#but bitches crave that publication sooo

[i-amusemyself]

me: peer review is an essential part of the scientific process and helps maintain trust in and integrity of the research we publish

also me, the second anyone suggests an edit to my work:

[nouvxllev]

CLINGYGRUMPYJENNA X READER!!

plsplsplsplspls

Summary: Co-workers in public, lovers in private 🙌🏼, while shooting for Wednesday, J gets really stressed, and craves for R's intimacy, but can't have that yet until break of dawn, so J basically gets sooo annoyed with anyone who tries talking to her that isn't R.

the waiting game

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluf, grumpy & clingy jenna!

a/n: caught basically the nastiest cold for a whole week, but im back! sorry requests taking too long, tryna to balance everything rn but it all will be done soon!!!!

masterlist.

Jenna hasn’t seen you in almost 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 4 fucking seconds. 

Yes, she counted, yes, it’s still ongoing, and, yes, she could almost murder someone with her bare hands if time even dares to pass by without you.

What makes matters worse is that she's terribly sleep-deprived even with someone's arms wrapped around her night after night.

Of course, the aforementioned someone swirling in her head 24/7 is you. Her not-quite-lover in public but entirely her beloved behind closed doors.

If Jenna had it her way, she would’ve jumped off a building by now and hard-launched the both of you by herself just so she could get hugs, kisses, and your hand intertwined with hers all she wanted.

Obviously, the universe decides to be a stuck-up bitch just now in their 14 billion years of life, wanting nothing more than to see Jenna Marie Ortega suffer without having you.

But it's fine.

She could get through this.

If there's someone in the world that could handle a single day without your warm hugs and lovely kisses, whether it be on the cheek or the lips, it would be her. She didn't endure almost half a year seeing that godforsaken Wednesday dance to go completely insane without you.

— Is what she kept telling herself 30 seconds earlier before she broke down and almost turned to witchcraft if you don't appear in front of right her.

She could push through with it, like she always does. It's a simple routine that never got the best of her.

Wake up and have breakfast with the love of your life while prepping each other with kisses and whatnot, run to set for the both of you to act out a scene for a while, when break hits all Jenna has to do is intertwine her pinky with yours under the table, then do hair and makeup after, act out a scene then wrap it all up, lie to everyone for the 100th time that her house is just a few steps away from yours, hit a bakery on the way home or maybe an ice cream shop if Jenna feels peckish, break down the apartment door Jenna shares with you, run to the bedroom, and smother each other with kisses and cuddles. Maybe a makeout session if Jenna's lucky.

It's bliss then repeat.

But today just so happens to be the day that Jenna takes over the whole episode, doing stunts and everything with little to no cuts for side characters.

She'd think that you would have nothing to do than act out your scenes—with her—might she add and it'll be all fine and the nights she'd spent waking up at 3 in the morning would be all's well.

But no, unfortunately you were the epitome of the perfect person and everyone just has to drag you around to who knows where to deal with some difficulties.

Plus, the both of you woke up late so she didn't even get the full girlfriend treatment she always got in the morning.

It was completely unfair!

Jenna was tired, grumpy, a bit too snappy, desperate for your attention, and she misses you. Alot.

And by that she means she misses the way you would wrap your arms around her after a busy day of filming together, pull her close, and feel the way how her lips fits perfectly on yours.

She would've dragged you back to bed and cuddle with you if she knew what was about to happen. Every second not spent with you is absolutely meaningless in her book.

Unfortunately, she has to play the waiting game.

She's fucking losing it.

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

It was 11 PM on a Thursday night.

Jenna is really so fucking tired, she could almost snap.

She had almost endured five to six hours of you nowhere even near her. The most she even interacted with you on set was when the both of you were acting a scene then abruptly got cut because of technical difficulties.

Plus, everyone but you was talking to her as if she was some kind of star! (she is.)

Jenna almost wished for an accident, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction that leads her to discovering some sort of new allergy about herself, just so she could be rushed off to the hospital and have you fussing over her, then maybe you could hold her hand and kiss her as if she would heal.

"How's it going, Ree—"

"Literally, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up Georgie."

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes wide open as he steps back in surrender with his hands up in the air. "Ooooohkay!"

The brunette's head shot up immediately, her eyes burning and her shoulders slumped as she sank further into her chair for what felt like the millionth time.

"I... I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples, "I'm doing fine." She reassured herself more than anyone else, gripping the armchair for support.

"Biggest lie ever."

"You caught in Jenna's crossfire too, Emma?

"Oh damn, even Moosa?"

As if on cue, the whole cast decides to join in the damn conversation. Jenna loved them all, really, but it would've been so much better if a certain someone also joined and not far off into the distance talking to one of the editors.

Come on, would it literally kill you to question yourself why half of the cast was surrounding practically the love of your life while you're standing like 10 feet away!?

"You seem tense, J."

"Something wrong?"

"You've been staring at us for an hour with that Kubrick Stare of yours."

Who's exactly talking to her? Georgie, Emma, Moosa, it's all in that order but their voices seemed deranged, and it couldn't be any more worse when she's been trying to catch your eye for what seemed like the past hour.

She couldn't take shit when she's horribly missing you. So, she bites, and raises her voice more than she should, "Should I close my eyes to spare you the terrible fucking horror? Fuck, man!"

Jenna let an exasperated sigh escape from her mouth as she rose to her feet, eyeing the group with probably the most intense stare someone could bear witness to. She half-expected she'd get another pain-in-the-ass comeback from atleast one of them, but she was met with unusual silence.

The three look practically horrified, as if they were seeing the fictional idea of Wednesday Addams in the form of a 5'1, 22 year old woman dressed as her. Like they have the small but terrible quote running gears in their heads.

She heard them in unison muttering quiet apologies, "Sorry, Jenna…"

Her mind told her to forgive them for whatever they did, but her heart told her y/n.

"No, no it's fine." The brunette shook her head, her words forming icicles on each synonym and her eyes were like seeing inside of a storm. Without the peaceful atmosphere of an eye, clearly. "I'm just... stressed. Is Y/n free?"

Emma tilted her head to the side, "Actually, I never really saw them that much today, no?" She exchanged glances with the both of them.

"Heard they're busy with the tech team," Georgie crossed his arms, "Even for an actor, they've got a skill to be a director with how familiar they are behind the scenes."

Moosa nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they've been pretty tied up with all the technical stuff lately. Must be exhausting."

For fuck sakes, why did you have to be the most perfect and talented goddamn person?

"Why you looking for them?"

Jenna definitely did not need another goddamn voice entering her goddamn space.

She could almost roll her eyes and flip everybody off if not for Joy and the others being the most precious co-stars of them all.

"Because!" Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking while lifting her arms in the air, "Y/n's my fucking lov...-"

Oh, shit.

"Lov...?"

"...Lovely neighbor." She blinked. "They... They bake me some cookies whenever I get in a bad mood."

Oh to fucking hell with this lovers in private bullshit. Lovely neighbor, that was the best damn excuse she could come up with?

"Well, heard they went home early because of an emergency, but it's kinda pouring out—"

It was in Jenna and Jenna alone on how insanely and horrifyingly fast she bolted out of the conversation, quickly changed clothes, thanking to the literal heavens (fuck the universe, Jenna will die on this hill) that Tim wrapped up early.

Josh. Josh was always the one you manage to bring up to be one of the most carefree guys in set, it's certain that he knew wherever the fuck you went. Actually, you always looked so happy whenever you talked to her about Josh and how much he lends with whatever left over set pieces they had, it's almost insane that you were—

"Aliyah, I'd tell you to shut up and fuck off as of this moment but I am literally too tired to even say that, what!?"

"Jenna, where the hell is your hoodie you wore on Christmas Eve!? I literally told you like an hour before your half-assed reply to tell me where'd you put your clothes."

Of course her sisters, more specifically Aliyah Goddamn Ortega, would find the most perfect timing to call her about the stupidest shit there could ever be.

"Okay, now, fuck off."

Jenna grimaced through gritted teeth as she hung up. She loved her sister, but does she love you more? Absolutely.

"Josh!" She called out, running towards him, "Sorry, kind of abrupt, but do you know where Y/n went?" Atleast she had some decency left in her to be polite to some.

"Actually—"

"Let one more word come out of your mouth not related to my question, and I swear, Josh—"

"Y/n left early, they told me to tell you but I guess I forgot."

Maybe a little too carefree.

"You fucking guess!?— I mean, yes, thank you. I’ll be going."

Oh, the waiting game is a pain in the ass.

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

You pace back and forth in Jenna's apartment, your socks making a dent in the fuzzy carpet in the living room Jenna bought when you moved in with her, a nail in between your teeth and rain pouring in the background.

How in the hell did you forget possibly all your devices on fucking set!?

Your phone was dead, and your laptop was unfortunately abandoned by its owner (yours truly) and you have no way of contacting your lovely girlfriend.

And worse of all, it was a little over midnight.

All this because you got a notification that someone was at the door for an hour.

And it was just a fucking cat. (To be fair, they were really cute.)

