“Yeah it felt good. I think that maybe we lost ourselves in being parents and forgot that we have needs too. Let’s…not do that again this time.” He nodded, “Speaking of which I should probably go relieve Taehyung. I told him I’d only be a few hours at most so he’s probably not happy.”

“Yeah probably. Hey make sure Hana eats something other than takeout this week please…and she has a dance less with Jimin on Wednesday so maybe be nice when you drop her off.”, you said following him to the door.

“Yes to the no takeout and we’ll see but no promises to the Jimin thing.”, he grumbled.

He put on his coat and shoes and gave you a kiss and was just about to walk out the door when you stopped him.

He turned to look and found you smiling hard.

“What?”, he asked confused.

“For dinner next Friday…I expect fresh baked sugar cookies with my meal.”, you giggled as his face fell remembering that he had in fact lost the game.

“Fine…sugar cookies it is…ooorrrr you know we could go best two out of three.”, he said already reaching out for you.

“And don’t skimp on the sprinkles.”, you shouted quickly shutting the door before you could give into his little game.

[thollandneedy]

Don't you know- Peter Parker

A/n: Nah 'cause that fucking happened to me last week and i HAD TO write about it (Ofc with very different context and description). Btw, i listened to "Don't you know" by James Young while writing it, in case someone likes to listen to music while reading

Warnings: Swearing and smut

Summary: Peter and Y/n get stuck on traffic, but that doesn't mean that it have to be boring...

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

"Shut up" Y/n exclaims, smiling at her boyfriend.

"I told you May, would get me one," Peter comments, crossing his arms and looking sideways at the girl next to him, who seems to be enchanted by the small black car the boy had gotten for his eighteenth birthday.

"It's so cute! I love it." The girl laughs, walking a few steps forward and leaning her weight on the open window, so that she can see the details of the car her boyfriend had won.

"Say goodbye to meters and borrowed cars. Now I'm a new man." Peter walked to the front door, opened it and sat down in the driver's seat. His body slouches forward, reaching out and pulling the door open so that his girlfriend can get into the car too. "And I'm going to take my dear lady for a ride in this little beauty here" The brunette put both hands on the steering wheel.

May had always been a hard-working woman, and supporting her nephew when the boy's parents died had become a kind of livelihood so that she could have the energy to work. Due to financial difficulties, Peter didn't have anything above his aunt's budget, but after a promotion, she had finally managed to scrape together enough to give her nephew a car. Stark had also helped with some of the finances and to make the car more powerful than it already was, so it was a gift from both of them to the hero.

Y/n put on her seatbelt, pulling one of its sides until she could feel the pressure against her body. The girl slipped one of her free hands over Peter's hand, which was on the automatic gearshift, allowing him to give it to her after shifting into gear and continuing his journey. Late evening in New York was slowly falling, as the orange light from the buildings reflected off the crowded streets during rush hour. A few bars and restaurants were starting to open, and Peter had his plan to take his girlfriend out for a bite to eat and then park their conversations in an empty parking lot so that they could also get some alone time. The girl took off her two shoes, crossed her legs covered by jeans, and opened Spotify on her transparent cell phone with a Polaroid photo of the two of them.

"Can I put on a song?" The girl asks.

"Sure, love." Peter updates the car's multimedia while his girlfriend searches for something to listen to. 

"So, tell me. Who chose the car? Did you know you'd win?" The girl rests her hands on her lap.

"May had commented that one day she would give me everything I asked for, but it was never something I cared much about. She got a promotion at the hospital, and consequently her salary increased. Ever since I turned 16, she was raking it in." Peter comments without taking his eyes off the street.

"So you're going to be my private driver?" Y/n asked jokingly, causing the brunette to check his eyes in response.

"As far as I know, you have a driver's license." The hero laughs.

"Why would I drive if now you can take me wherever I want? I thought that was the definition of a passanger princess." The girl put her hand to her chest in an attempt to express surprise.

"Oh yes! Of course." Peter laughs.

(...)

"I'm literally going to explode," Peter says, opening the restaurant door so that his girlfriend can get out first. 

"Tell me about it." The girl says, putting her hand on her stomach and then looking at the time on her cell phone. "Fuck, we've got to get going. My parents will kill me if I'm late on a weekday."

"I thought they'd take it easy on you after eighteen." Peter takes the car key out of his pocket.

"They trust me, but still, we live in New York and they're worried." The girl shrugged, unable to contradict her parents.

"I'll take care of you, kitten. You're safe from the dangers of the night when you walk with me." Peter says proudly, causing a low chuckle from his girlfriend who was walking with her arms crossed.

"Of course! Let's pull you out of the superhero closet and tell my parents that I'm dating a guy who could have an accident at any moment in a fight with evil, technological villains." Y/n opens the car door, then sits down again.

"I think it's a great idea. We can let them know that you'll be moving in with me when I pass MIT, and we'll live in a house in the country with two kids and a dog." Peter comments, closing the car door and continuing his journey.

The white lights of the streets, together with the moon, gave the teenagers an unreal feeling. That feeling that the world isn't real, and their existence is just another speck in the middle of several grains of sand on a beach called the universe. The car drove slowly, on purpose, as Peter didn't want his girlfriend to leave. A slow song was playing on Y/n's Bluetooth, which responded to the music by diverting its eyes from the multimedia system implanted in the center of the car's dashboard. 

Peter laughed out loud when he read the name of the playlist the song was part of

"Really? Sexy guilty pleasure? That's the name of your sex playlist?" Peter makes fun of his girlfriend, who stares at him while holding in her laughter.

"In my defense, I started it when I was 16 and I haven't changed it because I find the name comical." The girl smiles as she says it, remembering when she had started exploring the literary universe of hot scenes in books that seemed innocent.

"Your sex life is comical, Y/n." Peter laughs, but then realizes what he's just said, and also jokes about himself without realizing it.

Y/n laughs out loud

"You're terrible at insults." The girl nods, looking at the passing streets like a drawing blurred by the speed of the car.

"Why haven't I ever heard that playlist?" The brunette lowered his eyes again to the name of the playlist playing in his car.

"I use it from time to time to read, or even when I... well... you know." Peter feels the blush rising to his cheeks.

His sex life with Y/n was almost restricted, and could even be considered for those over 14 if they were to classify it. Peter and Y/n hadn't had sex yet, let alone talked about it openly since their time together was considerably short. Even when they were friends, the subject of sex had never come up, unless they were in a circle of older friends and both were drunk. But even in this state, it seemed like a great sin to talk about sex. 

"Really?" Peter swallows dryly, stopping at a red light and running both hands down his dark-wash jeans.  "And what's that like?"

Y/n sucks in a breath when she hears her boyfriend's question. Their eyes meet, then dart away again in an attempt to make the conversation as awkward as possible. Y/n never had a problem talking about sex, but when it came to Peter, even his presence made her nervous.

"When I..." The girl tries to finish the sentence, really being precise in asking if he was asking about what she does in the long hours alone at night while Peter is asleep.

The boy can hear his girlfriend's heartbeat increasing and her throat swallowing. 

"That's it." He cuts her off.

The light turns green, and the blaring horn of a car cuts through the tension created between the two. Peter turns his eyes to the busy streets, while Y/n searches for confidence in herself. 

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye.

Gray shirt clinging to her toned muscles

Tight pants drawing her ass in perfectly

Puffed-out chest

Perfectly wavy hair

Her legs cross over each other, shrinking her body.

