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#the right to cancel a sale
gregdotorg · 3 months
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Nothing says "the property of a consumer" quite like the 555th Gerhard Richter print in an edition of 739.
This Christie's phrasing is the best thing since Amazon addressing me as just "Prime Member," in an email.
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pragmatic-optimist · 2 years
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Umm…is the CW okay? 👀
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mariocki · 2 years
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Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 213/?
Thin Lizzy - Dancing in the Moonlight (It's Caught Me in It's Spotlight) (1977)
"When I passed you
In the doorway,
Well, you took me with a glance;
I should've took that last bus home
But I asked you for a dance.
Now we go steady
To the pictures -
I always get chocolate stains on my pants -
And my father, he's going crazy,
He says I'm living in a trance;
But I'm dancing in the moonlight,
It's caught me in its spotlight..."
#favourite lyrics#thin lizzy#dancing in the moonlight#dancing in the moonlight (it's caught me in it's spotlight)#phil lynott#1977#bad reputation#ok right off the bat i have to say: yes that title is grammatically incorrect (with an it's where an its should be)#but that's how the title appears on every single release and on the album label and back cover. and being a pedant‚ it's the title as#written that I'll use. anyway. had to clear that up.#not to be confused with the King Harvest song (later covered by Toploader)‚ Dancing was Thin Lizzy's only single release of 77 and the sole#single from Bad Reputation. the band were going through something of a minor crisis; they'd become known as a fourpiece with two guitarists#providing duelling solos‚ but Brian Robertson was effectively out of the band following a hand injury and disagreements with frontman#Lynott; he appeared on a couple of tracks for the album but was denied a place on the cover photo and soon parted ways with the boys for#good. Lynott had also spent much of the previous year seriously ill with hepatitis‚ and cancelled tours and the lukewarm critical reception#of their previous album (despite solid sales) had left the band a little jittery. at this point it might have made sense to go back to#their heavy rock roots with Irish folk trappings‚ the sound which had first won them a devoted audience; how typically like Phil L then to#head in the entirely opposite direction. building on one of the all time greatest bass lines (courtesy of Phil himself)‚ Dancing#is pure American juvenalia‚ a bluesy funk tale of adolescent love and awkward first dates. it's also a genuinely sweet love song#with a central refrain that's as beautiful as it is deceptively simplistic. when established rock bands write about teen love#there seems to be a tendency toward sneering irony‚ or bitter reflection; Lynott is content to sing earnestly and openly of pure‚ heartfelt#first love. I've always been taken with the casual aside about chocolate stains; it's nothing‚ an apparently meaningless detail which is#nonetheless sung with out any ounce of embarrassment or regret or mockery. it's delivered instead like a fond shared memory between lovers#although the band had been around for all of the 70s‚ Phil was still only in his 20s and i think it's that youthful optimism which both#shines out and makes this song stand apart from thematically similar tracks by their contemporaries. in a little less than a decade Phil#would be dead‚ but his music lives on and although this was by no means the band's biggest hit‚ it's the one i go to when i feel like#revisiting them
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somelazyassartist · 2 years
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#i know I've been venting a lot recently and I'm really sorry but i am. so stressed out with my job right now#for multiple reasons and it sucks so bad#and it just got worse a bit and so I'm conflicted with what I'm supposed to do#because i WANTED to give myself a later deadline so i can take the Etsy stuff slower#because you know!! already stressed about that and tons of other stuff!!#but now i feel like i have to push my deadline up even further than it was before because of some stupid bullshit#pardon my language. it's not anybody's fault. it was two cases of website malfunctions.#I'm not ranting about the people working at either place because they weren't in control of it I'm just kinda mad about the issues itself#cuz i made a bunch of stuff for the Shoppes right?? but it turns out!#there was an issue in the system which meant they couldn't sell anything and nobody thought to tell me until i asked why my stuff wasn't up#and so that's like. 3 cloaks‚ 8 hats‚ and 4 plushies that i could've sold on Etsy a month ago that just never were up for sale#and today at Joann's i had a few issues with mechanical based issues too!#so i went there to get more supplies because if the shop isn't selling i need more stock to sell online to make up for it right?#so i put in half my order for pick-up and was going to get the rest while i was there because i had coupons for both#soooo. the other things i was going to get there were said to be on sale. and then i find out there#that the website hadn't updated right and the sale was cancelled early. so i paid way more than i thought i was going to#and! since the website wasn't updating right! the order i put in for pick up didn't show up in their system until too late in the day!#so i have to go BACK to pick up the half of my order i already paid for and didn't get today#and again since the website didn't update some of the things that it said were in stock sold out in this store so i have to get them online#which is another bit of money I'll have to spend to finish the projects i got fabric for today#i know worrying and stressing isn't going to do me any good#i know that i should probably just sleep this off (if I'm able to) and sort things out tomorrow when I'm feeling better#but it's just kinda upsetting already having a lot of other personal issues i don't want to talk about publicly to deal with#and then having issues with my job and only way of making money on top of it#i know it's a small stupid thing to be upset about#but it's like a needle in a haystack but if the haystack was also all needles#sure i can fix that problem-needle but i hurt myself on every other little problem-needle i have to dig through#it's just so many little things and it all just has been wearing me down. and i know it'll be fine eventually but it still sucks right now#vent#again I'm sorry for venting so much i just kinda have to get this one thing I'm comfortable talking about off my chest
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razzleberryjam · 2 years
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If I made 87$ a day for the next 15 days, I could pay my bills and get my animals medications at the end/beginning of the month. I currently do not have a job, so I'm trying not to panic while I wait for people to call me (I have applied to places T-T) so um if people want to give me a dollar or more I can draw u a picture please hire me right now im a artist, because I need to keep living in a house, having lights and a phone and my rabbits have a vet app. June 2nd and they really need to go so I don't want to cancel cus im a broke soon to be homeless asshole that lost their job
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So yeah, if like 9 people a day pay me 10$ to draw their fursona like this ^^^^^^^^ for 15 days, I can pay my bills on May 31-june2nd and that would be awesome for me and my rabbits to go to the vet and keep living in our house!
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flatsinkalyan · 2 months
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victorluvsalice · 4 months
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-->But then, things just kept getting more and more chaotic, with loads of customers deciding they all needed to buy something at once. Meaning the trio REALLY had to stay on the ball if they wanted to keep track of everyone wanting to be rung up. But, as previously stated, this lot has lag problems, which made that a little more difficult –
AND my Sims have attention span issue problems, which made that a LOT more difficult. Smiler wanting to go play in the fountain outside was easily canceled out every time they tried, fortunately – but Alice deciding she HAD to go downstairs and make a cupcake on the cupcake machine midway through the day? When sales were really picking up, Smiler was already occupied, and Victor was having his own problems – namely, trying to clean up his hamburger plate while he was busting to go to the bathroom? Yeah, the game didn’t LET me properly cancel that – she zoomed down there with her werewolf super-speed and got apparently midway through before coming back up again. And then went back down to retrieve the cupcake. Leaving the machine glitched out and acting like it was still in use for the rest of the day. *heavy sigh* And THEN there was all sorts of issues with me getting Smiler to actually clean some of the produce stands and retail fridges so they didn’t annoy customers (mostly because the customers wouldn’t stop using them – fortunately, I learned that you can just Scruberoo them, so Victor ended up taking care of that near the end of the day), and getting Victor to relieve his bladder without losing any sales (fortunately, he only had to ring up one person before he got to use the bathroom), and keeping track of Alice so she didn’t go zooming off, and customers occasionally popping into the employee break room to sit in the chair by the door (I thought I locked that against you guys?? Though now I'm worried I locked the TOILET door by mistake), and more sales popping up all over the place every time one was completed, and a spoiled case of Grape Fizz juice that magically unspoiled itself when I set it not for sale (O.o – I just set it for sale again, because if the spoiled food wants to refresh itself, great) – and – YEAH. It was a LOT to keep track of! @.@ This is why I don’t want run the store every day – I’d drive myself COMPLETELY mad if I had to put up with this every time I played!
-->On the plus side, though, they DID have a very successful day when it came TO sales! By the time they closed up at 9:40 PM, they’d sold 15 things for a total profit of $4,562! Two boxes of raspberry jam jars, an apple pie, a box of cheese, a couple bottles of red hot tablets, a jar of pumpkin conserve, a jar of lettuce conserve, a loaf of artisan herb bread, a box of canned green beans, a box of canned green peas, a box of canned tomato sauce, a box of mayonnaise, and two quill fruits from the fridge. Not too shabby, honestly. They also earned a bunch of business perk points, which I promptly spent on the smaller of the Faster Checkout boosts – they really need that edge in ringing up customers! The day ended with an exhausted Victor napping for a bit in the break room; Alice and Smiler cleaning up some spare plates and spoiled food in the bathroom; then Smiler and Victor catching some TV while I stopped Alice from cooking supper on-lot and made her clean up her cutting board. *whew* Seriously, you have to watch these Sims every minute.