You were starting to worry, especially how it was pouring outside like there was a hurricane incoming and how you left early without Jenna intertwining her warm and soft hands around yours.

So not only did you leave all your devices behind, but you also left Jenna without any means of contacting you.

You almost cursed yourself, maybe even doing the most stupidest and financially unstable decision of ordering a new phone as if it was going to be delivered same day.

Until you heard a slight click and a door opening.

There were times thunder struck, but it definitely did not beat the way your heart almost leaps into your throat as you hear the door opening.

You pause in your steps, a deep breath stuck in your mouth as you cross the living room and peer through the door way.

The door swung open and you're met with the, one of the most gorgeous and relieving sights you may add, of Jenna standing there. Slightly damp and with an... angry? Expression on her face.

"Jenna!" You blurted out, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Did Josh fill you in? I feel terrible for getting home early, I'm so sorry. There was this whole thing I had to deal with, then the rain came pouring down, and I thought I'd at least get you a cab—"

"Shh. Just stay still. And preferably quiet."

When she's in your arms, she melts in the warmth of the comfort you bring to her. "Guess you caught the cab." You whisper under your breath.

You notice her breathing slowing down, the tension in her body easing away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she buries her head in your neck. A sway the both of you took upon as she tugged at your chest with her hands wrapped around your body.

Jenna felt and smelled like home. Maybe heaven really is real if you're back in her arms after death.

"Is everything okay? Did something go down on set while I was away? Oh, Jenna, I'm so—" You start to pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Y/n, push me away, I fucking dare you, I'll bring down hell upon this godforsaken world."

You hesitate, but her gaze wants nothing more than to be in your arms. Who were you to deny her?

With a gentle squeeze of her shoulders, you pull her back into your arms. You weren't much taller than Jenna, in fact, just an inch or two apart. You loved that about eachother, like the two of you were a perfect fit.

Minutes pass, the only sound of the soft rhythm of Jenna's breathing and your heartbeat became a melody to your ears.

"I'm gonna hard launch the both of us right fucking now."

Well, that definitely caught you off-guard.

"Something happened?"

"You weren't on set for like hours! And everyones got too damn annoying for my ears to even process so I was trying to look for you, but then I ended up insulting Emma and the others, then I called you my lovely neighbor because I almost ended up saying you're my lover so I had to cover for it!"

"...That's quite a handful. I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby."

Even so, you knew that Jenna wasn't ready for a public relationship, not now that everyone was currently holding her at a social and cyber gunpoint with her life.

And even back then, you were the first one in the relationship who told her that the both of you would be better off if they both kept it private.

Even from their friends... And maybe more so families. Or maybe Jenna's. It's pretty hard to keep secrets from her family.

Obviously, look how that turned out.

Finally, Jenna murmurs something. "Sorry. It's been a rough day." Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Just without you."

You could almost kill yourself of the mere thought of even having to leaving Jenna the whole day.

"I—"

"Don't worry, I know you were busy with tech."

"Yeah. They got me wrapped up in their troubles, but 's all fine."

"Ever thought beating the complete shit out of them?"

"Jenna, you can't just say that!"

"But they've been literally hogging you from me! And I think that's completely unfair!"

"But you really shouldn't. You'd probably end up getting destroyed, especially with your height."

"Oh, but I definitely should. Besides, we're the same height, Y/n."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Okay, you know what, tempting as it sounds, I don't think violence is the answer."

She scoffs another time, a crease in her forehead. "Well, it's definitely an option worth considering."

After a moment of silence, you carry her to the living room, her legs dangling as you lift her from her feet and settle her onto the soft-cushioned couch.

You start to pull away once you set her down, stretching your body after a tense day, yet a certain someone was making grabby hands for you while shooting a look with her eyes begging you to stay.

"Y/n, don't you want to stay here with me?" She pulls you closer, locking her legs around yours.

Oh, Jenna knows damn well you couldn't resist her.

"Jenna, just relax," you gently tug her legs apart with your own, letting them fall as she permits, "I'll just get you some water."

She tugs at the hem of your shirt, "Then I'll come with!" Her smile almost comes back alive and she's already clinging onto your arm.

"Jenna. The love of my life."

"Y/n?"

"You're tired, stressed, snappy, grum—"

"Okay, I am not grumpy or snappy!" Jenna bites back almost immediately. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

You shoot her a look. A yup-thats-why-look, and it's enough to get a pout to form on her lips.

"Grumpy, and you're still damp from the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if you wake up with a cold in the morning." You gently pat her head before sitting her back down. "I'll be quick, alright? You know I'm not going far just for a glass of water."

"Fine," Jenna huffs, "But you better hurry back! Ten seconds, tops!"

With a smile playing on your lips, you roll your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. And of course, Jenna's gaze from the couch was following you. You know patience was never Jenna's strong suit when it comes with you.

It wasn't even a few seconds before you heard,

"Y/nnnn!" Jenna's voice calls out from the living room, almost sounding like a groan and a whine.

It's almost amusing how someone as seemingly nonchalant yet sweet as Jenna could also be this puddle of affection and clinginess when it came to you.

You chuckle to yourself before quickly making your way back to her, holding out the glass of water for her.

"That was well over ten seconds." Jenna remarks, downing the water in one go before setting the glass on the coffee table. Then, she pulls you back towards her, and before you know it, you're both collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, I thought I did great." You say before Jenna tackles you into a very tight hug.

Leaning back against the cushions, you let out a sigh, feeling the everything slowly melting away when she's in your arms. Jenna inches closer, resting her head on your chest as you wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

"Hug me tighter, y/n." She murmurs softly, almost demanding if she didn't have a soft melody to her voice, her body warm against yours and her breathing seemed to be in sync with your own.

"You'll die if I do." You sigh contentedly.

Jenna lets out a huff, her breath warm against your skin and her scent was all too comforting. That earthy rain smell and her aromatic fragrance. "You know that I don't mind," she replies, "Of course you'd think I'd care if I died in your arms."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, Jenna." You shake your head once against, ruffling her hair as you give her an extra squeeze before loosening your hold slightly to let her breathe.

"You want dinner?" You whisper to her after, not even above a decibel just for her to relax. "I didn't get the chance to stop by at the bakery."

"Please," comes Jenna's response.

You know what a full-on smile with dimples from her sounds and feels like when she has that hopeful and happy tune to her otherwise grumpy voice today.

You slowly pull yourself back up, gently pushing Jenna off your chest. And also unknowingly pulling a koala trapped in a 5'1, 22 year old body named Jenna Ortega clinging onto your back.

"Jenna."

She buries her head into the crook of your neck, eyes half-lidded. "Mmm… Yeah?" It's honestly surprising how she can actually and literally attach herself to you.

"Jenna, you have to let go so I can cook." Even as you ask her to release herself, you adjust to her weight on your back, carefully making your way to the kitchen, your hands securely holding onto her legs.

"You can cook just fine, Y/n," she whines, "You have two arms."

"And you," you reply, gently patting her legs, "have two legs and two arms. I can't cook with you piggybacking, baby."

You can tell the nickname made her smile. "Yeah, but I don't have a built-in Y/n in my system that I can cuddle with all day. So please just let me be."

"No, Jenna—You're gonna get hurt."

You reach the kitchen and gently lower Jenna from her back, setting her down on the kitchen island.

Her arms still lingered around your neck for a moment before she reluctantly, and against her will so it seems, lets go. "You know how frantic I am when I cook."

"Then maybe, you're not a good cook."

"I'm trying to keep my girlfriends, which is you, may I add, life out of harms way."

"Maybe that's the reason why you're not a good cook."

"Jenna."

Grabby hands, once again, making a return and tugging you by your shirt collar. But this time, you resist.

"Whyyyyyyy?" she whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a Jenna Ortega fashionable pout. "Do you hate me, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes playfully before booping her on the tip of her nose. "I'm cooking you a meal to show that I love you, baby." You pull back yourself and put on an apron standing off side to the fridge, Jenna's gaze could almost burn holes into the fabric.

"Okay." She sighs, dropping her head down. "Okay, fine! Can I just hold your hand?" She looks up to see you standing in front of her, wearing the cutest apron with the well-known kiss the chef quote.

A faint blush spreads across her freckled face, and you couldn't help but smile at her.

You can't really cook with one hand that properly. But if Jenna wants you to cook for her even if you had your hands surgically removed from your body, then so fucking be it. A few missing limbs can't top a few smiles from your girlfriend.

"Alright, baby." You place take her hand and lead her to the stove where it seemed like you've got everything prepared. "Just get behind me when there's oil splashing, mkay?"

A few minutes pass by with Jenna's hand in yours while you cook. Her head leans against your shoulder as she stands close.

Between the two of you, Jenna was always the one who takes over the cooking part of the relationship, no matter how much you insist cooking for her. But you're grateful and very fortunate now that she's allowing you to take over. Plus, Jenna keeps you entertained with her witty remarks and random stuff about her day.

Oh, what a life you're living in.

