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#so fucking entitled and rude over fucking nothing
x-birdsong-x · 1 year
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were was that comment about appledusk and mapleshade you sent in an ask to locknkeyhyena? i wanna know whos video it was on
this one?
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Shummy.
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kingkonoha · 30 days
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𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄!
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🍔🍟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s one thing GOJO won’t accept, and it’s bad customer service. he’ll just have to fuck the attitude right out of the rude cashier.
🍔🍟 — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY || MDNI — semi-public, unprotected & hate sex, creampie, orgasm denial, brief spanking, sweet & degrading nicknames, manhandling, dumbification, oral, fem! reader.
🍔🍟 — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3K
🍔🍟 — 𝐚/𝐧: mdni template guide by @/kithsune. the reader does NOT work at mcdonald’s. screw mcdonald’s.
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When Satoru Gojo stepped through the double doors of his favorite 24-hour fast-food restaurant — the door chiming to alert any potential workers of his presence — he wasn’t greeted.
That was the first red flag.
Truth be told, he wasn’t so entitled that he would expect to be greeted whenever he entered a place where customer service was expected, as most times, the employees were too busy preparing burgers and fries or wiping off greasy tables covered in spilled soda with nothing but a wet rag and an insane amount of patience.
But, it wasn’t the lunchtime rush hour. It was 1:35 A.M., and as he approached the counter, he saw only one employee, who wasn’t doing anything at all, aside from glaring at him.
As a busy man, Satoru wasn’t one to spend his precious time standing over a hot stove.
While he could cook, and his food was edible at the very least, his busy, career-driven lifestyle as an overworked individual meant that he had to rely on convenient fast food and styrofoam cups of chicken-flavored ramen more than he was willing to admit.
And, because of that, you recognized that white-haired man instantly.
Frequent visitor.
Always came in at the worst hours imaginable.
Liked to change up his order constantly as well, making it impossible to have his food prepared before his arrival.
“You again?” Frowning at the customer, you leaned over the counter, placing your elbow on the cold, gray countertop as your chin rested in the palm of your hand. “Did anyone ever teach you how to cook?”
“Did anyone ever teach you how to have manners?” Satoru shot back, his hands in his pockets as he halted his footsteps.
Those beautiful blue eyes of his scanned the big menu board above you, searching for the perfect hour-past-midnight combo.
Truth be told, he wasn’t taking a long time to order. Not any longer than most customers take, at least. But, even so, you rhythmically tapped your nails against the counter, sighing heavily with impatience.
“Something wrong?” Satoru darted his eyes down to you — the sluggish cashier.
“Can you just hurry up and order, please? I already gotta go cook whatever you want by myself without any help, so stop wasting my time.”
Satoru laughed, and you frowned.
What exactly did that lousy bastard find so funny?
“No wonder you’re not afraid to talk to me like that. And to dress out of dress code. There’s no one around to discipline you, huh?”
“Shut up,” rising from the counter, your frown only deepened, and his smile only widened. “Even if my boss was here, he wouldn’t care. Besides, the skirt is a part of the dress code, now just hurry up and order some-”
“But it’s not supposed to be pulled up that high, is it?”
Instead of responding, you grabbed your cup off of the counter, sipping on your favorite drink through the red, plastic straw as you glared at the aggravating customer.
“Are you gonna order or not?” You eventually questioned, your eyes glistening with annoyance.
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Smirking, he pulled his black wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll have the number one with a coke.”
Silently, you pressed a few buttons on the POS system computer screen in front of you.
“$20.78.”
“That’s not right,” Satoru paused. “Way too high.”
“Well, I put it in correctly, so I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Can’t afford it?”
For a moment, Satoru simply stared at you. His facial expression was impossible to read.
Suddenly, he walked away from the counter, went through the black door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and was standing right behind you in only a handful of seconds.
“What-” Stammering, you looked back at the tall man hovering behind you, who stared the computer screen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to come back here.”
“And you’re not supposed to overcharge a customer, right?” Satoru’s body was only a few inches away from yours, close enough for you to smell him. Feel his body heat. “Let me take a look at it.”
No flippant remark was fired back. How surprising.
You couldn’t see his face once you turned to look at the white screen displaying his incorrectly rung-up order, but you could feel his cocky smirk as he pressed a few buttons on your screen.
“Here’s the problem, baby.” He said. “You rang up my order twice without realizing it. Is pressing a few buttons too difficult for you? Hm?”
Folding your arms across your chest, you refused to answer that smirking son-of-a-bitch.
“No answer? Oh, c’mon.” Suddenly, Satoru closed the space between your bodies, completely pressing himself against your backside. “You were running your mouth earlier. Why so shy now? Not so bold when there isn’t a counter separating us, are you?”
You gulped. And you gulped because that annoying customer’s hard bulge was pressed right against your ass and back, and — god — as much as you would like to slap him across the face, you found yourself slickly pushing back against him instead, just to feel it through your skirt a little more.
Your own desperation was embarrassing for you, but it couldn’t be helped. Not when he was so close.
“Oh, I see,” Reaching around you, Satoru’s large hand suddenly cupped your jaw, and he pulled your head up and to the side until you were looking at him.
“So you don’t wanna talk, you don’t wanna take my order, but you wanna try and grind yourself against me? I had a feeling you were nothing more than a little slut, and it looks like I was right.”
Before you could respond — not that you would have, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — Satoru leaned down a bit and smashed his lips against yours.
You sharply inhaled, gasping in shock, and he smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss.
With his large hand cupping your jaw, keeping your head in place, he shoved his tongue into your wet mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of you.
Feeling your tongue swirl around his as if you could keep up with the sloppy way he dominated your mouth was both cute and amusing to him.
He kissed you deeply like this so you would forever remember the taste of him. So you would never forget the feeling of his tongue rubbing against yours.
And when he pulled away, a string of spit falling from your previously connected lips, Satoru suddenly gripped your waist from behind, lifted you a bit, and placed you across the counter.
You were lying on your stomach with your ass exposed to him, and the entire scene was exposed for any potential customer who walked in to witness.
“What the hell are you thinking?” You glanced around, double-checking that the restaurant was empty. “Someone could walk in and catch us, you idiot.”
“Think that makes it pretty exciting, doesn’t it? Maybe they’ll enjoy a show.”
He wasn’t worried. Worst case scenario, he’d have to ask his friend in the government, Suguru Geto, to work some magic for him.
Satoru ran his hands over the back of your soft thighs. Then, he fondled your ass, raising your skirt and pulling down your underwear.
He gave your ass a quick spank, laughing when you yelped a bit.
“You know what I think?” He paused, running his fingers across the glistening lips of your pussy. “I think you’re overworked, aren’t you, baby? Pretty girls like you become all bitter and angry when they have to work so much because then they have no time to get fucked properly. Isn’t that right?”
Suddenly, Satoru bit his bottom lip and shoved two of his fingers inside your aching hole.
“This pussy’s pretty tight, sweetheart. Seems like I was right.” Pumping his long fingers in and out of you at a steady, quick pace, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure you get a good fucking.”
Muffled moans and the sound of cars speeding down the road in the distance filled the silence. Satoru, however, didn’t appreciate your attempts at quieting the beautiful noises he was eliciting from you.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Satoru ordered.
You removed your hand, which was previously covering your mouth. Placing both arms behind your back, Satoru held on tightly to your wrists with one hand and continued to curl his fingers up inside of your pussy with the other.
“There we go,” he said with a teasing tone. “I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth. Now let me hear you moan.”
“Oh my god,” you breathlessly moaned. “Shit . . .”
He was right. It had been far too long since anyone had touched you, and even then, it wasn’t as pleasurable as it was right now.
He moved his fingers with great skill. As you arrived closer and closer to your approaching orgasm — made obvious by the way you started to squirm — Satoru pumped his fingers faster and faster.
Just when you were about cum, he yanked them out of your clenching hole.
“Why-Why’d you stop?” You groaned in frustration. “Keep going.”
“No. I don’t want you cumming on my fingers. I want you to cum in my mouth.” With a smirk — although you couldn’t see his face — Satoru raised his fingers to his lips and licked them, sampling a taste of what he would soon devour.
“You’re an asshole,” you swore. Satoru only laughed in response.
He then got down on his knees, getting in the perfect position to eat you out from behind, releasing your wrists so he could use both of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart. “You ready? Don’t hold back, okay?”
Feeling Satoru’s tongue against your clit resulted in a gasp of shock erupting from your throat, followed by a lengthy moan.
He didn’t eat you out like a gentleman, either.
He licked, sucked, and slurped at you like a starving man.
He swirled his tongue around your clit, pausing only to suck on it. He pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.
Your combined moans were a beautiful sound he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. His moans in particular added a bit of vibration as he ate your pussy.
Satoru gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, massaging them. The sheer force of his lips and tongue working against your sensitive pussy made your body rock back and forth across the counter.
Damn him.
“Ah!” You moaned sharply. “Oh my – oh my god . . .”
The pleasure was indescribable.
He knew exactly how to work his tongue, and the magic that came with having your clit licked at and sucked on had you squirming your arms around, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to find anything to hold on to.
You accidentally knocked your drink off of the counter and onto the floor. It splattered, ice and soda spilling everywhere, but at the same time, your cum was starting to spill onto Satoru’s tongue.
That was all that mattered.
He smacked your ass once again as he felt you start to flood his mouth.
God, you tasted amazing. Better than the food he originally came into the fast-food restaurant to eat.
If he could, he would have eaten you out over and over again. Made you cum onto his tongue over and over again. One orgasm for every customer you mistreated.
But he was in a hurry, truthfully not wanting to push his luck when it came to having privacy.
And, at this point, his clothed dick was painfully hard.
Satoru rose to his feet.
Suddenly, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, your back against the counter this time.
Leaning over slightly, he placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. It was undoubtedly his favorite body part of yours.
His eyes darted down to the red framed name tag above your right breast.
“Y/N, huh? Cute name.”
Satoru unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down.
Lining the tip of his lengthy cock up with your hole, he said, “it’s nice to officially meet you. My name’s Satoru. Make sure you moan it for me, okay?”
Satoru started to fill you up perfectly. His rhythmic thrusts, quick, yet steady pace — it all made beautiful moans flutter from between your lips without a second thought.
You were no longer worried about getting caught. With every thrust, you found yourself unable to focus on anything that wasn’t related to being fucked by your annoying customer.
“Ah, Satoru,” you moaned and whimpered.
He gripped your hips, his blue eyes flickering between your pretty, fucked out face and your bouncing boobs.
He increased his speed — god, he wanted to cum so badly. Desperately.
His desire to fill you up resulted in him holding onto the plush of your hips a bit tighter, slamming in and out of you a bit faster.
Skin slapped against skin. His balls bounced off of your ass.
“Oh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Just lie there and take it for me. Take it.”
He leaned over. His mouth hovered above your ear, thrusts never slowing, and he whispered, “my pretty girl can’t think about anything other than this dick, hm? All you know how to do is cum and moan, is that right?”
With a low moan of his own, Satoru slowly licked your left ear. Removing one of his hands from your hips, he gripped your right tit, slowly gliding his thumb over your hard, clothed nipple. Those perfect lips of his detached from your ear only to trail wet kisses down your neck. His index finger flicked at your nipple rapidly.
“Shit, I can’t wait to cum inside of you.” Satoru hooked his hand under your knee, pushing your leg back towards your chest, which made you feel his cock even deeper than before.
“Satoru . . . gonna cum again,” your pathetic warning was followed by a whine.
“Ah . . .” Beads of sweat pooled across Satoru’s forehead. “So close, I’m so close, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”
Your tight pussy was milking his cock like you were both put on this earth for the sole purpose of fucking one another.
With a loud moan, Satoru’s steady thrusts staggered in rhythm, and he shot his big load inside of you. Never had he come so much — he was almost embarrassed by it, stuffing your hole so sinfully.
But then, your pussy clenched around him, and your second orgasm crashed upon you like an enormous wave, overwhelming your senses until you couldn’t do anything except moan, cum, and feel Satoru’s dick throb and spurt out his semen inside of you.
You were both breathless. Happily fucked out.
But as Satoru pulled you off of the counter, the lustful gaze within his blue eyes told you that he wasn’t finished with you yet.
“Get on your knees.”
How obedient you were, following his orders by dropping down on the black and white tiled floor. He could hardly believe you were the same woman who had the nerve to be snappy with him earlier. The same woman who purposely wouldn’t give condiments to annoying restaurant regulars.
When you opened your mouth without him telling you to, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his cock throbbed painfully.
“You’re such a good girl,” Satoru grinned, pumping his cock with his fist.
“Hurry,” you whined impatiently.
Satoru gripped the back of your head. He shoved his dick in your mouth.
Instantly, he started to thrust his dick down your throat, bucking his hips yet again as he had done several times throughout the night.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long,” he spoke sarcastically and breathlessly, tossing his head back. “I know how many times you’ve kept me waiting for my orders as a customer. Doesn’t feel so good, does it, sweetheart? To be kept waiting?”
With a moan, Satoru gripped your hair even tighter than before. Your warm and wet mouth was working wonders on his dick. He already dreaded the moment in which he’d have to stop face fucking you.
“Your mouth feels so good,” he closed his eyes in pure bliss. “I’m gonna cum again already.”
Spit dribbled out from the sides of your mouth. Your hands held onto his thighs. The big vein on the underside of his cock throbbed against your tongue as he moaned louder, thrusts growing sloppy.
His sweet and warm cum flooded your mouth.
“Swallow it. Fucking swallow it, baby. There you go.” Breathing unevenly as he came, he held your head still, not daring to take his cock out of your mouth until you swallowed every last drop. “That mouth was meant for swallowing my cum, not talking back to me. You understand me?”
You hummed around his cock in response. The vibrating sensation made his dick twitch, spurting out the last bit of his cum down your throat.
Satoru removed his dick from your mouth, but he only gave you a second to breathe, because suddenly, he leaned down and he replaced his cock with his tongue.
Still gripping your hair, he kissed you sloppily — filthily — creating a mixture of your combined spit and the remnants of his cum you hadn’t yet completely swallowed. The customer moaned just to show you how much he was enjoying the taste of your mouth. How he cherished the mess you were both making.
Eventually, Satoru pulled his tongue out of your mouth, ending the kiss with a quick bite at your bottom lip.
Like a gentleman, he helped you off of the floor.
You both started to put back on your removed clothing items or straighten out what had gotten disheveled.
“Are you still hungry?” You asked rather shyly, running your hands down your skirt, smoothing it out.
With a small laugh, Satoru said, “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot about the food.”
You washed up with low-quality soap and water as best as you could. The raggedy soap dispensers could surely use an upgrade.
Then, you made your way into the kitchen, preparing Satoru’s order as he waited patiently.
You gave him his hot bag of food with a soft smile.
Opening it, he saw plenty of napkins and condiments.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Grabbing the bag and his drink, he winked at you before he started walking away from the very counter he just finished fucking you across. “I’ll see you later, alright?”
“Okay,” your sad mumble — which was from the fact that he was leaving already — had quickly changed as you started to realize something. “Wait! You forgot to pay!”
Satoru wholeheartedly ignored you. Stepping through the exit doors, which dinged as he opened them, he left the fast-food restaurant and got into his car. Pulling out his phone, the man set a reminder to wipe tonight’s surveillance camera footage in the morning.
It was rather fortunate that he owned the restaurant.
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♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!
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mangosrar · 4 months
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Brat.
chris sturniolo x fem reader.
pure filth. smut. smut. smut.
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fucking ass hole. an absolute douche bag is what he is. who does he think he is talking to you like that. with that tone and that voice that made you wanna rub your thighs together. and that look he has when he’s angry that makes you wanna drop to your knees. it made you so so so angry. or horny. both.
“fuck” you heard him mumble from behind you.
you rolled your eyes and didn’t even bother to look at him. you stayed lying on your stomach on his bed with your arms folded under your chin.
“for fuck sake” he shouted before he slammed whatever item he had in his hand down on his desk.
“would you stop yelling i’m trying to relax” you looked over your shoulder to see him standing with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his forehead. he didn’t even reply. you watched him tentatively as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. clearly trying to calm himself down.
“i don’t know why you’re standing here all angry and shit. you should be apologising” you looked away from your boyfriend and lay your head back down over your arms and closed your eyes.
his light footsteps could be heard and you assumed he was leaving the room. you were rudely proven wrong when you felt a weight on your back and Chris’s breath on your neck.
“why are you being such a brat mh? you’ve been on my ass all day y/n” his voice was quiet but stern. you could feel his bulge pressing into your ass as he put his full weight down onto you.
“i’m not being a brat, you’re just an entitled ass hole who can never admit when he’s wrong!” the second your mouth closed he sat back and grabbed a fist full of your hair, yanking your head back. making you yelp.