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yokelfelonking · 8 months
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Post 9/11 Trivia
Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:
There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)
On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.
People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.
As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.
Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"
People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.
"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)
People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.
On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.
Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)
EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.
Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)
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finexbright · 9 months
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dduane · 1 year
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Hello.
I've seen you posting detailed information about the WGA strike and wondered if you had any suggestions as to how those of us not directly involved can show our support for the Union?
Okay, bearing in mind that all this is entirely subjective at the moment (and so far lacking any more useful input from other sources): a few thoughts.
This will be my third WGA strike. (My first one was in 1988, just after I'd made my first live action sale—s1e6 of ST:TNG). And the thought keeps occurring to me at the moment that this time out, there's a potentially gamechanging player on the field that wasn't there before: truly pervasive social media.
(Adding a cut here, because this goes on a bit...)
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In 2007, social media as we now understand it was still in its cradle. Now, though, those of us who're striking can make our voices much more widely heard. And so can those of us who're not, but just want to show solidarity. Last time, the AMPTP was able to do pretty much what it wanted without the public noticing or having even a medium-profile way to make their feelings known. But this time? Not so much.
So as an otherwise uninvolved person who wants to show solidarity, I'd start with something seemingly low-value. If I was on Twitter, I'd start routinely tweeting about the strike and my support for it—not obsessively, just persistently, a couple/few times a week—using the Twitter hashtags that are gaining ground even now, such as #DoTheWriteThing (and of course #WGAStrike). I would make sure I was following @WGAEast and @WGAWest, to keep an eye on what's going on.
Additionally: I would start politely, but repeatedly—again, maybe once or twice a week at least, and not stopping—tweeting the various major players in the AMPTP, especially the streamers: Amazon, Netflix, Hulu et al. I would start suggesting that their current attitude toward the WGA's contract negotiations is not only unrealistic but potentially (for the AMPTP) bad for business. (And self-destructive, too, as if this goes on much longer in this vein, they'll be seemingly eagerly casting themselves as The Baddies.) I would suggest that their bad behavior, if not amended by them coming to the table to bargain in good faith, might start affecting both my interest in their shows and my willingness to keep paying unreasonable people for access to them.
I should emphasize here that so far there've been no formal calls from anyone for boycotts or subscription cancellations. For the moment, this strikes me as wise. The point for WGA-friendly observers, right now, would be to keep what's happening to the writers visible: to keep bringing it up: to refuse to allow it to be swept under the rug. The "They only want two cents on the dollar!" angle seems potentially useful the more it's repeated. The point is to keep the repetition going: to make it plain, day after day, that the other side's being not just unreasonable, but greedy. Day after day, and week after week, and (if necessary: please Thoth may it not be...) month after month.
And tweeting is hardly all that can be done. Email is cheap and easy. But actual letters, written on actual paper and mailed, can still create a surprising amount of attention in a corporate office. (The saying in TV used to be that for every person who actually writes in about an issue, there are ten, or a hundred, who feel the same way but never got around to it.) Write letters to all the AMPTP members' CEOs, and make your feelings on the WGA's core demands politely plain. ...Especially when those CEOs collectively made almost three-quarters of a billion-with-a-B dollars in salaries last year, when many of the writers working on their shows can't afford rent.
After that: here's another thought, a little more physical. If by chance you're in an area where one or the other of the Guilds are picketing: turn out and support them! Honk when you pass: and if you're interested, show up and offer to walk the picket lines with them. These things get noticed. (In 2007 a bunch of us, both Guild members and non-, caused significant astonishment by turning out to picket AMPTP members' offices in Dublin.)
...Obviously not all that many people are going to be positioned, in terms of location or their own work and time commitments, to show up physically. But online? Find ways to keep this issue visible. The AMPTP wants this to go quiet, wants people to get bored with it, wants people to find reasons to blame the writers. They've tried spinning the story that way before. Don't let them pull that shit. Find ways to back those who're calling them on that, publicly. They do respond to this kind of thing (though they may strenuously deny it). If enough attention continues to be paid by the general public, they will blink—if sometimes excruciatingly slowly, as Disney began to blink over the dispute tagged #DisneyMustPay.
As viewers, and as viewers who pay for subscriptions to things, we far outnumber them. Help be a part of making the AMPTP understand that this quest for a truly fair deal is not going to go away. And the longer they try to act like the Guild's negotiation positions are beneath their notice, the more it's going to hurt them, and the stupider and greedier it's going to make them look.
...That's all I've got for the moment, as I need some lunch. :) ...But I hope this has helped. And thanks for your concern, and your desire to stand in solidarity with us! It's so welcome. :)
ETA: here's a link to the Guild's social media toolkit, for those who'd like to change PFPs or icons, etc., to show their support.
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sanctus-ingenium · 9 months
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we need to talk about Inprnt.com
Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.
First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.
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(top right print is not from inprnt though)
They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.
Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.
Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.
And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.
Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:
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Note the date.
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Almost two months.
And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.
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It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.
So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.
It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.
As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).
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toorurs · 2 months
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WHAT IT MEANS TO LOVE YOU - AVENTURINE
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synopsis: sometimes aventurine feels undeserving of the love you provide him and tries to show his love for you in various ways.
pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 1.1k | content & warnings: written before aventurines release so probably ooc!aventurine, mention of aventurines backstory and his tattoo, mention of one of his leaked lines, fluff, light angst(if you squint??), reader reassures him, reader uses lip products like lipsticks and lip tints, kind of insecure!aventurine, big ass speech that kind of repeats in the end, (kissing lol??), word vomit
a/n: hihi!! sorry that i havent posted in a while but i decided to post this little fic in honour of the new aventurine leaks!!! LIKE HAVE U SEEN THAT FOLLOW UP ATTACK IM SCREAMINGNGNGJ. also this is not proof read like maybe half assed proof read, i finished this at 2 ammmm
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"you know, when i told you that i needed a new lipstick i didn't mean an entire collection"! your eyes flicker from his - down to the surface of your vanity as you can see the pink and red lip products that are splayed across the desk before your eyes dart over to back to his figure that's currently leaning against the door frame, to stare at him in disbelief.
you're discombobulated, dumbfounded, befuddled -  because who in their right mind just buys a ton of lipsticks and lip tints that's probably worth someone's yearly salary! (someone being you) 
windows are eyes to the soul they say. because it seems like he's able to read and understand what you're trying to say without you even having to utter a word.
the blond moves from his previous spot over to you and plops himself down on the stool which is located in front of your desk before giving you playful smile 
he sighs and shrugs in simplicity before speaking up "well, you know, i wasn't sure which one you liked the most and those sales assistants weren't of big help either, so I just bought every colour that they had in store". 
he softly takes your hand in his and intertwines them as he starts to rub circles along the back of your hand. "and it doesn't matter which colour you're gonna use, it'll look good on you either way" he stops caressing your hand for a moment to give you a tender kiss on the back of your hand.
"aventurine"! you exclaim. "i appreciate each of your gifts a lot, i really do and i adore and appreciate you for your generosity. but don't you think that purchasing an entire lip product collection that will expire sooner or later because I haven't been able to try them all out is a bit selfless"? 
the man simply shakes his head before he proceeds to disagree. "no"? he says in a nonchalant manner. "after all", he pauses for a moment. "if you'd told me to spend less time at the IPC and get home earlier or to cancel my trips to other planets because you've missed me", he takes off his glasses and lets out a quiet breathy laugh. "i'd do it in a heartbeat, without having to think twice".
"you know that i'd devote all my love, time and dedication to you. that i'd cross every universe, every ocean and defeat every foe that stands in my way just to see you and have you in my arms". you take notice of his hand that is still intertwined with yours, is slightly trembling. he shakes his head and fiddles with your fingers a bit.
his usual composure and cockiness is long gone. "no - i'd cross every universe, every ocean and defeat every foe that stands in my way just to see and so that you can have me in your arms and lovingly embrace me. i would not only dedicate my love, time and devotion to you but me, my whole self. after all, you're the dawn that i've thought i'd never have the chance to see. the dawn that shone upon me on my darkest days. so treat me how you want, drag me through the mud and use me as you wish, as long as i get to see you". 
"there's nothing that i deem as selfless as long as it's for you."
his hand wasn't the only hand which was trembling now. "aventurine, please don't say that. you try to reassure him but your voice fails you as it quivers. 
"to me you're much more than a puppet which I can benefit from, you're my lover, aventurine." you say in a stern but sincere tone. you turn to the lip products which are  still displayed on your desk and apply a bright pink colour on your lips. (admittedly you were never fond of flashy and gaudy colours when it came to lip sticks but the pink colour matches aventurines eyes which makes you think that they might not be that bad)
"but-", he tries to speak up and continue his sentence, but you don't let him. "no buts", you put your hands on his cheeks and give him a sweet peck on his pouted lips. "ah sorry" you say sheepishly, "i didn't mean to interrupt you, but aventurine you're much more to me than you probably think you are". 
you brush one of his golden hair strands behind his ear before speaking up again. "you're smart and witty. when a complicated situation occurs you always defend me and start a commotion which wouldn't stop anytime soon until the people who were being rude to me would pay and apologize to me".
you let out a profound laugh as you think back of the times that this has already happened. "i adore that mouth of yours, it never fails to neither surprise nor amaze me and '', you kiss him on the lips for a second time, though this time the peck lasts for a bit longer. "and, it's really good at kissing too" you let out another heartfelt laugh that sounds like music to aventurines ears.
he can't stop the smile that forms upon hearing your words and laugh, he wonders how he was so lucky to be the one to steal your heart.
