#but also also... they don't fucking pay me in time!!!

[senpai-in-the-streets]

I have had a motherfucking leak in my shower wall since September of last year, and it's still on-going. My building and several others are owned collectively through an organization, which elects a board. I immediately email them, with video evidence, and hear nothing.

I call my insurance company, and they tell me to get a plumber to investigate and make an estimate of the damage and cost. He comes, says it's a burst pipe, but that he's not going to look inside the wall because it's a 250,000 crown job to open a bathroom wall. I said I was told to ask him for a damage report, and he said "they know damn well that's not my job." And bills me almost three thousand bucks for the horrible ordeal of driving 15 minutes.

Then I get our oafish janitor to come look. He says it's not good, but he can't open the wall. It's been over a week, and I'm scared of rot and mold. He says he will ask the building insurance company to send a damage assessor. He arrives while I'm out, uses a moisture measuring device on the outside of the wall and says "I'm sure it's fine. No moisture here. If you've only SEEN the water shoot out (it was shooting like piss, not dripping) once, it's fine. I'm sure water has leaked into your wall because of poor craftmanship. Then it leaks out. Perfectly fine, and not our problem. See what happens." Janitor says it's not fair for a collective ownership to pay for repairs that might just be necessary for me.

My lawyer finds out who redid the bathroom for the previous owner. The plumbers are ok but the tile work was done by a company that disappeared and no one heard of. At this point my doorframe has swollen from the water leak and I can't close the door. To the bathroom. I'm told it's my responsibility to keep the door dry. I haven't used my shower more than four times in two months. My lawyer says it's illegal to have non-waterproof materials in such a small bathroom. The plumber who was there says the pipes must be fine, but that he will try to get hold of the guy who did the tiles. Does not respond to promptings for answers.

Well, I call that company and they repeat what they said. I email the board again and the leader calls me. He had read the first email but forgotten about it. It's now late november, I think. He offers to come look. He looks and says it's not fine. He tells me everyone else is a dickhead and a liar. He says he's going to call some guys he knows. This is the last I hear of him. He's arrogant and condescending, but also scary, so I don't say anything except thanks.

I see three more leaks, film them all, and report them to the board. I get two in one weekend. No response. I email the damage assessor and beg them to come. I've seen what happens, and it's more water. They say the insurance company has to request them to do so. My lawyer says someone has to find out what the cause, extent and cost of the damage is before she can get anyone to pay for it.

I feel like I'm going insane. Why am I doing all this shit when I pay into the insurance, same as everyone else? I don't even own the place. I own the right to live there. And I'm getting fucked sideways. And when I'm getting fucked, I would like to get kissed a lot.

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[vaspider]

Spider, can I ask you and your followers for some input in a situation? I want some unbiased opinions, especially from parents of adult kids (bonus if your adult kids are disabled). I've tried to be as unbiased as possible and include both sides. I am aware that you're under no obligation to actually answer, but I'm hoping that if you're not able to provide any input, then one of your followers might be able to.

TLDR at the end.

The context:

Basically, I am an adult in my late 20s. I haven't lived with my parents since they threw me out at 19 for being diagnosed with autism and they were told that I wasn't capable of living independently without years of occupational therapy. I was homeless for 13 months. Like literally two days later, they dropped me off at work, confiscated my house keys, and said to find somewhere else to sleep because I wasn't coming back home. (My parents insist that I wasn't actually homeless because I already had my current job and was able to afford to stay at a youth homeless shelter. I say "what the fuck do you think Homeless Shelter means??") After that, I was able to get a government grant for chronically homeless youth that allowed me to get a room in a student housing complex. It's not dorms, but it works like a dorm. I do have a private room.

My bedroom of my apartment is a mess. My bedroom has always been a mess. I have AuDHD and multiple disabilities, including extreme fatigue so that's not unexpected. During lockdown, it was especially bad. I had to move out of my last apartment in 2021 because one of my roommates was a bigot and my building wanted a new tenet so they could charge more rent, so between the two of them, they forced me out for being a "safety concern" due to the mess (the roommate did things like lie and say I didn't bathe, even though I was literally still wet from the shower). My parents ended up helping me pack up my stuff and move to a new place. I've been here for a few years and my roommates here have always been okay with the mess because it stays confined to my room.

(Also I wrote this at like 5AM and I'm half asleep but I wasn't going to be able to go back to bed until I ask someone unbiased. So please excuse any typos, and I hope everything makes sense and nothing came out as gibberish because sometimes by brain refuses to Word Good.)

The problem:

My mother decided when I moved in that my dad was going to be inspecting my bedroom in order to make sure it's clean. He's been putting her off but she's been on his ass about it for three years so he's finally caved and said that next time he's here to bring me something (I cannot drive due to disabilities), that he would be inspecting my room.

I do not want my room inspected. I've been very clear about that since day one. Yes, my room is a mess, but I'm also a grownass adult. My parents say that since they've given me some money for my rent over the past few years that they're entitled to inspect my room. I say that it's a violation of my autonomy. My room is my safe space. My mother is an obsessively clean person so growing up, my room wasn't really mine, and everything had to be to her standards whether I liked it or not (including things like what color I paint my furniture that I owned).

My parents do not care about my boundaries, and would say that since I've proven incapable in the past (re: because I'm disabled, not that they'd ever admit it), that they're trying to protect me by keeping me from being kicked out again.

I am skeptical about this and believe it's more about controlling me (see: throwing me out for having autism and just generally being extremely controlling my entire life). My parents have refused to stop giving me money for my rent every now and then (I have a job and pay at least the majority of my rent, but there are some months where business is slow and I don't get many hours, and no one wants to hire me because I act Autistic and use a cane) and I end up short. I have resolved to do everything I can to not need their help, including having my sister pick up my prescriptions, in order to avoid my parents coming over and inspecting my room.

Also, my building already does quarterly inspections and they've always been okay with my room, but I know my room won't be to my parents' standards. I don't have any local friends that I could ask for help cleaning up, but like, I'm a Spoonie. I clean my toilet and then have to go lay down because I'm getting dizzy. I am not making much progress myself.

The question:

Are my parents right? Have I shown that I cannot be trusted to keep my room clean, thus entitling them to come inspect it to make sure it's not a mess. They will definitely yell at me and have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if my room is a mess or I refuse to let them inspect it? Or am I right to put my foot down and enforce my boundaries?

Side note, my parents have a history of being abusive and controlling. That's something I had to prove to the government to get my grant. They would insist that it's not abuse. Some of it was quite bad but I'm not going to get into it here.

TLDR:

I'm an adult with disabilities who has my own apartment. My parents think they're entitled to come inspect my room to make sure it's clean. I say that it's my apartment and I say no. They have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if I refuse. Are my parents being unreasonable, or am I the one being unreasonable for refusing?

Your parents have no right to inspect your room. You are an adult. This is your apartment, not theirs. Your mother is wrong. Your parents are being invasive. I think they think they're being reasonable bc they care about your well being, but they aren't respecting your autonomy.

Sometimes, being a parent means you gotta let your kids not do things the way you would or even not do things the way that is best for them. It's hard, but it's necessary.

If you still lived with your parents and your lack of cleanliness was affecting their lives, it might be different ... but this is just your parents being fucking weird.

[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.

[thingstrumperssay]

Now I've been seeing the whiny Trumpgretters going "I didn't have time to look into what I was voting for!" as an excuse for all of the people telling them that they shouldn't be surprised because Trump said that he was going to be doing this and that.