"You didn't cook for yourself?" Jenna's voice interrupts your thoughts as you plate a serving of salmon topped with herbs, accompanied by sliced lemon and a few kiwis. With the skin left on, of course, just how she likes it. Only for your loving girlfriend.

You shake your head, taking her hand and her plate in the other, leading her to the dining table. "I'm good. I had a late lunch earlier," you reply, gently placing the plate on the table and sitting her down. "Besides, it's not often I get to cook for you. It wouldn't be as special if I cooked for myself too."

Jenna's eyes almost appear teary as she looks at you. "Please never show yourself again in public. I seriously cannot lose you." She replied almost immediately.

If you didn't miss it, you would've seen the adoration and love shining in Jenna's gaze. It's as if she wants to ditch the meal entirely and cover your face with kisses.

You swear you probably ate a seed in your chest by how you kept feeling warmth bloom in your heart at her. "How can I do that if I'm an actor?" You chuckle, "They'd probably question you first if I disappear."

Jenna takes her fork and points it at you, slicing a piece of salmon with her spoon. "Hey, I've seen the tweets about people practically drooling over you. It's like they're your lover and not mine!"

You crease your forehead, crossing your arms, "You get more thirst tweets more than I do!"

"And I believe you contribute to that percentage." She raises one eyebrow, smirking at your direction before chewing on another piece of salmon. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

A factual one at that.

You almost choke at your own words. "Oh, you know me so well."

A sigh escapes your lips, your smile still in place. "Besides, we're not exactly public, are we?" Leaning in, you draw Jenna into your own little world. "You're the only one who gets the real me. If I leave, I'll cross my heart on my own and I'll die on my own."

Jenna looks at you while taking a bite of her salmon, chewing slowly as if she's contemplating something, a tug in her lips. "Mn, guess so."

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

You'd think you'd get some work done, maybe memorize future scripts or send out some emails to directors asking if you could audition for a show at one in the morning.

Instead, you're lying in bed with Jenna.

Or maybe a koala in this case.

In bed. Blankets over the both of you. Pillow's a bit too comfy to even think about getting up. Plus, the koala in question may or may not have hidden your phone and charger.

Jenna wasn't always a light sleeper. Sometimes, you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting up with a blanket draped over her entire body, furiously typing away in her notes app. It's endearing, but also makes you wonder if she's ever dabbled in witchcraft.

Now, she's wide awake to even be one.

Her eyes closed and her breathing steady enough to lull you asleep. The atmosphere is cozy, and so is your girlfriend laying atop of you.

Her arms were wrapped around yours for the millionth time while her head rests on her favorite part of your chest, her head staring off to the side as if she's trying to hear your heartbeat.

You thought she'd be passed out after dinner, but she dragged you by the cuffs of your hoodie and lead you to the bedroom.

"Jenna," you whisper not above even the slightest decibel, "I have work to do." The gentle rise and fall of her chest steadies in sync with yours, her head tilting slightly in the other way, and the grip she has on your body suddenly got tighter. It's already as if you'll fly away from her.

She huffs as she raises her head to face yours. "Your work—whatever that is—can wait, but I can’t." The room is dim, too dim, yet you could see the slight dip in her bottom lip.

You know you should focus, but with her so close, it's hard to think about anything else other than, 'Nah, fuck it. I'll live.'

You bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, gently brushing her messy fringe away from her face. Even in this dim light, you could see her freckles scattered across her face like vines making something so abandoned a painting.

Jenna sighs when she looks at you. "Y/n, how long are you gonna keep me playing the waiting game?"

"The waiting game? What even is that—"

"Can you kiss me?"

Oh. Her eyes become almost second nature to her words.

"Because I remember being woken up to the most gorgeous person ever but they didn't give me kisses, and I think—mpmhmmh..."

It took all your effort not to pull her into a kiss.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain.

Truth be told, you miss the way her lips hung on yours, she was perfect in every way. How her arms would wrap around you, how she'd reach up to tug on your jawline, tracing every thing you had offered her, how you would push back only for her to pull you closer.

The kiss soon ended with you and Jenna locking eyes. No words exchanged but the heavy breath the both of you took apart from eachother.

"—I think I might die..." Her words are breathless, her arms perfectly secured around your neck as you sit up.

You smile at her. "Well, I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"No," she breathes, taking hold of your cheeks before sitting up herself. "No, I'm still six feet underground if you don't continue what you were doing."

"You know, I'm starting to like the waiting game."

"Make me play that shit again, it'll be the last time you'll ever make a decision."

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

jennaortega

Liked by ememyers and 1,398,938 others jennaortega goodnight to my gorgeous gorgeous girl @.y/l/n x 6 hours ago

natalieortega1: My fav girls!

joysunday: what lovely neighbors we have here

ememyers: !?@#%%#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

user: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

moosa_mostafa_: we never knew....

user: MY??????? MY???????? WHAT MY WHY MY?????????????????????

user: now how long....

georgieebleu: the coolest ever

user: WHATS IT FINNA PLAY??????

naomijogawa: two losers having a loser rs

user: having a heart attack holYHIST WHAT HT FUCK

user: literally stop.

hunterdoohan: Respect!!!!

user: shit so insane she got the whole cast to comment

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

In short, Jenna won. Plus, she got all the kisses and cuddles she wanted until the alarm hit. (When it did, your name was surprisingly all over social media along with Jenna.)

[thegnomelord]

17 with Phillip Graves I'm begging🙏

also I just found out about your account and your writing is so good what??? in love w your work

You have no idea how long I've wanted to do something with Graves but couldn't figure out what lol :D Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Oral as punishment.

CW: NSFW, sub Phillip Graves, GN reader but you get referred to as 'doll' but as far as I'm aware it's gn sooo, oral, feminization, semi-public sex, humiliation, cross dressing, mentions of masochism/pain play.

Phillip Graves is a fucking brat.

For weeks now he's been trying to rile you up, sitting next to you whenever you go to eat in the mess hall so his hand can safely wander beneath the table. He's all confident when he does this, laughing along with the other shadows like nothing's wrong, feigning worry when your breathing grows stuttered and heat ravages your skin as if the bastard's not unashamedly groping your crotch.

The little shit knows you won't react in public; he knows what he's doing.

And you know what he wants— the little masochist loves the humiliation of being brought over your knees like a boy as much as he craves the sting of your palm on his ass, the sharp bite of your belt leaving welts on his thighs, the lingering nibble of pain from healing bruises decorating his pale skin like paint flicked by a deranged artist —each lick of pain left by your hands is like a drop of a drug he's addicted to, each session leaving him needing more.

You know you've been indulging him for too long when pulling him into his office has victory sparkling in his eyes, goosebumps spreading across his skin like he's already expecting a slap to the face.

You don't reward him with what he wants. "You're a real menace." You growl, closing the door but leaving it unlocked. "Acting up like a little brat."

"Ah don't know what yer talking about Doll," Graves says smoothly, his eyes lingering on the door. "Just bein' my charming self." He notices you don't lock it, that self-preserving part of his mind catching on faster than he does; you're up to something.

"Sure you are." You grip him by the hair, your lips only an inch apart. "My baby girl just wants to be punished, right?" Tugging on his hair just enough to tease him with what he wants you quickly pull your head away when he attempts to kiss you, shoving a small bag into his hands. "Put this on." You suddenly say.

Graves blinks rapidly, heart stuttering at your words, and he's both worried and aroused by the look in your eyes; like an old trickster god. He looks down and reaches into the nondescript bag, careful as if you've stuffed a bear trap inside it, confusion flaring in his eyes when he feels soft fabric and softer lace.

"You've got to be kidding me-" He snaps sharply, almost insulted, ears and cheeks as pretty pink as the gstring and skirt he now holds in his hand. "-I don't- doll, I can't- I-"

"You can and you will." You cut off his sputtering, yanking on his hair to shut him up. "You wanted to be a brat, I'm treating you like one." Your eyes narrow, pointedly ignoring how your harsh voice has a shiver running down his spine. "Now quit bitching and put that on. Right here."

Graves opens his mouth to argue with a retort burning like hot coals on his tongue, but the self-preservation portion of his mind kicks in from one glance into your eyes and before he knows it he's dropping his pants, embarrassment flooding his chest at how his cock bobs to stand at attention.

"Slut." You huff when you notice he's gone commando again, "I wonder how much the others would like to know their commander's such a whore."

He bites his tongue to silence himself and to stop himself from whining as he slips the panties on, the soft dainty lace trapping his cock, the light pink color darkening the fading bruises on his legs. The skirt comes next, so short it doesn't cover anything, and Phill resists rubbing his thighs together when he sees his cock poke out beneath the skirt's frilly fabric.

"Look at you, pretty girl," You chuckle, reaching down to fondle his cock like he'd done to you, the mix of your rough grip mixed with the silky soft fabric of the panties forcing a moan out of his throat. "Ready to stop being a brat and be a good girl?"

"Yes, please-" Graves quivers, clutching your shoulders and moaning while you continue to grope him, only stopping when there's a prominent damp spot at his tip and swiftly taking your hand away. "Fuck, doll."