"and not to forget", your eyes wander to his beautiful pink hues. "you're observant, very - if I might say so." this time you kiss his eyelids and they flutter upon the sensation of your mouth coming in contact with the layer of skin that separates your lips and his eyes.
"you always notice when i'm feeling down and try to cheer me up in various ways. and not to mention, nothing ever gets past your eyes! it's like they're always on me" you tease him, but you're able to confirm your statement as you see the tips of his ears reddening. 
"but most importantly", your hands wander down to his shoulders. "if i'm having a bad day you always let me hug you and i get to bury my face into the crook of your neck. you never question what or why i'm doing it and let me stay in this position until i start speaking up first".
"you're always patient with me and that is the trait that i love about you the most. so patient, that i sometimes feel undeserving of your love" you start peppering tender kisses from his jawline down to his neck and kiss the spot that is covered by the tattoo. 
"so aventurine, please don't say that. please don't talk like someone forbade you to love me, like someone shackled and bound you to me because you don't need permission to love me. you're a free person who is allowed to love anyone - including me”.
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hyperfixatedbastard · 2 months
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sweet, sweet silence
Vox x Autistic!GN!Reader
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Dating the CEO of VoxTek Enterprises has its perks. You always get brand new devices before they even hit the shelves, and occasionally, Vox makes things specifically for you - like noise-cancelling headphones.
Word Count: 1.3k
WARNINGS: none!
A/N: this is for the autistic homies but it works for anyone with sensory issues! 'tis based off of my own experiences so apologies if it feels inaccurate to anyone, i'm projecting so hard rn. this is also my first time writing x reader/2nd person POV so I hope I did alright! also, i do requests if anyone would like to see more of this kind of thing :)
Dividers
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"Doll, c'mere for a second, would ya?" Vox calls out to you, gesturing for you to come to his desk with a 'come hither' motion. 
You raise a brow in interest as you approach your boyfriend where he's sitting in his rather eccentric chair, tinkering with...something. You hop up onto the desk, careful to sit in a spot that you know has no important screens or buttons (you learned the hard way). You don't say anything, instead just tilting your head and waiting for Vox to show off whatever he's been working on this time.
He finally lets you see what's in his clawed hands: a pair of headphones. They're clearly a VoxTek product—the blue and red color scheme gives it away—though you're certain you've never seen these on sale before. It's not uncommon for Vox to show off new products to you before they're released, though, so you don't question it.
He smirks as he holds the headphones out to you. It's not that sly, devious smile he so often has on his screen, though; it's that grin you have when you're about to surprise someone and you just know they're going to love it. "These are for you, darling."
On one hand, you get a little excited (free shit, fuck yeah!). But on the other, you're a little worried—you're not good at receiving gifts. It always ends up awkward because you don't really know how to express gratitude in an expected, neurotypical way. But Vox is well aware of that, and he can tell when you're grateful, so you push those worries to the side and take the headphones from him.
You look at them curiously, inspecting the foldable hinges, the ear cushions, and the small assortment of buttons on the speakers. You can tell that the three buttons on the right speaker are for adjusting the volume—increase, mute, and decrease—but you have no damn clue what the button on the left speaker is for.
"Well? Put 'em on," Vox encourages you, still with that expectant grin as he anticipates your reaction.
You do as he says and place the headphones over your ears. They're certainly comfortable, but you don't see what the big deal is. You already have headphones—they’re not great, as it’s damn near impossible to drown out the unbearably overstimulating sounds of Hell, but you manage. Kinda.
Just as you’re about to ask what’s so special about these headphones, Vox presses that mystery button on the left speaker, and everything goes blissfully quiet.
Your eyes widen as you get the first moment of true silence for the first time since you arrived in Hell. The sudden difference is initially jarring, but the relief is downright euphoric. 
During the entirety of your afterlife in Hell, it's been ceaselessly loud and often unbearable. The screams, the explosions, the gunshots—it's incessant, and you never get a moment of peace. The V Tower is not nearly as bad as the rest of the Pride Ring, thanks to a lot of soundproofing, but there's always something. Moans and other lewd noises fill the halls of anywhere within five floors of Valentino's studios. You can hear the screeching and yelling beneath the thrum of music emitting from Velvette’s section of the tower. 666 Studios isn't much better, with the constant chattering of the crew and bickering between newscasters.
Vox's lair office is by far the quietest place in the entirety of Hell, at least in your experience. The soundproofing here is much more effective than anywhere else in V Tower, and Vox is the only person ever here. He does talk and maniacally laugh to himself fairly often, but you don’t usually don’t mind that (and he’ll typically quite down if he can tell you’re having a rough day). But it’s far from perfect—there’s still the intermittent click-clacking of a keyboard, the constant whirring of the computer fans, the low humming of all the tech, and the audio from whatever security camera Vox is spying on. You can tune it out most of the time, but it all overwhelms you so, so easily.
And you aren't very good at hiding it (at least not with Vox, who’s too observant for his own damn good when it comes to you).
Which is why your dear boyfriend has just spent the past several days making you the best noise-canceling headphones Hell has ever seen. He knows what the constant overstimulation does to you, and he sees it far more often than he'd like to. You get irritated and snippy, and sometimes it gets so bad you have a meltdown. It's gotten less common over time, but it still happens way too frequently for either of your likings. 
“So, who’s the best boyfriend ever?” he hints, clearly fishing for a compliment. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the headphones practically deafening you—his words are muffled, but just loud enough for you to understand what’s being said. He's grinning at you like he's the one that just got the excruciatingly heartfelt present. 
Usually, you’d have a witty comeback to Vox’s attempts at getting you to stroke his ego (always followed by an actual, genuine compliment to ease his insecurities hiding behind that ego), but you’re drawing a blank right now. 
The gift is so thoughtful that you don’t even know where to start on expressing your gratitude. Noise-canceling headphones seem so obvious now, but this is Hell! Both you and Vox had died before this technology became commonplace, and not many people in Hell care that much about the noise. Vox made these headphones specifically for you. He doesn’t need them (he can quite literally just turn off his audio input) and he probably won’t make much of a profit with them as a VoxTek product. He’s a busy man, being a CEO and an Overlord, yet he took the time to make this for you himself, not even passing the project off to one of the poor souls that works for him. 
“Babe?” Vox calls out gently, waving a hand in front of your face. Oh, shit—you’re overthinking your response so much that you forgot to actually fucking respond.
You blink a few times, meeting your boyfriend’s gaze. His brows are slightly furrowed, in what you think is a mix of concern and amusement. He’s a little worried he’s fucked up somehow, but he knows you well enough by now to recognize when you’re thinking too hard about something. He actually finds it quite adorable, at least when you’re not about to have a panic attack from it. 
As he looks at you expectantly, you decide to just go with your gut (at least, that’s what you think you’re doing—you’ve never entirely understood what the fuck that phrase means).
You don’t give yourself time to second-guess your actions before you’re practically jumping into Vox’s lap—though it’s more like falling since you were just sitting on the desk. He lets out a little ‘oof’ of surprise before he chuckles and moves his hands to your waist, holding you steady while being careful of his claws. He smirks as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck, jostling the headphones a little but not enough to fuck with the noise cancellation.
“So…you like them, then?” Vox prompts, just wanting the confirmation even though the answer is already clear. You can tell by his tone that he’s still grinning proudly.
You just gently nod, inadvertently rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt (fortunately, Vox is a fancy bastard with high standards when it comes to clothing, and he’d long ago thrown out any garment made with fabric that triggered your sensory issues).
“Thank you,” you murmur against his neck. 
His hands tighten ever so slightly around your waist, and his response is so soft you can barely hear it through the headphones. “Anything for you, doll.”
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pirateprincessblog · 6 months
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moan for me
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NEW! Check out the full ongoing version on Wattpad!
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:
One
Two
Three
𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you decide you don't want to end your friendship because of a casual fuck. he agrees. just why is he then eye-fucking you across the room and bumping into you accidentally? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!seonghwa, bestfriend!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: hair pulling, dacryphilia, public sex, cream pie, ddlg, public oral (female receiving), voyeurism, breathplay/choking, hickeys, bruising
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: choking?, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: officially, i am ready to get dicked down in a gown by park seonghwa
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
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mr park: forgive me for doing it this way, but i would like to cancel the date. it is not the brightest idea, i was carried away by the emotions at the moment. let us close this chapter, as fun as it was. i am not looking for further interactions such as the ones we had, and i am most certainly not looking for a relationship. sorry for giving you the wrong idea. take care.
your heart drops. hidden by the curtain in the changing room, you allow yourself to sit down and drop a few tears. fuck, you were having such a good time. such a handsome, skilled, jaw dropping gorgeous man, just slipped from your grip, and there's nothing you can do about it. you crave his existence, you wish to look at him and touch him day and night. as creepy as it sounds.
the sixth dress you've tried on for the dance is already is itchy against your skin, and you sigh. the bright green isn't flattering on you at all. your friend has already picked the dress, lucky her. your budget wasn't exactly big, so finding something pretty and inside the budget was hard.