They're also blaming US for not telling them even though we have and I'm just wondering- why vote then? If you're too busy to Google something, or if you are even too busy to pay attention to what happened the FIRST time Trump was president, then why bother voting at all?

If you are actually claiming "Of course I didn't know that all of my immigrant workers would be deported! I didn't have time to pay attention to him shouting "build the wall," "they're sending rapists," "they're eating the cats" and "mass deport them all!" then why vote at all? Why vote for anybody if you don't know what you're voting for?

Of course I know the answer for at least most cases- because they believed that they'd be the exception. That they'd be Trump's precious little exception to his rules.

They believe that he's only going to punish those who dare vote against him. That's why whenever his actions hurt them they cry to Trump going "Why are you doing this to ME? Please make me the exception!"

The level of delusion that they are is so fucking embarrassing, it's sickening.

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

sy trying to create a pidw au would be so funny

i feel like he'd actually commit to it to spite airplane. at first, it garnered attention bc it was from the peerless cucumber, notorious critic and biggest pidw hater, so ofc they're all curious how pidw would look like in his eyes. it was surprisingly (well not really, considering the tens of paragraphs peerless cucumber wrote during his rants, all of which have immaculate grammar and spelling— bc ofc he can't let anyone find something to nitpick on his review so they're forced to see the point!) well-written and definitely more plot-focused.

majority of the readers disappeared after the first few chapters, mainly because of the lack of smutty scenes, but those that do remain are very engaged. one of them is airplane's burner account, when he needs to separate himself from his airplane persona. he's really, really curious as to what his hater is doing to his work.

he... he actually likes it. it's not really the novel he envisioned when he was first working on pidw, nor does it contain all the elements of his original draft, but it was good. he likes it a lot better than what pidw turned out to be.

airplane spent so much time contemplating and considering before finally saying fuck it, and dms peerless cucumber to see if he can work as a co-author with him and they can rewrite pidw together. he even sends parts of the original draft (what was left of it, anyway) as incentive!

it takes a long week before even peerless cucumber replies, and by then he has written a novella detailing how much better the original draft was and him screaming very informally at why airplane had to cast it aside.

lol i need money bro im broke af and porn sells, airplane answers.

it takes another week before peerless cucumber finally answers. then live with me, his message reads. no rent. i'll pay for whatever food you want. and whatever bills you have. just write a good fucking novel, i swear to god.

airplane thinks it's a joke, until he receives the address. an actual penthouse. in the richest streets of guangzhou. there is also a request to meet up (seeing as they don't actually know each other, and sy's brothers are very intent on not getting him murdered in his sleep) and airplane, after much, much thinking, accepts.

airplane does not really know what to feel when he finally meets and talks to shen yuan— pampered third son of a very wealthy family, with two protective older brothers and an even more protective little sister— and sy is just. well. he's exactly airplane's type. the beautiful, ice prince who apparently has only shown this much emotion around airplane. sy's meimei had told him cheerfully and then threatened to gut him if he so much as steps a foot out of line. airplane is starting to feel like he's just met a mafia family.

shen yuan's family aside, airplane is actually living his best life. he no longer has to worry about money. he lives in a luxurious (gods he has never seen such a large bedroom before wtf) penthouse without needing to pay rent (!!!) and utilities (!!!) and even food (!!!). he can write as much as he wants. this must be what artists felt like when they're taken care of noble families in exchange for their art.

he does... well. he and peerless cucumber are friends now. they work on the rewrite together. airplane keeps finding out many things, like how shen yuan likes his tea with a lot of honey, dislikes milk chocolate, and prefers drawing over writing. he also runs hot during the night, when he sleeps.

how does airplane know that? well. bros gotta do what bros gotta do. it's a good thing they both like to cuddle.

[srldesigns6277]

If the kids family entered the country illegally then yeah, they should get deported?? Lmao??

There's only so many people a country can sustain. Every country worries about its citizens first and foremost. The obligation of a country and the politicians is to take care of their own FIRST. Everyone else is second. If you want to move someplace else then fucking do it legally and see if they let you in. You don't get to just jump the fucking border and rub your hands like a shitty little fly.

I am going to break this down point by point.

Your first statement: One that's fucking appalling since I know people who have seen the inside of those fucking facilities. I have seen the cages they have put children in before. No one. NO FUCKING PERSON should be put in a fucking cage. Many of the students I know and see have entered the country on visas and do work, but many American students I know won't. Many of them also have experiences that would make your head spin, from either their home countries or Border Agents. My community is better off with our immigrant population. We have construction workers, plumbers, thriving restaurants, and community groups. Many of the immigrant students and their parents have entered the healthcare industry here, too. They are integral to our community.

Your second statement: Did you know our country pays farmers to burn their crops or to not plant them at all? We often have overproduction in certain cash crops like corn and wheat. Most homes in the United States are owned by corporations rather than individual citizens, which has led to more homelessness, especially as those corporations tend to increase rent exponentially each year, often pricing people out of being able to afford rent. If the country truly cared about its citizens first, wouldn't it do something about the corporations?

Third statement: Similarly to what I just stated, If the obligation of Congress, the President, and the Judiciary, wouldn't they want to lower the infant mortality rate? Wouldn't they want to lower the pregnancy mortality rate? Wouldn't they want your prescriptions to be lower? Wouldn't they work with veterans to ensure they had easy access to healthcare and homes? Wouldn't college be cheaper or at least more accessible? Wouldn't they care about climate change since, as we just saw this past week(Jan 2025), the deep south has been under snowfall, the last time being the 1890s? Wouldn't they want to protect the rights of citizens since CITIZENS are you claim they want to help over immigrants? Wouldn't a government that cared want to have affordable homes for people?

Fourth statement: What ever happened to the poem on the Statue of Liberty?

"Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Or does that just matter if you are European? My family went through Ellis Island, where all they had to do was present their names and what they brought with them. But they were from Italy, so they were deemed okay, right? Or my family from Germany immigrated in the 1840s and were just allowed to move and create their own farms in Western Pennsylvania or Ohio. Or even still, the individuals who come on work or college visas, the H1B visas, are deemed perfectly fine. What's the difference there?

Your fifth statement: Our families probably did that, from the boats of Ellis Island in the East and Angel Island in the West. Plenty of people have been allowed to stay after doing similar things in the past, so why is it different now?

Next time just say your racist and move the fuck on.