You ignore his whining, moving him to sit in his chair, using his jeans as an impromptu cushion for your knees as you get beneath his desk. "Now, you've still got work to do." Your words has dread bubbling in his chest and his cock twitching when you pull his chair close to his desk, throwing his naked legs over your shoulders so he can't roll away. "You're finishing your work, oh, and you don't get to cum."

"Fuck-" Graves sucks in a sharp breath as your lips tickle his tip through the panties, "An' if I do?" He can't help himself, needs to rile you up even as a blush crawls down his neck.

He feels you grin against his tip, nearly jumping out of his chair when you roughly grip his balls, the tight string of the panties pushing down the middle of them to make them more grabbable. "Then this little clit is getting stuck in a cage until I decide to forgive you." You chuckle, slowly and leisurely licking him from base to tip, adding your spit to the liquid soaking the fabric. "Now get back to work."

He roughly brushes a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands to get his focus back before his bleary eyes settle on the laptop. He tries to type a report, but he keeps missing letters because it's fucking hard; you're consistent in your inconsistency, switching up the way you pleasure him with your mouth each time he's beginning to get used to it— lapping at his shaft like a dog one second, lewdly sucking on the tip the next, breaking off periodically to bite his fading bruises or tease his hole.

And all the while you keep his cock trapped in the panties, the constant strain of wet fabric adding to the building pleasure in his gut. Your hands keep him still when he attempts to wiggle or squirm, leaving fingerprint bruises to reward him for staying still as you suckle on his length and pulling moans from his chest.

He forgets the door is unlocked, moaning and groaning and squirming at how your spit cools, sending shivers up his spine. His groin is wet with your spit, from the tip of his cock down to his hole, his muscles spasming beneath your fingers as his body tries to buck into your mouth.

He's breathing like a racehorse and barely able to finish one report out of a few hundred when there comes a sharp knock on the door, followed by "Commander Graves?"

Fear and arousal floods his veins, his eyes quickly falling to you, large like dinner plates as he remembers; "Doll-"

"What are you waiting for?" You ask, teasing and smug like he'd been the entire week. "Go on pretty girl, call them in." There's no room for argument in your tone, and Graves gulps, his thighs tensing around your head and clenching his teeth.

"Come in!" He says and thinks-hopes- his voice doesn't sound as shaky to the as it does to him. He keeps his focus on the laptop, whole body tense and ears straining to hear his door open and close, mentally following the shadow's movements. "Report." He says.

You choose this time to lightly nibble on his tip, but he manages to clamp his mouth shut and the shadow doesn't notice anything. They prattle on about several things that could have been sent as an email and all the while Graves is stiff as a board trying not to squirm, trying not to show how your hot mouth on his cock is affecting him.

"Are you alright sir?" The shadow asks, bringing attention how flushed he looks. Graves briefly catches your smug gaze as you purposely open your mouth to rest his leaking tip on your tongue, the panties wet with your spit and his precum.

"Peachy," He grinds out, fingers balled into fists in an attempt to keep from squirming when your thumb presses against his hole without penetrating, trying to make him break. "Dismissed." He says sharply.

"But sir-"

"I said dismissed." He growls, hopes and prays his voice doesn't crack, ears burning and refusing to look at the shadow because he's so close, his balls and cock twitching in your hands.

The shadow hesitates, almost leaning closer and Graves nearly flinches, beath catching in his throat; the shadow would only need to take a half-step to see the pink skirt and panties, and just the knowledge of that, of his shadows knowing how much of a whore he is, has more precum leaking from his tip.

"Yes sir," The shadow says and salutes before leaving. The door closes with a resounding 'click' bringing with it heaven and hell.

Graves slumps back into his chair as if he'd run a marathon, his breath of relief broken by a moan when you dig your nails into a bruise on his thighs. "Good girl," Your smooth praise has liquid pleasure flowing in his veins, your nails digging deeper into his bruises feeding his addiction for pain and building a second need for more humiliation. "Did so well for me."

"Doll, please, I need-" He whines, head falling back against the backrest of his chair and a pitiful sound escaping his chest when you pull your lips from his cock. "-please just let me cum, need to cum."

"Oh no, you're not done yet," You're like a devil between his legs, grinning up to him. "You've still got a few hours of work left."

"You're evil," He breathes out, but he's hopeless to submit, leaning in to reach his laptop, groaning when your lips return to his leaking tip, his belly tight with heat that he's desperate to hold off. "Alright, yes, sure-"

"Good girl." You press on his bruises and suck on his tip again, and maybe you'll let him cum in a few hours...

[mypimpademia]

Bakugo and Shinso w a pregnant black s/o

Bakugo x black!pregnant!reader x Shinso

TW: Swearing

Note: I need to stop writing for them I swear ima write for all the other fandoms after this 🤡🤡

BAKUGO

👏🏾THE👏🏾MOST👏🏾UNPROTECTED👏🏾PERSON👏🏾IS👏🏾THE👏🏾BLACK👏🏾WOMAN👏🏾

That was his motto throughout your entire pregnancy, from you telling him to your child's birth

He treated you like you were priceless porcelain

Got extremely upset if the was so much as a scratch on your skin

Paparazzi better watch themselves when coming up to you and asking you shit

"Y/n, when is the baby's due date?"

"Y/n, when will you reveal the baby's gender?"

"Y/n, will you show you baby to the public once its born?"

"Y/n there were cheating rumors before your pregnancy, is Ground Zero really the father-"

"Y'ALL BETTER BACK THE FUCK UP, I MIGHT BE A PRO HERO BUT ILL STILL ROCK YOUR SHIT."

Hes your personal body guard

If someone even walks a lil too close for him, you might have to hold him back before he ruins his reputation

He's gonna back out of a good portion of his work (if it's not important) just to devote himself to taking care of you

Your feet dont even have to touch the ground if you say so

He most definitely read up on pregnancy in secret

He even knows what foods aren't good for the baby but are a common craving

If youre craving something that is bad for you, the baby, or both, he'll make you something healthy that tastes the same

Gives you foot and back rubs

He won't admit it but he is absolutely terrified of you slipping in the shower

So he either showers with you or runs you a bath

Buys you those skin tight maxi dresses

He just loves how they look on you especially with your belly

Gives you pep talks if you feel bad about gaining baby weight

Makes sure that you're eating, drinking water, and feeling good

When Katsuki leaves the house, he kisses you, and your stomach

And he says:

"Ill see the two of you later, I love you guys."

He was doing it since you got pregnant

When you pointed it out, he denied it

"What the hell are talkin about, is your pregnancy makin you crazy or somethin???"

You thought it was him being too prideful to admit it, but he literally just did it subconsciously

Because the day after he did it again and usually he'd stop after you say something

He whispers to the baby when he thinks you're asleep 🥺🥺

"I can't wait to meet you, it'll be a scary place out here, but I swear on my life I'll protect you and your mother. I love you both so fucking much."

You cried a lil bit ngl

Dadsuki gets the dub

SHINSO

Hes sooo happy

But also so scared

He became all too aware of how black women get treated once you started dating

And hes also aware that it only gets worse when pregnant, and when theyre a mother

He does absolutely everything in his power to keep you safe

Both physically and emotionally

Hes gonna post so many pictures of you

He saw one hate comment about how your baby is gonna come out ugly just because its mixed with black and he disabled all his comments and story replies

Cooks for you every now and then and hires a chef when he gets busy

Lets you eat what ever youre craving unless its too unhealthy

Makes sure you get the right amount of sleep

When you wake up because of contractions or anything, he makes sure that you and the baby are safe before using his quirk on you to make you go back to sleep

When you guys go out, he always wanders into the baby isle

And its purely subconscious

Like you'll be getting food one minute then you're looking at baby clothes

Its actually really cute

Gives the best foot rubs and back massages

Bubble baths at least once a week

Also buys you a lot of tight maxi dresses

But at the same time he loves seeing you in nothing but a bra and panties with one of his button ups on top

Talks to the baby a lot

"I have no clue who or what youre going to be, but I swear I'll love you no matter what, and I'll protect you even if it means I get hurt. I can't wait to meet you, and even though I haven't, I already love you so much."

He might just fuck around and start carrying around his scarf when yall go out

Because people were trying him

Didn't care much about paparazzi

"Y/n, how do you feel about what people are saying about you and Shinso having a child together?"

"Y/n, will you be showing your baby to the public?"

He just let them ask questions knowing they wouldn't get an answer

But when his toxic ass fans start doing shit?? He might pull an Aizawa and have them hanging upside down like they in a damn cocoon

"That baby is gonna come out ugly as shit considering Y/n is the mother, itd be gorgeous if it were our child."

Shit like that^ got on his nerves, his fans were jealous of you since day one, but he was proud of you regardless of anyone's opinions

And youre a bad bitch so you let them talk their shit

"A baby mixed with black??? You've made some mistakes but thats by far the biggest..."

Racist ass comments like this^ though..