"oh, hi dad."
you freeze.
"hello, love."
even his voice is pure honey.
"how is the shopping going?"
"well, i bought mine. i'm just waiting for my bestie to finish trying on."
park seonghwa stays silent. the realization of you being here near him just moments after him ditching you put him in an awkward situation.
"hey, you good in there?" she calls, putting her head between the curtains.
"yup. i'll be right out." you stop to think, making your friend raise her eyebrow questionably. "actually, you go with your dad. i'll check a few more of those sale dresses and head home."
"sale dresses? but the blue one looked like a dream on you! you're still thinking?"
"it's a tad bit out of my budget." you confess, already annoyed at her lack of understanding that you are just not as wealthy as she is.
"oh, why didn't you say so? dad!"
"what the fuck are you doing?!"
"dad, can i get this dress for her? i know you made me block my card because i went crazy at prada yesterday, but i could really use it right now."
hearing her casually mention prada like it was mcdonalds made you a little irritated.
"no, honey. sorry. it's not a really good idea."
"but, but, you didn't even hear the price yet-"
"it doesn't matter. no more spending for this month. be happy i let you get your own dress. you have hundreds at home that are just piling up at the bottom of the closet."
"aren't we, like, super rich? what's another thousand euros for you?"
you are way too embarrassed to leave the changing room, so you stay inside in hopes they'll forget about you and just leave. you glance at the expensive dress that hangs on the wall. it's a pretty royal blue, with a thin sparkly belt on the waist and sparkly straps. it's a minimum, but makes the dress stand out.
"no, i am super rich. you are not exactly. come on, now. get your bags and get into the car. ask your friend if she wants a ride."
"uh, no." your voice is raspy, and you clear your throat. "no, thank you. i am fine."
"very well. let's go then."
you hear paper bags shuffling, then quick footsteps and the doors opening.
"sorry about my dick dad. i don't know what has gotten into him." your friend apologizes.
"you have nothing to apologize for. i didn't even expect him to do something like that, are you out of your mind?"
"oh, what's another thousand for him? he probably made a few just while having that conversation with me. he's just being an asshole."
"car. now."
your squeeze your thighs together, the stern voice coming from the man doing wonders inside your stomach.
"ugh, i'm coming!" the girl stomps after him, leaving you alone in silence.
the green dress it is then.
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the day is long and exhausting. considering that you arrived to the shop with the help of your friend's chauffeur, coming back home on foot was one hell of a task. you felt like the paper bag was carrying you, instead of you carrying it. your feet burn from the walking, and you can't wait to wash the sweat and humiliation off of you. you went from a thousand euro royal dream to a fifty euro eco trash bag. at least you have that dollar store green eye shadow you can use with it. how funny.
hot water drips down your body, fogging up the glass and trapping you in your little imagination bubble. your clit is begging for attention, reminding you of all the ways park seonghwa has touched you. his fingers skillfully rub your tense bud in ways that have you wondering if any of it is real. before you know it, you're clawing at the wet tiles as your other hand tries to desperately find the good spot inside of you. he finds so easily, why can't you? your fingers can't be much shorter than his.
half an hour of chasing an orgasm later, you give up. you've spent enough water, and your parents are going to kill you when they see the bill at the end of the month. it's all park seonghwa's fault. you can just mail him the bill and demand to pay. if you weren't so busy touching yourself to the thoughts of him, that wouldn't have happened.
defeated, you exit your room, somehow feeling more tired. you stop in your tracks. a black box sits on your bed, a yellow circle logo proudly shining on it.
"what the fuck?"
you reach for the box, touching the letters underneath the symbol. you don't open it yet, just in case this belongs to someone else.
"mom?!"
"yes?!"
"what is a versace doing in my room?"
"ah, your friend's chauffeur brought it over. said it was exclusively for you! bastard wouldn't let me peek."
that's all it takes for you to dive into the box like it was a new spicy book delivery. you make sure to leave the box intact, not wanting to rip something from such a luxury brand. a blood red gown sits in your hands, plush-like fabric melting down your fingers. it feels so luxurious, and expensive. it looks like something out of met gala, like it was ripped off of blake lively and given to you.
your phone pings, interrupting you from your little daydream session.
mr park: i think the blue is too calm for you. you need something fierce for a change. sorry if i overstepped. i just saw it when driving home and had to go back for it. not a word to my daughter.
you really didn't have to, sir.
mr park: i wanted to. you'll look lovely in it. and, please, have mercy and don't look at me tonight. i am a weak man.
your breath hitches. god, is he serious? just how fierce was this dress?
before you can examine it any further, the doors of your room opens, the familiar girl barging in with her little travel bag full of makeup and hair gadgets.
"whoa, slow down."
"no slowing, there's only three hours left until dad sends the chauffeur for us. god, what is that?"
"oh, it's uh-"
"vintage versace?! oh. my. god." she immediatelly pulls it out of the box, letting the empty carton fall on the floor carelessly.
"it's my moms, she dug it out after i came back home," you lie.
"i knew your mom is so cool."
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park seonghwa really meant fierce when he said it. the red dress hugs your body like it was sewn on you, the leg slit high but hidden among the ruffles of the thick quality fabric. it is a corset dress, with offshoulder straps and a low cut. you don't feel exposed though. you feel like a queen.
"this fake ruby will go so good with that dress, trust me."
"oh, thank fuck, i thought it was real," you scoff, taking the big stone necklace and putting it on.
"why? think i can't afford it?"
"oh, no, no. apologies. you can totally afford a real ruby, miss." you joke, then glance at the clock.
just in time, a car pulls up to the entrance, the driver exiting to open the doors so they're ready for the two of you.
"shit, this is it. we're gonna get so wasted."
"isn't your dad gonna be there?"
"oh, he's not going to notice me when the headmaster gets him. poor woman is convinced that my dad wants her. some people just fail to realize that he just doesn't have the time for that. nor the will."
you feel like the sentence is targeting a little, but she doesn't spare you a glance as she sits in the car. the drive there is quiet, the clicking of her nails against the phone screen being the only noise in the small space. you glance at the small mirror of your hairbrush, checking your make-up again. you are feeling a little self-conscious, having never worn make-up this bold before. a winged eyeliner, heavy highlighter on your cheeks and inner eye corner, and a blood red lipstick. it's just a dance, wasn't this a little too formal?
one of your worst fears starts creeping into you, opening the doors of bottomless overthinking and migraines. what if you arrive overdressed, and everyone there is dressed in cute floral patterns and light spring dresses? while you are here looking like you've been dressed by donatella herself. and to think that park seonghwa saw the dress in the window of a store while just driving past it, and then went all the way back to get it and deliver it just for you, makes your stomach feel like fireworks.
to your relief, as you arrive in front of the building, you see that everyone else is equally extravagantly dressed. the dance wasn't at the college, but a place that park seonghwa himself has picked. it is a mansion just outside the city, with beautiful rose bushes, a stone path through the grass, and balconies to die for. it's like he knew how to make you stay longer than you planned on this dance.
"joshua!" you greet your partner as you enter the spacious room, surprised at the big change in his appearance.
"wow, don't you look luxurious. am i allowed to stand next to you?"
you playfully hit his shoulder, blushing at the comment. he turns to your friend, making small talk with her. you use the chance to glance around the room, in hopes of seeing the man of your dreams soon. you do not spot him, but you do spot a very familiar man. a man whose face you've seen on screen, and who has seen much more than your face on mr park's screen. your face instantly goes red, and your blood is boiling. you suddenly feel naked under his gaze, but he erases that feeling by smiling sweetly your way, and waving at you as a greeting. a complete opposite of that day.
"dad isn't answering my texts. i'm just gonna go find him to let him know i'm here."
you nod, then turn your attention back to joshua. to your surprise, he has left somewhere too, you just failed to acknowledge it. you are left alone among people who are already dancing, and you feel a little bored. with the dress in hand, so that you don't trip and make a fool of yourself already, you make your way towards one of the tables that stood near the walls.
you halt your steps, suddenly coming face to face with the man who had you wrapped around his finger. you don't mind. he fails to stop in time, accidentally bumping into you and almost making you fall back. his hands are quick to grab your waist, restoring your balance again. he doesn't immediately remove his hands. you don't mind that either.
"oh, mr park."
he doesn't speak. he takes a moment to look you up and down, and you do the same. he wears a white dress blouse, and his usual black slacks. the blouse is a little see-through, and you are taking in as much as you can while he busies himself staring at you.