[spacegyaru]

cw: shidou ryusei x afab! reader. all characters are aged 21+ (you and shidou are already 25 atp). this is the second part of this! do not read it unless you have read the previous part! 💗🤭

~ there is a bit of angst here! also, i really tried to keep shidou and character and read loads of analysis for this huhu so good luck to me!! i hope you guys would like it as much as you loved the first part! + reader is a nurse and toxic shidou! 😌 i tried to keep it realistic guys, we all known it's not going to be all rainbow and skittles with shidou in it.

word count: 2k+

fast forward to five years later. five fucking years. you don't know how you made it that far, but somehow, you managed to get yourself out of that hellhole.

well, after finding out that you were pregnant, your initial reaction was to tell your parents about it. you were young and they still paid for your college fees that time, so you know that they have the right to at least hear from you.

as you expected, your parents did not have the best reactions. your dad scolded you— even slapped you, and your mom called you a slut, then they started fighting and blaming each other on whose fault is this.

suddenly, the fact that you're pregnant is no longer about you and the baby, but it's about blaming who was the worse parent between the both of them. your dad blamed your mom for caring too much about her appearance and not paying attention to you, while your mom blamed your dad for not protecting you enough and being around. in actuality, both are horrible.

you swore you'll never want your kid to grow up in this kind of hell you were raised in. that's why you felt so much joy when your parents agreed to help you but they asked you to move out to your grandparents’ house in a far away rural area so people wouldn't see you ‘blowing up like a balloon’ (as what your mom said) and ‘bringing shame to the family’.

luckily, compared to your parents, your grandparents are good people. they comforted you and made sure that you're well-fed during your pregnancy.

you ended up giving birth to a little girl, which you named miyu. she was born with your hair color, pink orbs, and tanned skin. her nose and eye shape weren't yours. you didn't even want to think about who does it remind you of.

it wasn't easy to have her either. miyu was a handful baby and post-partum depression did not sit well with you. but luckily, your grandmother is around.

shortly after that, you decided to go back to college while working part-time. all while miyu was growing. if you didn't have your grandparents, you surely wouldn't be able to survive. they were a huge help to your studies, and in taking care of miyu.

after your studies, you went back to the city to look for a better job as a registered nurse around tokyo. you thanked your grandparents and took your daughter with you.

about shidou… well, you've seen him on TV and he's doing well, winning lots of football games, and even having some dating rumours. you hated every inch of him. you hated how he act all smug and cocky on TV. you hated how he never even tried to contact you after that night. you hated how he did well while you struggled to survive.

the only comfort that you had was miyu's smile. she is a very cheerful child. she's very friendly towards people and she's a social butterfly. the first time you took her to the nursery, she became friends with everyone.

anyway, you're working as a registered nurse around tokyo's biggest hospital. luckily, miyu's preschool is nearby. but with no one to watch over, you would fetch her during your free time and bring her back to your workplace.

“y/n, doctor nishimura needs your assistance in his office in third floor.” your co-worker said and you rushed going there.

when you arrived, you were asked to call the patients’ name in the waiting area and assist in medical check-ups, like taking their height, weight, blood pressure, and etc. it was all good. you were doing just fine. until you saw who the last patient is.

“sh-shidou r-ryusei…” there was a light stutter in your voice as you turned pale, an expression of shock written on your face. it seemed that he's here for some athlete medical checkup or whatever it's called.

the moment shidou saw you, he did not recognize you at first. but seeing how awkward you were while taking his blood pressure, he finally recognized who you are.

“wait, aren't you y/n?” shidou asked then started talking to you like a casual friend who's trying to catch up. you didn't respond well. he told you that he'll be in a 3-month long vacation after winning a huge match in france.

when you were left alone with him as you were asked to assist him althroughout, like going to the cashier and settling payment, (since the doctor said that other patients might harass him since he's famous), he fucking dropped the bomb that made you erupt.

“if you're interested, we could hang out together while i'm in tokyo. like the old times.” he said in a smug voice, obviously hinting to something sexual.

you stopped while walking, looking down. shidou, who only continued, wondered as you stayed that way for seconds. shidou looked at you curiously. he slowly approached you, but your hand seemed to have another plans, giving him a slap on the cheek.

shidou looked at you shocked for seconds while holding his cheek, then his face changed into smirk before he told you “come on, you can't be mad over something that happened years ago, right? what happened to the good girl y/n?” he gave you a menacing look.

but before you could say anything, a small high-pitched voice reached out from your behind. “mommy, i'm hungry!”

seeing your daughter, you left shidou and approached your daughter, carrying her in your arms, telling her how you'd get her some cookies from the pantry.

as your carried miyu in your arms while walking away, shidou could not help it but to stare back at the pink orbs of the little girl which sparked curiosity. that, combined with the little girl's tanned skin and nose— shidou already fucking knew who that little girl is.

after that day, shidou would visit you during working hours. he would go there, trying to ask you to hangout with him, with that permanent smug look that you hated the most.

he did this for the whole afternoon. luckily, today, you were able to hire a babysitter for miyu because you expected to work overtime. you doubt he would leave you alone, not giving you some time to fetch her.

even after your shift, shidou was still there. you got fed up and asked him why the hell is he bothering you during work hours, even telling him to get lost.

but shidou still seemed to be unfazed by you freaking out. instead of saying anything, he just said “awww, don't you want me to get to know your little girl too? are you gonna hog her all by yourself?”

that's when you lost it. you dragged him in the hospital's parking lot and asked him what he truly wants.

shidou asks you to enter his car so you guys could ‘talk more’. thinking that he's just scared of the paparazzis, you agreed to talk with him inside his car with tinted glasses.

when you both sat on the front seats, he waited for you to speak first and you broke the silence.

you told him that you found out that you were pregnant after that night and you didn't get to tell him because he blocked you everywhere on social media. you're mad because he promised that he's going to be with you after but he left without saying anything.

shidou basically just gaslit you and told you that you never tried hard enough like contacting him thru his emails. he even had the guts to victimize himself and say that he felt hurt you never told him.

“just shows how my little y/n won't trust me enough to look after our poor little baby and that makes me sad.”

you rolled your eyes and attempted to get off the car, when shidou held your hand, trying to stop you. you decided to stop and take one last look at him. he holds your hand tighter, but not in a hurting way.

“oh hell nah, y/n. don't do this to me, i'm a changed man, ya know?”

you told shidou that if he's planning to ghost you again, he's never gonna get to know miyu. he is not going to be her first heartbreak. you made it clear to him.

shidou was like, “i know i didn't keep my promise to you, but i'm not a monster to do the same thing to her.”

you still didn't believe him, until he told you that he wants to show how serious he is. “give me your bank account number” but you didn't want to give it to him because of your pride.

but then he started saying “you sure you don't want my help? you were eating a one-dollar ramen during lunchtime. how can you even give what's best if you can't even give yourself anything?”and he said it in a taunting voice. oh boi, all these years and he's still so good at provoking people.

so you ended up giving your bank account details. you received a notification on your phone saying that you just received 7 million yen— about 50k dollars. you looked at him in disbelief.

“also, don't let her wear those ugly floral dresses. buy her something else.”

you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ altho you didn't really wanna say that but you know you needed to.

both of you agreed on a co-parenting situation. for visits, he would visit your daughter in your apartment every weekend. you wanted those instead of public because paparazzis may spot your daughter. she doesn't deserve that kind of toxicity yet.

first time visiting your apartment, shidou basically roasted your house and bought you a whole apartment just two floors way from his own apartment. “and you said you didn't need my help? i don't think my baby should even live in this place.” you moved in that place a month after he first met miyu.

the first time they met each other… you hate to admit it, but they got along really well. both of them weren't too emotional about it. it was just like two best friends meeting each other and having a lighthearted conversation. you observed miyu and it seems that she's at ease around shidou.