Pissed him off to no end

Tried not to say anything at first, just giving disgusted looks to people that would say things like this and then walking faster

But they really started to piss him off when it happened everywhere

Social media, out in public, and at events

Snapped on one of his fans one day

"Could be a cute baby if it had something in its genes other than black... specifically mine."

"If you deadass think I'd ever wanna have a baby with you, fuck you, or let alone KISS YOU, when you're saying small minded, idiotic, and conceited ass shit like that, you might wanna check yourself before I check you."

Shit happend on live TV too😬

He was getting interviewed with you by his side and the producer asked to get shots of you and him with fans

Camera was pointing right at him and the girl

Yall already know her whole life got ended... (not literally smh)

Her school and work were contacted, they found her family, all of that

Said he'd protect you from absolutely everything and he meant that shit because shinso a real rod😌💞

[dearmumnopeeking]

Dear marnshun,

Its year 4.

Since ya left us.

Sorry for the late message.

Im just resting today. I decided to skip work.

For 2 days.

I watched some anime, satisfied my ghost hunt cravings.

I watched some new stuff too.

Its been 4 years. Papa and mummy are still trying hard bitch.

Sorry i didnt mean that ... we always miss ya but times have been hard.

Papa recently kinda lost his job.. or the term they used was "no classes this sem" for now.

He seems out of sorts and wanderless sometimes just watching dramas to pass time.

Mummy is super busy as crap. So covid is trying to kill both mummy and i with work.

The people don know how hard it is now as a public servant.... more like slave for mummy.

Me i deal with super ass shits who fucking litter and just can't stop so they pay the price.

I am gonna quit soon mainly cause of the work load, secondly cause of studies, and lastly cause i wanna work at the zoo.

Theres an opening and the position is for education executive.

Im down for that.

Im not down for anymore enforcement shit.. though satisfying and really important, i just feel super drained from all the work and other work load to come cause they refuse to hire more people to help out.

The job makes me feel so degraded like how come i cant finish and there is like no one to double check for me, more so when people/my manager throws me random shit to check for her while im rushing my own stuff.

Sorry to rant but you've been gone for 4 years and im still stuck here so hear me out bro.

Dude. Ive been rushing out the rescheduling shit for them and not once have i asked them for help cause they are like "sooo" busy... yet my manager just expects me to draft like a template for them or for the next person to take over when im drowning already.

I told her. Im fucking tired. I told her i try. But i did not accept all the fucking work from both of them.

The Director is right. They should rethink the job allocation cause it sucks.

I would like to see her try my job scope for once. Cause for the summons all she does is log and get the dir to approve. I have to fucking do all the attendance, enquiry trcking, enquiry recording, rescheduling, broadcasting of emails to RO managers for the events, chasing RO for the events, fucking check their work and send confirmation emails back, do the attendances and start to record those to summon, consecutively answering stupid shits enquiries good thing there were more appeals last month cause at least that how much i do every cycle and she still complains, listen to shit excuses and curses at me for not bring lenient and her yapping at the side "like why couldnt you say this...", then icare checks, eems check, then ml check then screenshots, extracting of notices and preparing for summons logging, and while all these are going on... imma have to track extensions revocations, record the masterlist, update the attendance again, filing stupid summons, record the summonses and send them then track them cause sometimes the court screw shit... or the other team forgets to record.... if our shit is seriously nonchalant and redundant.. i will quit cause i cant cope... even listing out the entirety of my scope is making have an anxiety attack now marnshun.

Why does she keep giving me shit to do?

I am going to tell her i will be leaving.

I am going to print out an official resignation letter to make this final.

Imma use my off days in my second last week cause imma be emailing my shit to hand over.

I learnt alot but this was too much. Call me weak but i almost killed myself in december last year 2020. Marnshun, i almost did. I was lucky to have kimetsu there for me... cause no one else was. You werent. But then again sometimes im really glad you don have to go thru what i and going thru now. Sometimes i miss you but you should hang out longer in heaven. Till covid is over.. or when the world decides to be more logical... so imna keep trying but i really do miss you.

Work sucks so help me haunt and curse all the offenders. Old ones like over 40 should die of heart attacks, just kill them bro... or imma have to curse them with some voodoo magic..

Younger ones 30 and below should have the worse nightmares till they get to finish their corrective work. I want you to gather your ghost friends those like suicide ones with lots of remorse and aggravation to freddy krugger their dreams everynight till they get to do their work..

Honestly... i have never prayed sooo fucking hard for some of these offenders to die.. like we have some preggies.. i don fucking care some part me hope like they get super fucked up births that they cant move or just permenant damage so that i don have to schedule them.

Thats how stress i am.

I am horrible but if i do get karma, im willing to go thru it for that momentary release from my job...

So imma quit this job.

Marnshun please assist yeab bro. If i snap one day, just bring me those who cursed on the phone at me so that i can strangle them to death.

At the moment... im dead serious... i have seen their identification cards.. i can memorize their address and commit murder any time.

So for now imma send you bro and your ghost fiends to haunt them please. You can get the address when you watch over me work yeah. Feel free to do so, cause i'd like to think that ya always looking out for me.

Happy death anniversary manrshun.

[artificialqueens]

everything carries me to you: part three (thorcid)

AN: This is the last chapter of ECMTY. I had a lot of fun writing it! If you want to drop me a note or a follow you can find me on my tumblr, featherpluckn :)

It turns out, Jamin is really bad at waiting to see what comes next.

Jamin and Shane had agreed to meet up when they were both back in New York. The prospect of them as more used to scare the shit out of him. To be honest, Jamin was still scared he would fuck it all the way up somehow, but he had come to the conclusion it would be worth it. He really wants to see where all of this could lead.

 However, true to form, Jamin tries to keep his expectations savagely realistic.

When they were on the show, they were in a bubble. A bubble that forced intimacy by isolating them from the world at large. Of course, they would become closer. Of course, every little annoying trait of Shane’s would become adorable. But that didn’t mean their interactions meant the same thing to Shane.

The further removed Jamin is from what happened in that hotel room the night he was eliminated, the more his confidence about the other man’s intentions wane.

Jamin starts telling himself it was just a blowjob. It had happened before, many times. They always had incredible sex, and that would probably would not change. The two of them can get each other off but it didn’t mean they should find day jobs, move to the suburbs, and adopt 2.5 dogs.

Or that is what Jamin had convinced himself of in the meantime.

 Shane had other ideas.

*

Jamin had been spiraling into a pit of despair and ice cream for about a month before his phone beeped on a random Thursday evening. He thought it was his sister letting him know about some nails he needed for an upcoming gig and let it go.

 Two hours later, he checked his phone. It was Shane.

 I miss your face. Meet me tonight for a drink around 9??

 It was 9:15. Shit.

Jamin dropped his phone twice trying to text back and pull his pants on at the same time. He laughed and cursed at himself loudly because clearly he was extremely fucking thirsty.

 Ah! I just saw your text. Definitely need to catch up. Am I too late?

 Shane was probably already with his friends, throwing back shots, not even giving him a second thought.

 Jamin’s phone lit up 30 seconds later.

 Never.

 The next text came almost immediately with an address.

 *

When Jamin arrived at the dive bar Shane led him to, he finds the man sitting on a stool animatedly talking to the bartender. They are both laughing, loudly. Jamin is smiling before he can stop himself because that’s the sunshine effect Shane has on him and also because he’s what? Fucked.

Jamin walks up to the bar and sits down next to him. Shane turns and his face lights up. That anxious weight that had settled in Jamin’s chest the last few weeks falls into his stomach and turns into a bunch of huge fucking butterflies.

“You made it!” Shane reaches for him, kissing him on the cheek and pulling him into fierce hug.

“I made it.” Jamin sinks into the hug, making the most of the contact he’s been craving.

Shane exhales deeply and sighs, “I’ve missed this.”

Jamin can feel him run his hands through the hair he has been growing out since he last saw him. The warmth that simple action provokes spreads through his body, lighting him up with confidence. He presses a kiss to Shane’s temple and replies way too fucking honestly, “I’ve missed you. So much.”

Shane sits back and lets his eyes roam over Jamin’s face settling on his lips. As much as Jamin would make out with him pretty much anywhere Shane is willing, he is painfully aware of the fact that the bartender has been wiping out the same glass for the last 5 minutes. Plus, he’s more than sure it would escalate past the point of public decency.

Jamin puts about a foot of distance between them and clears his throat, “Can I get a beer or does this place just serve tetanus?”

Shane giggled “Bitch. It was the only place I could think of where we could talk about well you know” Shane gestured wildly in the air with his hands, and Jamin wasn’t sure if he meant them or Drag Race or the goddamn weather, “without someone we know breathing down our necks. Sadie can you get my friend a beer,  please?”

“No problem, Thorg. Anything for you?”

“I’ll take another beer and bring us both a shot of Maker’s please. I think we might be celebrating something…kind of….maybe.”

Shane giggled and Sadie moved off down the bar to get the drinks.

Even though Jamin had pulled away, Shane hadn’t let go of his hands, “Sooo, how have you been?”