“Holy fuck” Peter thinks when he saw his girlfriend crossing her legs 

"It's nice. I like listening to music and closing my eyes, because I seem to get lost in time and sensation." The girl says, still silently watching hers boyfriend's reaction. "I like being without anything on my body. Just the cold sheets because of the air conditioning I turn on, so I don't sweat so much."

Peter pressed the steering wheel against his hands

"And what do you think about?" The boy asks as if his words were sailing over brittle ice.

Y/n takes a deep breath, turning half her torso towards her boyfriend.

What was she thinking?

Perhaps the times her parents went out on business, and the couple found themselves on the sofa taking off only their blouses. Or when she first felt Peter hard while she was on his lap kissing him

When he came out of the shower with just a towel tied around his waist, and his hair dripping with cold water. 

When he used his index finger to touch her chin, and pull her into a kiss

Those same fingers that could touch you so deeply that your legs would collapse without the strength to stand up, and he would pick you up to use you once again as whatever he wanted you to be. Only he could make you feel so wet that you didn't want his touch so close for fear of losing the track.

"You"

Peter feels his cock against the factory of his underpants.

"Tell me about what." His voice comes out sultry, as if for a few seconds, he had put his shame aside. "I want to hear you, love," the brunette asked, taking one of his hands off the gearshift and slowly reaching for Y/n's hand, which was resting on his thigh with the cell phone.

Peter had never acted or spoken like that, but he couldn't deny to himself that he wanted more. He always wanted more, not even if he had to imagine tasting his girlfriend's sweetness. His cock was throbbing against his pants, and he could feel it twitching inside them, while his breathing made a point of being nervous. Feeling Y/n on his fingers, wrinkling them with the groove of his cum, or even thinking about the sensation of his walls meeting his cock, made him lose his shame in seconds. 

When he thought about it, it was something extremely out of touch with reality, but everything he wanted to do, fortunately the initiative had to come from him. Hearing from his own girlfriend that she masturbated thinking about what he was doing was like raising the hackles of a king

The car seemed to get smaller and smaller, and not even the wind in the air could stop them both wanting to take off their clothes. The leather seat seemed to cling to their sweaty skins, searching for something to hold them inside the car. For Y/n, she couldn't describe whether the situation was good or bad, as her sexual experiences had not been very positive during her teenage years.

"I think of your touch. That time we kissed, and I could feel you brushing past my thigh and slowly trying to find my clit." The girl adjusted her posture in the chair, letting her legs relax as well as her posture.

Peter, for his part, could feel everything she was feeling. His powers allowed him to see that she was getting more and more comfortable in the seat because her hard-on was increasing with every double entendre word that was directed at her, and it was a very interesting game to play in the car during a post-work commute in New York. The cars moved slowly, and even if the clock asked them to go faster, they didn't want to. 

"Did you like it?" One of Peter's fingers slid down, tracing a straight line between the upper part of Y/n's thigh.

"Uh-huh." The girl commented, seeing that her hand had now lost the warmth of his touch, so that her body could feel it. 

"Me too." Peter comments, allowing his whole hand to touch Y/n's thigh, squeezing it briefly as a silent sign of confirmation that everything was okay. Then, his middle finger traced a line down the middle of her legs, causing a low moan to escape Y/n's mouth, who, still embarrassed, allowed her legs to spread further apart. The hero's cock was begging to be touched, but this wasn't the first time he'd thought of doing it. His plan had always been to let things happen naturally, but he was also smart enough to know that now with a car, he had more freedom.

"Peter." Y/n's hand finds his fist. "And if anyone sees. There are traffic cameras that can...

"The windows are tinted." Parker comments, looking directly at his girlfriend's breasts which were becoming more and more exposed against her clingy blouse. " Are you okay?"

"Please." Y/n begs in a sly request, drawing a naughty smile from the brunette. 

His index finger fingered his girlfriend's wet spot against the factory of her pants, putting pressure on the girl who relaxed her body against the seat. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other between his girlfriend's legs, Peter grunts to himself.

"Fuck, Y/n. You... you have no idea how much I've wanted to touch you for months." Peter confesses, biting his lip as he feels the girl roll against his fingers and lay her head back on the bench. 

"You have?" The girl gasps.

"We've never been able to spend much time alone, and I've always refused to do anything because... fuck... I can't want to fuck you," Parker confesses, trying to balance the car, his hard-on and his girlfriend at the same time.

Y/n feels her feet fall from the stereotypical virgin pedestal she has built for herself. Peter had never been a saint, and as hard as it was to believe because of his cute face and lack of girl-talking skills, he was still a male teenager who had desires and wishes repressed by shame. 

"Peter." Y/n groans lowly, gripping the hero's wrist tightly as he manages to find her weak spot.

A satisfied smile came from his lips as he began to make circular movements, causing the girl to moan a little louder. Y/n lowered her eyes to the pants that suddenly seemed to be tighter than usual on hers boyfriend. His decency as a person had gone, and all she could think about was tasting him and making him feel so good that he spoke his name out loud without caring if anyone heard.

"Yes. Speak my name, Y/n." The brunette asked, continuing his movements, but increasing the speed.

The friction was intense, and it would have been easy for her to finish right where she started, but her sense of justice and pity tried to speak louder.

"I wanted to touch you." Y/n exposed, staring shamelessly at the bulge in Peter's pants. 

"You talk so innocently as if you didn't want me to be fucking you with my fingers on this very bench." Peter lets out a sarcastic laugh, denying it to himself, and casting a longing glance at him.

Y/n's walls contract as he speaks, as if his body had a will of its own and felt empty when he had nothing to satisfy his carnal desires. 

"I can hear your heart racing, darling." Peter takes his hand off the wheel for a moment, squeezing his hard cock as a form of relief.

Removing the hand that was between his girlfriend's legs, he adjusts the rearview mirror and looks both ways down the avenue. 

"Why did you stop?" The girl straightens her posture in concern.

"I need you now."

"What?" Y/n swallows dryly.

"I want to have sex with you now. Do you?" Parker asks angrily.

Without thinking, Y/n replies:

"I want to" 

"Okay." The boy shifts into gear so that he can change lanes and find another road that leads further away. In a moment of anxiety, the car dies. "Fuck!" Peter curses, drawing a nervous smile from his girlfriend.

"Let's get out of here, Parker. I'm dying to get a taste of you."

[sara-roz]

!! DONT SKIP !! donations urgently needed

They are only at €66,072 out of €100,000 goal

I've donated €30, so please match me if you can and reblog with a screenshot ‼️ Let's keep going‼️

My friend Dina, Ahmed's wife, is reaching out for help to save her family and promote their campaign. Dina is 30 years old and lives in Gaza with her husband Ahmed, who is 36, and their children: Zeina (8 years old), Eileen (7 years old), Yamen (5 years old), and baby Ronza (4 months old). Imagine if it were your own family member, friend, or child who should be enjoying school or playing with friends, but instead, they are hiding from bombs and relying on the kindness of strangers to survive. This family has been suffering for more than a year due to the relentless siege and devastation. You are their only chance to find safety and hope for a better future. Please help by sharing their campaign and spreading the word.

This fundraiser has been vetted by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi - #264 on the vetted Gaza fundraiser list,

Also verified by butterflyeffect.project (# 741) & this fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters , #213 on the spreadsheet here

(drawing above by @/anonymous ), On the occasion of his young son Yamen's birthday anniversary.