“miyu, that's your dad.” oh boi she ran so fast in his arms and hugged him. luckily, he caught her. since then, the both of them have been talking. miyu liked calling shidou his ‘daddy’. and honestly, shidou was proud of it.

shidou was the fun dad. you'll say ‘no ice cream’ and he's gonna bring your daughter ice cream while you're not around. when you say that she shouldn't eat sweets after brushing her teeth, shidou would just tell her to have some then she can brush her teeth after. so in no time, miyu became a ‘daddy's girl’ while you were the ‘no-fun and strict’ mom (as said by shidou when miyu's not around).

the whole co-parenting setup was okay. but shidou would make advances towards you whenever miyu is not looking. he would flirt with you, saying how your genes looked great when mixed together and sometimes, he would bring up that miyu needs a playmate. you would only roll your eyes at him, saying that you'd rather die than to repeat the same mistake.

it was all peaceful. you were starting to put your trust in him— until you saw a selfie of shidou and miyu all over the news and headlines. it seemed that he posted her on his insta, without your consent.

you did not like that one bit. both of you told each other that if he wants to something like this, he needs to talk to you first. again, shidou forgot to keep up with his word.

with an angry tone, you immediately called shidou and asked to talk to him in private. he asked you to come over to his apartment— and you were hesitant at first, but you agreed. you decided to drop off miyu at the local daycare center, just so the both of you could talk it out.

[fuck-customers]

Fuck people who don't fucking read posted signage and then do stupid shit. Especially when people are told repeatedly about it, and the sign (s) have been up for well over a month.

So, I work at a chain restaurant that sells coffee, breakfast, and donuts. And on New Year's, we opened at 6 am.

Tell me why people are trying to get in and trying to go through the drive thru at 5:11, about 11 minutes after I walk in the store to open? The lights weren't even on. There was no, absolutely zero, indication that we were open. Like, none. No lights. Music was off. It looked like a ghost town, with the exceptions of me and my baker. I still don't get what about any of that said that we were open.

Besides, I can't do anything until the exact opening time anyway. Especially if the store isn't ready to open. Plus, our systems are locked from making a sale outside of business hours. I couldn't if I wanted too.

I had a woman, a regular, even, come through the drive thru at like, 5:30. I tell her we don't open until 6. I have to tell the lady behind her the same thing. She comes back through at about a minute and a half before the store opens. Both store and company policy state that I cannot have her sit in the drive thru, because my drive times, which the head office is obsessed with, will go up if she just sits there. And I have been instructed to prevent that.

So, I tell her that we're still not open, and she goes "We'll, you got a minute." I told her that I still couldn't help her until we opened, and that I also couldn't have her sit in the drive thru to wait out that minute.

Is it stupid? Yes, but it's what corporate wants.

So, she's just like "Fine. I'll just go elsewhere." And I really just wanted to roll my eyes and tell her to go fuck herself.

And, because of the holidays, we no longer accept anything over a $20. Too many counterfeit bills, and corporate has even told us we can't accept them. And I understand that people are gonna get upset when they whip out a $50 or $100 for an order, but I'm not getting fired over people not wanting to pay with card or smaller bills.

I had a guy literally go "you HAVE to accept this. It's legal tender." about a $50. No sir, we do not. We have posted signage, AND, you have not yet received goods, as you are attempting to make a purchase. We don't owe you anything until it's paid for. And we don't accept anything larger than a $20, so your $50 is no good here. No, we will not make an exception. No, we don't have to accept it just because it's legal tender. State and federal law do not require me to take it, as it is considered an offer of payment, not a payment of debt owed.

It's like, has the fuckin common sense left these people? Or do they walk into the store that fucking stupid?

Oh, and what is it with third party delivery drivers just casually reaching behind the counter's set up for delivery and walk in mobile orders, to the little staging area behind, and just taking shit? Especially when there's nothing on the shelf? Like, no, there is a reason it's behind the little shelf for it. It's because it's not ready yet. And then, we get an angry customer call asking why part of their food is missing.

I remember one guy practically yelled at me over the phone for like, 5 or so minutes, and I just calmly asked if he was finished so that I could explain. I then told him that his driver took his unfinished order, even after being told it wasn't ready yet, and that we apologize for him not getting everything, but the driver had been told and refused to listen.

Thankfully, the guy understood, but geez. And of course, I sadly have so many more stories that I wish I didn't have.

Posted by admin Rodney

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

54. everybody wants you (written)

prev // m.list // next

Karaoke sounded like a good idea, but seeing all these strangers staring at the bunch of drunk assholes who just arrived makes you have second thoughts about it. Different from other karaoke places you've been to, this seems more like a club. There are private rooms but they're too small and where's the fun in that anyway.

"Let's sing 'ME!'!" Beomgyu rakes your hand and basically drags you across the room to get to the improvised stage.

Your brain is foggy and you know you're gonna regret all of this tomorrow, but right now you're having fun. Just for tonight, Beomgyu is your bestie and your friends get along. Moreover, Yeonjun and Minho are still having the time of their lives taking shots and laughing with each other. This is almost too good to be true.

Beomgyu's voice is surprisingly alluring, even when he's drunk. You're dancing and screaming and it's just so fun.

"And you can't spell awesome without me!" You hear your friends sing along while you're both jumping around.

You don't even notice Yeonjun's eyes following your every move and his dorky smile that makes his eyes almost disappear.

"Listen to me!" Minho screams at him and they go back to whatever argument they were having.

Drink after drink, and song after song, the fun seems to be never ending. Yeji is having the time of her life with Felix and even Karina is having a few drinks with Lia. You really hope they end up dating or something, Karina deserves to be happy.

Yeonjun is just being his clingy self and it's been an hour since he decided you need to be in his arms at all times. Not that you're complaining. It's actually nice being with him after spending so much time with your friends. You love your friends, but you also love just existing with Yeonjun.

It's almost 4:00 am and the place is even more crowded than when you first arrived. Some of your friends are nowhere to be seen and a bunch of them are taking shots at the bar.

"You're having fun?" Yeonjun is so tender and soft, caressing your cheek as if you're made of glass and dragging his words cause he's just so drunk.

"I think you're the one having fun," you laugh and he just whines.

Not too far from there, Minho is drunk as hell and just complaining about everything to Chan. He keeps staring at you and wishing he was the one making you laugh right now.

"He's an idiot!" He says for the eleventh time.

Chan just keeps rolling his eyes at him. "You said you were gonna step aside."

"But I don't want to, why does he get the girl? It's not fair." He's just being childish and maybe even a little selfish.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Chan is so done with this conversation.

"Something remarkable!"

Out of everyone in here, Minho is the last person anyone would expect to walk up to the stage and type the name of some mystery song.

"Cam I have your attention, please?" He sounds drunk and some people cheer, they're as drunk as him. "So, it has come to my attention that some shit is just not fair. Like I don't get it. I was there first and sure I messed up but it wasn't so bad. This doesn't make sense, but whatever. Fuck you, Yeonjun."

Some people laugh, even Yeonjun does, but a lot of smiles falter when the song starts.

"Oh my fucking god!" Beomgyu is almost hyperventilating in the background.

"Gleaming, twinkling..." Even when drunk, Minho's voice is sweet and surprisingly soothing.

Yeonjun smiles and even sings along. You're also having fun until you make eye contact with Minho and he doesn't look away. He's been looking at you since he got on that stage, he's been looking at you the whole night and you're now uncomfortably aware of it.

You take another shot and look away from him. It doesn't make sense. He's your friend, he's not singing about you.

The song ends and before Minho gets to say anything, Chan snatches the mic and makes a joke about having to pay Minho. Of course, it was a bet, you relax at the thought and go back to having fun with your boyfriend.

However, someone on the sidelines doesn't seem so convinced.