“watch your mouth” his voice was deep and you felt it rumble through his body on top of yours. you couldn’t help but feel a heat grow between your legs. you knew what was coming and you were fucking thrilled. whenever he got like this the sex was mind blowing, not that the sex wasn’t good normally, but chris was always so gentle with you, sometimes you just wanted to be man handled a little.
chris brought his face to the side of your head and pressed hot feather light kissed to the side of your neck, as he ground his hips into your ass, making you whine and squirm underneath him.
“look at you, such a mess for me” you could hear his smirk in his voice and it only made you wetter.
“please chris” your voice was high pitched as it came out.
“what do you want baby” he began sucking on your neck, pressing his hips into the plush of your ass again. you only whined in response. he new exactly what you wanted. he was just being a dick.
“say it” he halted his attack on your neck, waiting for you to talk. you hesitated momentarily, debating on wether you wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing how worked up he had gotten you.
“i want you to fuck me” your words were so quiet he barely even heard it, but he did.
“what was that? i didn’t quite hear you” he was now full on thrusting his clothed dick into the plush of your ass. his sickly sweet voice did nothing to help the throbbing between your legs, and you were no way going to repeat yourself. he let go of your hair and you let your face fall into the pillow as you let out a frustrated whine kicked your legs behind him.
“fucking brat.” was all he said before he was yanking your shorts off and pulling your ass upwards. you heard him fiddle with his belt behind you, before he let out a groan. when you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him, you wanted to come on the spot. he had his hand wrapped around his dick and his bottom lip between his teeth, but his eyes were on you.
“are you gonna stop being bratty if i give you what you want?” you just nodded in response.
“use your words” he punctuated his sentence with a swift slap to your ass. masking you squeak.
“yes fuck. yes” you turned your head and shoved your face back into the pillow. you were desperate for some sort of relief from the ache between your legs.
“good girl” he said before placing a soft kiss to your shoulder.
chris wasted no time before he slammed into you and bottomed out, giving you no time to adjust to his size before he was pushing his cock in and out of you.
the moan that came out of your mouth was unholy. your hands reached forward, gripping the bed sheets but chris quickly grabbed them and held them behind your back, still pumping his cock in and out of you.
“is this what you wanted mh? get me all worked up so i fuck you like a slut?” he spoke through his teeth. he was relentless. every thrust he sent you banging the headboard against the wall. he brought the hand that was resting on your hip up before bringing it back down and leaving a slap on your ass, before smoothing his hand over it to ease the sting.
“answer me” he growled.
“yes. god fuck- ngh. this is what i wanted” your voice was broken from his harsh thrusts and muffled from the pillow your face was pressed into. you heard him chuckle behind you before his thrusts became impossibly faster, making you squeal.
the only sounds that could be heard were Chris’s grunting, you’re moaning and the lewd noises of his cock pumping in and out of you. it was nothing less than pornographic.
Chris’s hand that was holding your hip, weaved it’s way underneath you and found home on your clit, rubbing fast hard circles.
“oh god chris, fuck” you were almost screaming at this point, you would have been if it wasn’t for the pilllow. chris took note of this and let go of your arms, instead gripping your throat, pulling your head up.
“come on baby, let me hear those pretty little sounds you make, let the whole fucking neighbourhood hear what it sounds like when a brat gets fucked” his words were dripping with venom. but it tastes so sweet.
his thrusts became harder, knocking the wind out of your lungs. you desperately wanted to close your legs with how close you were getting. but Chris’s death grip on your throat, convinced you not to.
“chris i’m so close. please don’t stop” your voice was pathetic and strangled. his hand on your throat restricting you, but the jump of your pulse under Chris’s fingers, only edging him on more.
“oh baby i’m not gonna stop, be a good girl and come all over my cock” his words sent you tumbling over the edge. you were practically screaming. thrashing underneath him. but he was a man of his word. he was not stopping. he did not let up. his thrusts were hard and fast, driving his cock into you like his life depended on it. you struggled in his grip and he let go of your throat and pulled your arms behind your back once more.
“come on baby. give me one more. i know you can” his fingers on your clit became faster. he grabbed your hair once more and pulled your head up again, forcing your back to arch more, allowing his cock to reach so deep you could taste it. you were a moaning mess under him. high pitched breathy moans spewing out of you.
with his cock and his hands put together he had you tumbling over the edge again in no time. sending chris into his own orgasm. he carried on thrusting hard into you as he doubled over and rested his head on your back. your legs were shaking and you were panting and whining underneath him.
he let out a loud groan and a line of curses before he stilled inside of you, painting your insides white. he sent a few more hard thrusts, emptying his cock, giving you every last drop.
your boyfriend collapsed on top of you, both of you lying still trying to catch your breath. he pulled his head back slightly to plant loving kissed on the back of your neck and shoulder.
“if i get to fuck you like that, we gotta argue more often y/n”.
mom i need him.
taglist: @christinarowie332 @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @urmyslxt @its-jennarose @freshlovehacker @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @flowerxbunnie @azkabanstar @mattenthusiast @mattsd0ll @lovingsturniolo @hearttshapedkisses
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luveline · 21 days
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Omg please kbd uncle Eddie:’)
dad!steve x mom!reader, 1k
“Hi, Uncle Eddie.” 
Eddie rubs his hands together, holds them out in front of himself, and summons the prodigal child forward. “Bethany. Quick, give me a hug.” 
Bethie walks into his waiting arms, her giggle infectious as she says, “That’s not my name.” 
“Bethie,” Eddie says with a sigh. “You know my full name is Edward. Full names are nothing to be ashamed of.” 
“It’s Bethie.” 
She pushes the hair off of his shoulders. He smiles at her and her little hands. If someone told him ten years ago he’d be carrying Steve ‘King of Hawkins High’ Harrington’s babygirl around like a treasure he’d laugh in their face, but he loves Beth. She’s hands down his favourite Harrington, and he’s allowed to have favourites as an uncle, though the other clingers are cool too. Beth is Eddie’s favourite because she’s an underdog, and because she’s so clearly infatuated with him. They’re best friends. 
He gives her a pat between the shoulders and slips down into a seat in front of the TV. There’s no signs of the other babies nor their parents; Eddie always lets himself in when he’s coming around and he doesn’t expect wait service, but a hello would be nice. “Where’s mom and dad?” he asks, setting Beth down into the seat beside him. He zeroes in on a plate of pretzels and snags a few for snacking. “You’re downstairs by yourself?” 
“No! They’re in the kitchen.” 
“Really? What about Ave and Dove, then?” he asks through chewing. 
“Dove is napping and Ave, um, went somewhere.” 
He raises his brows. “Dad took her somewhere?” He imagines Beth would tell him Avery’s run away with similar nonchalance. 
“To Grandma’s. They’re going to watch a play.” 
“Oh,” Eddie springs up off of the couch. “Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just go make sure they know I’m here.” 
Eddie is scared to open the door. Why is it closed? He supposed parents are deprived of one another but he doesn’t wanna see you kissing. Then again, if he does see you kissing, Steve will die of embarrassment. That’s worth it. 
“Hello!” he shouts, throwing open the door. 
He makes you both jump hard, Steve’s head thwacking a cabinet and your hand thrown to your chest. You almost fall on your ass where you’re kneeling by Steve’s leg. His pant leg is pushed up to the knee, and you have a tweezers in hand —Eddie frowns abruptly. 
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks. 
“Steve has a tick, you fiend. When did you get here?” 
Steve groans. “The door was locked,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. 
“Not well. Just stuck my credit card in there and wham. You guys should slide the chain in if you’re gonna leave poor Bethie all by her lonesome, don’t you think?” 
“Eddie, the door was locked,” Steve says. “You’re the only weirdo in Hawkins willing to break in. Plus, I still have that baseball bat in the garage.” 
“Sure. Come on, sweetheart, get off the floor. Let Eddie have a stab at it.” 
You laugh and pull Steve’s pants down over his shin. “It’s fine, I already got it. He might get Lyme’s now because you scared the fuck out of me–”
“Language.” 
“–but I heated it up and I think I got it.” You look up with a smile. Steve pauses his pained head rubbing to beam at you lovingly. 
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Or he’ll turn into a zombie, and that would make him cooler. Win win. So, dinner?” Eddie asks. “Should I go get something?” 
“Nah, I made ravioli, you rude idiot. Where’s Beth?” 
“I told her to stay put in case you were making out.” 
Steve helps you up from your kneeling to dust you off. “Thanks for saving my life,” he sighs tiredly, kissing your cheek. 
Eddie rolls his eyes and turns away. Steve should love and appreciate you, you’re awesome, but he’s also a loser and Eddie’s entitled to thinking such disparaging thoughts about his friend from time to time. 
You and Steve made a kid as cool as Beth, so Steve can’t be too bad of a loser.
“Uncle Eddie?” 
“Yes, my lovely sweetpea angel?” Eddie asks. 
She stares at him, adorable in all her chubby-cheeked, sugary-eyed sweetness with her hands held up for another hug. Eddie leans down, says, “Daw, I can’t say no to you,” as she giggles into his hair. He strokes the top of her shoulder with his thumb. “So what’s happening? How did that painting go with mommy, did you put it in the contest?” 
Steve nudges you forward with a hand on your shoulder. “He’d make a good dad, right?” 
“For sure,” you say, “not as good as you, though.” 
“Oh, you’re flirting with me, that’s cool… Are you free Friday night?” 
“Probably gonna be pulling ticks off of some other guy's leg.” 
“Oh, that’s fine, I was busy anyways.” 
Beth giggles as Eddie tips her backward, a mixture of nerves and excitement that kids experience so much more than adults. 
“I always expected him to just end up with a kid. Like, one night stand style,” Steve says. 
“There’s nothing wrong with that. At least then he doesn’t get stuck marrying somebody he doesn’t love.” 
Steve glares at you as you laugh, dragging you into his arms to smush kisses into your cheek. “Don’t even joke about that.” 
“Sorry, honey. I hope Eddie gets as lucky as me someday.” 
Beth begs to be put down through giggles. “I don’t know,” Steve says, resting his cheek on your temple to watch her laugh, “I don’t think Eddie has luck, just sheer force of will.” 
“He’d totally get a baby in a basket on his doorstep.” 
Steve mulls it over. “God, he totally would.” 
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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months
Note
Hello! May I ask how Megumi, Gojo, Okkotsu would react. When some other girl flirts with them or acts very intrusive, completely ignoring the reader who is standing next to them. Or acts rudely towards the reader.
Let me say, that was pretty cool to write! Hope you enjoy it <3
How Gojo, Megumi and Yuta react to other girls flirting with them/reader getting insulted
Word Count: 1,9k
Pairing: Gojo x reader, Megumi x reader, Yuta x reader
Warnings: language
Note: Requests for complilations are still open, feel free to leave one!
Megumi Fushiguro
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„Look at you, Megumi! Back then I always thought you were quite handsome, but now…what a catch you are.”
You turn on your heel and stare into the mischievous grin of the unknown girl in front of you. Did you hear that correctly? Did she just…flirt with your boyfriend? Who is she? And why does she talk to him like that?
“Yua, I didn’t know you were still around”, Megumi responses, not a single spark of affection in his eyes.
You put on a kind smile. Even if she doesn’t even look at you, it’s not too late to get to know her. Maybe she was his classmate back then. You owe it to Megumi to at least try.
“Oh y’know, some model contracts here and there. You should have called me! You know I always loved spending time with you!”
“Hi, I’m Megumi’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet people from his past!”
You stretch out your hand, inviting her to a friendly conversation. But she doesn’t take it. Instead, she stares you up and down with her merciless eyes and screws up her face. Your heart sinks as well as your hand. Does he know her better? He never talked about any girls from his past, especially not girls like her. She is nothing Megumi values. Why is she this rude although she never met you before?
“Girlfriend? I thought you’re better than that, ‘Gumi.”
You bite your tongue when her words hit you like a knife. No, don’t cry because of her rude comment, don’t let her get under your skin. She doesn’t know anything about you or your personality. And on top of that, Megumi tells you over and over how gorgeous you are. He wouldn’t lie, right? But her beautiful dark locks and stunning green eyes make your confidence waver. Maybe he could in fact do better…
Suddenly Megumi pulls you in his arms, his grip around your waist tight and his jaw clenched.
“Can you just fuck off already? In contrast to your entitled self, (y/n) is naturally striking, let alone the smartest and kindest girl I know. She carries more character in her little toe than you in your whole body, Yua. I don’t give a damn about your model contract or looks, you are miserable and your jealousy makes you uglier than any other girl could ever be. If you talk about my girlfriend like that again, then there will be consequences. And now get out of the sun and annoy someone else.”
You can’t help but stare at him with glossy eyes through wet lashes. You never heard him leash out like that, especially not in order to protect you. It feels like your heart sprints out of your chest, the admiration you hold for him flies like sparks around him as you watch her face drop immediately.
“I never liked you anyway”, she hisses, turns around and walks away while swaying her hips dramatically.
Thick silence hangs in the air as both of you watch her leave.
“Hey, look at me.”
He lifts your chin up gently, other hand still resting on your waist.
“Don’t you dare to believe a single word she said. She’s just jealous, that’s all. You are the most beautiful girl on this planet and I am more than proud to call you my girlfriend…Wait, why are you crying?”
You can’t hold back the salty tears that sting in your eyes any longer. God, you love him so much that it hurts sometimes.
“I guess I’m just a little…overwhelmed. No one has ever stood up for me like that before…”
He wraps his arms around your frame and presses a gentle kiss on your head.
“You’re my everything, no other girl in the world will ever change that, okay?”
Gojo Satoru
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That was the greatest evening you’ve had in a long time. Despite all the work that awaits both of you at Jujutsu High in the morning, your drunken gaze wanders to your boyfriend who holds you in his strong arms.
“How is it I never knew about your passion for ABBA? Like for real, it scared me to see you like that”, he remarks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
“I just feel like some of their songs hit me in another dimension, y’know? Lay all your love on mee”, you babble out, singing into the warmth of the hot summer night.
“Oh god, luckily you are a better jujutsu sorcerer and teacher than a singer. And you’re pretty cute when you’re drunk.”
“Satoru, I’m not that drunk!”, you blur out, whole body shaking in giggling.
“Hell yes you are. And you look absolutely stunning in that skin tight dress. I can’t wait to rip it off your body as soon as we’re home.”
Adrenaline rushes through your veins, you feel like flying. Even if you’ve been his girlfriend for years by now, you still can’t believe that the stunning man in front of you is really your boyfriend. Satoru is simply jaw-dropping gorgeous, so easy on the eyes that it hurts. And while you are very aware of the fact that you are a striking woman yourself, you can’t get over the fact how outstanding he is.
“No wonder he’s taking you home when you look like a whore.”
“Although, he’s pretty handsome. How the hell did she manage to pull a guy like him?”
“Look at that slutty dress. I wouldn’t dare to leave the house with a body like that – Gross.”
All color drains from your face as the alcohol and good mood seems to be gone in the wind. You swallow hard, widen eyes pierced to the ground. You know all too well how mean women can be. These girls don’t know you, they haven’t even seen your face. There’s no use getting stressed out because of their venomous tongues.
“What did you just say?”
Satoru’s voice is low and dry – an auspicious combination.
“Satoru, c’mon. This is not worth fighting over it. Let’s just go home, shall we?”
“How dare you to disrespect my girlfriend like that, huh?”
He turns on his heels, moving towards the group of girls with rapid steps. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your heart hammers against your chest, this anger is extremely rare. All that because of some stupid comments?
“W-we…weren’t t-talking a-about her”, one of them mutters, eyes pinned to the ground.
“Stop the crap. Just to make this clear: I wouldn’t even turn my head after basic bitches like you without some self-respect. Maybe you should invest your time in your puny self rather than badmouthing my woman who is obviously well above your measly level”, he spits into their faces without a spark of humor in his venomous words.
“And now get lost!”
He doesn’t need to tell them twice. As fast as their sky-high heels allow it they sprint away while exchanging looks of shock. You just stand there and stare at Satoru’s back, still absolutely mesmerized by the way he just stood up for you. Has a guy ever done something like this for you? Definitely not, especially not in such a hot way.
“How is it that I suddenly feel so turned on?”
Satoru turns around, casually walking towards you with a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
“That’s all I wanna hear. Let’s go home.”
Yuta Okkotsu
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It’s way too hot outside. You and your boyfriend Yuta are on a well-deserved day off which you want to spend shopping.
“Urgh, I’d die for an iced coffee”, you groan, sweat dripping from every pore.
“Why not get one then? Wait here”, Yuta replies in an instant, his usual bright smile lighting up your mood.
“You’re just a sweetheart. Thank you darling.”