Dina's daughter, Ronza, is not even four months old, yet she suffers from malnutrition after spending her short life in the midst of war. Yamen, five years old, is also struggling with illnesses and malnutrition due to the harsh conditions. There is no greater nightmare for any father than to see his children starving and sick, unable to do anything to help. Please help Dina save his children and bring them to safety. Every child deserves security and nourishment, and you can be the hope that rescues Ronza and Yamen, giving them the childhood they deserve, far from the sound of bombs.

Their Husband Ahmed suffers from a severe herniated disc that prevents him from moving normally or holding his children in his arms. Additionally, he has another illness that he refuses to disclose, which only adds to his suffering. In Gaza, the medical resources available for his treatment are inadequate, and every day that passes without proper care increases his pain and the anxiety his family endures. He urgently needs to receive treatment and travel abroad before his condition worsens further. Your assistance in raising funds means not just alleviating his pain but saving a father who is desperately trying to remain by his children's and family's side. Don't let this family, who has already endured so much loss, also lose their father, husband, and sole support.

Dina has shown me pictures of the explosion near them, and thankfully, they managed to escape in time. Every day they spend in Gaza puts their lives at risk from Israeli bombs. Every day and hour counts. I know there are compassionate and kind people willing to help. Every euro helps, and your donation will bring them one step closer to safety. With love and hope, I ask you to give what you can. I believe in the kindness of people in this world, and I beg you not to let his family die. If you can’t donate, please share this message so it may reach those who can help.

Never forget that palestinians are not numbers on a list of deaths. Please think of each of them, think of their names and faces and know that you can help them. I think of them every day. I think of the hopes and dreams they should achieve, I think of their education, their future, and the love they show when they work hard every day to get help. You may feel powerless to stop this genocide, but you have the power to save Dina and his family.

I dream that the day will come soon where they may use their days to rest and recover from what they’ve been through, where they can share a meal and laugh and the children will play, instead of having to use their time to beg the world to listen and help them. We can make this possible.

9,000 euros is a lot of money for one person to give, but for all of us together, it can be done. Please don’t look away.

Thank you for reading their story. Please don’t keep scrolling without sharing

Here is the link again for their fundraiser

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[7ndipity]

He Forgets Your Birthday

Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin just wants to make your birthday memorable, but what happens when life gets too hectic and makes him forget?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me a little bit to get to.

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Life moved quickly with Jin, in multiple ways.

The first time you ever met, he asked for your number, fearing you wouldn’t cross paths again and he might not get another chance. You both said ‘I love you’ less than two months into dating, after he accidentally let it slip out during one of your first nights together, you even ended up moving in with him after less than a year when the apartment you were subletting fell through(or more accurately, flooded through, but whatever)

Things also moved quickly because of your careers. Sometimes days would flick by without your realizing, a week would turn into two before either of you noticed, and then suddenly it’s been nearly two months since your last technical date.

Despite your reassurances that you understood, Jin felt guilty at times for the two of you missing out on special occasions like holidays or anniversaries with each other, but one day he promised he wouldn’t let slip past was your birthday.

You weren't exactly a fan of making a big fuss for your birthday, but Jin wanted to make it special for you.

“I’ll cook,” He’d promised you. “I’ll make all your favorites, as well as traditional seaweed soup for good luck, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

“What if I don’t want to do anything?” You’d asked, raising a brow as you sat on his lap.

“Then we’ll do nothing together,” He’d replied, pulling you closer. “And have a wonderful time doing it.”

It’d been an easy promise to make when your birthday was still almost a month away, but as the days and weeks passed, things became increasingly hectic. Comeback season was drawing close, and with it came the pressure and chaos of constant rehearsals, video shoots, and promotional activities, leaving Jin little time to think about much else. Half the time you were already asleep before he got home at night, tiredly wrapping himself around you for a few precious hours before starting the cycle all over again.

He didn’t even know what day of the week it was until Jimin spoke up as they slumped against the wall, trying to catch their breath during rehearsals.

“Oh, how’s Y/n? Did they like their gift?” Jimin asked. “I haven't heard from them since I texted happy birthday this morning.”

Jin felt his heart screech to a stop as he looked over at the younger man, hoping he had misheard. “What?”

“The flowers you helped us pick out? I figured they would’ve-” Jimin’s voice trailed off as he noticed the growing look of horror on Jin’s face. “Tell me you didn’t forget?”

Jin’s whole body felt cold as he fumbled for his phone, stomach dropping as he read the date, and then the numerous text notifications from you.

His hands shook as he read your words, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

‘You left this morning before I got to say it, but love you💖’

‘Do you know what time you’ll be home?’

'Ngl, I'm kinda excited for tonight, it's been ages since I had your cooking😋'

‘Jinnie? Is everything okay?’

‘You’re not coming, are you?’

‘You could at least answer your phone so I know you’re okay.’

Shit.

Sparing no time explaining to the others, he grabbed his things and bolted out the door, nearly sprinting for the elevators.

He couldn’t believe how badly he’d fucked up, you must’ve been so upset with him. How would he even explain himself to you? Would you even talk to him when he got home? He wouldn’t blame you if the answer was no.

“Y/n?” He called as he opened the door but the house was silent, all the lights off, the stillness seeming to loom over him as he kicked off his shoes.

Tip-toeing through the house, he caught sight of the bouquet of flowers the guys had sent you sitting proudly in the center of the dining table, their cheery brightness almost mocking him now.

As he neared your shared bedroom, he caught sight of a sliver of light slipping out into the hall from the crack in the door.

Peeking in, he found you curled up on your side of the bed, sound asleep, but he could tell by the puffiness around your eyes that you’d been crying, shattering his heart completely.

He slowly sank down on the bed next to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He choked, tears blurring your image in front of him. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world, how could he have forgotten something like this?! He had promised you!

He’d always tried so hard to live up to his commitments and responsibilities in your relationship, no matter how small, but in the moment when it mattered the most, he’d failed you.

“Jinnie?” Your cracked, sleep laden voice snapped his attention back up to you, meeting your tired eyes.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He said, crying in earnest now.

“ ‘s okay.” You said drowsily, too tired to fight with him.

“It’s not. I made you a promise, and I fucked up.” He said, wiping his face.

You didn’t speak, sitting up slowly and pulling him into a hug. As upset as you might’ve been, you couldn’t stand to see him cry.

You wouldn’t lie, you were deeply hurt, but it wasn’t just for you. You’d seen how hard he’d been working lately, coming home late sore and exhausted, bags under his eyes from fatigue. You hated seeing him so tired all the time, so stressed and not able to do anything about it. You knew that under normal circumstances, he would’ve never forgotten, but your lives weren’t normal.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He cried into your neck. “I’ll find a way.”

“Jinnie, I don’t care about the dinner,” You said, trying not to start crying again yourself as you pulled back to look at him. “All I really wanted was to be with you.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Just come hold me, please.” You half dragged him under the covers with you, winding your limbs around each other tightly.

Neither of you spoke much as you slowly drifted off to sleep, clinging to each other desperately, needing to feel each other to be sure you were both still there.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found his side of the bed empty.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced around, questions only just beginning to form in your mind before you heard a faint noise from somewhere in the house, the scent of one of your favorite dishes drifting through the open bedroom door.