"This is gonna be a fucking mess..."

notes:

I'm really really really sorry for making you wait so much for the update 😭 (stuff came up and I was super busy but I think everything is falling into place so you won't have to wait as much for the next part)

made a mistake and forgot to add something but it's all done now 😅

Minho is drunk af

Chan is a real one

and I'm so in love with yn and jun (I almost feel bad for what's gonna happen in the near future)

taglist: open! (24/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano @zeizeisjy @va1entinaa @beomgyusluver @to-toad @akindaflora @hoefororeo

[leliwardens]

ah...thank you kindly for sharing all of this.

@exhausted-archivist hi this is its own post now

what do you mean cut rescue mission.

[harryhighkey]

"i can do it myself." "i know you can but let me."

i've been seeing things based around this everywhere rn and to me it is SO in-ho coded, he loves to look after his girl!!!!!!!!!!! so here are headcanons for fem!reader x in-ho/frontman/player 001/young-il based around the idea of: "i can do it myself." "i know you can but let me."

-----

car door:

this is the most obvious one, and it's every. single. time. whenever you two are headed towards the car and get closer, he speeds up his last few steps and reaches for your door before you have the chance. as you get in, he places his hand on your back and makes sure you're safely inside before he shuts it for you. there was literally one time when you beat him to it because you wanted to know what he would do and he was genuinely pissed off in the car while you couldn't stop laughing. that pissed him off more. "you're being so overdramatic." you teased him between giggles. "you'll pay for this when we get home."

suitcase:

you two often find yourselves with suitcases, going from your home to the island. each time you tell in-ho, "no, i can carry it!" as you try to keep a strong grip on the handle, determined not to let him take it off you this time. and each time he rolls his eyes, "i know, but i've got it." and he takes your hand off the handle, replacing it with his and wheeling it away before you can fight him on it any longer.

opening a jar:

this is one he has to actively catch you struggling to do it in order to help you with it, because you refuse to ask for help with this. this is something you believe you should be able to open on your own. "fucking hell." you'd curse. "hand it over, pottymouth." he'd quietly been watching you, trying not to laugh. "no, i don't even feel like it anymore." you'd stubbornly put the jar away with a huff. "sure, baby." in-ho would laugh, making a mental note to loosen the jar when you weren't looking.

holding the umbrella:

"ugh, i hate the rain." you say in your whiny voice, especially if you're caught out in it. in-ho knows all too well how getting wet (from the rain that is) annoys you, because you let it be known every time it rains. with a smile on his face, he extends the umbrella and pulls you in close, you latch onto his arm with both of yours, but he always makes sure that the majority of the umbrella is covering you. he dots a kiss to your cheek, trying to get that grumpy expression off your face. "this is the only time i like to keep you dry."

filling up your water bottle:

he'd never met someone so attached to a water bottle before. because you were always sipping on it, he'd come to learn how it sounded when it was almost empty. he'd also come to learn that when it was empty you couldn't really concentrate on anything else except how thirsty you were. of course that was psychological, you'd just had a bottle of water. but you didn't like it when he said things like that. so now when he would hear it nearing empty, he was quick to grab it and fill it up. if he happens to walk past it and you're not there, he'll pick it up and give it a shake to see if it needs a refill, too.

blow drying your hair:

you both love this. your arms always get tired when you do it, but you hate to go to bed with wet hair. in-ho is an observer, and he'd watch you as you did it. seeing you sigh and drop your arms to take mini breaks, by the third time watching you blow dry it, he decided it was time to step in. "here, give it to me." he held out his hand. "oh, no. it's okay, i'll finish it, i'm just resting my arms for a sec." you told him with a smile. "i'll finish it for you." you handed him the blow dryer and he went to work. you'd smile at him in the mirror, not sure how you got so lucky.

[imaginespazzi]

Are you watching UCLA vs Maryland rn??

Also, give me your postgame thoughts from yesterday Nivi 😩 I wanna talk hoops LMAO

I did watch UCLA and Maryland and it looks like Maryland used my "playbook" as in I've been saying that for most teams, the way to beat UCLA might be to let Lauren Betts beat them while trying to contain everyone else and boy oh boy did Lauren Betts beat them. Like 33 pts? 14/15 shooting? LIKE SHE'S INSANE YOUR HONOR.

Oh boy Creighton thoughts...

Thank god for Sarah Strong

LIKE THANK GOD FOR SARAH STRONG

Also thank god for Paige Bueckers remembering who the fuck she is

Probably would've remembered earlier if she was GIVEN THE FUCKING BALL

Anyways in all honesty, I was sort of expecting a wonky performance last night because, it's been a hot sec since were on the road and it's been a hot minute since we've played anyone decent and Creighton is absolutely a decent team. Like do not let anyone fool y'all, that a tournament team that I think definitely has the potential to pull off an upset to get to the second weekend.

That's not to say I wasn't disappointed, especially at Geno fucking Auriemma who apparently watched us use his "slashed offensive playbook" and play the best we have all season and decided "hmm ackshually I don't think I will do this again" until that plan backfired and we had to wait till the 2nd half to go back to what works: PG PAIGE

Azzi had a terrible offensive night. I've seen a lot of discourse and ultimately it comes down to both the fact that she, herself was not doing enough AND of course the team also didn't do enough. She started off the game aggressive enough but then I think, partly due to fouls, partly due to her shots just not falling and also partly due to her teammates making some insane choices instead of passing to her, she pretty much stopped moving on offense and then ended up passing some shots (hand offs, maybe a middy or two) that she should take and in most instances probably would make.

But for what it's worth, I'm not worried about Azzi. I am getting a little worried about the team not doing enough though because we're at back-to-back games of her not having a single three-point attempt in the first half and that's simply not gonna fly.

KC had an abysmal shooting night. And quite frankly it's unacceptable because she was missing wide open things. The Creighton coach even said postgame that they were purposely letting her get those easy shots and her barely making any of them is not good. Coaches will look at this game and do the same thing and she needs to make them pay. Her not making those shots is also a part of why Azzi had such a hard time getting open because Creighton took the gamble to put a lot more attention on Azzi and their defense deserved credit for that because it definitely paid off and a part of that is on KC.

Which (I fear this is turning into a rant despite my use of bullet points) is why I don't think this KC-Paige-Azzi backcourt is tha answer. Forcing all three of them to play in a way that doesn't suit their respective playstyle is a recipe for disaster and we keep seeing it. A lot of these Paige and Azzi clashing takes on twitter stem from the fact that they're both forced to play SG sometimes and they move so similar on offense (which is what makes them lethal when they play as a PG-SG duo) that it ultimately limits one of them.

Jana....layups babe please. Listen I am a big proponent of Geno needs to be giving Jana more minutes but at the same time, if you're blowing fucking bunnies every game, there is only so much I can say. Then again, the answer to that, to increase her development is that she needs time on the floor.

Lowkey thought Ice gave some really nice minutes? More of that please?

KK brining the energey as per usual but babygirl HOW MANY MORE TIMES ARE WE GOING TO SEE THAT SAME DRIVING INTO THE PAINT MOVE AND THEN GETTING BLOCKED/STUCK MOVE? It doesn't work. You are not 6'+. PLEASE STOP. I do not need a Sania Feagin/Chloe Kitts blocking you highlight on the SC page of February 16th thank you.

Ash great hustle on rebounds and it's why she should be starting at the 3!