You watch him enter the Starbucks shop in awe. God, how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like him. Even though he himself can’t see his worth, you definitely know that he is the best boyfriend you could have asked for. Always tender and caring and so stunning that you can’t stop staring at him. Thank god you decided to join Jujutsu High that day, otherwise you wouldn’t be here with him.
You frown. Why does he take so long? When you last saw him, he was the only customer in the store. You take a few steps and have to comprehend what you see.
The girl at the counter is holding your cup of iced coffee in one hand while she brushes over Yuta’s arm with the other. Your hands clench into fists while you see nothing but red. What the hell is she doing?
“Excuse me Miss, flirting with my boyfriend surely isn’t part of the job description”, you bark at her, feet carrying you inside the store without hesitation.
“Everything’s fine, I already told her that I’m taken, (y/n)”, Yuta shyly interrupts, face already red like a tomato.
This isn’t enough. The dirty smirk in her stupid face makes you want to break her nose right here right now.
“Now that I see you it seems like there’s no competition anyway”, she proclaims with unnatural high-pitched voice.
Something inside you snaps. Who the fuck does this bitch think she is to touch your boyfriend like that and talk to you in such a manner? You are way too good for her bullshit.
“Get your dirty hands off him before I beat that smile out of your ugly face”, you yell at her.
Oh no, there goes your temper again. The second Yuta saw you entering the store he knew there was trouble. You are pretty hot-headed, especially when it comes to someone hurting your feelings. And that girl was definitely going too far.
“Oh, I’d love to see that. Go ahead bitch”, she spits at you.
You grind your teeth, eyes narrow in nothing put hatred. You are only seconds away from feeding her your fist when Yuta grabs your arm and softly smiled down at you.
“Come on, she isn’t worth your time and energy, (y/n). You are the love of my life, no matter what. A random girl in a coffee shop won’t change that”, he murmurs into your ear.
“I’m flattered, but I already have a wonderful girlfriend. Have a nice day though.”
And with that, he gently pushes you out of the door, iced coffee in his hand. It takes you a few seconds to stop your heart from beating out of your chest and to unclench your hands.
“You know I would have beaten the shit out of her, right?”, you grumble, taking a sip of your coffee.
Yuta lets out a hearty laughter, arm wrapped around your shoulder.
“And she would never have forgotten that in her life. But we are here to have a day off, right? And she just wasn’t worth your time. After all, I love you with all my heart and a random girl won’t change that.”
“You could have told her to back off, though.”
His eyes widen in horror, face completely twisted.
“B-but I d-did tell h-her!”, he demands.
“I’m just messing with you darling”, you reply with a soft smile, intertwining your hand with his.
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kaadaaan · 3 months
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since updating omhh is going to be slow let me offer like a tiny little thing I was thinking abt the other night and decided to post a little WIP that’s not finished and very rough so ignore that it ends very abruptly pls and thanks
content warning for unsolicited groping, grabbing and the like, drinking, peer pressure?, the 141 being nasty and perverted, 18+.
Johnny takes you out drinking. It was just supposed to him, a friendly catch up with your ex who you managed to remain pretty good friends with despite everything. It wasn’t a bad breakup; he was away a lot, you were lonely. It was very mutual.
But he’s home, and he wants to take you out. So you say yes. You dress up, not too fancy because it’s only a pub crawl but you’re not dying to look like a total minger either. Something nice, something he’ll like.
You tell yourself not to read too much into it, even when he gives you that once over when he picks you up and his hand slips a little low on your back. But you can smell the alcohol on his breath and you know he’s been pre-ing so he’s probably not thinking entirely straight. And besides, you don’t exactly mind.
What you do mind is the three other blokes at the table he walks you over to. You almost have an argument with him over it, try to tell him you’re going to go home but he just tuts and tells you to stop being so dramatic. They’re his friends too, and if he thought you were going to embarrass him like this he wouldn’t have bothered to bring you in the first place.
That hurts. And it shuts you up too. You don’t want to be that girl, fussy and entitled and rude. So you suck it up, put on a smile as he introduces his friends. Simon, Kyle, John (though they all seem to call him Price).
“You just call me John, love.” He tells you with a grin as Johnny slips into the booth.
There’s not enough room around the table. You’re stood at the head of it, fingers tapping awkwardly on the wood as they try to figure something out until Johnny huffs and pulls you down onto his thigh.
“There, problem solved!” He says, one arm firm around your waist. “All tha’ fuss for nowt.”
At the very least, Kyle gives you an apologetic smile from across the table. Simon, who’s sat next to Johnny, just snorts and mutters something under his breath that makes Johnny elbow him.
You try to make it less obvious that you really don’t want to be here. Not in some crummy, local pub that has bad lighting, sticky floors and weird carpeted seats that scratch against your legs. It’s awkward enough being sat on Johnny’s thigh like some playboy bunny.
Not to mention they all keep acting as if you’re Johnny’s girlfriend. Odd comments about how rough it must be being his lass, how you’re far too nice to be slumming it with a knobhead like him. And yet every time you speak up to correct them, Johnny’s pushing a glass of something or other to your lips.
Which happens a lot. Enough so that, less than two hours in, you’re already drunk. None of them are. Buzzed, maybe, but not drunk. Barely touched their second drinks, really. It’s John who offers you the next drink, and when you turn him down- something about work in the morning- the whole table grumbles.
So you acquiesce. Nothing too strong, you tell him, but he orders a whiskey coke anyways. You’re reluctant to drink it, only taking small sips. Until Simon leans over, glancing at Johnny before his fingers pinch your nose and his other hand tilts your head back while Johnny pushes the glass against your mouth.
“Fucks sake, just drink it.” Simon grunts as you fight it, the booze dripping out of the corner of your mouth and down your neck.
It’s bitter in your mouth, sitting on your tongue too long and you can’t breathe so you think you might choke but you really don’t to drink it but Johnny just keeps pouring more into your mouth and you’re thinking ‘is nobody fucking seeing this?’
You’re given no choice but to swallow, unless you want to make a right fool of yourself by spilling it everywhere; though once you do and the two release their hold on you, you throw them a nasty (yet teary) glare.
Kyle leans across with a tissue to wipe away some of the alcohol that had spilled from your lips on the struggle. John makes a chastising comment about that not being how to treat a lady, but Simon just shrugs and Johnny…
“She doesn’t mind, do ye?” He says, jostling you on his thigh slightly. “Jus’ a bit of fun, right lass?”
You glare at him for that one too, because you definitely do mind.
After that you make a point to finish any drink they buy you, and quickly- if only because you can see Simon keeping watch like some freaky fucking sentinel.
You decide that you don’t like Simon, and you definitely don’t like Johnny anymore. Kyle is okay, and John…you’re undecided on. Has a strange look to him that you can’t quite place.
At some point, after piling you with drink after drink, Johnny moves you off his thigh and slides out the booth to take a piss. You intend to dash out the moment he’s gone, get a taxi and get yourself home now that his hand isn’t trapping you in place.
Except Johnny’s hand is replaced by Simon’s. And he isn’t as nice, roughly tugging you into his lap, chest to chest and face to face; thighs sprawled out either side of his and he’s a man spreader to boot so you’re pretty sure your dress has climbed up your arse by now.
His fingers grasp your cheeks, digging in as he sort of manoeuvres your face side to side. You hear Kyle call you pretty, and he tells Simon to be nice.
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jl-micasea-fics · 4 months
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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh
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𝙭𝙭𝙫𝙞. 𝙞 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙮 𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙚𝙨
! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !
「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Dec 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」
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Hours later, and the afternoon is warm. Changbin still hasn’t called.
With the windows thrown open to allow for sun-baked air, you undertook household chores that you’re just about finishing when Minho returns. He’s hardly through the door before he’s stripping out of his sweaty dance clothes, grumbling of being too hot, his skin a luxurious gold against the whitewash of the apartment. As his vest hits the hardwood you tell him:
“I called Changbin today.”
He stops. “And?”
You shrug, unashamedly eye-fucking the soft wave of his abs. “It was weird. He was weird.”
Minho nods, hums.
“What, you’ve got nothing to say about that?” you scoff.
“Not really. He’s being weird, so what?”
“Okay.” You prop the hoover against the wall. “Now he’s not the only one being weird. What’s going on?”
“What?”
“Something is. I can feel it. Tell me.”
“Baby, there’s nothing—”
“Am I going to have to make this an argument?”
He sighs, throws himself to the sunlight-streaked loveseat, his sweat-traced body stretched out and lean. Beyond beautiful. Beyond real. God.
“Things aren’t great with those guys,” he says.
“Meaning?”
“I guess... Chan found out about you and Bin.”
And like a bolt of lightning to the dome, all thoughts of Chan roll out from under the nailed down rug. Last time you spoke he threatened to sue you. Called you a... sasaeng? Or something? He hates you. No wonder Changbin’s off the grid. He’s been pushed from it.
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Minho quickly adds. “It’s just like it was before; they don’t communicate. I feel for Jisungie and Bin. It must be maddening to have Chan say one thing and act another way.”
Maddening? Or relatable?
You shake your head. “No. I don’t think that’s right. It’s two against one.”
Minho rakes silky strands from his sculpted face. “What?”
“Jisung and Bin want to see other people. Can you imagine the pressure that must put on Chan? Even if he’d wanted to there was no way he could have said no to them. He’d do anything for them.”
He said so himself.
Minho frowns. “Are you empathising with him right now? After what he said to you?”
“He said those things because he was hurt, Min. We hurt him. We rocked up to his show and were cosying up to his boyfriends. God, and then I called him trying to make him feel better. What was I thinking?”
“Hold on,” Minho rises from the loveseat, a hand held up as he lifts a finger. “Firstly, we were explicitly invited to that show.” He lifts another finger. “Secondly, his ego being hurt does not excuse the way he spoke to you or what he called you.” And another joins them. “Thirdly: he agreed to his boyfriends sleeping around. It's nobody’s fault but his own that he can’t make peace with that. If he’s hurting as much as you seem to believe he is, the solution is simple: he needs to open his fucking mouth and use his words.”
“Are you getting aggy with me?”
Kind of love it.
Minho’s hand falls. “No. I’m just concerned that you’re bending over backwards to validate a man that doesn't deserve it.”
“Min, he’s not a criminal.”
“Just a rude, entitled asshole.”
“What does that make us, then? Two sluts sneaking around?”
“Speak for yourself, sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t be so welcoming either.”
“Alright. I’m done.”
He storms past you, fishing his shirt from the floor. Far from done with him, however, you follow him to the bedroom.
“You’re walking away from me now?”
“I can’t listen to you defend someone you barely know.” He waves you off. “It’s ridiculous.”
“There’s nothing ridiculous about trying to make sense of something we’re both involved in.”
He opens the wardrobe. “I’m not involved. I teach them how to dance, and that’s it.”
“No? So Jisung didn’t have your dick in his mouth at Rapture?”
“Seriously?” He shoves the wardrobe door closed, a clean shirt in hand. It rattles painfully. “You’re throwing that at me? Super mature, darling.”
You hadn’t meant for it to come out accusatory. On the contrary, you only wish you’d been there in time to bear witness. You don’t hold it against him; couldn’t ever hold it against him.
“Min—”
“Seeing as we’re in the business of making assumptions, I’ll take my shot.” He pulls the shirt on roughly. “The only reason you’re trying to violently relate to Chan is because you feel guilty about fucking his boyfriend.”
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𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡
< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >
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wannaeatramyeon · 8 months
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Not my usual hc for Jake but thought about grinding up against him (or Goo) in the club a couple months ago and couldn't stop thinking about it since.
Jake Kim x Reader: In the club
G/N. Strangers to lover. VERY indulgent.
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"It's...boring...in....here," a voice floats over your shoulder, reaching your ears despite the bass pumping through the club.
"Hey!" you snatch your phone to your chest. Seriously, who reads other people's messages? How rude!
Swivelling around, you come face to face with a black t-shirt stretched tight over broad chest muscles.
Huh.
Gaze slowly travelling up to see a sharp jaw, fading scar over his lips, another scar over the bridge of his nose...
To the most simultaneously resting-bitch-face and fuck-me bedroom eyes you've ever seen.
Fuck, this guy is gorgeous.
He can read all your goddamn messages if he wants.
Giving you a smile that is toothy and surprisingly more cute than sexy (although he is definitely not short on the latter), he leans into your ear and agrees.
"Yeah, it's pretty boring isn't it. I'm Jake. What's your name?"
.
.
Things get significantly less boring after that.
Sitting together in a booth, finding intimacy despite the sea of bodies. Like you're the only two people in the room.
Knees touching and close enough that you can feel the heat of Jake's leg pressed up against you.
Watching him sip on water, "Someone's gotta be responsible, you know?" and you clink his glass with your juice, "Same here."
Both stone cold sober, though still using the excuse of the loud music to get within touching distance.
Personal space all but abandoned. His ear so close to your lips that each time you talk, you resist the mad urge to nip him.
.
.
Jake points over and waves to a group of guys who cheer in unison when they notice him.
His friends, he tells you.
Explains it was someone called Brad that noticed Jake was interested in you and encouraged him to come over.
In turn, you signal over to a corner where the rest of your group are sitting.
Having arrived late, found you already happily occupied and giving you two some privacy.
.
.
It's odd.
This guy you just met could so easily veer into fuck boy territory. And really, you've met a lot of people that Jake Kim could almost be, but not quite.
Could easily be someone arrogant and smarmy. Too entitled and expecting.
Yet you sense the sincerity and earnestness in his words. You don't doubt anything he says is honest.
Even his winks, rather than making you scoff and cringe, causes you to blush and giggle like an idiot instead.
.
.
Without a drop of alcohol in his vein, Jake agrees to join you on the dancefloor with little fuss.
What can he say? The night is good, the music is great and you - you are something else. Initially just expecting a good time with the Big Deal boys, he now finds himself next to you and with a lot more than he bargained for.
And really, he hates that this feels like a cliche. Such a typical place for casual pickups but the more he talks to you, the more he likes.
So Jake lets himself get carried away by the flow of the night.
Head filled with very few thoughts except for how long it has been since he has let loose and how much he likes you.
.
.
If you thought you were close before, the crowded dance floor and beat of the music pushes you both ever closer.
Body pressed to his. Jake against your back. Teasing, sensual, steamy. Connected at the hip. Grinding in time together. Strong arms holding you around the waist.
His head over your shoulder, eyes half-lidded and lips almost meeting yours.
Almost closing the gap until there's nothing in between.
Breaths mingling together and almost tasting him on your tongue.
Almost.
Courage and a wildness grips you instead.
You change your mind; move past his lips, reach up on the tips of your toes and ask for something else.
You explain you're sober. In case there was any doubt. And you never do this. Ever.
...It just feels like a shame to cut the night short.
So you invite him back to yours.
Jake takes a moment to process your words. This really isn't his style but he truly doesn't want this night with you to end.
He says yes even as his cheeks flush with the implication.
.
.
He stays until the morning. Until you both wake up together.
Naked, ears still ringing and Jake's arms wrapped around you.
You look at him and realise the club lowlights and even the starlight on the walk home did this man very little justice.
He really is so very gorgeous. The scars do nothing to diminish his looks, adding only a rugged sexiness.
Jake feels your eyes on him, and his own flutter open. Blinking away the sleep and bleariness so he can focus on you.
Ah. There you are.
And he can't hold back the smile creeping over his face when he thinks back to last night.
When you were both lying side by side in the afterglow, after he had pulled his name from your lips over and over.
Thinks how instead of falling asleep right away you both talked and talked and talked. How eventually his lids became too heavy and he fell asleep with you in his arms.
"Morning," Jake grins.
"Morning," you grin back.
At your response, you are rewarded with a shy and bashful look.
"I don't really do one night stands..." he smiles sheepishly, peering at you beneath his long lashes.
So Jake Kim apologises for the topsy turvy way things have transpired. Tells you without prompt how much he likes you, repeats your words from last night that it would be a shame to cut this short.
Jake asks you on a date. Offers breakfast and coffee and to see where this goes.
...And of course you say yes.
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aurumacadicus · 9 months
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Yes TikTok is rotting my brain again. For background purposes, Steve is Peter’s biological father, he came out of the ice way earlier and SHIELD couldn’t catch him after he ran off so he was Nomad for like... twenty years. And during those years he does fuck around. Lo and behold, Mary Parker is one of his one night stands. He only learns about it once he goes back to SHIELD and finds out that they eventually caught up with him but decided it was best to just observe rather than try to bring him in when he didn’t want to be. He decides it’s safer for Peter to stay with his Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Only when Ben dies does he reluctantly step in. Luckily, Peter is very forgiving and loves his dad even though they both know he’d much rather have his Uncle Ben still around.
Also Steve thinks pranks are funny as long as they’re the “confuse, don’t abuse” type. He thinks the abusive pranks of today are absolutely heinous.