Still groggy, you climbed out of bed and followed the smell to your kitchen, where you found your missing boyfriend, his back to you as he stood over the stove, fussing at something he was stirring.

“Why are you so salty? I didn’t even add that much.”

“Maybe it’s just in a bad mood.”

He turned at the sound of your voice, eyes softening as they found you in the doorway, messy hair and sleep clouded eyes, wearing one of his pajama tops as a sleepshirt.

“I thought you were still asleep.” He said softly.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Fulfilling my promise to you.” He said, turning back to the stove for a moment as he spoke. “It’s not quite all of your favorites, but it’s a start. Plus, we’ve got the whole day to do whatever else you want to do.”

“I have work.” You said, not unkindly.

“No, you don’t.” He responded. “I left them a message saying you were sick and couldn’t come in today.”

“Sick with what?” You asked.

“Bad boyfriend-itis,” He said, coming over to hook his arms round your waist. “It’s a very serious condition, it requires a lot of rest and care to recover from.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend.” You said quietly, fiddling with his shirt collar.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He said, frowning.

“Well, I am.” You pushed up on your toes to press your lips to his softly, making him melt instantly. You let your hands slowly trail up and around his neck, earning a slight shiver from him before you pulled away to look at him. “What about rehearsals?”

“I told them the same thing as your work.” He said with a slightly dazed grin.

“You have boyfriend-itis too?” You raised a brow at him questioningly.

“Are you kidding? I’m patient zero.” He replied, earning a giggle from you, making his heart swell as he smiled down at you.

“Go back to bed,” He said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“I don’t wanna go back to bed.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him seriously. “I told you last night, I just want to be with you.”

“Alright then.” He hooked his hands under your thighs, boosting you up to sit on the counter with a surprised squeak from you. “You can sit here and be my lovely assistant.”

“I don’t even know what you’re making.” You giggled again.

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead and make yummy noises when I show you something.”

The two of you talked as he continued cooking, stopping each time he passed by you to leave a kiss on your waiting lips. Once everything was ready, you moved to the table, sitting close enough that you could reach over and grab his hand as he settled next to you.

He glanced up at you. “What is it?”

“Just thank you.” You said.

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“Being you. Being here.”

Jin felt the familiar twisting in his chest as he leaned over to press another kiss to your lips.

“Always.” He promised.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, he swore to himself, he would be there for you, no matter what else was going on. You were his world, his heart, and he would make sure you knew that from now on.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan

[cakechan123]

Still waiting for our lovely creative writers to give us steamy smut of vi x catyline. I hope it's more of a series. One shots are also fine.

Like :

1. Vi first time and cait taking the lead as poor vi never touched anyone.

2. Commander Cait taking vi as prision after vi left her in that rain. She gonna prove her that they oil and fire not oil and water.

3. Cait getting possessive and jealous of the girls reaching vi all the time. I mean those biceps.. Bulky body.. Even the guy looks bland in front of her. She need to show who vi belongs to and she wanna show who Vi craves for.. And who can satisfy vi properly.

4. Cait give birth to twins. It was magical babies so they both have cait and vi genes.Cait is like a happy rule breaking father. Meanwhile cait is like a acting strict and serious mother who is raising 3 kids. 😂

5. Vi and cait breakup after vi stopped her from shooting jinx and isha.

Jinx surrender to cait after isha's death.

Vi visit cait to let her sister go.

Cait make a proposal to vi that she will let jinx go if vi replace her sis but not in prision but her bedroom. Cait hated vi but she can't forget about vi. Even if she used different people in bed.

6. Vi is an intersex. Arrange Marriage proposal between vi and caitlyn to make alliance better under city and upper city.

Caitlyn hates vi bcz she knows that jace was in prision due to vi and her gang.

Vi loves caity the moment she saw her when she was stealing in jace office. But she acts all tough.

7. Caitlyn got a gift from ambessa for getting a high rank promotion and becoming a powerful and richest person in such a young age in the entire country and winning the war against different cities.

The gift was inside the cage and the cage was shaking a lot like they captured some lion in it with angry oil slick hair.

The smirk on cait face and the rage on. Ex gf angry oil slick explains everything..

8. Angry hate sex between ex lovers cait and vi. 🔥

9. Vi is in prision as she surrender herself instead of Jinx. Caitlyn enter her prision telling her that she predicted her move and vi fell right into her trap just like some rabbit in a very seductive and taunting way. Telling Vi that She is like an angry pet.. Easily fooled and tamed.

10. Caitlyn is gifted Vi as a pet for her 18th birthday. Vi hate caitlyn. Caitlyn is very arrogant snobby smart person and loves Vi the moment she saw her. She is brat to everyone except vi. But vi is very cold to her. She just satisfy cait when caitlyn want her to. For caitlyn it's love but for vi it's like doing a slave duty. Will love ever blossom between them? Can caitlyn break rich and poor person ideology.

[coralinnii]

ALMOST forgetting your birthday 

feat: Ace · Vil · Jamil · Trey  genre: fluff  note: not gender specific reader, no pronouns used for reader, petnames were used (babe/baby in Ace, gem in Jamil), not proofread,

This is a special treat since I recently celebrated my birthday with my loved ones and classes were canceled on my birthday so I thought why not something birthday related for the fun of it? This is not me venting out that someone forgot my birthday, I just thought it’d be fun because I didn’t expect a voice scene from Riddle wishing me happy birthday when I logged in 😆. So hope you guys enjoy it and please don’t mistake this as me being sad! I actually had a great birthday

Boy was sweating bullets when Riddle asked him about his plans to celebrate your birthday. It totally slipped his mind and now he’s worried how you might be feeling after the fact that his own Housewarden of all people wished you a happy birthday but not your freaking boyfriend. 

But you can bet he’d be covering up his forgetful mind by acting his little heart out. 

Oh, you were worried he forgot about your special day? Pfft, you’re crazy. He just wanted to surprise you because he just couldn’t wait to spend the whole day with his number 1 love. 

On the inside, Ace does feel bad about forgetting your birthday. He knew if you did find out he almost let the day go by without seeing you, you would be hurt and he absolutely can’t have that. So, he swore to spend the entire day making it your day. Your rules, your choices, everything. 

Any plans he made for that day were instantly canceled. Hangouts with Deuce, basketball club meetings, his turn to feed the flamingos, he's skipping everything. He’s at your beck and call, making sure you weren’t aware he would have gone the whole day without knowing. This redhead is making sure you know how important you are to him, no matter how much he messes up. 

He doesn’t care about the possible teasing from other students or any accusations of being whipped. He’s the one sharing a special day with the most amazing person in the world, so jokes on them!

“Happy birthday, babe! Today’s your magical day so we’re doing whatever my baby wants, my treat” 

To be fair, he did make considerations in advance to ensure that he would be free to spend your birthday together. He may be a busy model and actor, but that’s no excuse to be with those he loves most. 

Unfortunately, his manager did not agree with that sentiment as they decided to schedule an interview with a popular news channel on your birthday. Vil was upset but what's done is done and it can't be cancelled with all the promotions and advertising out there about this upcoming interview.

You were bummed that Vil might not have time to spend with you but you understood how important this was for his career so you gave your support as always. Your birthday would have gone uncelebrated if not for Rook and Epel’s intervention. 

This whole situation left Vil angry at his manager…and himself for not catching this on time. He’s also a little angry at you for undermining your own birthday, even for his sake. 