So if Aubrey not playing yesterday was her decision, then I'm more than okay with that. However, we only have 10 games left and if it was a Geno decision then I definitely do question. I'm very confused with how he's managing her minutes. Not the amount, but the fact that she's playing in garbage time and not with starters. If we wants her to be useful in March, she needs to be playing in lineups that will actually be used in March/April.

CAROLINE PRACTICING!! Love to see it. Refusing to get my hopes too high but I just love seeing her out there <3

[ominous-faechild]

⚜ INCORRECT QUOTES ⚜

Bringing back an old tag game!!!

Rule: use this generator to create “incorrect quotes” for your wip

(I feel legally obligated to post something actually about Faerie's Dawn today and I want to meme these idiots lmao)

Cloud: Tell me a little about yourself. Nova: I'd rather not, I really like this group.

Nova: I hate when people ask me, 'What did you do today?' Buddy, listen, I woke up at noon and then it was five pm, okay? I don't KNOW!

Nova: I will be using so much pink you’ll be seeing green by the end from sensory deprivation.

Sky: You're violent. Nova: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Nova: Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat? Sky: I don’t usually eat with losers. Nova: Neither do I but I asked you, didn’t I?

Nova: Branch, you’re in charge! Sky: Branch, can we start a fire?

[while waiting outside the principal’s office] Nova: What are you in for? Cloud: Oh, they just want to know if it’s cool if I miss my classes tomorrow to run sound and lights for a presentation in the auditorium. What about you? Nova: I stabbed a kid with a screwdriver. Cloud: Cloud: Cloud: We live very different lives. Nova: Yes, we do.

Branch: Be careful about succumbing to these sorts of destructive... urges. Addiction can be a powerful thing. Nova: So am I. Bow down before your new supreme overlord, bitches.

Nova: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times. Branch: I hope you understand how food poisoning works. Nova: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I've never met a burger I couldn’t eat.

Nova: Branch's amazing at concentrating. Once he starts reading, the only way he’ll notice you is if you take his book away. Not even if you hit him or shake him! Sky: That was him ignoring you.

Sky, at Nova's funeral: I need a moment with them. Everyone else at the funeral: Of course. [leaves] Sky, leaning over Nova's coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead. Nova, sitting up in the coffin: Yeah, no shit.

Sky: I hope you have an explanation for this. Cloud: We have three, actually! Nova: Pick your favorite.

Cloud: I bet you’re wondering why I gathered you here today. It’s because we need to have a discussion about how some people in this room aren’t getting along with other people in this room. Sky: Why did you say that so vaguely? Nova and I are literally the only people you called in here.

Sky: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

Sky: [trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark] Sky: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?" Associate: Well, I- Sky: How about "You banged my mom?" Associate: No... Sky: You know what, I'll just get a blank one. Sky: [writes] You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

Cloud: You gave me up, you let me down, you turned around, and deserted me. Sky: But did I make you cry? Cloud: [cries on the spot] Sky: ... shit.

Sky: We wouldn’t last two minutes without Nova. Sky: Sky: Don’t tell them I said that.

Cloud: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Cloud: Core-ean! Sky: The center of the earth is around 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there, so they don’t need a language! Cloud: Core-ean.

Cloud: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Sky: [sipping his drink after accidentally adding salt] I just like the way it tastes.

Branch: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay, right?" and watch the look of terror on their face. Sky: Sky: I like you.

Shade: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Sky: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

Shade: We have a problem. Branch: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Shade: What the fuck. Shade: ESPN is showing 2003 national jump rope championship. Shade: Who the hell watches jump rope competiti- ooh bouncy!

Shade: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel. Cloud: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel! Branch: A realist sees a freight train. Sky: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

Achilles: We’ll find another route, it’s not safe for amateur adventurers. Nova: That sounds like a challenge. Achilles: I have to stress, that is not a challenge. Nova: ... Is exactly what you say to dissuade the weak of heart from accepting the challenge. Well, challenge accepted! Achilles: There is no challenge!

Achilles: Okay, how do I look? Be honest. Cloud: There’s no critic more honest than Sky! Sky: Bad.

Achilles: We all have our demons. Achilles, grabbing Shade: This one’s mine.

Eve: Asa, don’t go picking a fight with Ailwyn. Don’t forget, they’re powerful, they could make life difficult for you. Asa: Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life.

Asa: Quitting! It's like trying, but easier!

Asa: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

Asa: [walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone] Eve: Hey, Asa, how was your day? Asa: [picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Nova] Hell. Eve, watching this unfold: (whispers) Who hurt you?

Eve: What's worse than a heartbreak? Shade: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Branch: Waking up in the morning. Asa: Waking up.

Shade: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?? Cloud: Y-you were putting it in cold water?? Sky: Shade. Answer the question, Shade. Shade: Yeah??? I thought people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. didn't realize there was an actual reason. Shade: Plus you think I have the patience to boil water? Cloud: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes?? Sky: Why are you putting it in the microwave to boil it? Cloud: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? Sky: It takes less than a minute. Cloud: Is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun??? Sky: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? Cloud: Like seven minutes?? Nova: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like 2 minutes... less than that if you use a saucepan! Sky: Why are you putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Nova? Your stove is enchanted! Shade: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. Branch: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?!

[during a group project] Branch: [does 99% of the work] Cloud: [has no idea what’s going on] Nova: [says they’re gonna help but does not] Sky: [disappears at the very beginning and doesn’t show up again until the very end]

Just a silly thing I felt like I had to make lol.

Ik you guys don't know half of these characters lol. But it's fun foreshadowing for later... and still funny 😉

(Idk should I @ the whole Faerie's Dawn list? I'mma just @ my "everything" taglist and anyone I know who's really into FD lol)

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @teamarine777 @caffeinated-starsailor @oliolioxenfreewrites

@corinneglass

[anadrym]

Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch4.

Spoilers!

"I'm not making any decisions right now." Caitlyn, you're such a fucking liar. I love you so much.

Caitlyn really needs to get some better coping methods. I'm of the idea that she never properly learned how to grieve - when she lost her mom, she was immediately manipulated into turning her grief into a weapon to be wielded against someone else's enemies. And she didn't really lose anyone else until the Purge. So she's running on the only thing she knows: turn the grief into anger and use it to protect yourself from more grief. In this case, it actually does keep her alive. But that doesn't mean it's healthy.

"She hasn't changed that much; she probably won't have a lot of time before someone recognizes the missing Sheriff Kiramman." - This is pretty much the main reason I didn't go back through and account for Caitlyn's lost eye. It would make her so incredibly recognizable. That's me being lazy.

Caitlyn's outfit as Ghost is actually several asymmetrical layers of varying shades of grey. I think black would actually be too obvious, even at night, and the uneven layers help break up the human form to keep her harder to see.

Caitlyn doesn't take anything from her apartment. She doesn't have anything TO take. :(

I know I said this last chapter, but I LOVE writing Caitlyn and Petra's conversations. They're so fun.

Hmm... Why does Petra know a guy who smuggles things around Runeterra? Will this be a little important later? Who's to say? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Okay, everyone say "Bye, Petra!" Maybe we'll see her again later. (We will.)

Vi, my beloved. She just won't give up. I think that, even now, she's a little too selfless to let go. She doesn't want to live like this, but she won't let herself die on the chance that she might be leaving someone behind. I'm love her. so. much.

This team that Vi and her handler are working with are kinda inspired by a D&D party. A group of strange individuals who bounce around, working for whoever will pay them. They work for the Baroness sometimes. They also work for other Chem-Barons and gang leaders and the like.