--
“Mr. Stark, you know what would be so funny?” Peter asked, sitting at the kitchen counter.
“Tony,” Tony said, then sighed, setting his coffee cup down and tipping his head back. “I’m scared. This sounds like a trick.”
Peter began kicking his feet back and forth. “It’s nothing to be scared of. Just a TikTok prank.”
Tony sighed again and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You know how your dad feels about TikTok. And pranks. And TikTok pranks.”
“It’s not anything bad,” Peter rushed to assure him. “It’s actually really sweet!”
Tony remained skeptical, picking his cup back up and taking a long, slow sip of coffee. Finally, he lowered his mug and asked, “Okay. I suppose I’ll let you tell me what the prank is before I shoot you down.”
“It’s only fair,” Peter agreed, placing his feet on the stool again. “So, basically, it’s to see how dads react when kids are rude to their moms.”
Tony blinked at him slowly, then carefully said, “If you think I’m going to let you sass Aunt May--”
“No!” Peter yelped, horrified. “Do you think I’m crazy? Steve wouldn’t have to do anything because Aunt May will kill me!”
Tony blinked again. “...Then I’m not entirely sure where this is going.”
Peter beamed at him, horror forgotten now that he knew that he and Tony were on the same page about sassing May. “I was thinking I could sass you!”
“Peter,” Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
“No, you see, it’s perfect! Low stakes,” Peter explained, enthused. “You and Steve are basically married--”
“What,” Tony said.
Peter plowed over him. “And as soon as you realized I was a package deal with Steve, you really stepped up to make me feel welcome without spoiling me, too. Or, well,” he added, squinting. “You do spoil me, but not like in a way that makes me feel icky or turned me into an entitled brat.”
“Huh,” Tony tried again.
“Anyway!” Peter continued, ignoring him. “I just think it would be funny to see Steve’s reaction if I gave you attitude and told you to shut up after you asked me to do something. He gets super protective of you at the weirdest times. Besides, it’s been getting a little chummy around here and as a teenage boy I thrive on chaos.”
Tony tilted his head to squint at him skeptically. “I don’t think you have the emotional constitution to tell me to shut up with attitude.”
“It’ll be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do,” Peter told him solemnly.
“I think this is a terrible idea,” Tony began.
“That’s not a no, I’ll get everything set up,” Peter said quickly, then bolted from the kitchen.
Tony stared after him, mouth still dropped open in shock.
.-.
Tony still thought this was a supremely bad idea, because he knew Steve’s opinions on TikTok pranks (and TikTok. And pranks in general.) and it just felt like he was going to be yelled at for being a co-conspirator. But! Peter had been right. Tony liked to spoil him. And apparently that included being a con-conspirator in a stupid TikTok prank that would probably backfire anyway because while the team joked about him and Steve being Team Mom and Dad (and even then, who was Mom and who was Dad depended on who was most apoplectic).
Tony sat down beside Steve, handing him a can of coke as he settled in with his Stark Pad. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Tony,” Steve said, cracking it open without looking up from the baseball game. It must have been the Dodgers, Tony figured. Steve was still bitter about them moving to LA, but he was also nostalgic for the old days, so sometimes he’d overlook it.
Peter poked his head into the living room. “I’m headed over to Ned’s to work on our physics project! Bye Steve! Bye Tony!”
Tony sat up a little. “Oh, wait, Peter, did you get your model from the lab?”
Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it later.”
Tony noticed Steve carefully going very, very stiff beside him and chose to ignore it. “I need you to grab it before you leave. I’m doing a project that requires no clutter.”
“Sure, when I get back,” Peter huffed, heading toward the elevator.
“I need you to do it before you leave,” Tony called after him. “Otherwise I won’t be able to start--”
“God, okay, shut up!” Peter sighed loudly.
Tony opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by Steve slamming his soda on the coffee table and surging to his feet with a snarled, “What the fuck did you just say?” He stared up at Steve, mouth continuing to hang open in shock.
Peter turned to face him, apparently just as surprised. “Uh...”
“No, you were real confident saying when you thought it was just Tony answering,” Steve said, taking a step toward him. “Say it again.”
Peter was quiet for a moment, considering, before finally, with bravado only a teenager could have, he said, “Shut up.”
“Okay,” Steve answered, voice shockingly calm, and then took a very deliberate step forward.
“It’s a prank it’s a prank it’s a prank!” Tony yelped, throwing himself off the couch to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and stop him. “Stop Steve it’s a prank you cannot commit murder I will not be cleaning blood out of this carpet again!”
Steve swiveled his blank stare to him. “What do you mean a prank?”
Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek, considering whether he wanted to draw Steve’s ire onto himself in the face of his blank expression. “I did object,” he tried weakly.
Peter appeared between them, planting himself in front of Tony protectively. “He did! He’s just a pushover when it comes to me because I’m your kid. So! This is really your fault.”
Steve’s mouth dropped open, but luckily the blank stare turned to an outraged glare. “What did you just say?!”
“Okay let’s go,” Tony said hastily, grabbing Peter’s shoulders and steering him toward the elevator. He heard Steve move and started shoving him instead. “Peter he’s coming hurry up oh my god.”
“I’LL TELL AUNT MAY YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!” Peter shouted defensively over his shoulder.
“I’LL TELL AUNT MAY YOU DESERVED IT!” Steve bellowed back.
Peter swerved around Tony so he could meet Steve face to face. Tony threw his hands up and just left.
106 notes · View notes
terrence-silver · 5 months
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Would Terry have an allowance for beloved or would he have a limit for how much money beloved could spend?
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---
I think allowances, budgeting, money spending limits and Terry Silver firmly controlling the flow of cash (and by extension, the person attached to that flow of cash) happen only when his, erhm, relationships are highly business-like and very much fall under the territory of some sort of...lets call it, sugar baby action.
Escorts.
Arrangements.
Situationships.
Lovers and bedfellows.
People recreationally there for his use until they're no longer of any use.
That sort of thing.
In such cases, he's calculative, practical and very pragmatic about his money even though he has wild abundances of it, but regardless, such arrangements are very much strategic corporate in nature for him even though they might not seem like that on the surface (and it wouldn't surprise me if they came with paperwork, negotiations and contracts all of their own) and yes, people he sleeps with? People he fucks and maybe totes around for the occasional engagement because having a hot piece of ass is a status symbol? Such individuals, they definitely get allowances and limits on their spending budget simply because Terry's an expedient, tactical player and he feels every single dollar of his has to be earned and deserved. Feeling that every single dollar is an investment he can also get an use out of later down the line, tying it in with something else within his schemes. Like a tax write-off or a brownie point or a hundred for his reputation. Nothing's for free, remember? Not even cold, hard cash. Oh, don't get me wrong --- the budget such a person gets is still extremely lavish and they'll never lack for anything while they're with him, but there's a leash attached to it all and Terry controls how much of it they get, why and when, setting countless traps for them. Countless tests they can either fail or succussed at. Countless chances at promotion, demotion or even being fired --- like at an actual job in an actual career with endless pitfalls. Today, you might be his sugar baby, drinking mimosas at his garden party, tomorrow you could just get ghosted because your time's up and you're no longer relevant to his desires or plans. Wake up and smell the coffee during the rude awakening. Happened to Cheyenne Hamidi, after all. Nothing personal. Strictly business.
Now, being someone he actually loves?
Terry has this fatal virtue, or fatal flaw, depending how you view it, of being unbelievably and almost frivolously generous towards people he truly cares for to the degree he's prone to splashing and throwing money around without any limits whatsoever merely because one of his prime love languages are acts of service and spending materially on his people, and as such, no expense is big enough. No gift ridiculously luxurious enough. No favor over the top. No, in fact, he firmly insists on these gestures, and if his beloved is reluctant to accept them, he forces them on them, not taking no for an answer because he knows best and he insists on the best for someone belonging to him, entirely adamant they should take whatever he is giving, tending to give often, constantly, without reservations and with no thought to the price, or at least, no care for how much it costs, finding it a flex of power and a proof of devotion that he can afford anything and everything for beloved and that if they so choose, they can spend as much as they like and that he's doubly the man for it precisely because he can make that a possibility for them. They're entitled to it all precisely because they're his. Yes, he gets a thrill out of it. He gets a thrill out of being a provider for his beloved. What's best; Terry gets a sexual thrill out of being a provider nobody else could ever beat or match at being a provider --- he gets a thrill out of being the best. The idea his beloved could point at anything under the sun and that he's powerful enough to acquire it for them when others cannot? Could even say it titillates him. Turns him on. Makes his heart flutter. Gets him giddy. Hits him with an odd high of mania.
Dare I say, makes him exhilaratingly happy?
Where there's love, there's no such things a allowances and limits for Terry Silver.
Because his affections are limitless.
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vaya-writes · 7 months
Text
Plus Two
So this is more than a bit indulgent, and I don't know how well it would be received, and I totally had to create some new characters just to make this scenario work but!!! If you're looking for something to read here is a reader insert fic of you attending a gala with the worlds (@eldritch-spouse's) most emotionally constipated demon (don't worry it's by design). You scheme against said demon's entitled and rude ex to make her look bad in front of everyone, attend a gala with Mervin, and then fuck nasty with him in a semi public place afterwards. Enjoy <3
M demon x F reader. 8500 words. Context required? Not really. Just that he's like that on purpose. Divider by firefly-graphics.
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Mervin is visiting his mother. 
It’s... frustrating, to say the least. 
 You’re sitting in the kitchen, watching Obie cook. He wanted you as a taste tester, but honestly, you’re not very helpful. Many of the small tweaks he’s making to his dishes go above your head.  
Katia is asleep upstairs. Ludwig is elsewhere. It makes you wonder why the pride demon is pacing around the kitchen, obviously getting in his brother’s way. You get the sense he’s waiting for somebody to ask what’s wrong. 
Thankfully, Obie picks up on the mood. “So, why the stick?” 
Mervin stops, drawn from his thoughts. “What?” 
“The stick up your ass. Who put it there?” 
Mervin scowls and resumes his pacing. Then lets out a huff and joins you at the table. He crosses his arms. Mutters under his breath. You think you catch the name he says. 
“Stasia.” 
Obie snorts. “Should have guessed.” 
You glance at Mervin. “Who’s that?” 
He grits his teeth. “Not your business, human.” 
You shrug, but Obie turns with a smirk. “His girlfriend.” 
“Not my girlfriend, corkscrew.” He’s just as scathing towards his brother. 
Obie turns back to the stove. “You might not guess it, but my dearest brother doesn’t have many friends.” 
“No?” You feign shock. 
Obie grins. “No. But he does have one. Kind of. Stasia. So, whenever Merv is pressured into attending some event or gala, or whatever they do over in Pride, he has to take a date or risk looking like a dolt.” 
“And he takes Stasia.” 
“And he takes Stasia. Well, he invites her. And she says yes. And then, always the night before, she says no. And then sometimes she says yes again. It’s hard to keep track. Regardless, Merv always works himself into a tizzy when she says she won’t attend, and then shows up anyway.” 
You glance at Mervin. He’s fuming at the explanation but doesn’t dispute any of it. 
“She sounds like a piece of work.” 
“She is.” 
You turn to Mervin, who looks more miserable than usual. “So, what do you usually do?” 
He rests his head on the table and doesn’t reply. 
“Sometimes he cancels. Can’t do that too often though, or risk looking like a recluse. One time he found another date.” Obie frowns. “Somehow. But then Stasia showed up and embarrassed the fuck out of her.” 
You wince.  
“He usually goes alone. Sometimes Stasia swoops in like nothing is wrong and they’re meant to be together. Other times she doesn’t show, and my dearest brother is left to roam the event by himself.” 
“Why do we even have these parties,” Mervin mutters. 
“Here, here,” you can’t help but agree. “Even working at them was boring.” 
Mervin turns his face towards you, raises his brow. “You’ve been to a gala before? I refuse to believe it.” 
Your nose crinkles. “I did security for a few. They were human events, mind you.”  
Mervin grunts, turning his face back down. 
You kind of pity him. The demon doesn’t even bother sitting up straight – the event must weigh heavily on him. “So, are these parties exclusive?” 
He shrugs. “This one’s for mid-ranked Pride. The especially wealthy demons. Might be some others there as plus ones.” 
You raise your brow. “I thought you lot grew up in the common rings.”  
“We did.” 
“Without a lot of wealth.” 
Mervin curls his lip at the perceived dig, and sits up. “They started inviting me after they recognised my exceptional skills. I’ve worked for many influential demons in Pride, thank you very much, and as such have a very robust income.” 
You appease him with a gentle smile. “I don’t doubt you deserve to be there, Mervin. I was just curious as to how it came about.” 
He lifts his chin. “Good. I suppose even a human can recognise talent such as mine.” 
“How would everyone react if you brought a human as your date?” 
He grimaces, “you mean to imply I should bring you?” 
“I mean to offer my company if you don’t want to turn up alone. I could even help you get some petty catharsis over Stasia, if you’d like.” 
He looks at you, more sharply. But considers. “I don’t know. You’d be a bit of a novelty, I imagine.” 
You feign indignance. “I’m famous, you know.” 
He doesn’t look impressed. “Infamous. Topside. Nobody in Perdition knows who you are.” 
“Ah, yes, precisely why I’m hiding at your mum’s house.” 
His expression sours for a moment. But the longer he considers, the lighter it becomes. “It might be interesting. Taking a human to a gala,” he mutters to himself, “if a little demeaning.” 
“Not too demeaning, I hope. I’ll be there to make you look good. Being polite to Stasia, using lovely manners, mindlessly rambling about how amazing you are to anyone I pass. Easy.” 
He has to try to keep the scowl on his face, but you can tell he’s seriously considering the offer. 
“You’re vastly underestimating the danger of this evening.” 
He’s right. But you can’t help but straighten. Rise to the challenge. “And you’re underestimating my ability to turn on the charm.” You give him a sweet little smile. “Besides, you’ll be there to protect me.” 
He sneers. “You’re just bored.” 
“I'm having a pleasant afternoon with Obie.” You lower your chin. “But, yes, I haven’t left the house for days. It’d be incredibly charitable of you to take me as your plus one.” You blast him with another pretty smile and lighten your tone. “It’s a shame your date had a last-minute emergency and had to cancel, but I’m so very fortunate you were generous enough to bring me along. A truly serendipitous turn of events.” 
He keeps his face blank as he mulls over your excuse. Weighs the pros and cons. Before, ultimately, shrugging. “Let’s see how you clean up, first. I doubt your clothes will be of high enough calibre.”  
He plays it cool, but you know you’ve won. 
Mervin is right, and you don’t bother disputing it. You have a bag of stage clothes that are marginally prettier than your casual wear, but none of them are formal. Some of your accessories might be of use – the lingerie, or perhaps the stockings – and you have multiple pairs of sandals and boots. But what you wear will ultimately be decided by your escort.  
“You don’t have anything black tie. These might pass as black tie optional,” he mutters to himself, rifling through your clothes in a way that would probably offend most women. “We should head to Pride. I’ve a place you can dress at. Your makeup supplies are passable, but I’m going to have to take you shopping for a decent dress.” 
You don’t complain. It’s been a while since anyone bought you nice clothes. You wave goodbye to Obie as Mervin whisks you away. And before long you’re in another ring entirely. 
You hadn’t been to Pride yet. You’d worked in multiple rings, sure, but standards in this one tended to sit a little higher than you could provide. It’s affluent, with the streets laid out in a way that demonic urban planners no doubt agonised over. Mervin leads you straight to a commerce district, dragging you by the wrist in and out of boutiques and dress shops. 
He barks orders at imps and attendants, listing off dress styles and materials. Very few meet his standards, though several he does make you try on. You almost get a headache listening to store owners bragging about their stock; the quality of their goods. Even if hearing other demons sound so similar to Mervin makes you want to laugh at first. 
“What are you wearing tonight,” you ask him. 
He pulls out his phone and shows you a photo. The suit is high end, in his usual colours. You’re not surprised. 
He listens to your input over the dresses, for which you’re grateful. You choose the colour you think will match Mervin’s outfit best; a purple so dark it appears black.  
Then finally, you’re heading back to his place, three new dresses in tow. You’re not sure how you managed to pick not one but three (three!) gala dresses in the space of one afternoon, but Mervin had insisted on purchasing them all, some excuse about their iffy quality and you needing alternative options.  
Once at his place, you let him fuss over the dresses and dig through your accessories again, while you look at your other equipment. A glance at Mervin reveals he’s still in his casual wear, sai crossed over his back. “So, is this an open carry event, or..?” 
His gaze cuts to you, where you’re looking over your weapon holsters. His lip curls. “No. It’s not.” 
A thigh sheath it is, then. 
“You really think that’s going to help you here? You should let me worry about safety. I doubt you’ll be able to take care of yourself.” 