He invited you onto the interview studio as his special visitor so the two of you could still be together as much as possible, and Vil made sure no one treats you any less than they would with him. His tone was polite but everyone at that studio knew he was serious with his “request”

“I hope that you would treat my guest with great care and respect. Any less would be rather insulting to me and will reflect poorly for any future projects” 

Immediately after the interview, Vil would grab your hand and rush back to the college where he expects that Rook and Epel have set up the preparations for the birthday celebration as he requested. Whether it's a private dinner for two or a quiet self-care day in his room, Vil’s dead set on making that day all about you like it should have. 

“This day isn’t about me or my career. This is your birthday and I intend on making sure you are treated as the fairest of them all on this day…and everyday”

I can’t imagine Jamil ever forgetting your birthday, he would never allow himself to make such a blunder like that. However, things don’t always go the way he hoped. 

Kalim, true to his whimsical nature, decided today was a great day to have a party so he decided to host a grand feast, to Jamil’s dismay. But he’s hesitant to refuse the Asim heir so he quickly got to organizing the party’s food as always. 

The sweetheart you are, decided to drop by to help him in the kitchen. Jamil’s having mixed feelings as he’s always happy to have you by his side but he doesn’t want to work on your birthday, especially for his sake. But you insisted you wouldn’t offer to help if you didn’t want to. 

Still dissatisfied, Jamil decided that the party could be shifted somewhat. You watched with confused amusement over Jamil’s not-so subtle whispers over you working on your birthday. 

“I apologise, my gem. I didn’t want your birthday to like this, working so hard alongside me like this” 

“I would say it’s ok but I feel like you’re not really talking directly at me right now”  

“Oh, if only I could give you the celebration you deserve” 

Of course, the “whispers” were overheard and soon caught Kalim’s ears who was excited to hear about this. Whatever prior reason to party has immediately left the Housewarden’s mind “What? It’s your birthday, so let’s change the party! This is now a grand birthday feast!” 

Whether you like it or not, you became the star of the party as Kalim pulled you over to the best seat in the dorms with food being offered to you on a literal silver platter. Jamil smiled from afar as he enjoyed watching the special treatment you’re getting. He assumed you were happy with the luxurious pampering courtesy of Kalim’s kind heart, not letting himself delve into his own insecurities of his inability to spoil you the way Kalim can. This was his plan, afterall. 

Luckily for him, you never give him the chance to get lost into those doubts as you happily call him over, patting the seat right next to yours. Snuggling to his side, Jamil felt his heart race as you told him how all you wanted was to do today was spend the day with him, be it being treated like royalty or just cooking together in a kitchen. 

Jamil wondered if you were aware of what a dangerous charmer you are. 

“Happy birthday, my precious gem. A day spent dedicating to you is a day well spent”

Like Vil, he probably remembered your birthday was soon but his school life and his duties as a vice Housewarden jumbled his mind to the point he almost didn’t realize what day it was. 

It wasn’t until Riddle told him that you would not be invited to the unbirthday party scheduled that day because well…it was actually your birthday. Trey nearly dropped the unbirthday cake he prepared when he realized what day it was. 

His mind was in a tizzy. He tried to stay focused but he’s trying to estimate his time to make a cake for you once the unbirthday party is done and if he could still make your birthday special. Thankfully, Riddle was kind enough to dismiss him once his assistance was not needed at the party. The green-haired senior never ran that fast from a party. 

Before the day ended, Trey managed to make a small cake to surprise you with at your dorm but he still felt a little guilty. I believe Trey is the type to tell you directly that he almost forgot your birthday rather than pretend. 

You told him you understand. He’s a third year with a lot of responsibilities and you know how busy he gets. You might be sad not being able to spend your birthday with him the way you hope but life gets in the way. You were happy with just the cake and a visit from your beloved. 

But Trey wasn’t satisfied with that. He may have gotten away with the bare minimum for most things and romance isn’t his forte but with you, that’s not good enough. Trey wants to take care of you, treat you special, give you all the attention you deserve without holding back. For you, going the extra mile and a half is worth it.

The green-haired student boldly went for a firm kiss on your lips, catching you by surprise. You felt your boyfriend take the lead by softly pushing you to the couch, sitting you down with him. Trey smirked down at your flustered face, fully intending to make the most of the day. 

“It’s ok to be a little selfish, you know? It’s still your birthday, afterall”  

[biancadoes1]

First of all: happy birthday! Wishing you lots of happiness and many more years of life! 🥳

So I have a group of friends that I care about a lot. We met because of our love for Bridgerton. Like many of us, they ended up boarding the "Lukola" ship. I’ve grown closer to them over the past few months, but I feel like they’re starting to act strangely regarding Nicola, especially after the addition of A and JD to the story.

They’ve been judging Nic and Luke’s posts as if they know details no one else does. They’re judging Nic as if she were Judas and had done terrible things. They accuse her of only caring about self-promotion, sidelining Luke, and being the one to blame for the nasty comments people direct at Luke. They’re saying Nic does everything deliberately and knows she’s harming Luke on purpose. They even claim Netflix and Shonda only care about Nic and forget that Luke exists.

I’ve tried to bring some sense to the conversation by saying that social media represents only 10% or less of a celebrity’s life and that we can’t judge things as if we actually know them or live with them. But I feel like they withdraw when I make comments like that. I believe they just want an echo chamber for their thoughts.

I’ve been thinking about distancing myself, but these girls were a great support for me when I lost a close relative. I feel ungrateful for even considering stepping away. At the same time, I’m bothered by the way they talk about Nicola. We’re all women and we know the pressure of being a woman, especially in the world of fame.

No offense, anon, but your friends sound like they need help. Do they all know how to tie their own shoes? It sounds like they haven’t learned a lot in life.

Anyone attempting to claim that Nicola or Luke are attempting to hurt each other over social media with their behaviors is a tried and true idiot.

Get new a new group. If you’re bothered by this and have a hard time seeing past it, it’s definitely time to find different people to talk with.

I understand feeling some obligation to stay for fear of seeming ungrateful but you also have to take care of yourself and in a situation involving a group chat with people with the same interest, you should always come first.

Protect your own peace. There’s nothing selfish about doing that. There are plenty of other people in the fandom who think like you do and are willing to have discussions. You just have to find them.

[ravenbloodshot]

Mingyu- Seventeen.....Dark Side Tarot Reading

As a Person

When I first tapped into his energy, I saw a scene of him having a complete tantrum. Screaming; yelling; pulling at his hair; just completely raging out. I also heard him say "fuck him! Fuck them! Fuck all of this shit!"

This makes me think that at a certain level of him being pissed off (which i do think takes alot for him to go this far), he can turn into a person that stops giving af about any and everybody. I don't exactly think he seeks revenge, but I do think he ends up wanting to take his anger out on someone or something. And he doesn't exactly care who/what it is. It's like getting so mad that you see red. This type of uncontrollable rage in Mingyu can be very destructive and just simply not healthy

He can be the kind of person to want success and money by taking shortcuts or not hustling as hard as others to get it. It's giving vibes of a person that would attach himself to nepo babies, socialites, and other well well off folk to get ahead. But I also see that in his blind attraction to just being in the presence of wealth, he could befriend scammers, criminals and people that lowkey get their money in more nefarious ways, while on the surface things look more legit. (This is an odd example but I'm getting reminded of how, in the past, corrupt South korean presidents would take bribes and gifts from big conglomerates like Samsung in exchange for tax cuts etc....). I can see Mingyu being this way if he falls too deep into chasing after the bag and keeping up with the Jones. His lesson in life will likely be "everything that glitters ain't gold."