What a loaded question and a million responses run through Jamin’s mind: “Good. How are you?” “Why the fuck haven’t you called me before now?” “Better now that I’m with you”

 But since unintentional honesty seems to be the theme of the night, Jamin settles for “Not so good actually. Um, it turns out I was looking forward to that text tonight a little too much.”

Jamin laughs to lighten the mood after he says it, but it still must have stung considering the tiny look of guilt that passes over Shane’s features.  

Shane laces their fingers together and squeezes, “I am sorry. Truly. Things did not go as well as I had hoped after you left. Then, I got back and I had to readjust to normal, everyday life. I had to get back into my gigs like I haven’t had this life-altering experience and it was so surreal, you know what I mean? That’s no excuse though. I know I should have texted you sooner but….I don’t know? I was also scared maybe things would have changed for you? We can just be friends. If that’s what you want. I’m totally cool with that but I really fucking like you and I mean like you like you and it’s kind of terrifying but….”

Shane trailed off and looked at Jamin with wide eyes and suddenly he was back in that vomit-soaked alley. Shane definitely had nothing to apologize for when it came to the two of them. Jamin was the one who chose not to take this thing further. The other man was always putting out clear signals and Jamin chose to pretend like he didn’t know how Shane felt about him. Yet, here he is again trying to make something out of this intense pull between them.

Jamin would like to use that old cliche “Can we start over?” but would he really start over with Shane if he had the chance? Even the messy parts of this friends-with-benefits thing they’ve had for years are precious to Jamin. He wouldn’t even  want to change all of the times Shane was leaving and he desperately wanted to ask him to stay but his fear closed his throat up. Because he at least got to touch him and hold him and fuck him like he was his just for a little bit.

There was a minute when he still didn’t know if he could do it. Insecurities and doubt and logic were gearing up to let his heart have it. But then Sadie came back. She sat down their drinks and when Shane turned his head to thank her Jamin could see the tears threatening to fall.

Nope.

He would not sit here paralyzed by the feelings he knows good and damn well are reciprocated while Shane is crying over him. His insecurities, doubt and logic can go fuck themselves.

“Hey.” Jamin said softly. Maybe a little too softly because Shane didn’t turn back to face him.

But then he realized he had heard him. Shane downed his whiskey and took a deep breath and then Jamin was the one struggling to hear his uncharacteristically subdued voice, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Just need a minute to shove everything back inside.”

“Shane? Look at me.”

The other man took a shuddering breath, and turned back towards Jamin with a smile on his face, “What’s up?”

Jamin internally cringed, “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like it’s okay for me to leave you hanging about my feelings for you. Because it’s not. Especially, when I feel the exact same way you do.”

“Really?”

Jamin rolled his eyes and smiled, “Yeah, really. I like like you too and I think we should give us a shot.”

Jamin could hear his heart pounding in his ears because there it all was. He had said it out loud, and there was no taking it back. He was proud of himself for finally letting Shane know how he felt, but looking at Shane’s face made him think twice. The fake smile was still there, and he was nodding but Jamin wasn’t so sure he was buying it. He just had to though.

“Look. I know I haven’t always been as brave as you when it comes to all of this. I’m just going to ask you to trust me when I say you own my ass and you have for a long time.”

Shane giggled then and Jamin took it as a good sign. “Please give me a chance to prove how much you mean to me.”

Shane let out a breath, leaned forward, and cupped Jamin’s cheek. His face broke into a bright, genuine smile,  “Alright, then. Let’s do this.”

*

Jamin had hoped his night would end like this, but he never thought it actually would.

After finishing their beers, the two of them decided to walk back to Jamin’s apartment. The bar was filling up quickly with loud regulars taking advantage of the half price margaritas. They had a lot to talk about, and it was probably not the best idea to finish their conversation in a crowded public place. He wanted to ask about what happened when he left Drag Race or  the tour that was coming up for both of them or the logistics of a possible relationship while they were both presumably touring the country, but as soon they crossed the threshold of his apartment they were all over each other.

Jamin was currently standing against his front door, naked as the day he was born  with Shane plastered to the back of him. He could feel the other man’s cock hard between them. Shane was trailing bruising kisses from Jamin’s shoulder up to his ear and back again and running his hands down his belly getting lower with each pass.

It was always like this with Shane. He was always everywhere all at once, overloading Jamin’s senses in the best fucking way possible.

Jamin was brought quickly back to the present when Shane finally reached his dick, stroking firmly and whispering in his ear, “I really want to fuck you against this door.”

He ground back into Shane and his voice cracked when he answered, “Take me then, because I am definitely not stopping you.”

Jamin lost the warmth at his back and the hand around his dick when Shane stepped back. The other man pulled backwards on Jamin’s hips and pressed down between his shoulder blades, bending him forward.

“Perfect. Don’t move.”

Jamin scoffed. He meant to make a crack about where the fuck he would go, but he caught sight of the condom Shane sat on the entry table and heard the cap pop open on the bottle of lube he knows Shane carries with him everywhere in that godforsaken satchel.

You never know when you’re going to need it, girl.

He’ll give him that one because he has never been more turned on by how prepared the man is than at this moment. Jamin braces his forearms against the door, wiggles his ass, and spreads his legs a little bit more.

“Trust me. I am not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

Shane grabs his ass then with one hand spreading Jamin open, and then runs two fingers of his other hand down to his entrance. He bends back over Jamin reaching around and grabbing his dick. Shane bites down on his shoulder and uses his lubed fingers to enter Jamin at the same time. Jamin groans at the dual sensation.

Shane begins stroking his length in time with his fingers, hitting that spot just right and he knows he’s not going to last long if this keeps up.

“Jesus. Shit! Sh-Shane just fuck me or this is going to be over real quick.”

Shane chuckles and lets go of his dick. He kisses the spot he had bitten earlier.  “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were that keyed up.”

Jamin is already breathing hard when he replies “I’m always that keyed up with you. Anyway, we’ve got all night. Plenty of time for foreplay.”

“Very true.”

This isn’t a romance novel but Jamin would be lying if he said he didn’t feel empty when Shane removed his fingers. He turns his head just in time to see him roll the condom on and lube up. Yes. He is definitely ready. It has been way too long.

“Close your mouth or I’ll find something to do with it.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Later.”

Jamin chuckles but shuts the fuck up when he feels Shane grab his hips lining himself up,  and hissing in pleasure as he sinks into him.

Shane leans down and grabs Jamin’s jaw pulling him into a sloppy kiss giving the other man time to adjust. He is a little bit larger than average but thick and it has been a while so Jamin is thankful.

Jamin sucks on that sinful tongue and nods his head. Shane takes his cue and stands up snapping his hips into Jamin’s. He sets a fast pace with short, quick thrusts. Jamin can hear Shane moaning over the sound of their two bodies coming together.

“I forgot how good you feel..mmmm” Shane is the one breathing hard now but Jamin is glad to hear it. He was not lying when he told Shane he was on edge already. Hearing the man behind him babble about how much he loves fucking him and how he missed this oh god he’s missed this is definitely not helping.

He can feel him pick up the pace and Shane presses down in the dip low on Jamin’s back, changing the angle.

He’s hitting that spot on the way in and out now making Jamin cry out. He’s almost shouting when he asks, “I’m so fucking close. Are you close?”

“Mmmhmm. Touch yourself, please.

If he was with anyone else, Jamin would have been embarrassed about the whining, grateful moan that comes out of his mouth but it’s Shane. So, he lets it out and grabs his cock.

A few good, solid strokes is all it takes. The orgasm that hits him is beyond words. Jamin is gasping for breath and pushes back into Shane one last time, clenching. He feels Shane’s last couple of strokes stutter out of rhythm and then he comes with a shout.

Jamin doesn’t even register that his ears had been buzzing until the world floods back in. He can hear a car door slam, and the sound of Shane gasping for breath and laying kisses across his back trying to catch his breath before he pulls out.

Jamin finally stands up straight and reaches up stretching out his back. He is definitely going to be sore tomorrow but it was worth it. He feels Shane wrap an arm around his waist from behind and turns around raising up on his toes for a kiss. It is lazy and spent but full of the passion Shane puts into everything he does. Jamin pulls back and bops a kiss on Shane’s nose.

“Okay. I think I am in desperate need of a shower. Care to join me?”

“Always. But no funny business, bitch. I have to get my strength back.”

They join hands and Jamin leads him down the small hallway towards the bathroom. Turning around Jamin gives Shane a mischievous grin.

“Unless you plan on showering with your clothes on, I make no guarantee.”

*

When Jamin had thought of what waking up with Shane would be like (and honestly he had been thinking of it a lot lately), he imagined waking up to the smell of coffee, and the sound of  Brahms filtering peacefully throughout the apartment. He would pad into the kitchen and Shane would be sitting there with his dreads half-tamed, reading the arts section of the newspaper wrapped up in that huge fucking striped scarf with a gorgeous  eye-crinkling smile on his face.

But the reality is, it’s Shane. Perfectly, imperfect Shane, and the man likes to keep him on his toes.