The Feline Woman (and all of her companions) are just OCs. They're not based on any other characters. They're pretty much just one-off characters, but I DID decide to bring the Feline Woman back briefly later.

Both of our girls have trauma around fire, for obvious reasons. Interestingly, I ended up using fire and references to it so much that it kinda became a motif in this story.

The neighbors not intervening in any way is to show just how much control the Chen-Barons and gangs have over the common people. The fear of being the next example keeps them from helping, which keeps them divided.

I killed Tobias and I am going to take every opportunity to painfully remind everyone of that.

The kid that Vi is forced to kill here was probably about ten or eleven when the Purge happened. He doesn't recognize Vi. But anyone who happened to look outside during any of this attack might have - she was the Sheriff's partner, a rather public figure, and definitely recognizable. And that's the whole point.

Could Vi have ended the boy's suffering in one hit? If she was at full strength, sure. Easily, if she hit him in the right place. But they're not keeping her at full strength, because they don't want to risk it AND because they don't need to. She's serving her purpose perfectly as is.

Teaser for next week:

Ghost presses herself flatter to the rooftop. Her clothes are dark and the muzzle of her rifle is matte to prevent it from gleaming; they won't be able to see her. As they look for her, she sweeps her gaze over their group, counting them.

...two, three, four --

She sees a flash of familiar pink, and every fragment of her being goes absolutely still.

[call-sign-shark]

You are meat One more word, then you're out on that street Shut your mouth, sit down at my feet Time to learn a little loyalty Ring a bell, get your treat Salivate, eat the whole damn feast Fuck around and I'm yanking that leash Dig in the dirt, counting worms like a beast

TW: it's +🔞 guys so don't read if ur not an adult. Inspired by Woof by FKA Rayne. Also it's a repost because the initial post went down while there is content much worse here. It's dishearting. The real steamy part is actually darn short and I removed that hot Ben Barnes gif tsk.

Note: this one is mainly for the girls who want to see Amos broken even before becoming a walker ~ ( hi @darklydeliciousdesires & @cillmequick)

in the official version they live happily ever after with their twisted and toxic relationship ok? Also told you that killing him wouldn’t be a solution for her but thiiiis? YES SIS

Lord Amos Bolton was a creature carved in shadow and steel. His presence itself was enough to send shivers down the spine of the bravest men of all Westeros. Stern and merciless, with his eyes as dark as coal, men whispered in fearful tones about his reputation for if there was one person responsible for entwining the name Bolton with torture it was him. His most creative punishment? Feeding men alive to his monstrous dogs. 

The kennel he kept was infamous, filled with massive, snarling beasts bred to kill but with a loyalty to him so absolute they’d obey to his sole fingersnaps. To Amos, dogs were perfect creatures - powerful yet obedient, violent yet faithful, unlike men. And unlike men, who he only sought to control and break, Amos genuinely cared for the brutes. 

Control was a need that consumed him, a need that drove every manipulative whisper or brutal act of his. It ran through his veins, exhilarating. And yet, behind the closed door of the marital bedroom, that beloved control started to slip through his fingers after he had hurt his Queen in a moment of madness.

That night he had entered the bedroom, closing the heavy wooden door behind him, before slowly heading toward the bed where Heavenerys was sitting, looking through the windows with sheer melancholy inhabiting her divine traits. With her long white hair and glowing eyes, she embodied his stark opposite: a blazing star in the midst of his darkness. 

She barely acknowledged him.

Light of my life, I beg you to speak to me. My mind is growing restless without the enchanting melody of your voice calling my name. It was what he had said countless times since his horrid acts — acts that had horrified him despite they were the reaping of his own sows — yet, Amos knew that even begging wouldn’t work. He had wronged her too deeply for words to mend her. Instead, he just walked toward the majestic mahogany wardrobe, opened the last drawer, and pulled a long and heavy chain out of it. The metal rattled and chimed against the floor as he headed toward the queen, dragging the chain.  

At this blood-chilling sound, Heavenerys looked up to him with fear in her fire-ice eyes but all she was met with was her husband’s compliant expression. His irises, two pools of the darkest ink, bore into hers. 

“Light of my life…” His soft, velvet voice drawled with utter tenderness, “I beg you not to turn your face away from me. Please.” 

She didn’t, something in his tone fanning the fire of her curiosity despite the ache in her soul.  

Now that he was her sole focus, Amos slowly dropped to his knees in front of her while lifting his strong hands to the collar of his loose black linen shirt, “I know none of my pleas will ease your soul from my wickedness, and for that, I’ll pay for the rest of my life. All I can do is offer you what is the dearest to me. I hope you’ll accept it as a sign of my guilt and devotion to you.”  As he spoke he unbuttoned his shirt, charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes, especially the left one, just above the adorable little mole on his cheekbone that endeared her so much. With the burdens of his shirt buttons being taken care of, his sly fingers then curled around the collar of his shirt to open it entirely. The moonlight shone on the bare skin of his muscular chest the queen usually loved to peppered with kisses whenever she stroked his hardened length before sleeping, whether they just had sex or not. But tonight, it wasn’t his seductive silhouette that made her heart skip a beat, but rather the thick, massive leather dog collar around his neck.

Heavenerys fleshy lips parted at the obscene sight, her little hands clenching on her bare thighs the revealing nightgown she was wearing showed. 

“Amos! What does this folly mean?!” She gasped, her mind buzzing as she recognized the choker from the kennel, having seen many of them around his mutts. She had barely posed her question when the tall darkness gently laid the heavy chain on her lap — not a chain, she realized, a leash.

“Chain me, my Queen. Break me as I deserve.” He begged, dark eyes gleaming with pain and his usually smug expression turned into a submissive pout that made him even more irresistible. Amos tilted his head on one side to give her full access to the silver ring of his collar, just where she could hook the leash.

The luminous Queen felt heat pooling between her legs, her thighs timidly rubbing against each other as her arousal built up within. Her fingers ghosted over the cold metal, tempted.

“Make me crawl at your feet, and I will bear it gladly.” The cold stone floor was biting into his knees, but he hardly noticed. His trembling hands softly ran up her legs and stopped on her knees to part her thighs wide.

“I’ll serve you, not as a husband for I don’t deserve the title, but as your dog. As the miserable mutt I am.”  Gently, Amos leaned to graze the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with his lips, his wet flesh ghosting over her before he gave one sensual lick. The sensation sent shooting stars to her stomach. 

“Would you really… obey?” She dared ask with her Bambi lashes batting and her fist tight around the leash.

“Command me and I will obey without question, for I have no power anymore — only the mercy you choose to give.”

Amos Bolton might be feared by all, but it was his queen who held the reins — his only weakness and, perhaps, his only salvation. 

That was how the little dragon found herself bouncing on his laps furiously, the tender walls of her soaked cunt clenching around his cock and her cries of pleasure echoing shamelessly through Dreadfort’s halls. 

“Hev — Please.” 

The little pathetic whine that left his ordinarily arrogant mouth made her plump lips curl in a sadistic grin. 

“Oh no my Lord, I fear we can’t stop yet,” She cooed in a voice so gentle one might have believed she was sincere — but it was quite apart the malice sparking in her eyes.

“I can’t — I can’t take it anymore…”  Amos’ fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he clung to her, reduced to a sobbing mess. The noise of their fucking resounded with a quick rhythm. 