To add onto this. He could possibly even get his friends to participate in these more sketchy business dealings( like promoting shady companies to fans) . Even resorting to peer pressure or guilt tripping if they were more hesitant to get involved.

Mingyu may weaponize his ignorance alot. I can see that in his love life, he could purposefully remain ignorant about things so that he doesn't have to put too much effort into a lover/partner. For an example, he could be dating someone and not know things like their birthday, important anniversaries etc.... so when these events arrive and he "forgets", he could just claim ignorance and be forgiven. "You know I love you hun, I didn't mean to forget, I just had a lot going on".🥺

Very manipulative person, knows how to touch at a person's heartstrings and weasel his way out of trouble.

Dark Things In love:

He enjoys the chase. Like a true aries man, he loves the chase. He loves the idea of wanting a person who doesn't want him. The dark side to this is.....Mingyu likes the fact that even when he becomes fixed on a person, their not the only one. He's like, " Yeah, I'm showering you with all of these gifts, love and attention, but I could be doing this to a million other women."

Mingyu likes arrogance in his partners as well (think Regina George) to the point of being kind of a bitch and low-key a bully. He likes that catty and bratty attitude, wants a partner that demands things of him (like commitment or loyalty), and doesn't concede easily. The only dark thing I'm seeing from this is that wanting this type of partner could lead to his connections turning into full out battlegrounds. Both parties are very stubborn, hotheaded, and in the mindset of "I'm right, you're wrong". He's gonna get what he asks for tryna wife up a Regina George.

Big Spender by Smiler and Lana del Rey is a song that fits this reading's energy

[pawnshopbleus]

Happy Birthday, Miss. President

Professor!Abby Anderson x Fem!Student!Reader

Contains - smut, teacher and student relationship, Reader is 22 and Abby is 32, this isn’t beta read so…

Summary - When an alumni meeting and your birthday fall on the same day, Professor Abby Anderson finds a way to make up for it.

Author's note - I don’t know how college works because I’m a senior in high school. Let’s just pretend that Harvard has class presidents. Let’s also pretend this is in character for Abby.

When you ran for senior class president you knew that there would be certain commitments that you could not break. You promised the entire student body that you would take their concerns into account. You wanted Harvard to become an inclusive school where everyone was welcomed. You weren’t expecting to win considering that you were running against Dina Williams, head cheerleader and every man's dream girl. When you won, you were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to get to work. That was until you found out what it meant to actually be the class president.

You needed to approve new clubs, promote pep rallies, set up the student section for football games, host spirit week, hold outreach meetings, and attend all the club meetings. To say that your life would be busy would be an understatement.

That was three months ago. Now, it is a cold October day. The trees rustled along the windows of lecture room two hundred and eleven. Some heads were settled on the desk in front of them while others quickly scribbled down notes. Professor Anderson, the chemistry professor, and your advisor glided through each slide about molecular structure. You watched as students dropped their pencils and pens to give their poor little hands a break from writing. You enjoyed the show from the comfort of your teacher's assistant's desk.

The clock struck five pm, indicating the end of class. Students rejoiced as they packed up their things and left the lecture room, leaving only you and Professor Anderson in the classroom.

You watched with attentive eyes as she walked over to her desk in the front of the room. It was dimly lit and cold over there, casting an angelic glow over her. Professor Anderson was wearing the forest green button-up blouse that you liked so much. It was made out of cotton meaning that sometimes it gets too hot. When she overheats in her clothes she likes to unbutton the top three buttons of her blouse. If one tries hard enough they can get a small glimpse of the bra she's wearing. You feel like a perv for knowing, but the professor isn’t so innocent either. Sometimes you catch her licking her lips as she stares at you, completely forgetting that she’s in a room with hundreds of other people.

As a chemistry major, you need to take many advanced chemistry classes. Since the first day of class, you found yourself staring at Professor Anderson as she taught. She would often lean on her desk in front of the class while her arms were crossed in front of her. She was the type of woman that you fantasized about. Tall, strong, and smart.

At first, it started out as a simple attraction towards her, then it turned into a crush, and now you were completely infatuated with her. You felt like you struck gold when she was appointed to be your advisor.

You get up from your chair and walk over to Professor Anderson’s desk. She looks up at you through her half-moon glasses. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly. She prefers to wear her hair in a braid, but on rare occasions, she will wear it down, just the way you like it.

“Come pull up a chair. We have some things to go over,” Professor Anderson said as she pulled out her calendar.

You dragged a chair from the corner and placed it next to her. Now that you were just inches away from her, you could smell the keynotes of her perfume. Black cherry, tonka bean, and almond. You inhaled the scent through your nose and exhaled. She smelled good enough to eat.

Professor Anderson flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other, giving you a good view of her neck. God, how you wished you were a vampire right now so you could sink your teeth into her perfect neck. You wanted to consume her, mind, body, and soul. Maybe that was a little violent, but it was true.

You were sitting so close to her that if you extended your pinky just a little bit you would be touching her.

“So, what is it you wanted to go over?” you squeaked. You hate how pathetic you sound every time you speak with her. Oh, how you wished you could exhibit the confidence some lesbians had in television and movies.

At least your birthday is coming soon. It was next Friday, the perfect day for it to fall on. After two hours of classes, you would return to your shoebox of an apartment and watch a stupid rom-com while you drank boxed wine. Now that sounded like the perfect way to spend your twenty-second birthday.

“You have a very busy week ahead of you. On Monday you have a GSA meeting to go to, the Tuesday there is an event you need to set up for, Wednesday there’s a peer counseling session you need to over see, on Thursday there’s a short film screening that you need to make an appearance at, and on Friday there’s an alumni meeting that you need to attend.” Professor Anderson took a deep breath in to catch her breath after talking for so long.

Your eyes widened with horror. No, you couldn’t spend your birthday in a stupid meeting. “Professor, I don’t think I can make it to the meeting on Friday. It’s my birthday.”

“Friday is your only mandatory day. I’m sorry but you have to go.” Professor Anderson put her hand on your upper thigh and squeezed it. She must have realized what she had done because she quickly took her hand off our thigh and cleared her throat.

You let out a small sigh of frustration and played with the sleeve of the top you were wearing. You weren’t going to complain. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful in front of your professor.

“I’ll be there, Professor,” you assured her.

“Do me a favor. When it’s just the two of us, call me Abby.”

Abby, short for Abigail. A name of Hebrew origin deeply intertwined with a figure of great beauty and intellect.

“That’s a beautiful name,” you gave her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. You were still a little disappointed about not having your birthday off, but this is what you get for running for class president.

You dismissed yourself and began the trek from your college campus to your apartment. Leaves were falling and trees that still had their coverings began to change color. The wind rustled and shook the naked branches of trees. The sun was setting, and the streetlights were about to turn on.

You hugged yourself tight as you walked against the wind. You kept licking your lips as you walked, silently cursing yourself for not bringing Vaseline with you.

You reached into your bag to search for the keys to your apartment. You unlocked the door and dropped your things on the floor. You replaced your day clothes with your pajamas and got into bed, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You stayed up all night thinking about a certain blonde-haired professor that looked like a dream.