You give the demon a too bright smile. “I don't go anywhere without my family jewels. Have you picked a dress yet?”  
Conversation successfully redirected, Mervin ushes you to his bathroom, pushing you the dress of his choosing. It’s certainly elegant, with slits up the thighs, a cinched waist, and most the skin above your cleavage on display. The fabric is silky, and feels nice against your skin. 
When you step out to show him the fit, Mervin is silent. You wait for him to voice an opinion. 
The dress looks good. You look good. You know it.  
Mervin only scoffs. “I need to get ready. I assume you can finish dressing without any hand holding.” He turns for his room, almost slamming the door behind him.  
You assume his weird behaviour has something to do with his prideful nature. He hadn’t disparaged your appearance, so it probably passes.  
You spend the next half hour applying the finishing touches. Braiding your hair into an updo. Masterfully applying makeup. Pulling on a garter belt and stockings and choosing which of your knives to holster. You’re lacing up your sandals when Mervin emerges from his room again, dressed in a suit.  
He pushes a box towards you. “Put it on. I don’t want people thinking my plus-one looks plain.” 
It’s a jewellery box. Inside lies an intricate necklace of silver, dotted with indigo gems. A discrete glance reveals they match the rings Mervin wears.  
You can’t hold back your smile. Regardless of meaning, the gesture is sweet. “Thank you, Mervin. It’s beautiful. You have good taste.” 
“Naturally.” 
You struggle with the necklace until Mervin ‘tsks’ and steps behind you to help with the clasp.  
“You’re a sweetheart,” you grin up at him. 
He shakes his head, before looking away quickly. “And you’re useless. Honestly. Who can’t put on a simple necklace?” 
You pick up on the deflection. It’s almost cute. You decide to needle at him some more. “Me, apparently. Thank you for helping. I’m sure this would take ages without you.” 
He looks down his nose at you. Perhaps you overdid it. 
“Whatever.” 
Finally you two stand, dressed and ready to go. Looking down at yourself and back at Mervin leaves you satisfied: you match. 
“So, do I clean up well enough?” 
He looks you over. “You won’t be winning best dressed.”  
You raise your brows. He was the one who chose the outfit. 
But something almost akin to a smile crosses his face. “But I guess, you’re only human.” 
Mervin hires a driver to take you to the gala. You’re honestly impressed, having never ridden in the back of a stretch limo before. You quiz Mervin on the way there, asking after etiquette, who to chat up, who to avoid. How much dancing is expected. What is the schedule for the evening. Everything you should know to avoid making any faux passes. Because while you’d visited high society before – in various service industries – you'd never participated in it. It’s daunting. Exciting. Terrifying.  
You make plans for the evening. Scheming; laying contingencies. Because while this night is supposed to be social, you know you’re honestly just here to show up Mervin’s ‘friend’. He paints the picture of a conniving demoness. One who dominated in certain social circles. One who will be dismissive and icy towards you, and increasingly aggressive the longer you stick around. 
Mervin dictates how you’re to behave. How you’re to react to her insults. You interject here and there, swapping ideas until you have a seamless blend or characteristics to take into the night. A fleshed out character you’ll be playing before the surrounding audience. 
All too soon, you’re arriving. 
Mervin opens your door. It had been pre-negotiated, and he’d fussed about it (if anyone deserved the door opened for them, it was him, he should be served all night, he was only doing this because it was polite, because he needed to look like a gentleman). You brace yourself before stepping into the light.  
In the moment before you straighten there’s enough time for trepidation to rush through you. You remember how exhausting it can be, meeting new people. Playing pretend. 
But then you’re giving Mervin a starry eyed smile, and linking arms. It’s too late to back out. 
You’ve settled on a bubbly personality. Too demure and you risk fading into the background. Too assertive and it leaves you open to social mistakes. You’ll go with friendly. Lively. Sweet. Not quite arm-candy, not quite Mervin’s equal. 
It’ll be tiring, but you might manage to have some fun. Pry a dance or two out of Mervin. Or try some expensive wine. Somehow Mervin hasn't yet learned how you’d caught his brothers’ eyes (an incident involving too much alcohol, and a bar fight), so you haven't been forbidden from indulging. Yet.  
Mervin doesn’t let you wander. You mingle in the foyer, where most of the crowd lingers. Shaking hands, trading introductions, smiling. There’re a few surprised exclamations at your appearance - “A human! Where in Perdition did you find her, Mervin?” - and a few too many pinches and gropes. But you bear it all with a smile, playful indignance, and charming redirection.  
You’re just settling into your role when Mervin stiffens, almost imperceptivity.  
“There you are, sugar plum. I’ve been looking for you all night.” 
Stasia has arrived. 
--- 
Stasia is an envy demon, graced with a classic sort of beauty that would do well on Earth. She has a wide and elegant set of horns, curling back from her temples, and her long tail swishes with confidence behind her as she crosses the room. She’s wearing a floor length evening gown in a bright scarlet, and a lipstick that matches.  
Mervin is silent beside you.  
You slide into action, another starry eyed, bubbly smile fixed onto your face. “Oh wow, you look gorgeous. You must be Stasia, I’ve heard so much about you.”  
Her arms had been open, clearly about to embrace the demon by your side, but you intercept, shaking one of her hands with enthusiasm.  
You crinkle your brow and look up at the demoness with concern. “Your schedule cleared then? That’s such a relief. Mervin was worried when you had to cancel on him so suddenly.” 
Several sets of eyes land on you. Stasia narrows her own at you, but you’ve already outed her as a flake to the crowd. Somebody nearby laughs.  
She pulls her hand from yours. “Mervin, who is this?” 
Your companion relaxes. “Stasia, this is an acquaintance of mine,” he tells her your name. “Pet, this is Stasia.” No honorific, you notice. You imagine anyone looking on also notices. 
You beam up at the envy demon, “Mervin was generous enough to bring me as his plus-one. I’ve been stuck at home for weeks, it was really too kind of him. I should thank you too, Stasia. You’ve indirectly brought me here.” 
The smile frozen on her face slips, just a little. 
You’re kept from formulating any further praise – or jabs – when the host announces the doors open. The crowd dissipates, making their way towards what appears to be a genuine ballroom.  
Stasia walks lockstep with Mervin, almost shouldering you aside. You’d be offended if you weren’t expecting the treatment. Instead, you trail shyly after them, a step behind Mervin’s other side.  
Stasia is already chattering to your date, linking her arm through his.  
“You two should catch up! I’ll get drinks while you do.” You lean up to kiss Mervin on the cheek. 
Even though you’d discussed and planned PDA with him (that part of the drive had been like pulling nails), he still stiffens at the gesture, blanching a little. 
You give him a smile, “Your regular?” 
“Fine. And something for yourself.” 
You don’t catch the glare Stasia sends you, but others do. 
You hasten towards the bar. Nobody stops you, but you suspect it might get harder to navigate the crowd as the night goes on and the guests get more inebriated. Even now you’re subject to stares, and the occasional frown. 
The bartender takes your order, thankfully.  
You’re watching as it’s made when a demon you don’t recognise sidles up beside you. 
“Watch yourself, girl. Last time somebody got between Stasia and her prey it wasn’t pretty.” 
You take in the demon (purple hue and the pronged horns) with a glance, before choosing a sympathetic expression. “I appreciate the concern, sir. I can’t help but feel for her, though. Scheduling conflicts are such a pain. Imagine making time for an event, only to find you’re no longer invited.” 
The demon watches you critically. You don’t mind. You’ll either come off as naive or conniving, and both are acceptable. 
He shrugs. “You’ve been warned.” 
“Again,” you say, taking your drinks from the bartender, “thank you.” 
Mervin is wearing a strained smile when you return, locked in a conversation with Stasia and two other demons.  
He accepts his drink with a nod, and when the conversation next lulls, he introduces you to his companions.  
The night continues like this, with Mervin introducing you around, and Stasia growing tense each time he stops to draw attention to you. 
She positively writhes if the conversation so much as turns your way, stink eyeing anyone who deigns to ask you where you’re from, what you’re doing in Perdition, what you do for a living. 
Over and over you repeat yourself. You’ve been indoors for weeks. You were feeling stir crazy. Mervin was so generous to show you around. Mervin was charitable. Mervin was kind. Stasia was too; you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her actions. 
Until she’s red in the face, and not in a pleasant way. You decide to back off, before she erupts like a tea kettle. 
The music has since started, and more and more demons are flocking to the dance floor. You look wistfully after them. “It’s a shame I don’t know any of the dances in Pride. Why don’t you two take the first? I could watch and learn.” 
The demoness jumps on the opportunity, though conveniently ignoring you. “Come on, Mervin. It’s been months since we danced together. You remember that one time on Earth-” you don’t catch the rest of her reminiscing as she leads Mervin away.  
One of the demons you’d been standing with gives you a sympathetic coo. “You’ve been neglected all night, little bird. Why don’t you dance with me?” 
You give them an amicable smile. The excuse falls smoothly from your lips. “I’d love to, but I think it’d be rude to my date if I gave my first dance to somebody else. Maybe later?” 
The demon tuts. “Why should you be polite to him when he’s having a good time with his ex over there?” 
You manage to keep your face relaxed. Obie had called Stasia Mervin’s girlfriend. Had there been some truth to the jest? Still, you manage to shrug, looking towards the dancing pair. They’re locked in a stuffy waltz of some sort. 
“Does he look like he’s having a good time?” 
The demon blinks, before following your gaze. True to your implications, Mervin is tense. His smile is strained. He looks slightly bored, or even resentful at the way Stasia chatters.  
They huff, conceding to your point.  
You nail it in anyway. “He can spend the whole gala with her if it pleases him. He’ll still do me the honour of taking me home afterwards.” 
Stasia keeps Mervin for not one, but three dances, before he manages to escape her grip and find you. You pass his drink back to him, giving him an amused smile. “Having fun?” 
He scowls.  
You give your empty glass to a passing staff member before looking back up at Mervin. You’re pretty sure he’s never going to ask you to dance. Not directly. Not even if he wanted to (a surprising number of wallflowers stand testament to Pride’s inability to simply ask for a dance).  
You take the initiative instead. “Dance with me?” 
He looks almost grateful but doesn’t manage a response other than a mute nod. 
He leads you to the floor, and you take his shoulder and hand. The weight of his own at your waist is pleasant. You don’t remember the last time you danced a waltz, but it’s easy enough to slip into, and Mervin leads well.  
You want to ask him how you’re doing (you know you’re doing well, and he won’t be able to tell you honestly). You want to ask him how he’s doing (he’s clearly tired and frustrated, and likely won’t take kindly to your prying). You want to ask about Stasia (is she really his ex?). Instead, you dance wordlessly for the next few minutes. 
He starts to relax towards the end of the dance, and on a whim, he lifts you during your next turn.  
You inhale sharply, before letting out a laugh. He gives a begrudging smile back. 
The exchange wheedles some words out of you. “You know, if I’d known the dances were going to be this simple, I might have asked to dance first.” 
He raises his brow. “And go against your careful manipulations? How stupid.” 
You grin. “Maybe. But I’d still consider it.” 
He huffs. “There’ll be a few traditional dances after dinner. I doubt you’ll be able to keep up.” 
“Speaking of dinner-” You’re glad you’d questioned Mervin on the drive here. Because of it, you can easily guess what will happen when the dining hall opens. “She’s going to be in my seat.” 
He purses his lips. “We’ll get there first.” 
You’d discussed the possibility but hadn’t made any explicit plans to deal with it.  
“No.” 
He cocks a brow. “No?” 
“If I sit first, there’s no telling what she’ll do.” 
“You have something better in mind?” 
You give him a smile, this one less bubbly, and more genuine. “I think we should renegotiate your terms regarding public displays of affection.” 
His face scrunches with displeasure. “You think you deserve to touch me without express permission?” 
“No. Never,” you butter him up. “But I think she’d hate it if you allowed it.” 
He chews his lip, appearing to consider. 
You inch closer, intent on enjoying what’s left of your dance. “Don’t worry your pretty head so much, my prince.” 
He blinks and opens his mouth to reply. Undoubtedly still wanting to know your solution. Then the rest of what you’d said catches up to him, and he shuts it. He straightens, chest puffing a little. 
You try not to smirk. He’s cute sometimes. 
The waltz finishes. You give him your last words before parting. “And please don’t push me off.”  
Mervin almost stumbles as he understands your request. But before he can protest, the doors to the dining hall are opening, and dinner is due to start. You gesture for Mervin to lead the way. 
After a beat he does, and you trail after him. He pauses several times, greeting aquaintances and stopping to chat. Numerous demons still mill about, not quite ready to take their seats. 
It’s almost suspicious how Stasia doesn’t intercept you. You’d be worried if you weren’t almost certain of where she was. 
Sure enough, when you reach your reserved table, Stasia is seated in your place. She smiles at you, in a way that’s just a little too condescending, but does not otherwise acknowledge you.  
“You kept me waiting, sugar plumb.” 
You pull out the chair for Mervin, inclining your head respectfully as he takes his seat. Then, without missing a beat, you follow him down, settling on his lap. 
He stiffens, but Stasia's expression makes it worth it. 
You cover his surprise with a sweet smile. “Sorry to keep him from you, Stasia. I just thought it might be rude if I danced with somebody else before him.” 
She stares, face now blank. 
After a beat, Mervin’s arm wraps around your side. His claws dig into you, giving away his discomfort. “At any rate, I’m back. Where did we leave off...” 
Stasia resumes her chatter, and Mervin makes an effort to engage. The three of you aren’t alone; there are other pairs seated around the circular table, speaking amongst themselves, and occasionally interacting with Mervin and Stasia. You receive several glances, most of which are accompanied by amused grins. Stasia receives a handful of smirks too. You’re not sure who they favour, but at least you’re cause for humour. None of the pride demons are forward enough to ask Mervin why he apparently has two dates.  
Nobody looks your way when entrees are brought out. Stasia gets your food. It smells delicious, and your stomach rumbles with envy.  
Mervin frowns. “Did my brother not feed you enough?” 
You pout up at him. “Humans typically eat three times a day.” 
He stares down at you. It’s hard to tell, but you think he’s looking at your lips. Eventually he sighs, and passes you his spoon. “I don’t share with just anyone, pet.” 
You beam up at him, placing a kiss on his cheek before he can react. “Thanks babe. You’re literally the best.” 
A muscle in his leg twitches, and he has to work to hide his surprise. It almost has you smirking. The fingers digging harder into your side betray his growing tension. You wonder if he’s flustered at the compliment, or irritated at your relaxed demeanour. Perhaps he’s just been touched too much tonight. 
There’s a glare fixed on you when you take a sip of the first course. It’s a particularly fragrant soup, served with bread. Unimaginative, but damn if it doesn’t taste amazing.  
You lock eyes with Stasia, and smile. “It’s good, right?” 
For a moment she doesn’t reply. But after a beat she sneers. “Bland, actually. The chef must have messed up my order.” 
“Actually, the order was changed, Stasia,” Mervin interrupts. “We’re being served human safe variants of the menu.” 
You blink at the new information. You didn’t realise Mervin had gone to such lengths to accommodate you. It leaves you feeling... nice. 
Mervin notices your stare and scowls. 
“Of course, Stasia is right. It’s terribly bland compared to the usual fare. But I doubt you could handle our food. Your stomach is far too weak. Pathetic, really.” 
You smile at his disparagment. You’re honestly genuine when you praise him next: “You’re too kind, Mervin. I appreciate it.” 
He turns his face away with a sneer, ignoring you as you finish the entrée. 
You insist that Mervin eats the main course. You assume a greed demon would appreciate your excuses more – you wouldn’t dare take the food from his plate, he’s already been kind enough to you, it’s his meal, he should get to taste it, it’d be rude of you to even think of touching the food before he does – but they do the trick, and Mervin still looks a bit pleased at your fussing.  
Dessert passes without incident, and you’re ready to stand and go for a wander. Mervin’s lap isn’t the most comfortable – not while he’s at a dining chair, at the least. The food is cleared and you’re about to get up when another demon at the table ropes Mervin into conversation. 
You can’t help but fidget, not sure whether it’d be acceptable if you stood right now. You think you’re being discrete, shifting your weight just a little, but Mervin grabs your thigh and squeezes it, pointedly.  
You blush and look down in apology, reigning in your wiggles and acting the picture of relaxed and demure once more.  
Instead of releasing you, his hand creeps upwards, along your thigh. 
You force yourself not to fidget again at the touch. It had to be unintentional. You hadn’t discussed anything like this ahead of time. Perhaps he didn’t realise how high his fingers were trailing. 
You hazard a glance over your shoulder, desperate to see his expression, to gleam his mood.  
He grabs your jaw instead, and turns your face forward, before leaning down to murmur at your ear. “Stay there, pet.” 