"sir?" you call, suddenly remembering that your friend is searching for him, and that he has not yet removed his hands from you.
"god, you look ravishing." he groans.
"sir, your daughter might be-"
"i thought i had it under control. but now that you are here..." he trails, eyes dropping on your red lips. "i wish i could just-"
"seonghwa?"
the man turns around, and your waist suddenly feels cold and empty.
"dad?" another voice calls now behind you.
"sweetie?"
"mom?!"
you are shocked by the sight. a gorgeous woman, age similar to mr park, stands in front of the two of you. luscious locks fall over her shoulders and chest, and the royal blue dress you almost bought is overshadowing yours. it looks so much better on her.
"what the hell are you doing here?" mr park is calm, despite his harsh words.
"i am here to see my daughter. and talk to you."
"there's nothing left to talk about. i'm sure your husband would mind, anyway."
"seonghwa, please."
"dad, please." your friend begs, taking his hand and giving him her best big eyes.
he isn't a fool to fall for that. but he leaves with the woman anyway, because he knows just how stubborn they both are. the once married couple makes their way upstairs, and you can't help but stare until they disappear.
"it's rude to stare." your friend says, annoyed.
"oh, sorry. i must've zoned out."
"no, you didn't. you were staring at my dad."
you scrunch your eyebrows, looking at her confused. she rolls her eyes, then folds her arms across her chest.
"i'm not stupid. you think i didn't see how you threw yourself on him just a few minutes ago? acting like you're going to fall and shit, just so he could-"
"i swear it's not-"
"oh, shut the fuck up. putting your boobs out like that in that dress. is that even your dress? did your broke ass steal it?"
you are shocked by her sudden change in behaviour. you knew she had a problem with what happened between her father and you, but why did she decide to bring it up tonight? you have brought it up before, she assured you it is alright, and now that you really did not do anything, she is acting worse than before.
"it's not zara, bitch. it's versace. where the fuck did you get it? is it from me? because i can't keep track of all of my clothes, you thought you could just take it?"
you are grateful for the loud music, muting out her yelling. you see red. you know you are at wrong, but she picked the worst time to confront you. besides, it's not like you didn't talk about it at all. you thought it was all solved. guess not.
"your dad bought it for me." you spit out.
"what?"
"he thought i'd look hot in it." you press further.
"shut up."
"in fact, he just admitted that he wants to fuck me in it tonight."
"you're fucking delusional. he is getting back together with mom, don't you see? stop embarrassing yourself."
"you're telling me that your father would take back a cheater?"
her jaw drops. she knows it's true, but she has never heard you speak so freely. and she does not like that.
her hand reaches towards your hair, pulling at it, while the other one grabs a sleeve of your dress.
"stupid whore!" she curses, yanking at the necklace around your neck.
by now, people are starting to turn heads, slowly taking out their phones and recording.
"you are a shit friend, you know that? i've given you everything, and you go behind my back to fuck my dad? not once, but twice?"
"the fuck is your problem, i thought we solved this, you lunatic?!"
it gets on your nerves that you are taking this now that you really are innocent. you fight back, pushing her away from you and accidentally stepping on her dress, ripping it. everyone gasps, hands covering their mouths but phones still up in the air.
"you-" she breathes heavily, face red with rage. "you- you absolute slut! you whore!" she screams.
"that's enough." someone says next to you, before standing in between. "get up, you are making a fool of yourself. your drunk outbursts are hurting an innocent person."
"mr kim-" you start, ready to defend yourself.
"i'm not-!"
"come on," kim hongjoong helps the girl up, keeping her in a tight grip and guiding her outside the mansion. "phones away, everyone. show's over."
in the corner of your eye, you see park seonghwa rushing downstairs, followed by a woman in tears. by now, everyone went back to dancing, assuming that the girl was simply drunk and didn't know what she was saying. you are forever grateful to mr kim.
"what happened?" seonghwa grabs your shoulders, eyes skimming the ripped sleeve of the dress.
"your daughter happened." you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep tears from falling.
"oh, love, i'm so sorry."
"well, i kinda earned it."
mr park looks at you confused. you sigh, then slowly start walking towards one of the empty tables so that the dance floor can free up.
"she was saying some things and i intentionally pissed her off." you explain.
"what did she say?"
"that i intentionally threw myself on you, that i'm exposing my cleavage for you, and you know, that sort of stuff."
you cannot look him in the eyes. his gaze is too intense. his eyebrows are scrunched as he looks at you, and you aren't sure if he is mad with you or his daughter.
"and what did you say?"
you stay silent. you cannot fall any lower in his eyes. instead, you pour yourself a glass of wine, taking small sips of it. you absolutely hate alcohol, but in an awkward situation like this, you'll gladly drink the whole bottle if it means it'll get you out of the subject.
"do you wish to talk somewhere more private?" seonghwa suggests, making you choke back on the liquid.
"how private?" you ask before you can think.
the man chuckles, then offers his hand for you to take. you look around, making sure that the two women aren't around to see. mr kim has probably busied himself with taking care of mr park's daughter, and his ex must've left. she seemed pretty upset. you hate that the sight of her upset makes you happy.
park seonghwa leads you upstairs, much like his ex wife a few moments ago. he passes by a few doors in the hallway, until finally opening one. the interior is similar to the one in his library, only with a much bigger book selection. but he doesn't let you examine too much. he leads you to the balcony, which reminds you of the one from romeo and juliet. it looks like something from an old castle abandoned in the woods, with vines growing all over the old broken stone. the manor is surrounded by a light forest, just a few minutes away from the city, but the view from the balcony makes it seem like it is in the middle of a fantasy field. there is no light pollution, therefore you are able to see millions of shiny dots up in the sky. before you can keep gazing, mr park rests his hands on your waist, turning you around so that your back rests against the stone fence.
"sir?" you ask, hoping he would say something that you'll have an answer to.
"i was right. red is your colour."
his finger brushes over your red lips, then continues down your jawline, the neck bones, and to the cutout of the dress. he caresses the skin above the material, mere millimeters away. you are shivering, despite the pleasant weather tonight. you look into his eyes, bite down your lip when you see how focused he is in his moves.
"now that it's ripped off anyway, i'd love nothing more than to shred it to bits, just to see you again."
"but, you said-" you try reminding him of his message. he is very confusing to you.
"i know what i said. i can't help it." he steps closer to you, face inches away from yours. "i dream of devouring you in this dress."
his hand takes the wine glass from yours, lips pressing against it to take a sip. he looks deep into your eyes while he does so, faint glint getting you more riled up. you feel yourself dripping through the thin material of the thin lace thongs you wore, and it feels like he can feel it too somehow.
the glass is set on the fence now, a safe distance from both of you. you think he will finally speak again, but the man has other plans. his main plan seems to make you fall into his arms tonight, and it is working. his hands cup your face, and he presses his lips against yours. your hands are gripping the cold stone, not knowing what to do from the sudden explosion of emotions. carefully, park seonghwa pours the wine from his mouth into yours, sensually kissing you along the way.
aside from it being the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to you, you are also happy that you didn't spill any of it. you swallow, and when you try to move away to catch a breath, he only deepens the kiss, your face still in his palms. he tugs on your lips, biting them gently, sucking them, swiping his tongue along them, with a satisfying rhythm. you can't help but whine into his mouth, a certain part of you wishing for more friction.
"all you have to do is say the words, doll." he says, voice deep and almost a whisper.
"what words?" you ask, stupidly.
"any words. anything that will give me a green light." he answers, eyes searching yours for any kind of signal.
you think, for a short time that to seonghwa seemed like years.
"take me. here. on this balcony."
seonghwa groans, and leans in again to give attention to your lips. his hands roam your body, mainly focusing on your waist and thighs. he grabs your flesh through the fabric, squeezing it with desire as his tongue hungrily chases yours, not getting enough of it no matter how much he gets.
he pulls away too fast for your liking, and before you can whine again, he drops down on his knees. his perfectly polished shoes are forgotten as they suffer scratches from the floor, and his perfectly ironed black pants will soon meet a similar fate.
"hold this for me, pretty?" he asks, handing you the bottom of your dress.
you are caught off by the sudden situation, yet your body responds immediately and takes the fabric from him. you can barely see him from the red ruffles, but you can definitely feel the hot wet muscle licking through the thin lace of your underwear. you sigh, your head falling back at the hot sensation on your clit.
"don't hold back, please. i want to hear you."
you feel uneasy, but the moment he pushes your panties aside and attaches his lips to your core, you do not care. you whine, breathe heavily, moan, pull at his hair in ecstasy. you love the thrill of knowing that anyone could walk in and the first thing they'd see is the two of you doing sinful things in the moonlight. bet they'd love the sight, too.
"fuck, sir-" you gasp, feeling him sucking on your sensitive bud.
"fuck, i love it when you call me sir. call me more names, darling, i beg you."