The morning after Jamin wakes up to the smell of coffee alright, but there is also the distinct smell of something charred underneath it. He can also hear some lilting, happy classical piece of music  floating through the cracked bedroom door complimented by muffled cursing.

Working up the courage to find out exactly is going on in his kitchen, Jamin rolls out of bed, pulls on Shane’s pants, and makes his way down the hall.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Shane turns around quickly, dropping whatever he was furiously trying to clean on the counter behind him. “Good morning, handsome! Can I interest you in a blowjob that is in no way a distraction related to what may or may not have happened in this kitchen?”

“Don’t good-morning-handsome-guilt-blow-job me. What are you doing in here?”

Shane’s hands start flying wildly around his head trying to explain himself, “Well, I actually woke up early for once. I know! I can’t believe it either. I couldn’t fall back asleep and I didn’t want to freak you out if you woke up and I was just staring at you. Did you know how cute you are when you sleep? Because you are. So, I came in the living room and watched a couple of episodes of Chopped and got inspired to make you breakfast. But I-”

“Is that a fucking Hot Pocket burned to the bottom of my good skillet?”

“Maybe.”

Jamin let out a lovingly exasperated laugh. A few months ago, this would have sent him through the roof.  The two of them would have immediately went Williams-Sonoma to replace the skillet, but today? All he can do is think about the effort Shane was putting into making this morning a little more special, and damn if it didn’t make his heart melt a little.

“Are you mad? Are you ready to murder me? Well, I guess I deserve it but right when I was about to get my big break? Really?”

Jamin just shakes his head and laughs opening his arms, “C’mere, cuckoo bird.” Shane flings himself at Jamin peppering his face with kisses. “I’m not mad. I can replace the skillet. No big deal. I just can’t believe you tried to cook me breakfast.”

Shane’s face is buried in the crook of Jamin’s neck and he can feel his smile. “Thank you for not killing me. I had a really good time last night and in the middle of the night and earlier this morning. I want to live long enough for a repeat performance.”

Jamin kisses the top of his head, then lifts Shane’s chin so he can look at him. “So, you want to keep having a good time? Maybe even with our clothes on every now and then?” Jamin clutches his chest and gasps.

Shane giggles and grins, “We look so good without our clothes on though…I don’t know. Are you asking me on an honest-to-god date?”

And he is, isn’t he? This is what Jamin wants more than anything. He wants to spend the night with Shane and take him out and buy him goddamn flowers and dance in the rain at sunset. It is absolutely ridiculous, and he can’t wait to do it all.

“Yep. Dinner, movie, drinks, dancing, whatever you want to do.”

Shane kisses him then. Long and hard. Jamin knows, without a doubt, he will definitely never get tired of those kisses. Shane pulls away and smiles, “It’s a date then”

Jamin kisses his cheek “Great! First, I’m going to make us some actual breakfast. Oh, I do have one question.”

Shane is already busy pouring them both a cup of coffee but turns around and smiles, “Yes?”

“Why did you try to cook a Hot Pocket on the stovetop?”

Shane winces, “Whatever you do, do not look in the microwave.”

[saviormysticmeme]

Well, this is kinda angsty, but can I request a scenario where zen & mc are together and in the last rfa party zen slept with jaehee and after a few days jaehee couldn't deal with the blame and told mc in front of all rfa but MC pretended not to believe her (andthenrfa*cof*saeran*cof*tryingtocomforther). This is ridiculously specific, i know lolol but feel free if you don't want to do it, it's okay, or if you want to change anything just do it 😅 I love love love your blog and your writing ❤❤❤❤❤

Ok so this post actually ended up being realllly long and I don’t know how to do the ‘read more’ thing so I’m really sorry to anyone trying to scroll byOops 

And I’m so glad you like my writing, and I’m also really glad I got this request because at first I wasn’t sure how to write it (I basically ended up writing a fanfiction using bullet points haha oops) but I had a lot of fun doing it.

Disclaimer: I don’t think Zen would ever cheat and I actually don’t think Jaehee has any romantic feelings for him, just admiring adoration.

And I know you said I could change thingsbut it’s rlly angsty and I’m an angst monster and I kinda love it sooo i’m gonna keep it exactly how you wrote it  

let’s do it

Zen had always been flirty with you

And at some point..you had started flirting back

And soon it was more than flirting and you found yourself head over heels for each other

Constant phone calls too each other where you’d gush over how you wished you could see each other

Good morning and Goodnight texts

The occasional shameless flirt in the public chat

Once you two met at the first RFA party it was like a scene from a Disney movie, you two all but ran to each other and he swung you around once he snagged you in a tight embrace

Looking into his eyes you swore this could be love

He did too.

He really did swear he was in love with you

You were everything he had hoped and more

You were the person that woke him up everyday and put a smile on his face, you were the person that he thought of when love songs came on the radio, when he was on stage you were his muse, when he lay down to sleep at night you were the final thought in his head, and the first one in his dreams.

The next RFA party was a few months after you two had first met in person, only a couple months into your very happy relationship

You two had spent the first half of the night joined at the hip, happily enjoying each other’s company.

But somewhere throughout the nights timeline you both got distracted by separate guests and acquaintances and wandered away from each other.

Zen started drinking. Whoever he was talking to kept egging him on and the two of them were having a good ole time, which is rare for Zen in these occasions because the guests are usually upper class aristocrats like Jumin or if they are there for Zen, it’s as fans instead of friends

So he thought he’d treat himself

It got to be a bit much

The other guests were starting to notice and Jumin was not going to have the press covering Zen’s drunken gusto at an RFA event

“Assistant Kang,” Jumin sauntered over to Jaehee while keeping his eyes on Zen. “please escort Hyun to the back where he can cool down, out of the cameras’ lines of sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Han” And Jaehee was off. She was relieved that she had an excuse to get Zen out of the room, she too recognized the bad press that could follow this event but felt she hadn’t had the authority to tell Zen otherwise

But under the guise of Jumin’s will, she was able to convince Zen to head to the back so ‘Jumin wouldn’t bitch’ (in the words of the actor).

Soon it was just the two of them in the back room, Jaehee giving Zen water as he yanked at his shirt collar, complaining it was hot.

In his drunken shenanigens he managed to undo all his buttons at some point while Jaehee was getting more water, so she came back to shirtless Zen.

Zen knew those eyes.

As the assistant stared at his pectorals with a slight blush on her cheeks, he looked into her eyes and saw something

Adoration. Admiration. Want.

She wanted him.

Somewhere, deep in his psyche, behind the pseudo narcissist wall, 10 year old Hyun Ryu craved the attention. The positive attention his mom said he’d never get

He had you

But in that moment he had Jaehee too, and he couldn’t turn that down

…

Jaehee doesn’t even know how it initiated, she just recalls Zen pressing her against the wall and kissing her with a passion she’s never felt before.

His hands undoing the buttons of her shirt

His lips whispering praises of how she was not only successful, but also beautiful. And so sweet. And smart. And-

She almost cried. Someone as talented as Zen saw something so great in someone as plain as her? Impossible.

But he kept assuring her, and touching her, and loving her

Loving her the way he should have been loving you

The guilt hit her, but she watched it disappear as ecstasy took over

…

Zen passed out once they were both finished, pants undone and shirt wide open, but eyes closed and soft breaths flying in and out of his lips

Jaehee was wide awake though.

She was leaning against the wall, clothes messily pulled back on and tears threatening her eyes

The guilt was back and it felt like the weight of the world’s biggest mistake was sitting on her shoulders

She put her hands over her mouth as she stared at Zen, and she started crying when she thought of you.

“What have I done?”

 After every party, the RFA gets together a few days later to go over logistics. What worked, what didn’t, who came, how to convince more people to come, etc

Jaehee’s heart dropped as you and Zen walked in together, a bright smile on your face, a blank slate on his.

No not blank

When Jaehee met his crimson eyes she saw it, the same thing he probably saw in her eyes: Guilt. Remorse. Regret.

She could barely stomach the feel as you greeted her and hugged her

“Jaehee! Good to see you! I feel like we didn’t get to talk much at the party thanks to someone making a little scene” As you pulled away you playfully rolled your eyes towards Zen. 

He just gave a nervous chuckle

Jaehee opened her mouth, ready to spill her guts, only to find it was dry as cotton. 

You gave her a quizzical look, ready to ask what was wrong, but Jumin’s voice interrupted with “Shall we begin?” looking pointedly at the three of you.

“Yahoo~” Seven cheered as he plopped down next to Saeran, who had recently been getting dragged along to all the RFA meetings, given he tended to just sit in the corner and pout.

Much like right now. He did little more than look at you and nod, which was as courteous a greeting as you were going to get with him.

Yoosung nodded, signaling everyone was ready, and the discussion began

 You all were about 30 minutes into the conversation

Except for Jaehee

She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened the night of the party

She couldn’t stop looking at you and feeling guilty

She couldn’t stop thinking about telling you

“I need water” She stood up abruptly, startling everyone a bit

Jumin had a bit of an annoyed look on his face but conceded with “Fine. Quick 5 minute break for everyone”

Jaehee booked it to the kitchen

“Uh…I’m thirsty too.” Cue Zen bee-lining after her.