You hadn’t really considered the possibility of Mervin being dominant before. It was always too much fun flustering him with compliments, or making fun of his stunted emotional responses. But you forget that for a moment, enjoying the firmness of his tone.  
To your immense frustration, he doesn’t do anything more. Just stroking your thigh, claws tracing the slit upthe side of your dress. It’s almost impossible to keep from squirming, and you watch the crowd critically. You’d be mortified if a concubi wandered by just now. 
There’s a cold touch at your wrist. The interruption frustrates you, before you notice Stasia leant forwards. The smile she gives you is unnerving. “Would you mind getting that drink for me now, pet?” 
Mervin’s hand stills. 
You manage a pleasant expression and a nod. “Of course. And anything for you, Mervin?” 
He grimaces. “No. One is enough for me.” 
Stasia gives you her order and you remove yourself from the table. With the distance, you’re almost grateful for the interruption. Mervin would be tempting fate, starting something with an audience so close. No doubt Stasia had noticed. You’re just lucky she’d been calm in her redirection. 
Your second trip to the bar is a little more perilous. The number of stares you receive is doubled, and one demon has the gall to actually slap you on the ass as you pass. 
A glance reveals his reddish hue, and you’d gamble he has wrathful origins. As such, you have no compunction about grabbing the hand that had touched you and twisting his fingers painfully out of place, dodging any further grabs from him. 
“Bitch,” he accuses. 
You roll your eyes, moving on before he can drag you into a fight, or inspire too much anger in you. 
You’re breathless by the time you make it to the bar, and it’s an exercise in your evasive skills to make it back to your table without spilling either of the drinks. 
Mervin and Stasia are gone. You’re irritated, but not surprised. 
You catch a glance of them dancing in the thick of things. Mervin wasn’t wrong; the music upbeat and fast paced. You don’t know your ballroom music particularly well, but based on their movements, you assume it’s a quicktime dance of some sort. You sit at the table and take the opportunity to watch carefully. You’d love to be able to replicate it by the end of the night. 
You’re so focused on analysing your date’s distant footwork that you miss your name being called. 
You start at the touch on your shoulder. 
Another wrath demon chuckles at you (did everyone bring one as their plus one?). 
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” 
You blink. “Not at all.” Then blink again. “Have we met?” 
The demon grins, revealing some of his chipped teeth. “Sure have. I probably went to all your shows when you were touring Wrath.” 
You raise your brow. You’d never done any meet and greets. So when had- 
“We met after your show at the Splatterfest.” 
You wince at the memory. Some imps had tried to protest the inclusion of a human at the music festival, and dumped a bucket of blood over your band, ‘Carrie’ style. You’d kept performing and probably given every demon in the audience a boner (you were in Wrath, what did they expect?). 
Even so, you grin. “You tried to give me your shirt afterwards. Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.” 
He holds out his hand. “Friends call me Bean.” 
You try not to laugh at the name. “Nice to meet you, Bean.” 
“I couldn’t help but notice you staring daggers at your date.” 
You huff. “I was actually watching the dance. If I’d had any time to prepare for tonight, I’d have bothered to learn some of the dances.” 
His face lightens. “I could teach you?” 
“Do you know these dances?” 
“Too well. My mum is from Pride.” 
You’d already danced with Mervin. It might reflect poorly on him if his date looked too antisocial. So you shrug. “Sounds like fun.” 
It is fun. You stumble a lot at first, tripping over your own feet in an effort to copy Bean’s step pattern, but he grips you by the elbows, keeping you upright even as he laughs at you. You have stamina, at least, and manage to keep up with the punishing pace. By the time the first dance ends, you’re covered in sweat and panting, but you have some of the footwork down. 
Bean grins. “You’re not terrible.” 
You crinkle your nose. “You’re sufficient too.” 
Bean has his head cocked, listening to the opening of the next song. “Ah. This next one’s fun. It’s got a lot of lifts though.” 
“That doesn’t bother me.” 
His chipped grin reappears. “We take turns raising each other.” 
Oh. You bite back a frown. “How much do you weigh?” 
Bean isn’t that big. His horns and tail are on the small side, and he’s only an inch or so taller than you. Still, the number he tells you does not fill you with confidence. 
He laughs at your expression. “Scared? Or just weak?” 
You scowl. “Weak, unfortunately. May I?” You ask before touching him. 
He lifts his arms enough for you to grab him by the waist. You brace yourself and lift. 
His heels leave the ground. 
He laughs at you again. “Cute. But mostly pathetic.” 
You scowl harder. “Whatever. If you want to keep dancing, you’ll have to jump a little.” 
His laughing quiets to a chuckle. He takes your hand and pulls you in to dance. “It’s alright. We’ll manage. This one is... well I’m not sure of the translation. It’s a genre unique to Perdition. I guess you could liken it to a quick waltz? There are several lifts in each of the refrains. Then towards the end we start spinning, taking turns with the elevations. It’s easier with the momentum, but you’ve gotta watch your surroundings too, or you’ll crash into another couple.” 
“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. You’re not too worried about bumping into anyone. Your spatial awareness is decent enough. “I feel like this dance is just so everyone can flex at each other.” 
Bean laughs again, though not at you this time. “No, you’re completely right. It's how this genre was started. It’s a competition of strength and stamina. It’s not actually that common in Pride, since it usually tends to lack finesse or grace.” 
“Hmm,” you appreciate the history lesson. 
You ease into this dance smoothly; despite the lifts it’s easier than the last. Bean is a good teacher, and he warns you ahead of any changes. You brace yourself for the first rise, and when your feet leave the ground by almost a foot, you can’t help but grin. 
“Show off.” 
“Absolutely,” he agrees. 
His feet actually leave the ground when it’s your turn to lift. Bean springs up a few inches, turning the elevation into something closer to an assisted jump. Regardless of the terminology, you’re grateful for the assistance. It sets the tone for the rest of the dance, and you find yourself having a pleasant time. 
Your dress flairs when you’re next lifted, and Bean gives you a grin. “Is that a knife, or are you happy to see me?” 
You’re breathless, but manage to reply. “A knife, actually.” 
He eyes your legs appreciatively. “Expecting trouble?” 
“Most of my weapon belts would clash with this dress,” you joke. 
“Nonsense. You’d look good with any weapon,” he argues. 
You can’t help but smile. “You sure know how to lay on the charm.” 
“Pfft, this is nothing. You should see me when I’m actually trying.” 
You’d laugh but there’s another series of spins coming up, and you have to brace yourself of them. The recapitulation begins, and you know the dance is nearing its end.  
“Steady now,” Bean encourages, before raising you again.  
You’re able to keep spinning. To avoid any collisions. To lift him the first few times. But your arms quickly tire, and Bean doesn’t do much more than bob his knees instead of completing any jumps. He still manages to send you upwards on each of your turns though, and you have to reign in your laughter. 
Especially as you make eye contact with Mervin, dancing with Stasia beside you. 
It jars you enough that your grin fades, and you remember to school your expression into something a little more dignified. Slightly less carefree.  
The song ends and you and Bean nearly collapse against each other, panting and laughing once more, even if you’re feeling subdued. 
You realise your face is only inches from his, at the same time he does. 
He glances down at your lips. “Do you... want to take this elsewhere?” 
Any other night and you’d take him up on the offer. But- 
“I think that’d give my date a conniption.” 
His smile shrinks. Bean pulls back. But he maintains that relaxed demeanour. “It’d serve him right for leaving you here alone.” 
You shrug and give him an apologetic smile. “Another time?” 
He sighs. Ruffles your hair.  
You scowl and duck out of his grasp. 
“Can you imagine his face though?” 
You bite back your grin. “I can.” 
Bean steps away. “Thanks for the dance, love.” 
You wave him off. Take a breath to compose yourself. Then turn back to the gala. 
--- 
It doesn’t take long for you to find your date. Not with the way he’s striding towards you, shoulders squared and a scowl on his face. He grabs you by the wrist and leads you out a nearby door, practically dragging you down some unpopulated corridors. 
“Where’s Stasia?” You ask. 
“I cut her off when she started trying to make me jealous of that shit-for-brains dance partner of yours.” 
You’d only danced with Bean twice. Was Mervin really so bothered? 
“Key word ‘trying’?” You ask, tentative this time. 
He doesn’t reply, but it’s obvious he’s not happy. 
You wince. Stasia’s meddling or not, this one was genuinely your fault. “I’m sorry, Mervin. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel that way.” 
“I know,” he grumbles, before practically flinging you at a wall. “But you still need to deal with the consequences, human.” 
Then his hand is on your jaw, holding you still as he crushes his lips against yours. 
You freeze, more surprised than upset. 
His other hand rests against the wall, caging you in. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he pulls back, still scowling. “How dare you ask a stranger to teach you to dance. You should have gone to me.”  
You’re still processing the kiss. Part of you is indignant – you never thought he’d work up the nerve to kiss you first. The other part of you struggles to stay grounded. To listen to his complaint. “I’m sorry, I-” 
He cuts you off with another kiss. Bites down hard on your lip this time. You think you taste blood. 
“You should consider yourself lucky that I’m still willing to associate with you. That I’m willing to do this.” 
Your head spins when he pushes your face sideways, gaining access to your throat. He kisses his way down your neck, across your shoulder. Not shy about using his teeth to punish you.  
His other hand slips below your dress. He grips the hem of your underwear and your breath hitches. As much as you enjoy leading him along, you could get used to this. Mervin's display of dominance is doing things for you. 
“I’m lowering my standards so much just to do this with you. So, you’d better hold fucking still.” 
Your mouth waters at his words. You’re somehow both burning with tension and turning into putty under his hands. And you know just what to say to make things worse. 
“Yes sir.” 
He stiffens. “What was that?” 
You have to bite back your grin, to force yourself to appear contrite. “Yes sir?” 
“Fuck,” he mutters before grabbing you bodily and turning you around. Your hands splay against the wall, bracing yourself. Mervin presses between your shoulder blades, bending you over while his other hand drags your dress up. 
The position sends nerves and excitement through you in equal measures. “Somebody could see.” 
He ignores your half-hearted protest, dragging your underwear down and palming your ass. “You didn’t care if somebody saw you flirting with that meathead.” 
Facing away, you can let your grin creep out. He sounds angry.  
His knee spreads your legs and your heart speeds up. Then there’re fingers at your folds. You can practically hear his sneer when they come away wet. 
“Pathetic. Is this really all it takes to get you going?” 
“Mhm,” you hum agreement, throat tight. Coherency is starting to leave you when all you can focus on is the cold air against your nethers. You wish he would touch you again. 
He scoffs. “You really are just a slut.”  
You think you get wetter at the insult. 
There’s the sound of a belt buckle, then a zipper. You can’t help but clench in anticipation.  
But Mervin doesn’t touch you. 
You try to look over your shoulder, to give Mervin your most I’m-pathetic-please-fuck-me stare, but he just pushes your face against the wall. 
You let out a whimper and squirm. If he keeps drawing this out, somebody really could see you.  
You push the thought down. As enticing as it is, things could quickly turn dangerous if a third party got involved. 
“-you think I’ll do this with anyone? What makes you think you deserve me, huh?” he starts. 
Honestly, you thought he’d start talking himself up sooner. He’d barely insulted you yet.  
“-don’t deserve a single piece of pleasure until you earn it-” 
You try rubbing your thighs together, but you only succeed on clamping around Mervin’s knee.  
“-should be singing my praise, I shouldn’t have to touch you until you’ve begged for me-” 
You let out a groan. If you were still facing him, you’d snog him just to make him stop talking. “Ughh, shut up and fuck me.”  
He grips you by the hair, his voice raised in pitch, “The nerve of you, human, the utter disrespect-” 
You cut him off with a whine, “Pleeease Mervin. I need you to fuck me.” 
His breathing stutters. 
“Please touch me, please, I can’t wait any more, pleasepleaseplease,” you squirm around his knee.  
He grabs your ass again. Squeezes. “You’ve been so casual with my name tonight. I don’t think you deserve to use it.” 
You want to groan again. You barely restrain yourself. “Please, sir, I bet you’ll feel so good, please, I need this so badly-” 
His breathing is even more laboured, but he still manages to slap your ass. 
“Needy.” 
You flinch away, and end up grinding down against his knee – fuck. It’s not fair how good that feels. You decide that if he doesn’t fuck you soon, you’ll just have to rub off against his leg. Though you might leave a wet patch so noticable that concubi wouldn’t be the only ones turning heads. 
You bite down on your lip. You just want to get dicked down. Picking your words is hard when you’re this horny. 
“Needy,” you huff. “Yes. For you.” You grind against him. “Please help me, sir. Please fix it.” 
He shudders. The hand at your shoulders pushes harder, and you have no choice but to stick your ass out, curving your back as far as it will go, or topple over.  
“Fine,” he says, and you could die from relief when you feel his erection against your ass. “But only because I feel sorry for you.” 
He hilts himself in one rough movement and you moan, practically high at the sensation. There’s possibly a bit of drool escaping from your lips. 
Mervin’s not unaffected himself, one hand braced against the wall, the other digging into your waist. The groan he levels at your ear is delightful, stretching on into a softly pitched rumble that’s almost like a purr. 
Interesting. A disembodied part of yourself definitely notes that for later. 
He doesn’t move. 
You let out a whimper, trying to grind back against him. He swats you on the ass, tuting. “Ask nicely, pet.” 
Having him speared inside you feels so good. But it’s not enough. You need him to move. 
“Please,” you whisper, “please fucking fuck me, please-” 
You’re rewarded with a single thrust. “Why should I?” 
You groan; a whiney, needy sound. “You’re making it so hard to think right now- I can’t-” You want to bang your head against wall. “Nngh, Mervin-” 
He takes pity on you. Or maybe you’ve convinced him. He’s probably barely pretending to be composed right now - you don’t care about the reasoning, you’re just relieved when he starts to fuck you. He’s fast, and rough, and the ridged texture of his cock serves as a pleasant reminder that he’s in no part human.  
It doesn’t take long for him to come, practically crushing you against him when he does. One arm wraps around your throat, and the other around your waist; he bites down on your shoulder to keep from making too much noise. It hurts, but that only adds to the experience. 
You close your eyes, panting, trying to savour the way his dick twitches inside of you. But as soon as he’s finished he straightens, practically shoving you away. 
Your brain is hazy, and it takes you a few moments before you can stand, fixing your underwear, then your dress. You clamp your thighs together, to keep from dripping spend everywhere.   
By the time you turn around, Mervin has composed himself – cock receeded back into his slit, clothing fixed. You feel incredibly raw in contrast. 
He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 
You open your mouth to reply, but your thoughts stall. Forming words is somehow harder.  
His face goes blank as he takes in your details. Processes what’s wrong. The seconds that pass feel incredibly long, and you’re tense, wondering how he’s going to react. You know that biology literally compels him to be an ass, but you’re not sure how much derision you can take right now. 
You can’t describe how grateful you are that he only shakes his head, and cages you in again. “Like I said before. This is only because I feel sorry for you.” 
He slips his hand under your dress, back into your underwear. You’re slick; a mess of your own juices and his cum. There’s no resistance when he sinks two fingers inside of you. Hardly any friction when he rubs his thumb against your clit.  
You shudder, grabbing his lapels and pressing your face against his shoulder. “Fuckkk,” the word is barely muffled. 
His free hand cups your jaw, dragging your face upwards. “Don’t get makeup on my jacket, idiot.” 
“S-sorry,” you reply, eyes glazed and mouth agape.  
He doesn’t seem to process your apology, watching intently, instead, as you come apart on his fingers. You can barely stand, fighting the impulse to sieze and crumple, clinging to your date like he’s a lifeline.  
“Go on then, pet,” he murmurs, pushing hard against a sensitive spot inside of you. “You can come.” 
And you do. Head lolling back, whole body arching, gripping Mervin’s arm like a vice. You don’t care what kind of noises you’re making, but perhaps he does, because he covers your mouth with his own in another messy kiss.  
His fingers don’t stop moving until you’re limp against the wall, almost turning into a puddle in his arms. Your head buzzes. You feel high.  
Fuck, that was incredible.  
Your eyes are closed. You’re listening to Mervin’s panting; almost as loud as your own, when he pulls you upright suddenly. 
“Someone’s coming.” 
Your eyes spring open. 
“Come on,” he practically drags you away, down another corridor and into what appears to be a coat room.  
You’re still breathless, and it takes you a moment to compose yourself. Mervin has his ear against the door, tense. It almost makes you laugh.  
“If I’d known how much fun pity sex can be, I’d have doubled down on my efforts to be pathetic.” 
Mervin scowls. “Clean yourself up. You look like a whore.” 
You give him a coy smile. “Your whore, though.” 
He turns away, masking his expression. 