"m-make me," you choke out, feeling his finger sliding between your walls.
he scoffs, playfully tugging on your covered nipple as he continues pumping his finger in and out of you. he does it slowly, making sure to brush against the sensitive spot but not give it complete attention. just enough to keep you on the edge.
"oh, i'll make you. don't you worry." he promises.
his hands grab your thighs, almost raising your body from the ground, so that he could eat you out properly. you have the urge to close your legs, but his hands are firm and keep them open. you shake against his restless tongue, hoping to release soon.
"mr. park- please- please-" you beg, choking back tears.
you do not know why you tear up in sexual situations with him. from the pleasure? from the pain of edging? from knowing that this might be the last time you're doing it?
as soon as he hears your voice shaking, mr park stands up, making sure that it really is what he thinks it is. without a word, he kisses you again, lips wet with your arousal. he keeps fingering you, knuckles disappearing between your folds and deliciously preparing you for him.
"turn around for me, little girl."
his words shoot arrows to your core, and it takes a lot of strength in you to do as he says. his fingers find their place right under your jaw, softly pressing into your neck and making it difficult for you to stay sober. he releases every now and then, just enough to let you breathe properly. his other hand moves the back of your dress, giving it to you to hold onto, and then raises your leg so that it rests on the fence. you are now standing on one leg, wet core completely exposed to the cool night air and him.
"good girl," he praises, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "so flexible for me."
you hear a zipper, then clothes ruffling. you breathe out when you feel something smooth and hot rubbing up and down your folds, not yet entering. your head drops from the dizziness of his playful choking, and your eyes widen when you finally see the rest of the view from the balcony.
down there, in the garden behind the manor, there are three benches and a fountain. and on one of the benches, his ex wife. she seems to notice you at the same time you notice her, judging by her sudden jaw drop and widened eyes. you don't get to warn him, as you are interrupted by your own gasp caused by his hot muscle pushing inside your tights walls. he wastes no time in thrusting into you, quickly catching a rhythm while simultaneously pulling your hair with his other hand. at this point, it is more you thrusting back into him than he is thrusting forwards into you. you need his every inch, no matter how fucked up the situation at the moment is.
you can't help it, you look at the poor woman in the eyes, moaning as her ex husband is tearing you apart on the balcony of their once shared holiday manor.
"louder," he growls, speeding up his movements.
and you do it. you moan, louder, not on purpose, but because it really feels that good.
"fuck, your cunt is made for me."
"da-daddy-" you test the grounds, and he halts his movements.
shit, you fucked up.
"what?" he says, out of breath.
"nothing-" you gasp, his fingers pressing into your neck, "daddy, i said daddy-"
you are interrupted by a moan again, as he begins thrusting harder. the woman is on the verge of tears, and even though you feel a little bad, the feeling of her husband's cock filling you up feels too good. you also remember the reason they parted. she did the same with another man. you allow yourself a moment of braveness, already having said goodbye to the friendship with their daughter.
you smile down at the woman, then reach behind to grab mr park's hair. you moan, loud and clear, more for her to hear. the man groans, burying his head into your shoulder and biting down, making you gasp and close your eyes in pain. his hand rests on your lower back, making you arch it just a bit more so he can finally hit the spot you both need.
you open your eyes, only to find her still standing there in disbelief and shock. she is disgusted with you, and heartbroken by him. and you do not care.
"mr. park, you're too big for me-" you choke out.
he slows his movements, then raises his head from your shoulder. he admires the bruise he has created for a moment, then follows your gaze down to the benches. upon seeing his ex wife, you expect him to stop. but he only does so for a moment, before yanking down the fabric on your chest and exposing your breasts. he continues diving into you, softly panting into your ear and driving you insane.
the woman seems too stunned to even move. it is clear she is not enjoying it, she isn't a voyeour.
"you're taking me so well, doll. you should see how abused your pretty pussy looks, begging me to cum all over it and inside it." he growls, then grabs your jaw so that he can look at you.
his eyebrows are scrunched, focused on the approaching orgasm.
"moan for me more, baby, please. you sound majestic."
unable to hold back, you moan into his mouth, hips thrusting back in a desperate attempt to reach the orgasm. it is building up inside of you for so long, threatening to overflow any moment now. but he has complete control over the rhythm, and the moment you start moving too, he chokes you just a little harder.
"sir, please, sir, let me cum- i want to cum on your dick so, so bad," you say everything that is on your mind. he enjoys seeing you vulnerable in his hands, and slows down the pace just to hear you some more.
"you want to cream on daddy's cock, little girl? you want me to fill you up all the way, to have you walk with my cum inside your abused little hole the entire night? have my daughter apologize to you as you desperately try to keep my seed from spilling down your legs?"
"mr park-"
"yes, angel."
"sir-"
"just a bit more, doll."
"seonghwa-" you scream, and he is quick to press his lips on yours to calm you down.
feeling your walls squeeze from the waves of the orgasm, you take him over the edge, his seed painting your walls and making it easier for him to ride his own orgasm out. your body shakes from the intense pleasure, and from the sudden rush of cold air on your bare arms. mr park is quick to release your neck, and wrap his arms around you and press your body against his chest. he kisses you sweetly, simultaneously rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up. his cock twitches inside of you, and he is still slowly thrusting in and out, riding out the rest of the orgasm.
you breathe heavily into his mouth, legs going limp and threatening to become numb any second. he finally helps you set your leg down, and slowly pulls out of you. hot seed spills out of your hole and down your leg, and you are scared that it will stain the dress.
"do you trust me?"
"huh?"
"do you trust me?" he repeats himself, guiding you so that your body is facing him again.
"well, yes, i- oh!"
he picks you up by your waist, so that you can sit on the stone fence. it is wide enough for you to sit comfortably, but if you could choose not to, you would. his hands are holding you firmly, and his eyes tell you he isn't letting go.
"this dress looks gorgeous on you, but it is in my way the whole evening," he huffs, flipping the dress once more.
"no, i'm too sensitive-" you try to stop him, but he hushes you.
"trust. me."
he doesn't touch your clit. he doesn't try to finger you. instead, he collects the white streak that has started the journey down your thigh, pushing it back into your hole. you feel yourself becoming wet again, horny and angry butterflies raving in your stomach. he uses his two fingers to gently push all of his seed inside you again, and he looks up at you with deadly eyes. you recognize the lust once again, and you almost moan at the sight. "now, let's go find my daughter to get your apology." “no!” you protest, panic swallowing you.
“relax. she will say no, I will be mad at her, and she will then ask to go with her mother.”
you try to follow, but you can’t. why is he so careless about his daughter choosing his ex wife over him? he seems to realise your confusion, and laughs fondly.
“that way, nothing can stop us doing this any time and anywhere. and, I can finally make that dinner reservation at the new restaurant. been dying to try it with you.”
“but, I don’t have any money. I cannot pay my share.”
park seonghwa chuckles, then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. you feel all fuzzy and warm, feet swinging under the dress from the simple act.
“I’ll gladly be your sugar daddy. just the more romantic and relationship type of sugar daddy.”
oh.
“what do you say?”
“I say your cum is ready to be washed out so I better go fetch my apology.”
“good girl.”
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Note
Office smut where reader is Rafe's assistant and they both work at cameron developpement
I've never been a fan of these assistant/boss dynamics, but it fits for Rafe so I gave it a try...and it ended up being 2.5k
Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected p + v,
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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Never in your life did you imagine yourself pursuing a career in real estate, but when an opportunity to work as a personal assistant at Cameron Development practically fell into your lap, you hadn’t been able to decline. 
It was a sunny day on the golf course with your father, enjoying some quality father-daughter time before the end of summer. As you both played a round, you came across one of his golf buddies — Ward Cameron. You vaguely remembered the man, having played with his kids a few times when you were little. Sarah was the one you remembered the most, she had blond hair and always talked about turtles.
Small talk flowed between your father and Mr. Cameron as they caught up on each other's lives. Then, your college studies came into the conversation. You had graduated college this spring, but hadn’t found any jobs in your field yet. Fortunately for you, Mr. Cameron informed you that there were a few jobs available at Cameron Developpement. 
You weren’t interested in real estate, but working for a well reputed company could do no wrong to your curriculum vitae. So you accepted the offer, not knowing that you would be working for his son, Rafe, as his personal assistant. 
You knocked on the door at the end of the hallway, announcing your presence. ‘’You wanted to see me, Mr. Cameron?’’ 
He looked up from the stack of documents neatly placed before him on his desk and your breath caught in your throat. Fuck me. It was a good thing you had put on lipgloss and a nice pair of heels instead of loafers because Rafe Cameron was a fine man. He looked right out of a smutty romance novel with his crisp button up and a navy blue suit jacket that brought out the color of his eyes. 
‘’Yes,’’ he replied, flashing you a polite and effortlessly charming smile. ‘’First, I wanted to meet my new assistant before I hand off the work I'd rather not deal with. My father was insistent about getting me a personal assistant, but I'm actually glad he hired you.’’ His eyes followed down your body in the most subtle way, taking note of how well your skirt was hugging your hips and anticipating the even better view when he’ll watch you go.  