— — — — — —

The alumni meeting was in full swing. Men and Women in their forties and fifties mixing and mingling with each other. The room smelled of expensive perfume and cologne, no doubt it was from the amount of money most of the alumni went on to make. Most of them are very successful doctors, engineers, scientists, CEOs, tech pioneers, and entertainment executives. The rest of them peaked in college and have thousands of dollars in debt.

You stood at the back of the auditorium smiling once in a while at alumni who caught your eye. So far, you haven’t done anything. The most you did was direct a lost man who needed to use the restroom. When you told him that the restrooms were in the other hall he mumbled something under his breath. It went along the lines of things sure have changed since I went here. You didn’t have it in your heart to tell him that the restrooms have always been down that hall.

You silently cursed Abby for making you attend this meeting. You could have been at home celebrating your birthday, but instead, you had to stand in the back of a stuffy room with people way older than you.

The latest Abby could have done was attend the meeting. Could you even call this a meeting?

A man who looked like he was in his late sixties stepped on the stage in the front of the room. He tapped the mic three times and spoke into it. His voice was raspy, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the entire Harvard community, I welcome you back to your alma mater.” Everyone in the room began to clap. The sound was overwhelming. The man on stage began speaking again. “Now, I would like to welcome one of our best professors to the stage. She is a Harvard graduate herself and now teaches chemistry in the Department Of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Professor Abigail Anderson.”

Abby stepped out in a black jumpsuit and red Louboutins. Her hair fell down in beautiful waves and grazed her open back. She looked like a dream up on that stage.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” her eyes began to scan the crowd and once they fell upon yours she smiled and began speaking again, “I am here tonight to reward all of you for your kind and generous donations. All of you will be rewarded with your own monument in the botanical gardens.” The alumni began to clap and cheer.

Is this why you needed to be here? To watch some rich people pay their way to the top?

You pushed your way through the sea of older people and made your way outside. Autumn in Massachusetts was fairly cold, but winter was colder and harsher. You hugged yourself in hopes that your own body heat would warm you up as you began walking in the direction of your apartment. This was your first time as class president leaving a function early. There was no reason for you to be there.

“Where are you going?” Abby asked from the doorway of the auditorium.

You huffed, causing you to see your breath in the cold air, “I’m going home.”

Abby ran up after you, “As senior class president it is your duty to be here. As your advisor, I will not tolerate your attitude.”

You stopped walking, “There’s no reason for me to be there. Either this is a ploy for the room to look packed or you really hate me. There are other ways I would like to spend my twenty-second birthday and being in a room with Harvard alumni is not one of them.”

“Listen to me,” she said your name in a tone that can only be described as stern. You could have melted from how much your skin heated up, but you kept your composure. “I understand that it’s your birthday, but I need you to go back there and mingle with people for a little bit.”

You inhaled the cold autumn air through your nose and exhaled. “Fine,” you said flatly.

“Good,” Abby’s cherry red lips stretched into a smile at your agreement. “By the way, I have a surprise for you in my classroom. You’ll have to wait till later to open it though.” Abby winked before returning to the auditorium.

You followed her back into the auditorium. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. You returned to your place in the back of the room. You took a sip of the water that was on the refreshment table in the front of the room. You wanted to stay sober enough for whatever Abby had in the classroom.

— — — — — —

The auditorium was mostly empty. The alumni have returned to their accommodations for the night. The only people that were left were you, Abby, and the janitorial staff.

Abby beckoned you to follow her with her hand. The two of you walked side by side to her classroom. You were at a respectable distance so as to not cause suspicion, but you wished you could be closer to her. You wanted to feel her skin on yours.

The two of you reached her classroom a few minutes later. It was cold in her classroom, if not colder than outside.

Abby lit two vanilla-scented candles instead of turning on the lights. The flames bounced off the walls of the classroom causing it to cast an angelic glow over the both of you.

Abby walked over to her desk and grabbed a small box from her drawer. “Happy birthday,” she said as she handed you the box.

Inside was a silver necklace with your first initial. “Oh, Abby. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your words were all over the place and all of a sudden you felt bad for the way you treated her earlier.

“It’s no problem. Here, let me help you put it on,” she volunteered. She held the necklace in between her fingers and slid it around your neck. The cold metal kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked at Abby over your shoulder and gave her a soft smile. When your eyes met her, that's when you realized that her eyes were focused on your lips. “Abby?” you whispered. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. You gave her a soft nod and she kissed you. Years worth of pent-up emotions came down to this. Her kissing you in the spur of the moment.

You immediately returned the kiss, your lips meeting hers with the same amount of fervor. Your hands tangled into the long strands of her hair. Abby tasted just like cherries, sweet and a little tart. Now that you’ve had a taste of her you wouldn’t be able to get it out of your mind.

Abby broke the kiss, giving you a few moments to catch your breath. You were high with desire for your professor. “Do you want this?” she asked. Abby wanted to make sure that you were one hundred percent on board with this before you went any further.

You nodded your head and Abby asked. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathed. You were surprised at your ability to form words at the present moment.

Once she had your verbal consent she attacked your lips once more. This time she allowed her hands to glide up and down your body. Her hands explored every inch and curve of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Remnants of her red lipstick painted your skin along the way.

You were getting bored of the teasing so you guided her hands under the top you were wearing, giving her permission to take it off. The rest of your clothes are soon to follow. Now, you’re left with nothing on but your necklace as Abby guides you to lie down on her desk. It’s cold and hard, but that’s the least of your worries when you have a naked Abby Anderson hovering on top of you.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this properly, but I couldn’t wait,” Abby whispers into your skin as she leaves trails of wet kisses on your skin.

Abby’s trail eventually leads to where you need her the most. Your sex is exposed to the cold air of her classroom. Her hands latch onto the fat of your thighs as she trails kisses on the inside of your thighs. It was one of the most erotic sights you’ve ever seen. Abby was down there, her hair grazing her naked skin, the glow of the candles making her look like a goddess.

Abby licks up and down your slit, getting you nice and wet for her fingers. Your thighs twitched, not being used to the feeling of getting eaten out, but Abby kept them apart with her hands. She continued massaging your clit with her tongue. She was using methodical strokes. Up and down and side to side were her favorites.

She inserted one finger in first, getting you used to her size. Her fingers were thick so it took a few thrusts for you to finally feel ready for another. Her fingers slid in and out of your slick hole as she continued sucking your clit.

You were close. You could feel your orgasm pooling in your lower stomach. “Abby,” you breathed, “I’m close.”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.”

And without further warning you came, your juices painting her face Abby helped you through your orgasm, stroking your clit a few times for good measure.

It took both of you a few moments to collect your breath. Abby then got a towel that she had in her desk and cleaned you up. She proceeds to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

Abby let out a laugh of delight, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” Your forehead scrunched up in confusion, “Why?”

Abby then proceeded to compliment you more times than you can count. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was growing on your face. This was the best birthday celebration a girl could ask for.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's pretend that was good!