Still, you do the best you can to clean the fluids from your thighs, shamelessly using the sleeve of a stranger’s coat. 
Mervin is examining you when you turn back. Wordlessly he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. “Your lipstick is everywhere.” 
You smirk, taking in his own features. “It certainly is.” You wipe it from your face, wishing you had a mirror, but Mervin doesn’t say anything so you assume you got it all. Then you stand on tip toes, cleaning the lipstick from his own face. He stiffens, but allows the treatment. 
Your eyes catch on a smear across his throat. You don’t even remember kissing him there. Feeling mischevious, you leave the mark. You consider it a parting gift. He’ll notice it later, you’re sure.  
“Your hair is a rat’s nest.” 
You’re sure he’s exaggerating, but you roll your eyes and attempt to fix it anyway. “You’re the one who was pulling on it.” 
Soon enough you’re both presentable again, bracing yourselves before returning to the fray. Nobody has noticed your absence, you think. 
You glance towards the dance floor. “So, are you going to teach me this next dance?” 
He manages to keep his expression level as he considers.  
“Not here. Having you trip and stumble in front of everyone is too painful to contemplate. You’re going to take private lessons with me. That way you won’t look like a fool next time.” 
“Next time?” You ask. 
He winces, unable to meet your eyes. 
You want to make fun of him. You want to poke at him so badly. You barely restrain yourself.  
“How generous of you, to invite me not once, but twice. I should be honoured.” 
He relaxes minutely at your acceptance. Then crinkles his nose. “Obviously.” 
“But this was simultaneously the most stressful and most boring event I’ve attended all year. You’re really going to have to make it worth my while.” 
He grits his teeth. Tries his best to look calm. “Did you have something in mind, human?” 
You can only grin. “I don’t know. I’ll be sure to think of an especially pitiful request.” 
-- 
60 notes · View notes
drunkhazed · 1 month
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bruhhh Korean fans being... whatever they are doing rn for fate plus is just so sad ://
idk what exactly happened, only opened twt to see the same ole same ole abt how silent they are lolllllll
I been to concerts in Korea(not for enhypen)/have stayed in SKR a few times throughout my kpop fan life because well, thats what we do💀
there are pros and cons ofc whether its an American concert or Korean concert BUT as an obnoxious loud fun westerner, I’d ultimately rather see groups here.
the crowd is DULL, damn near lifeless and robotic. no one sings along, no one really screams, people stay seated, lightsticks stay at head/shoulder level, they only do fan chants. like yes- there is benefits to this when it comes to being able to enjoy the concert and see the artists without fear of being blocked by a sign or a rowdy fan swinging around their lighstick, but at the end of the day I want to sing, laugh, dance, scream, have fun.
my experience at Korean concerts: I barely put my lightstick by my head as I reached for something in my bag and IMMEDIATELY the girl behind me slapped my arm and told me to put it down💀 I got shushed multiple times if I ever sang along or leaned over to whisper something to my friend, and another time in a standing crowd where I was nowhere near the front of the stage the Korean fans around me pestered security to make me take off my headband(the same ones u see nearly everyone wear at kpop concerts in the west) and I had to take it off lmao, the security literally begged me to💀 for me these experiences were soured namely due to the extremely entitled rude fans. I encounter them here too and they SUCK but the thing is- at least in the west we outnumber them…. I cannot argue or fight with them at concerts in Korea bc they CAN easily have me kicked out.
ALSO RECORDING AND USING YOUR PHONE AT CONCERTS THERE IS REALLY PROHIBITED AND LOOKED OUT FOR💀 had security SIT in front of me and my friend for an entire concert when we had row 1 just because she saw us taking pictures before the show even started of the stage….she nearly confiscated my friends phone because of that💆🏻‍♀️
i think everyone should experience it just once as a kpop fan ofc, if you’re able to afford it, there is definitely a lot of benefits like normal ticket prices, better merch, better views, easy transportation, etc etc
but as a westerner, western concerts are the goat and nothing will sway my opinion on this lol. I’d rather spend my possible trip to SKR money on an outrageously overpriced resale concert ticket here than bother dealing with the crazy racism that comes along with stepping foot into Seoul
WHEWWW, so yeah, ranted but cnenxjjdjd I think if you ever do a concert in Korea, you won’t be shocked at all anymore by how lifeless that crowd is, im srs the monotonous robotic chanting gets fucking weird after a few songs😅
will add that I went to concerts thru trazy and SM global package(NOT cheap) but these options are ‘foreigner friendly’ and kind of cool… I’m like 80% positive bighit has mentioned basically doing the same(which could include artist themed hotel rooms/your transport to and from the venue/tours of bighit+hybe etc/food/pretty good tickets to lucky draw select from that guarantee you to be in one of the closer rows to the stage or higher number to enter thru GA). so yeah…. if hybe ever does this for enhypen I’d 10/10 recommend, as I would hope they’d pull it off better than SM….given how Bighit has completely usurped and monopolized the entire kpop industry lol. THEY HAVE THE MONEY TO BE ABLE TO TREAT FOREIGN FANS RIGHT😤(as long as we feed the kpop capitalism cash cow…ofc).
never say never guys because I did, and ended up finding a $400 flight to Korea and back home with a fatass layover in China and while it was a horrific experience I still talk abt to this day, I stayed in a hostel with 4 friends, we each paid $80 for 2 weeks and I survived my entire first trip to Korea for less than $1500😭 anythings possible💀💀💀
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direwombat · 7 months
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tagged by @madparadoxum, and @poetikat for this midweek wip sharing day <3
tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @henbased, @adelaidedrubman, @g0dspeeed, @gaeadene, @jillvalentinesday, @ivymarquis, @strafethesesinners, @strangefable, @aceghosts, @voidika, @confidentandgood, @purplehairsecretlair, @cassietrn, @neverthesameneveranother, @deputyash, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @wrathfulrook, @trench-rot, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @euryalex, @clonesupport, @josephslittledeputy, @alexxmason, and anyone else with something to share today! (also I will be moving away from the scattershot approach of tagging (ie, whoever i can remember) sometime around the end of the month and start using a proper taglist, so if you want to be added to that taglist, please like/reply to this post)
no katc wip update because the sybeli brainrot has seized me. part 1 of the horror and the wild is already 8k. these are gonna be fuckin monster chapters, but at least there's only three of them lol
“When you were at the Veterans Center, you didn’t see anything…strange, did you?”
[Sybille] frowns and furrows her brow. “No,” she says carefully after a moment’s thought. The entire ordeal was creepy, to be sure, but there was nothing explicitly unusual.  “Ran into the groundskeeper -- or at least I think he was the groundskeeper --” Because what the fuck was Mr. Seed doing there so late at night if he wasn’t? “--but I didn’t notice anythin’ outta the ordinary.”
“You ran into Jacob Seed?” Eli asks. His eyes are wide. Panicked, if she didn’t know any better. 
“Uh? Yeah?” she says. “Why? You know ‘im?”
“Kinda,” he mutters. A strange shadow passes across his face, darkening his expression. His jaw tenses and there’s a hardness to his eyes. “What’d he say?”
“In a nutshell? Fuck off,” she shrugs. “He told me I was on private property, asked if I was lost, and refused to give me directions. Kind of a dick if I’m bein’ honest.” 
Eli snorts, and underneath the impressive growth of his beard, she sees the corners of his mouth quirk upwards wryly. “That’s an understatement,” he mutters under his breath. “He didn’t say or do anything…weird, did he?”
“No, not really. Just kinda rude,” she says. “He did watch me drive away, which was kinda unnerving, but he weren’t actively hostile, or anythin’.” She deliberately leaves out how she swore she saw his eyes reflecting like an animal's. Surely, it was just her own eyes playing tricks on her. 
A thoughtful hum rumbles from Eli’s chest and he leans forward to take her hand. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he says, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the top of her hand. “Just be careful around him." 
Well, that doesn't make her feel good. “Eli, what’s goin’ on?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about. He and I have just had…run-ins in the past.”
“Whaddaya mean?” she frowns. “What happened?”
Eli’s lips press into a thin line and he chews on the inside of his cheek, carefully choosing his words. “He’s…territorial,” he says slowly. “Thinks the entire State Park is his own personal hunting grounds.”
She shakes her head. “Entitled bastard.” Then her eyes go wide. “Hang on -- he didn’t threaten to shoot you, did he?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Eli assures her. He squeezes her hand in his. “But it did get…physical.” There’s a peculiar tightness to his voice, and she gets the distinct feeling there's something he isn't telling her. 
Sybille’s frown deepens. She raises a brow skeptically. “But not physical enough to press charges?”
“Ain’t worth it,” he shrugs. “His youngest brother is some hot-shot lawyer from Atlanta. I can’t afford to pay for legal fees that would only end with him getting a slap on the fuckin’ wrist.” 
She narrows her eyes. Not worth it. Exactly what Staci said about not pulling Mr. Seed over for reckless driving. The only difference is that Pratt seems to genuinely fear the man, whereas Eli offers nothing but mild contempt. But she still files it away as strange. Eli isn’t easily cowed by intimidation the same way Staci is. He served. Just like her. Just like Jacob. Just like half the fucking county. 
Whatever happened between the two men, it was enough to deter him from fighting back. 
But she doesn’t push it. “Okay,” she concedes. She breaks her hand free from Eli’s warm grip and twines her fingers with his. “But, if somethin’ happens again and you wanna get the Sheriff’s Department involved, you just let me know, okay? Ain’t nobody above the law, and we’ll do what we can to make sure justice is served.” 
Eli smiles. His eyes are warm, swimming with affection, and he lifts their hands to press a kiss to the back of hers. “You know I love your sense of honor and I appreciate the offer, but some things a man’s gotta take care of himself.” 
“It ain’t honor, it’s public safety,” she says firmly. “You know how many feuds I seen end in ‘huntin’ accidents’?” She uses her free hand to deliver air-quotes. True, she’s seen less of it than she did after moving north of the Bible Belt, but the general distaste for involving law enforcement and citizens taking matters into their own hands seems to just be a staple of rural life.
“It ain’t a feud,” he says with a dismissive shake of his head. But there’s a strain to his voice that makes her think he might be lying.
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melodygatesauthor · 9 months
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Sick of people asking me "when", and I'm gonna talk about it...
If you aren't in the headspace for a post more on the "negative" side then don't read this, but I need to say something about this before I lose my fucking MIND.
The entitlement coming from some of my readers has GOT to fucking stop, and I'm so goddamn serious right now. You have me at my fucking limit on what's supposed to be a fun hobby. So here's what's happening, and I'm not going to be nice about it because I'm so fed up I want to cry:
Over the last few days, I've woken up to messages in my inbox that are all being demanding, entitled, and downright fucking RUDE. Some of you saying you're "disappointed" that I haven't updated certain stories or just saying "where is the next update for x story". Fuck the FUCK off okay? (This is in NO WAY directed at the majority of my readers. The majority of you, fortunately, are very kind and leave me such nice comments and I love you *forehead kiss*)
---
First of all, don't you think that if I had the update ready I would post it?
I don't get paid for this (a point that I will be touching on more later, don't you worry.) so my "payment" is the gratification I get from reblogs and comments. If I don't post, I don't get "paid." So just know that I want to post my stories as much as you want to read them. I think I speak for most writers when I say that. I'm not a fucking dragon hording my fucking stories and chapters in google docs and laughing while you all suffer. I have the stories in my head and I'm crying while I suffer because I don't have enough time to get them all out onto paper before you all start turning into nasty little gremlins over them.
Secondly, you demanding asking for more is not encouraging, nor is it motivational.
Again, I think I'm speaking for most writers with this. When you demand or ask for more, THE ONLY THING *taps megaphone* THE ONLY THING you're doing is reminding the writer that they haven't updated and it gives us a little pit in our tummies at our "failures". (a little note to my fellow writers reading this, you're not a failure, but I know it can feel like that when people come into your inbox like this, despite it not being true). "HoW dO i MoTiVaTe A wRiTeR tO uPdAtE mY fAvOrItE sToRy ThEn?" Well you entitled asshole, I'm SO FUCKING GLAD YOU ASKED. (Because that brings me to my next point).
Third, I'd be willing to put the $200 in my savings account and the change at the bottom of my purse on the fact that YOU HAVEN'T EVEN REBLOGGED MY STORIES.
Sorry, feeling called out? Fucking GOOD. I hope your pillows are warm and moist af on both sides when you're trying to sleep because literally if you're coming into my inbox, acting like THIS and then you have the AUDACITY to not even reblog my work? You're one of the worst kinds of people and I wish you nothing but the worst. It's the ONLY thing I ask for in response to my hard work and I'm sure you can't even manage that. You should be embarrassed.
Fourth, let's talk about how much money I make doing this shall we?
$0...I make ZERO DOLLARS and you are talking to me with more of an attitude and entitlement than a Karen in a fucking grocery store during Covid. Get a grip bro. Wanna start paying my bills so I can write fanfiction full time? DO IT, and THEN we can chat about WHEN something isn't getting updated or WHY it didn't get updated. Until then, shut your fucking mouth and enjoy what I put out, or get off my page. I don't care anymore, I'm so done being nice about this.
Fifth, I LITERALLY UPDATE YOU ALL WEEKLY TO LET YOU KNOW WHEN THE FUCK I'LL BE UPDATING WHAT THE HELL!!!!
With the exception of this past week because I've been so goddamn busy, I post a WEEKLY update letting my readers know when I'll be updating something. I have a busy work schedule, and it's summer, so there are lots of things going on in my life right now. I try to help mitigate the questions you have about "when" and "why" by doing this. What makes me annoyed is that you all seem to be on my page, noticing that I'm not updating and getting upset about that, but you don't take the time to look at the fucking information I put out in your face to avoid having to answer the same questions ten fucking times. Omg and for the love of god FOLLOW @melodygatesupdates FOLLOW THAT BLOG RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME. If I have ONE MORE person ask me about my tag list after reading a fic that says "I don't have a taglist anymore so follow @melodygatesupdates" I'm going to lose it.
So here's a blanket statement as to "why" I haven't posted whatever chapter or story you've been waiting for. Pick one of the options below because either one or more are accurate.
I'm working too many hours to have time for updating regularly so am only working on fics that are currently inspiring to me.
Another Adderall shortage so I'm having a hard time focusing.
I don't feel like it today, and despite what you may think, that's a perfectly valid reason not to write something.
I'm working on something else.
Something bad happened in my personal life.
My personal life got busy.
Going forward, for my own sanity, I'm no longer entertaining questions about "why" I haven't updated or "when" I plan to update something. 9 times out of 10 I'll let you know if something is going to be delayed or if it's not in my current scope of interest, but otherwise, just don't ask.
If you're nice when you ask, I'll probably just ignore you and delete your inbox ask. I feel bad doing that to those of you who are kind when you ask, but I just can't take it anymore, especially when I'm telling you right now that you don't need to ask me.
For those who come in hot like "why haven't you..." or "When are you going to..." I'm blocking you. Consider this a warning. Even if you come in on anon, you can still be blocked and I won't fucking hesitate. Learn some manners and then come talk to me, but until then I'm not going to entertain this behavior any longer.
I'm a grown woman in her thirties just trying to pass the time with something I enjoy, and waking up to this every morning over the last few days while working 60+ hours a week fucking sucks. So for my own mental health, I have to start putting my foot down. You're ruining my online experience and making this less fun for me.
Thanks for reading, I love those of you who read this whole thing and who AREN'T the people this post is meant for. You're the real MVPs.