‘’I’m glad I took the job too. Hopefully I won’t disappoint you,’’ you responded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips, trying to hide everything you were feeling right now.
‘’I’m sure you won’t,’’ Rafe assured, his voice carrying a trace of amusement. ‘’Secondly, I was reviewing some paperwork, and it has come to my attention that Mr. Gilbert has not remitted his payment for the condo he recently bought. Can you give him a call and ask for payment? If he refuses to forward us the money before 4pm, we’ll cancel the sale agreement and find another prospective buyer.’’
You nodded in acknowledgment. 
Calling Mr. Gilbert. That should be easy for your first task. 
‘’Anything else?’’ 
Rafe shook his head. ‘’Not for the moment. You may leave.’’ 
‘’Well, Mr. Cameron.’’ 
His eyes lingered for a second, a hint of something more as he watched you turn to leave, a sly smirk playing on his lips.
Over the span of a few weeks, professional exchanges gradually morphed into something outside of your assigned tasks. You were still bringing him coffee whenever he asked and answering emails, but specks of flirting now laced your conversation and soon evolved with lingering glances to your chest while going over some work related paperwork. 
Once in a while, he would call you into his office and scheme excuses just to look at you. 
It wasn’t until that argument with his father that he — finally — made a move on you. 
You came to work early that day and, on your way to your office, you had heard Mr. Cameron shout at his son for a mistake he had made concerning the company and how it was going to make a big dent in their finances to fix it. To respect their privacy and not wanting them to think you were eavesdropping, you quickly went to your workspace and started your work. 
When Rafe came out of his father’s office, he saw you sitting at your desk. His chest was heaving with the intensity of the encounter, a storm brewing in his expression. You heard his office door close and, a few seconds later, an email popped on your screen.
My office. Now.
You thought he needed something, but when you stepped in, Rafe was waiting by the door and crashed his mouth on yours, giving in to the desires he’s been pushing aside since you walked in his office on your first day. 
A small gasp left your lips, not expecting to be kissed by your boss on a Thursday morning. A cloud of confusion fogged your brain and you broke the kiss, trying to fight the invisible string pulling you to him. 
Rafe's gaze lowered down yours, a complex blend of frustration and longing evident in his eyes.
The reason why he had never made a move on you before stemmed from a promise to his father, who had made him promise to not fool around with the personnel if he wanted to be part of Cameron Developpement. It hadn't been too difficult until now, the employees being mostly women in their thirties and up. Then, you came around and Rafe had to use a lot of self-control to not charm his way into your panties. To further complicate the situation, you were responsive to his advances and flirting. 
However, after a heated exchange with his father, Rafe was in the mood to piss him off, so to hell with his stupid rules.
‘’Can I trust you that this stays between us?’’ His hands roamed across your sides, down your body, feeling what he had been staring at these past weeks.  
‘’I never kiss and tell.’’ 
Rafe's thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, removing a smudge of lipstick. ‘’Good girl.’’
The way he said it went straight to your core, waking an ache between your legs. How could a voice have such a strong effect? 
Your eyes traveled to the clock on the wall. Agnes, one of the secretaries, should arrive in twenty minutes. You knew her routine because her desk was right by the hallway leading to Rafe’s office. You also knew that she visited him every morning after checking her emails.
Your thoughts were interrupted when Rafe’s mouth found its way back on yours, his tongue slipping between your lips and he pulled you closer to him, pressing his body against yours as his other hand traveled down your legs, to the hem of your tight skirt. He caressed and grabbed one of your ass cheeks, groaning at the feeling. 
Wasting no time getting undressed, Rafe hiked your skirt up, eliciting a small gasp as cool air hit your skin. ‘’Can you be quiet for me?’’ he asked, pressing against you and letting you feel the length of his hard cock against your thigh. ‘’The walls are thin and Agnes is gonna get here soon. We don’t want her to hear us, do we?’’ 
You shook your head. ‘’Are you gonna fuck me, Mr. Cameron?’’ 
Aside from one mishap, you and Rafe successfully kept your secret business from the other employees. If the whispers of your unprofessional doings in his office were to get to his father, you would both be in a lot of trouble. 
 ‘’I have Anthony Gilbert from the construction company on the first line. He has some questions about the new condos,’’ you informed Rafe after he returned from an afternoon meeting, his tie slightly loosened.  
A sigh left his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, visibly tired. ‘’Transfer him to my secretary.’’  
You shifted on your heels, sensing Rafe didn’t want to speak to this man. ‘’He asked to speak to you specifically.’’ 
‘’Well, we can’t always get what we want,’’ he pressed. ‘’Agnes will take care of it,’’ Rafe repeated, his tone final. 
You nodded. ‘’Yes, Mr. Cameron.’’ 
‘’Now, would you please close the door? There’s a document I would like to go over with you.’’ 
A document. You held a snicker and shut the door as requested. 
Once you turned the lock, Rafe patted his lap and you walked around his desk. He watched you with hungry eyes, impatient to get his hands all over you. Get his cock inside you. 
‘’Looking good today, babydoll. Is this new?’’ he asked, running his thumb over the neckline of your wrap dress as you seated yourself on his lap, careful to not rub the sole of your heels on his pants and leave a mark. 
You hummed in response, leaning forward to expose more of your chest. ‘’Do you like it?’’
Rafe let his hand glide down, following the cut of the dress, until he reached the tie to undo it. He pulled until the knot came off, revealing your bra — a soft pink lace number that did not much other than looking pretty. A shudder left your lips as his hand cupped your breast through your bra, his thumb brushing over where he knew your nipple was. 
‘’Very.’’ 
You carded your fingers as he mouthed at your chest and neck, careful to leave no marks behind. A sigh left your lips, wishing he would pull your bra down and just take suck on your nipple, but Rafe had other plans. While his mouth was working, one hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out your warmth, his hand pressed itself against your soaked panties.
He grinned against your skin. ‘’Would you look at that,’’ Rafe murmured, teasing you over the fabric and sending jolts of pleasure to your core. ‘’Were you thinking of me while I was at my meeting?’’ he questioned his fingers pushing your panties to the side, fingers delving into your slick, a low moan fell from your lips. ‘’Get on the desk.’’ 
You wordlessly climb up onto his cold desk, ignoring the papers that got scattered, leaning back with your hands to spread your legs for him. Rafe pulled your panties down your legs and discarded them in one of the drawers — a little keepsake. 
He dipped two fingers between your soaked folds, causing you to moan slowly. ‘’You look so pretty spread out for me like this,’’ he muttered between you, his cock twitching in his pants and straining against the fabric. ‘’Ready for me to take.’’ His thumb grazed over your clit and a gasp fell from your lips, your hands instinctively grabbing the edge of the desk to brace yourself.
‘’I’m always ready for you,’’ you said, speaking the embarrassing truth. ‘’I’ve never wanted a cock as bad as I want yours.’’
Your words had the desired effect, making Rafe groan. ‘’Shit, babydoll. Where did you get that filthy mouth?’’ 
Rafe reached down and rubbed himself over his pants before deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. He stood from his seat, the bulge in his boxers making your mouth water and your pussy clench. 
You used to feel guilty for fooling around on your work hours. It felt wrong and dishonest to your boss, but all guilt would go out the window the moment Rafe’s big cock entered you. Fuck work ethics and policies. 
The rest of his clothes came off and he stood between your parted legs, one of his large hands grabbing your thigh while his other was holding his hard length at your entrance. His blue eyes gazed up at you with a mischievous glint as he rubbed his tip against your folds, making you whine with anticipation. 
His teasing turned on him as you reached for his cock and wrapped your hand around its length, drawing a moan from him. ‘’Little minx.’’
You grinned, continuing your motions. Teasing could go both ways. 
‘’Ahh,’’ you gasped as he pressed in, a slow delicious burn that sent a shiver down your spine as he pushed his way through your tight walls. 
Rafe leaned down his forehead, pressing down onto yours and breathing you in as he rolled his hips into you. A moan spilled from your throat at the sensation, a little too loud, and he was quick to clamp his hand over your mouth to muffle any sounds, the floor still full at this hour. 
To add to the noises, the desk was creaking every time Rafe was dragging his cock in and out of you. Although the angle was great, the desk might not be the quietest — unfortunately. 
 ‘’You like that babydoll, you like when I fuck you like this?’’ 
You nodded, your mouth still covered. 
Fuck, just like that, you wanted to scream, your back arching when he hit the right spot over and over at a toe curling pace. God, this was the best sex of your life. Some men just knows what they're doing.
The shrill of the phone echoed in the office, but you both ignored it — Agnes will answer. It was probably the man who wanted to speak to Rafe calling again. 
Sorry Mr. Gilbert, Mr. Cameron is very busy fucking the life out of his personal assistant.
Your body writhed against Rafe, your hands leaving the desk to pull at his hair and grab at his arm while your heels dug into his ass. He grunted, your walls clenching around him. A few more hard thrusts and his thumb sweeping over your clit had your thighs trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over you.