[urban-shade]

my random miscellaneous sebastian headcanons. readmore because its a LOT

current

i was thinking about if he'd use special sebastian shaped emoticons like .:} and }:. and im honestly 50/50 i can see him thinking they're funny but i can also see him not wanting to think about the fact that he's a fish now and no longer human

in general i think he has a lot of identity issues. He literally NEVER brings up the fact that he is fish-esque besides telling us that he's not going to hurt us, and telling us items are on his tail. I think if he was more comfortable with his identity he might occasionally crack a joke but I think deep down he has a mask up emotionally where he tries to forget about it all.

and that mask CRACKS a little when players repeatedly climb on him!! it brings back hard memories for him and that's the most upset we ever hear him.. he doesn't even get that upset when he kills you for flash beaconing him twice.. you can fucking hear the hurt in gianni's voice acting and its just SO . AGH.

past / pre-breakout

i like thinking about what they had him get up to as an LR-P and MR-P a lot. What if they had him assemble furniture to get him used to his new 3rd arm. He thinks he's getting new furniture for his cell but then they take it away and put it in the break room and he gets SO ANNOYED. Then the 2nd furniture they have him do he assembles it and then throws it at the observation room at the top of his cell.

He'd get a game console for like one day to ensure his mental capabilities are the same as before the experimentation and for like 2 years after that day he misses his video games until he gets to play games again when he's promoted to MR-P

I feel like near the very start of things just to get a whole overview of like everything that's changed about him even if gills is only what they really gaf about (million dollar fish might as well see what your money did) they'd be testing a lot of basic stuff. Like taste. And they'd give him some normal food of different types of tastes to see if he's lost any taste receptors and he'd be like so happy but then intentionally one of the foods is really bad. And he gets so mad

i headcanon he did dual enrollment (college+hs) since he switched his college major from business to engineering and he's only 19. And that he was a massive nerd... unfortunately his fishtuation has changed him :(

there is a massive urbanshade in-network group chat/email chain for the scientists. There are a lot of inside jokes and a lot are at sebastians expense

i feel like he got food requests on his birthdays. The highlight of his years

His first request for birthday food was like a recipe his mom made a lot and he got it and it was horrible and barely seasoned because urbanshade is the worst and also they are in Norway and he is NOT going to get properly cooked authentic chilean food. And he never requested chilean food again :( Didn't want to be disappointed

post game

i don't think he truly realizes how big he is and if he ever gets a real human frame of reference he's going to get extremely upset about it (if he was already on edge from something else.. he's practiced at hiding/burying his emotions). The blacksite doesn't have a ton of normal size comparison things for him besides smaller human objects and humans themselves, everything is sorta larger than life there and he might feel quite big but I don't think he has a proper idea of the real scale.

Even if he escapes, even if he could deal with all the problems that come from being a snake/mermaid/fishmonster guy. He is still way too big to fit in any normal human spaces. He is truly screwed unless he can get turned back human by innovation inc...

even if he does get turned back human by innovation inc he's going to have to relive his trauma all over again. i think about that a lot

i think he'd also be conflicted on turning back human like it's the one thing he's wanted for the past 10 years but also.. He's been like this for so long.. he doesn't really feel like Sebastian the kid with a guitar that liked Metallica. He's Sebastian Solace the Saboteur… The dangerous fish man who's been forced to kill a few people out of necessity (and indirectly cause the deaths of a few hundred others)

i think he'd get phantom limb pains from his 3rd arm if he lost it in the human transformation. Like he isn't even supposed to HAVE that arm as a person and yet his brain still expects it to be there. He keeps trying to use it and then it's gone

When he first meets his family again for the first time after he escapes I think he wouldn't be human yet. Before he lets them see him he like speaks to them from behind a door or something… To try and prepare them. He's really nervous about seeing them all again because he absolutely cares about them just the same but he just feels like an outsider now.. he's changed so much

All he wants is to get back to a normal life but, normal human life doesn't feel normal to him anymore. He almost misses the monotony of the blacksite. I feel like innovation inc would take a few months-year to get him turned back and he might try working for them in that time to try and adjust to being out of urbanshade since it feels familiar to him and they're more equipped to deal with a giant fish man than his family's home. But ever so often things there remind him of urbanshade and he goes back to feeling like he's about to be shot on sight.

biology

silver spiny fins are some of the best vertebrates at seeing color in low light conditions! i think he has that trait from them

mantis shrimp like to burrow. I think he has some kind of instinct where he feels more at home in small enclosed spaces (he loves blankets)

what if his upper body had sandpaper shark scales. i dont want to put him through that because can you imagine putting on a cotton shirt with sandpaper skin???? too cruel. but its fun to think about

i think he molts but its only like once a year. The first time he does it he has like absolutely no idea that's what's happening he's just like insanely itchy or something and then he realizes his tail skin has PEELED OFF and he's like (HORRIFIED) but then realizes what's going on . And then it takes forever for him to get it all off and he just stares at it like Eugh after

the second time he realizes he can use the shed to screw with the researchers. Researcher walks in his heavy containment cell in the morning and there's just like a massive translucent crumpled version of him in the corner and they just scream before realizing 2 seconds later

the scientists have a sped up video of him molting to metallica music like how people post timelapses of their snakes shedding

[seoul-bros]

Jikook Week 44 Complete (08/10-15/10/2024)

Their 44th week in the military is now complete. It's time to celebrate with a look back at this week in 2014.

This was the Dark & Wild era and in researching this post I was drawn back to Beyond the Story to reread what the members and particular J-Hope & V said about promoting Danger, the title track.

"All those performances for "Danger" were really exhausting. When we had that comeback with "Danger" releasing the Dark & Wild album, we'd done about twenty music show pre-recordings and then went to a different program where they announced first place. We were told we had to be there, so we went up there live, completely out of it. Then, it turned out we weren't even candidate for first place, which I think was a big shock." J-Hope

"It's fine if other teams are named as candidates for first place. We just need to work harder. But at the broadcasting stations, we'd always be the first to say hello and greet everyone, the seonbaes and the hubaes alike, but some people just ignored us and passed right by. Or mocked us for not being candidates for the top place.

After the broadcast, we all got into the van together...... Someone was crying, someone was getting really mad, and someone just couldn't speak. The unspeakable disappointment and that tear-jerking emotion was too much

That's when we thought, 'Hey us, let's do really well. So that no one will ever look down on us again.' Looking back, I'm glad we at least got a hold of ourselves back then (laughs). Because we all found our resolve, we had that determination and we all came together as one, swearing to become a really awesome group together" V

That belief that they were in this together and they only had each other comes out very strongly in their SM posts of the time and can perhaps be best illustrated by vmin's TwiX posts. These two romantic & sensitive 95 liners were also ambitious & determined to succeed together with their team.

"Let's go for a long time, I only have you V"

Let's not forget this night view, Jimin

Ah, I see now, Let's be friends for life

Jimin Post 1, Jimin Post 2, V Post 1

This week in 2014 was the tail end of the Danger promo period and images and videos from previous performances were released.

Twix Link

For their Music Bank show there was a mission challenge to make a heart for the audience during the performance.

It's such a complete contrast their gentle laddish camaraderie in the dressing room compared to the tough macho attitudes they were portraying on stage.

JK "Are you kidding me? What am I to you?, Am I easy? Uh, are you playing with me?" JM "You're in danger now, Why are you testing me? Why are you testing me?, Don't make me confused

Even with the difficulties facing them off stage as soon as the lights went up they delivered smash performances EVERY SINGLE TIME.

This week was also countdown to the the Red Bullet Tour (17-19/10/2014) and the release of War of Hormone (21/10/2014).

Look at these countdown gifs - V (D-6) is taking me out!

And look at these jikook cuties. JK in particular was so so young.

Finally, this week it was Jimin's second birthday after debut and he spent it in the practice room.

Post Date: 15/10/2024 in SK