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coff33notforme · 2 years
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Dating hcs for your fave ego, Actor Mark, and Murdock? :0
A/n: This took so long my hands are dead. Sorry this is so long, this legitimately took four whole pages to write lmao
Genre: Headcannons, Fluff
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Actor
When he first met you through Damien, he was a total ass
He would take every chance he got to make some sort of prude comment pertaining to you in some way 
So of course your first impression of him was that he was just some rich asshole, and of course during that whole ordeal Damien was defending you but that didn’t stop Mark 
Anytime there would be some sort of event Damien would go to he would invite you to tag along and Actor would go to seek you out 
At first Actor felt a sort of entitlement towards you that all the harsh comments were justified by your status, but over time Actor started to…question his feelings towards you
Every time he saw you he felt his chest tighten and a fluttering feeling in his stomach made it hard to articulate the words he wanted to say to you
You noticed that his comments towards you slowly became less brash and sometimes he would even offer you a small smile here and there
Which was incredibly rare to see a genuine smile from the Actor 
But Mark was frustrated with himself, why was he treating you like this? Surely he wasn’t opening up to you so easily
This internal conflict lead to him going back to treating you like shit then feeling guilty and going back to being strangely sweet was exhausting for you 
There was a party going on at the Actors house and for some reason you went carefully optimistic about how you would be treated 
But tonight was some hoe the worse he's ever been 
Not just some rude comments here and there, they were cruel 
But it was only when he started to mock your physical appearance that you had enough of his bs 
You slammed your drink to the ground looking the now stunned Actor in the eyes “You know what, Mark?? Fuck you.” you hissed, storming off towards the door . You could hear Damien calling after you as you opened the door slamming it You could hear the door slam behind you as someone called for you, you felt some grip your shoulder lightly turning you around 
“Damien, listen…” you said before being turned to face the Actor, his face held an uncharacteristic soft look of worry. Yet you glared, shrugging him off angrily “What the hell do you want from me?! Why do some days you have to be such an ass, and then be so kind the next?” The Actor avoided your gaze a guilty expression crossing his features “It’s..its complicated…” he murmured . “Fine! If you don’t want to tell me? I’ll just be on my way then, have a lovely day Mark!” you shout turning quickly 
Mark's eyes widen frantically and he calls to you “Because I love you!” you freeze turning to him “What?” he feels this suddenly sting of vulnerability in this moment something he's not use to “I..wasn’t ready to open up to someone again. I thought I would be able to push you away and the feeling would just…go away. But I never meant to hurt you.” his gaze was fixed on the ground, afraid to meet your disgusted expression. But that feeling of dread washed away when your soft lips met his . For once in his life, the Actor had nothing to say, stunned by the realization that you had just kissed him
“See you tomorrow Mark” you smiled softly walking into the night 
Once you start to date this man though he will show you how truly dramatic he is
Like this man is such a diva 
“Darling, please I beg you if you truly love me don't leave”
“Mark I have to get up for work”
He is so needy, he needs constant attention and affection 24/7 
You’ll wake up in the morning with his face buried in your stomach, or he’ll be clinging to your side 
Have fun trying to get him off you, because this man has a grip of steel, your not getting him off
He’s very hesitant when you say you need to leave the manor for something insisting he can just have one of the staff members get it for you
He has serious abandonment issues, afraid that every time you leave the house will be the last time he sees you
He needs reassurance from you, though he talks big all the time he’s a very insecure person, please tell him you love him, he needs it
Whenever he sees you he likes to pepper your face with kisses, his stubble tickling you in the process   
He cannot handle horror movies or games whatsoever, he talks shit, but just one jump scare and he's clinging to you in fear
He’ll get really defensive afterwards so I would not recommend trying to scare him unless you want to spend the whole day making it up to him
He’s not big on pet names but when he does use them they’re usually the more classic ones 
Like ‘Love, Darling, Beloved, etc’ but if he’s feeling soft which is very rare he’ll call you ‘Sweetheart, Honey’ 
Softest you’ll see him is either when he's had a long day and all he wants to do is come home to you and fall asleep on the couch or when he’s half asleep he’ll cuddle up to you and whisper how much he loves you
He’s prone to start petty arguments sometimes that get out of hand pretty quickly 
He’ll give you the silent treatment even if you try to apologize and even if it was his fault 
But eventually he’ll start to feel a tiny bit guilty after ignoring you for a week 
He’ll peeper your face and neck with kisses and whisper sweet nothings to you as an apology 
He’ll take you out to a very expensive restaurant just to emphasizes how sorry he is
He does love you after all he just has a very funny way of showing it
Murdock
You first saw him at a coffee shop you frequently visited, mostly just to work, it was nice to get up in the mornings starting your day with a latte and just working in that quiet little coffee shop. And since it was early in the morning not many people came in to sit down, just a couple of morning joggers here and there but nobody who was there to stay, that was until one day. The morning had started like normal you got your drink and you went to sit down, but then this man had walked in.
Something about him had caught your eye, maybe it was his stylish sense of dressing, maybe it was this sort of mysterious feeling that lurked around him wherever he went. But something about him was alluring to you, drawing you in and captivating you. He sat at one of the many empty tables next to you sipping his coffee quietly
You wanted to make conversation, to reach out and introduce yourself, but felt too intimidated by him to say anything. Instead you internally struggled on what to say for ten minutes until much to your dismay he had gotten up and left the shop. This continued for a couple days until finally one day he spoke to you 
“Hey, I see you here every morning, how long have you been here?” You were a little surprised that he was talking to you at first but none the less you were overcome with joy that he had actually started a conversion. “Oh! Um about two years, I think?” you replied turning away from your laptop to face him “Two years huh? That’s some dedication right there” he let out a low, gravelly, chuckle to which you smiled 
“Yeah I guess so” 
He turned his head looking down at his watch frowning slightly “Well it’s been wonderful talking to you, but I’m afraid I have to go now, see you later Y/n” he waved, making his way through the door
‘Wait, Y/n? I didn’t tell him my name’
You two met up at the shop every morning chatting and conversing on the many topics of life before one day Murdock had asked you on date 
Walking through the park on a cool starry night, you wished you could have stayed there forever but sadly Murdock and you had to part ways eventually 
“Alright, well I’ll see you again tomorrow” he said smiling yet the soft frown of disappointment didn’t go unnoticed by him “Yeah! I’ll see you” you said forcing a smile on your face not wanting to keep Murdock for any longer . As you turned, walking in the direction of your car you were spun around to Murdock once more “Ah-! Murdock what -” you were cut off with a soft kiss to the cheek as Murdock smirked “See you tomorrow, sweetheart” he whispered in your ear before slinking away leaving you behind, flustered and confused 
Dating this man is…an experience to say the least 
Not in a bad way at all! He’s just so quiet your never really sure what's going on inside his head
He doesn't plan on ever telling that he’s a *cough murder cough* simply because he wants to keep you from harm's way including himself
He loves flustering you beyond anything else 
And he uses any chance he gets to do it
He’s sitting down and you walk by? He’s pulling you into his lap
You're standing somewhere just minding your own business? He’s coming up behind and wrapping his arms around your waist while he lays kisses along your neck
And despite this he claims he's not one for touch, yeah right 
If you ever do the same to him though?? This man is putty in your hands 
He loves to compare hand sizes with you, it makes his heart flutter <3
Ok but this man drives so f a s t
Not even intentionally, he just speeds, you're convinced your going to hit someone, but somehow you never do
He absolutely hates lazy weekends so don’t ever expect to be laying in bed with him in the mornings, he feels the need to always be productive 
He has no chill, despite his calm composure which in a way is sort of ironic 
He loves rainy days though, so expect him to drag you out during a rainy day to have a walk, under a shared umbrella 
And also long talks in front of the fireplace, very specific but he enjoys the feeling of the warmth from the fire and the warmth that your presence provides him as well
Yancy 
Today was visitation day at the Happy trails prison. The visitation hours had started about two hours ago and were now almost over, you sighed as you watched the other families visit and talk for away before departing. They hadn’t shown up, they called you here yet they hadn’t shown up. Honestly this didn’t surprise you in the slightest this wasn’t out of character for them at all. You sat waiting in the room surrounded by inmates, families, couples and yet no sign of your friend. You glanced at the clock watching the minutes tick by with a heavy heart hoping at any minute they would walk in, explaining to you there delay yet fifteen minutes passed by and there was no such luck
“Youse waiting for someone too?” 
You turned around to be faced with a tall boston man looking down at you 
“Yeah, but I don’t think they’ll show” you respond tiredly, as the man sits next to you on the bench “Me neither” you turned to him, frowning “Who are you waiting for?” you asked curiously 
“It doesn't matter now” you frowned, reaching out to pat him on the back, he suddenly tensed at the action and you quickly retracted your hand “I’m so sorry! I should have asked first” you quickly apologized. And he…chuckled? “No no, youse fine. I’m just not used to being touched is all” he offered a small smiled to you, one which you happily returned . Though your friend didn’t show up during visiting hours you and Yancy talked, laughed, and joked with each other until the last hour. It was nice, you hadn’t felt that comfortable with someone in a very long time. Yancy was so kind, you wondered how he’d ever managed to end up in prison in the first place, but there was no doubt in your mind you be back for the next visitation
It was only until Yancy actually applied for Parole that you started dating he wanted to wait until you could be together outside of just visitation hours 
Yancy is so touched starved please give him lots of love please
He will not be able to sleep without out you after the first time you cuddled 
So if you stay up late to work, draw, write, etc 
Yancy will find a blanket and curl up next to you
So if you sleep at your desk you’ll wake up with Yancy curled up against you 
Yancy loves to bake for you, once he got out of prison he started to look for things to do during the day and cooking just so happened to catch his eye
He’ll make you anything from deserts, pastries, full meals, etc you name it and Yancy will make it for you 
He also loves to knit 
So he’ll make you scarfs, mittens, jackets, cardigans, and a lot more, he has a lot of time on his hands 
Yancy loves to nap with you, especially on cold days he’ll come up from behind you and wrap all his limbs around you so you can’t leave 
Yancy also loves you carry you places, don’t worry about being to heavy he’s very strong so weight is not a problem for him
Kisses <3 
All the time, he loves them so much
And he melts when you give him any sort of affection especially kisses he just loves you so much
He’s pretty easy to fluster considering he's never been in a relationship before
Very worried he's going to hurt you with his strength he gets so excited whenever he sees you he just wants to engulf you with a big warm hug but hes so worried he's going to crush you
This man is like a golden retriever I swear 
But you love him anyways <33 
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A/n: This took me all day ahhhhhhh
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badgirlswrld · 3 months
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˚ ༘♡ CHARACTERS: Yunseo ‘Cloe’ Lim, Sanghee Park
˚ ༘♡ SUMMARY: In an attempt to mend thier relationship, Sanghee and Cloe discuss their problems. That simply doesn’t go as planned.
˚ ༘♡ WARNINGS: lots of cursing, Sanghee is a big bully, So is Cloe, arguing, yelling, suffocating mentioned as a metaphor, not anything else I believe! if I need to anything else plspls lmk <33
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˚ ༘♡ ⋆ Sanghee shifted uneasily, feeling the room becoming hotter by the second. She took a deep breath and adjusted herself before fixing her gaze on the girl in front of her.
"So..." Sanghee began, trying to read Cloe. Cloe casually flipped her hair over her shoulder and crossed her legs, leaning back in her seat. She shifted her gaze from the floor to Sanghee, giving her a judgmental look. Sanghee was already annoyed with her.
"Why don't we just act like nothing happened? Go back to normal like always," Cloe insisted. However, Sanghee sighed and shook her head.
"Yunseo, come on. I can't keep doing this. I'm not going to pretend to love you every second a camera is on me because there's always a camera on me and I don't love you," Sanghee stated with a blank expression.
"That's fair. Then should I leave the group? Or should you? I mean, seriously, you're telling me that's easier?" Cloe marveled, arching her eyebrows sarcastically. She smirked, observing Sanghee's growing irritation.
"No, that's not what I mean. They sent us in here to fix our issue. So let's fix it," Sanghee sternly replied, tilting her head as a gesture for Cloe to respond.
"I'm not the one with the issue, Sanghee," Cloe assured, subtly rolling her eyes and looking away.
"Well, I guess I'm the one with the issue then, Yunseo," Sanghee began, raising her voice. "My issue is that I can't stand the way you act. You're a spoiled brat and the biggest asshole I've ever met. There," she smiled.
"I'm an asshole, huh? Which one of us is in a new scandal every week? Which one of us can't keep a boyfriend for more than a month?" Cloe retorted, with a cocky smile forming on her doll-like face.
"See? You're an asshole. You're rude, and you can't deal with the fact that nobody actually likes you," Sanghee continued, Narrowing her eyes at the younger girl, Cloe gritted her teeth and shifted in her seat.
"Everyone likes me, are you kidding me?" She snarled, her honey-sweet voice masking false confidence. A feeling of insecurity washed over her. That hit a nerve, Sanghee thought.
"Nobody likes you, Yunseo. Maybe if you were nicer and didn't get your job because of daddy's money, someone would," Sanghee taunted, a big smirk on her face. She leaned back and watched Cloe spring out of her seat. She enjoyed pushing Cloe's buttons, making her feel inferior and insignificant in this world. It gave her a sense of pride. Cloe scoffed, turning on her heel to face the opposite direction, unable to look at Sanghee any longer. Sanghee watched as Cloe wandered off inside the office, finding a spot in front of the large window and focusing on the view of the city outside. Sanghee's voice quickly pierced the calm silence, and Cloe hesitantly turned around.
"Yunseo, I know I'm an asshole sometimes, I know I have issues, but at least I'm making an effort to stop," Sanghee chided, pushing herself out of the chair and standing up. Cloe clenched her jaw, digging her nail gently into her palm.
"I don't have an issue, Sanghee. Stop trying to convince me that I'm the problem," Cloe warned, speaking in a low tone. She closed her eyes, attempting to shut out Sanghee's voice.
"Yunseo, wake the fuck up. You're so fucking entitled, like you're a goddamn princess. You're so rude to me, to Lisha, to Joohwa, to Taehee, to fucking Erena. I mean, seriously, you get everything handed to you on a silver platter and do nothing but bitch and moan that you don't have more!" Sanghee snapped. As Cloe heard the words drip from Sanghee's lips, she felt every muscle tighten. It was as if the words were meant to seep into every crevice of her being, taking over her every step, every thought, every breath she dared to take. Sanghee noticed the shift in Cloe's demeanor and continued, "News flash, Yunseo, you don't get everything you want in life. Do you think I want to be doing this right now? Seriously, Yunseo, you need a goddamn reality check. When did you become this fucking deluded? You're sitting here trying to convince yourself that people like you, when you do nothing but piss everybody off because you're so fucking insecure! So insecure that you act like a bitch because it's the only way to make you feel better than anyone else!" Sanghee roared, catching her breath for a moment as she got caught up in her own words. She stared into Cloe's teary eyes, smirking, as she gently caressed Cloe's cheek, she dared to move closer.
"You're such a miserable fucking person. So fucking miserable... I mean, you're a fucking train wreck, Yunseo, one that everyone wants to just clean itself up and disappear because your existence is that fucking unbearable to be around," Sanghee stated, her voice hushing itself as she accentuated every word. Each word held a heavy weight, dropping onto Cloe like a ton of bricks. Sanghee watched her closely, observing her body slightly twitch, her eyes widening just a fraction, her breathing growing erratic and uncontrolled. And she loved every moment of it.
Cloe was left stunned for a moment, staring at Sanghee, who was now inches away from her face. Cloe felt like the room had closed in on her. She couldn't believe Sanghee could stand there and read her like a goddamn book, making her feel so unbelievably helpless. A kind of helplessness you feel when you're all alone after a nightmare. A nightmare that leaves you sobbing, shaking, unable to shake away the disgusting images your own mind created. Her breath hitched as the silence grew unbearable between them. Cloe's expression of shock shifted to a scowl, and she shoved Sanghee's chest, forcing Sanghee's hand to drop from her cheek as she stumbled back. Cloe regained her balance, realizing she had to get out. She had to leave that room before she suffocated under Sanghee's presence. She quickly brushed past the taller girl, snatching her purse from her seat, and stormed towards the door.
"Do whatever you want, Yunseo. But remember... kicking me out of the group won't make you a better person," Sanghee commented. Cloe stopped in her tracks, feeling like she'd been struck by lightning. Her entire body and mind snapped like a stretched rubber band. Her vision went fuzzy for a moment. She took a shaky breath, looking at the floor in a daze.
"And you know I'm right, which is why you're so upset right now... You're pathetic," Sanghee sneered.
"Shut the hell up! Just shut up! Why do you never shut your goddamn mouth? It's just talk and talk and talk constantly. I don't care!" Cloe droned, turning away from the door and throwing her purse to the floor. The sound of Cloe's heels clinking across the floor painfully echoed in the office. Once again, the two girls stood face to face, but Sanghee was now the one with widened eyes and shaky breath. But not because she was scared, helpless, or shocked. No, because she had pushed Cloe to her limit, again. And she was proud. She was proud she had that effect on such a complicated girl. It fascinated her.
"I do not give a single shit about what makes me a better person, Sanghee," Cloe spat between gritted teeth, turning on her heel. She strutted back to the door, fixing her hair and brushing off her dress before leaving the room and snatching up her purse from the floor. The door slammed shut as she left, leaving Sanghee alone and bewildered in the office. Her mouth agape, Sanghee thought to herself for a moment. She didn’t enjoy that. That’s a lie, she enjoyed it more than she should've. But, a lingering guilt ached inside her stomach. She didn’t want this to turn out this way. She just can’t help it, Cloe is so very easy to anger, so easy to break. She’s fragile, she’s fragile like antique china dishes, and Sanghee enjoys threatening to shatter her, but never truly getting the job done. Yet, she felt the urge to hold her after, to make her feel better, to glue her back together as if nothing happened. Cloe just hasn’t given her the chance to try that yet. She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, ignoring her lingering feelings and thoughts, before leaving the office room as if nothing had happened.
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