Rafe continued to push into you, dragging out your orgasm as his took over, pulling out quickly and cumming on your stomach, trying to not get any drop on your dress.  
You didn’t have time to get dressed or catch your breath that a knock came on the door. Momentarily forgetting you had locked it, you jumped, thinking you were going to get caught. 
‘’What is it?’’ Rafe called out, trying not to sound too out of breath. 
‘’I have Mr. Gilbert on the phone on line three. He’s asking to speak to you,’’ Agnes’s sweet voice said through the door. ‘’A pressing matter, he said.’’ 
‘’I’m unable to take the call at the moment. I’m busy going over a document for a client I’m seeing tomorrow morning. Could you please take the call for me?’’ he asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs, wishing his secretary would leave so he can get on his knees and get his mouth between your legs.
Agnes nodded although he couldn’t see her. ‘’I understand, Mr. Cameron. I'll inform him right away.’’ 
Rafe waited to hear clicks of her heels down the hallway to sink to his knees and get back to business. He did tell Agnes that he was working on a document, no one would question how long you were locked in his office for.
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wannaeatramyeon · 8 months
Text
Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse: Part 2
Part 1 here. G/N. You still work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. Some bizarre characters return.
Your first day on the job, your boss had told you to greet everyone that comes through the door in a cheery voice and with a customer service smile. All you could think was fuck that.
He told you it was so people could approach you for help, as if your uniform wasn't a huge flashing sign, and so potential shoplifters would be deterred. Again you think, fuck that, because at the first whiff of any danger you're going to go hide somewhere secure and out of sight. There ain't no way you're risking your life for a minimum wage part time job.
Except now you're on your own and sure it comes with a little bit of danger and wariness but you don't have to and don't plan on greeting any people again.
So you thought.
.
.
You spot him a fucking mile away. DG strides through the doors and you're not sure to ignore him completely or to say anything.
It's like he wants you to acknowledge him from the furtive glances he keeps giving you but something about his shifty behaviour makes you keep your mouth shut.
Heavens, hasn't this guy ever heard of subtle. He's in an all white get up once again, hat on, mask on and the most eye-catching blinging Chanel necklace known to man. You think you might go blind if you stare too much at it.
So does he want attention or not?
"Hi," he says, standing in front of the counter. He's empty handed.
You want to say 'Hi DG, going for discreet tonight huh?' or 'Sorry your last album sale sucked' or 'I heard they're cancelling you for bad mouthing BTS'. None of them feel right. You settle on "Welcome. How can I help?"
He asks if you recognise him this time and from the way your eyes bug out to say obviously, he then proceeds to ask how.
You pause because you don't know whether this guy is serious or whether there's a hidden camera somewhere.
After what feels like ten minutes, but in reality is probably ten seconds, you gesture at him. At everything. His hair, his white outfit, his necklace. It’s not exactly like he’s going to blend in with the crowd, is it?
He gives you a nod and leaves.
You watch him exit and proceed to climb into the flashiest car you have ever seen, parked right in front and across three (one, two, THREE!) handicap bays.
You think he's most definitely an attention seeking narcissist.
.
.
The guy that bleeds all over your floor comes in again.
You know it's him because he apologises for bleeding all over your floor and that he scared you so much you called the police. In all honesty, you completely forgot about it but even the mere mention of that pisses you off.
"It's fine," you tell him even though it's not, not really, but at least this time he's not bleeding and he has apologised twice already so as long as he's not gonna be weird, you'll accept his apology.
Except he does turn out to be a weirdo because he gives you a grin and you think he looks pretty cute even with his lip and nose scar, then he makes it weird with a wink and you think what even is this, who winks at people anymore.
He must have mistaken your cringe for encouragement though, as he continues to ask if you need any help with your shift and he can call the boys to help you out tonight as an apology for the other week.
You're not sure if this is a pick up line or if it's a threat. Either way, you decide it's the latter as you make up your mind that he must be a psychopath because only a psychopath would wink at strangers.
You tell him no. He doesn't seem deterred and tells you his name is Jake. Your first thought is to cover the name badge pinned to your chest but he's too quick. He says your name, and that he hopes to see you again.
You give him a nod and hope he leaves.
.
.
This oddball in sunglasses is unbearably smug as he slides his ID over to you.
You check out the date of birth and it's fine.
"It checks out," you give his ID back and ask him to pay for his cigarettes.
"Don't you have anything else to say?"
You frown at him because what does he want you to say? Like oh I knew you were a Capricorn (or is it Aries or Cancer. You don't know, you don't really know your signs). Or does he want you to comment that it's a flattering picture of him on the card because in all honesty, it's not. 
Still, he obviously expects something because he's standing there not doing anything.
"We take cash, card or you can pay through your phone."
That isn't what he's looking for. He tenses up, and you think he rolls his eyes at you but he's got sunglasses on-
Oh. This black eyed bastard. Does he expect an apology for the last time? Well you're not apologising for shit, you're just doing your job. It doesn't matter if he's of age. Rules are rules. No ID, no sale.
You stare at him instead with your polite customer service smile that actually means leave me alone. He stares back.
You stare. He stares back.
You stare - and you think that you must look like an idiot just standing there with a vacant smile but it's worth it in the end because the guy sighs, pays for his cigarettes and leaves.
Good. You hope he chokes on the smoke.
When your temper has cooled, you also feel a pang of sympathy as you wonder what sort of hard life he has had to look like that at 20. Poor guy, he really should quit smoking.
.
.
You're sitting outside on the curb on your break. It's technically loitering, your manager told you the first time he saw you and you consider hitting him because not only do you have to stand under terribly unflattering lights and deal with the goddamn general public for hours - now you can't even sit outside and breathe some fresh air?
Somehow you manage not to, which means you never got arrested for assault and that's pretty good, you suppose. It's nice to not be arrested.
Anyway, he's not here now, and he's not here most shifts so you loiter to your heart's content. You make sure to loiter extra hard tonight.
"What about this? So much better than fucking Duke Pyeon, right?" Someone comes up to you with music blaring out of tinny speakers. You consider sprinting back and locking yourself in the store. It's 4am and nothing good comes from speaking to strangers at 4am who like to blare shitty music.
Except he's not a stranger because you recognise the music style. It's so bad that you know that there is no way two different people on Earth would come up with the same sound. In fact, it actually gives you such a visceral reaction that you look for anything close by to jam in your ears.
There's nothing and you want to cry. For a brief moment you consider bashing your head into the ground.
You hold back, contemplate saying it's fine except you can't bring yourself to lie when it’s so clearly not. It’s not fine at all. You think it might be what the military or covert agencies play to torture people.
You don't look at him, keeping your eyes glued to anywhere but his face and mumble your break is over and rush back in.
He doesn't follow you and you give a brief thanks to whatever great overlord is looking over you and protecting your sense of hearing. 
You wonder if that guy is actually part of an elaborate plan from your boss as punishment for loitering, or if he somehow knew you took an extra seven minutes on your break yesterday and he’s now taking extra precautions so you’re not stealing any more company time.
.
.
The hair dye guy is back, this time buying another colour.
You recognise him from the H on his forehead and you know that he has unsuccessfully dyed his hair because if his hair looked like that last time then there's no way you would have even noticed the H.
It's awful. Blotchy and patchy and you're certain that you don't stock that colour. How on earth...
He tells you he's studying to be a hairdresser.
You never used to think hair could feel pain, but you distinctly hear millions of tiny screams from your own head when it realised this butcher might one day get his hands on innocent people's locks.
.
.
Just when you're on your way home, one foot out the door, you hear someone call you.
"It's me, Y/N!"
Maybe the voice should be familiar but you don't place it at all. You look at the guy towering in front of you with a blank face.
"Daniel." he says, as if that should jog your memory.
Who?? You say nothing.
"Daniel Park." You look him up and down and think what the fuck, this isn't right.
"Daniel. Park." he stresses as if you're the insane one and it's perfectly acceptable for apparently some guy you haven't seen for a year to say hi but look completely different and sound completely different.
You're not an idiot. You know puberty is a thing but jesus christ. It can't be him. Even the bone structure is completely different.
"Ok." you say because you're still not sure if this guy is Daniel or whether he's just crazy. You're 99% sure it's the latter and keep one hand in your pocket, ready to attack with pepper spray.
Although if this is Daniel Park, you wonder how good the plastic surgery technology is these days because you wouldn't mind adding an extra inch or two to your height.
"I'm just in the middle of working out," he says, "in a junkyard." he adds and you wonder what is happening in the world. This guy is definitely insane.
You're a second away from pulling out the spray but then he tells you he's gotta go or else he's going to get beat up (Again. What the fuck.). He says it's good to see you and you tell him likewise because that's the correct thing to say.
You hope you never see this crazy person again but most importantly you think about resigning because this store just seems like a magnet for freaks.
Maybe you can get a job at your boyfriend's Taekwondo studio. Surely the fact you know nothing about Taekwondo wouldn't be an issue.
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