“I know it hurts but just one more time, will you? I thought you loved watching me drip with your cum. Watching me open my legs and show you how good you’ve used me.” 

Amos closed his eyes and buried his face in her small breasts for an only reply, whimpering.  The sensation of his beard rubbing on her bosom paired with the sight of his rosy cheeks and black, disheveled, strands of hair sticking to his forehead was rendering her feral. 

“Be a good boy and fucking look at me.” Heavenerys snarled, tugging on his leash with such a brutal movement that the tall darkness coughed, his whole body shaking like a leaf. She was determined to milk him dry.

Blood beaded from where he scratched her.

To be fair, she would get use to it. Really quickly. Hell, she was already thinking of placing a fixing on the wall to keep him chained like a good dog.

He looked up, eyes half closed and glazed. The drool that had pooled at the right corner of his lip trickled down his stubbled chin. Bolton exhaled loudly, welcoming the pain nonetheless. After all, it was her right to punish him. He had earned it a thousandfold.

“Please,” He moaned in her sinful mouth, the word barely audible for his voice cracked under the weight of his pride vanishing, “Please, my Light… Forgive me.” 

She slammed her hips against his in one forceful movement before gripping his cock tighter, and this time, he burst into tears for real. Her firework-like climax washed over her at the same time for being the witness of how he became vulnerable and soiled in ways he despised — but couldn’t resist — was ecstatic. 

When Heavenerys was done with him, she left the bed, long milky ropes trailing down her thighs and tits, and headed to the door with the firm intention of leaving him all alone as he deserved to be. What she didn’t expect was Amos grabbing her hand, kneeling in front of her once again despite his strained bare body that threatened to collapse at any time. The chain-leash was still dangling from his dog collar.

He looked at her through dark lashes, his breath now ragged and his voice quaking with shame, “Hurt me.  Hurt me all over again if you wish but… Please,”  He begged, stripped raw and broken, “Do not cast me away.” 

Because no matter what he did, no matter how unyielding and terrifying he was, he’d rather die as her dog than live without her. 

AU family: @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @cillmequick @mischievouslittlecreature @shelbydelrey @peakyswritings @darklydeliciousdesires @lunarubra @zablife (thought @elizabethblood9 would love some smut with Ben Barnes too)

*Amos is the AU version of Aleksander. Heaven is the mc in the Aleksander Morozova x reader fic Echo of Shadows

[arrestedforhomestuckcrimes]

what do you have in mind? 👀 you said in your tags, what if vox is right? I’d like to know if you can expand on that thought 👀

WHAAAAAA

Okay so. Full Disclosure TM. A good portion of this thought is the simple fact that I have a Wonderful Alastor who I roleplay with, who writes an Incredibly touch-adverse autistic Alastor to my Vox. I probably wouldn't have jumped quite so quickly to "Oh Vox is Correct Alastor is absolutely gritting his teeth and bearing it" entirely on my own.

If I legitimately enjoyed RadioApple that would probably also lead me to focusing more on simply jealous Vox, but were we are

A N Y W A Y

Going off of That Comic, Vox who's incredibly focused on Alastor, who knows Every little detail about him, Who Knows what Alastor is like in a relationship and aches over the fact it's not him at Alastor's side anymore. He hates him, it's definitely hatred, loathing, nothing else.

It's an event for Overlords, traditionally. Something that's been going on for as long as there have been kings to rule over the masses. Just being in charge isn't anywhere near enough, you have to _show_ how much better you are than the common folk. Any overlord worth their salt is in attendance, even those who only have a measly five souls to their name will do everything they can to show up. To rub elbows with their betters and make connections.

Of course, it's power that allows you into the event. Nothing more, nothing less.

There's more hellborn in attendance than Vox is used to. The doors aren't closed to them, but the ratio is... Off. Nothing he can't handle of course, and he's smiling, charming, coaxing, figuring out the lay of the land so he can decide who to make offers to. Who might want a career in film, or bring his tech down to their rings. Two pixelated lines of red drip from his lips at the idea of getting his claws into one of the tech moguls from Envy, the things they could do together, the things they could be... He barely notices when the door opens to let in another pair of demons, until the shock and amazement ripples out from the entrance. When he turns, he fully expects to see Velvette showing up fifteen minutes late and making a scene to get all eyes on her. He doesn't expect the king of hell, and he really doesn't expect to see Alastor there.

Vox doesn't know about the tension between Alastor and Lucifer. All he sees, at first, is Alastor rubbing in his connections with royalty in his face. He sees Alastor and instantly believes he's showing off just how untouchable he is, how powerful he is. The first time Vox has gotten to actually lay eyes on him in seven years and here Alastor is, practically arm in arm with someone else, not even bothering to look him in the eye, like he's nothing? Fine, fine! Fuck him. He doesn't need Alastor, he's never needed Alastor, he's made it this far without him. Sure, Lucifer is powerful, but more sinners know him at a glance than some recluse who's been locked in an ivory tower the past few centuries.

Vox is definitely not seething as he watches the two of them make their way through the crowd, mingling. And if he tightens his grip on the delicate glass in his hand too much, if it shatters in his grip into shards of glass and ice and bourbon, well, that's a simple calibration error after his last update. He's not pissed. He certainly isn't jealous. What even is there to be jealous of? A scrawny, almost skeletal deer who even here can't bother to put on a suit that isn't tattered at the edges? Please. He's only paying close attention to the pair because he knows Alastor has to be up to something. Nothing else. It takes a while for his frustration to- Not fade, but at least become constant enough he can tune it out. Can focus on more than just that. The cameras scattered throughout the atrium people have gathered in don't get a good look at the pair, but when there's few enough people between them Vox can get a good look at Alastor? He can see a smile that's tight. Eyes that are fixed open.

Alastor can be an incredibly touchy person when it's his choice, and there's plenty of alcohol around for him to loosen up. But his hands are staying fixed at his sides, not even holding his microphone- Where is his microphone? His ears are upright, but it's not the idly twitching, perked act Vox is used to seeing. They're stiff. Primed.

Lucifer keeps Alastor with him as he goes to talk to one group of hellborn or another, chatting like they're old friends, ignoring the sinners around them entirely. But it's not until that dark hand settles on the small of Alastor's back that Vox stiffens like he's just been electrocuted, eyes narrowing as his entire world zeroes in on that idle little touch. So casual you would think it belongs there, settled on Alastor like it's nothing, only a breath away from the tail hidden beneath his coat. Ink black staining blood red, thumb rubbing idle circles, and Vox, after years of knowing the man, can see the tension in Alastor's shoulderblades. How his smile has become tight lipped, and this man who has never shut up for a full five minutes in his afterlife is standing silent, spoken over by this sin and the demons-

"Hey." Valentino's touch is light on his shoulder, the lightest trace of a claw to catch his attention. The "You okay?" is light, casual, not breaking the peace of the evening, not drawing attention to what has the potential to be a moment of weakness. Vox should lean into it. He should wash his hands of the whole affair. Alastor isn't his problem anymore, he made that much all too clear when he vanished without a fucking word-

"He would never let anyone touch him like that," is what Vox says instead. Not here, not in public. Not so casually, like Lucifer had the right to do as he pleased. If his touch was a constant now, guiding Alastor from one set of giggling goetia to a sultry set of succubi, then what was it like elsewhere? Eventually Vox manages to tear his gaze up to Valentino's own, voice low as he replies "I think... The king has him trapped."