“Are you Okay??” He asked in a harsh whisper

“No I’m not okay!” Jaehee hissed back “We…we have to tell her.”

“No!” Zen’s eyes widened “No. You and I both know it was a mistake that will never happen again. She doesn’t need to know.”

“Zen if you love her-”

“I do love her!” He snapped back “I love her which is why I can’t lose her Jaehee. I know we messed up, I do. But..I can’t lose her over my mistakes” His eyes were pleading even more than his voice

Jaehee just stared into the crimson orbs, feeling the knot in her stomach grow. She just weakly nodded.

There was a moment of silence before she chugged her glass of water and turned to head back towards the living room where everyone was seated

She took a strong stride in

She bit her tongue

She was not going to-

You were the first face she met walking back in

Your smile welcoming her back to the circle

Your eyes cheery

Your heart open to her as it had been since the first day even when she treated you coldly.

Zen was right behind Jaehee and nearly bumped into her when she stopped dead in her tracks

“Jaehee?” You and he called at the same time, him due to her abrupt stop, and you because of the tears suddenly pouring from her eyes.

“Jaehee what’s wrong?” You rushed to her, attracting everyone’s attention

You caught Zen’s face from over her shoulder, his eyes wide. Knowing.

“M-MC” Jaehee choked out

“W-What is it?” You asked worriedly taking her trembling hands in yours

“MC” Her voice fell. There was just a moment of silence. Everyone in the room was looking, the outburst had even taken a hold of Saeran’s full attention.

“Zen and I…we’ve done something awful” 

You knew what she was suggesting but..no. No you didn’t. No way that’s what she meant you’re just confusing things.

“…What did you do?” You asked cautiously

Sniffling. Endless sniffling. You looked to Zen, who was pale and looked like he was also ready to cry.

“Zen…what happened?”

“I’m so sorry” He managed to get out before the lump in his throat clogged his vocal cords.

“At the party MC we- we had….” Jaehee couldn’t get the filthy three letter word out of her mouth

You dropped her hands and looked to Zen

“MC I’m so sorry” Zen repeated, his voice shaking even more

Everyone was quiet, waiting for your response

You had none. Just an empty stare and mouth slightly agape, waiting for words to come out of their own accord

 Finally they did

“This is a really cruel joke to play” You feigned a very obvious forced smile as your eyes blinked back tears “I never thought you guys would do such a thing..haha” You wiped a way a small drop ready to roll down your cheek

“MC!” Jaehee exclaimed “This isn’t-”

“Jaehee.” Your voice dropped. “I really don’t find this funny.”

“Neither do I!” The brown haired girl went to take your hand again but you pulled away

“And Zen” You turned to him “I don’t- I don’t know..how…” You couldn’t finish the sentence

They were everywhere. Pouring down your face, flooding your eyes, gathering in a small pool at your chin. It was an onslaught of tears rolling down your cheeks, choking your words, your thoughts, your everything.

“MC” Zen reached out to you, only to have his hand swatted away by yours.

You just stared at him and cried, forcing him to look you in the eyes as your faux smile fell to pieces. 

You felt a hand softly fall upon your shoulder, and you turned to see Seven looking at you, apologetic pity in his eyes. Saeran stood behind him, wearing an angrier version of his twin’s sentiment. 

“Let’s go for a ride, get some fresh air, huh MC?” The red head’s voice was soft

You softly nodded and let him guide you towards the door, not even able to muster up to energy to look back at Jaehee and Zen. 

Saeran did however, and he looked back towards the two with a face full of disgust, up until the moment he slammed the door

“what a good meeting” Jumin grumbled under his breath as he turned a disdainful eye towards Zen

 You drove for a couple hours probably. Most of it in silence, but a comfortable one. You were in the passenger seat and Saeran was in the back, Seven at the wheel finding desolate roads and flying down them, giving the wind of your open window some sort of purifying feeling. It stung, but it felt good. Your hair whipped around and the land raced by and you occasionally sobbed but that was ok.

Eventually you found yourself back at the Chois’ place, sitting on the couch, staring at a TV playing a movie that you hadn’t been paying attention to for the last hour. Your mind was elsewhere, wondering what you had done wrong.

You looked at the carton of ice cream in your hand, only doing so because the sight of Saeran setting his own empty one on the coffee table had triggered you to remember Seven had given you your own carton to drown your sorrows in.

The redhead had actually gone out to buy more, so it was just you and Saeran on the black leather couch staring at the TV screen.

“Do you want this?” You offered the ice cream to Saeran who’s expression turned from bored to surprised, probably because you’d been silent for the past six hours aside from a sob here and there.

“You don’t want it?”

“I’m not hungry”

He stared at you and the carton for a second, his face unreadable.

He wanted to insist you eat the ice cream, because personally he found it to always make him feel better, but he figured you didn’t want to hear it.

He took the carton from your hands and placed it on the table in front of you two

Silence aside from the noise of the TV.

He cast a glance to you, only to find your eyes on the floor.

“doyou wantalk” You barely understood what he said it was so quiet

“What?” You looked to him

He thought you were asking out of surprise rather than inaudibility and “My therapist…he says that talking things out makes you feel better.” He looked indignant for a moment, likely remembering how stupid he felt when he rejected the idea only to find later that his therapist had been correct

“I…I have nothing to say” Your shell of a voice whispered

Saeran furrowed his brows at you. “Say you hate them”

“What?”

His voice raised a bit “You hate them don’t you? So say it. The therapist said talk about your feelings so start there. They’re scumbags who hurt you and deser-”

“No!” You’re voice hit a volume it hadn’t reached in hours. “I don’t hate them!”

Saeran was mixed with confusion and anger “What do you mean you don’t hate them? One of your best friends and your boyfriend fucked-”

There it was

Someone finally said it.

The hot tears made a return and began rolling down your cheeks as sudden sobs erupted from your mouth

Saeran was alarmed at the sudden show and tried to pinpoint the trigger. He supposes it could be his last sentence but it’s not as if it wasn’t something we all knew.

“I….I don’t hate them” You cried once the worst of the sobs subsided.”I don’t even think I want to hate them. I mean it’d be easier but…I don’t. Jaehee…it’s not her fault. She just..got wrapped up in it all. And she’s always liked Zen. How could she have said no. And he..he was drunk” You sputtered out your rationalizations to find that they only annoyed Saeran

“The Assistant should still no better. But fine. You know what? She’s not dating you, and clearly she triggered you finding out the truth. So let’s pretend she’s ok? What about the actor? I don’t care that he was drunk. There’s no excuse for him doing that!” The white haired boys voice had become louder and louder, fists clenching tighter and tighter as he began riling up old feelings of betrayal he once felt. “He abandoned you! He left you in the dust and for what? He failed you!”

You don’t know when it happened but Saeran had turned towards you and grabbed your hands, squeezing them tight in between his own. His mouth was contorted into some sort of snarl and you saw a fire raging behind his minty eyes. 

“Saeran..you’re hurting my hands” You squeaked out.

Your small voice dragged him out of whatever memory he was reliving and he sort of faded back into reality with a few blinks of his eyes before turning his attention to his hands. He let go of yours and in a flat voice uttered a “sorry”.

You guys were silent again, just staring at the floor, both living in whatever sad memory chose to cross your brains.

“You deserve better is all” He finally said.

“I know” You replied, voice empty of any real feeling.

You looked up, staring at the TV but not actually watching as a man on a horse offered a hand towards a young woman. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. About the him I fell in love with. Is he really gone?”

Saeran followed your gaze to the TV, looking on as the girl hopped on the horse. “I think so. That’s assuming he was the guy you thought he was at any point.”

“He was.” You said, a little defensive. Saeran looked towards you, watching your emotionless expression, knowing that there was a storm underneath despite the calm appearance. He knew because he often did the same, rocking a stoic appearance while watching all hell break loose in his own head.

“Is this the part where I say ‘It gets better’?” 

“Do you believe that it does?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance” A bitter smirk twisted his lips 

“I appreciate the honesty” You sighed

“Not in the way that we think it will anyway” He looked off into space somewhere.

“Hm?” You turned to him

“Everyone imagines that one day soon they’re going to wake up and suddenly it’s not going to hurt anymore. That there’s gonna be a day when you don’t think about this. You’re always gonna think about it. You’re always gonna wonder what you did wrong. Why God hates you. What things would be like if it didn’t happen.”

“You don’t think that there can be a day when it all feels ok?” You ask, partially to heal your hopeless heart, and partially because you see Saeran is projecting his own feelings and you’re curious to know how he feels.

“Maybe. I haven’t hit it yet though. Doubt I will.” 

You stared as he looked off into the distance, feeling as if you could see the scenes of his past playing in his eyes.

You were just about to recede back into your ball of depression and hopelessness before he spoke again and took your attention

“But that’s me. You’re…you, MC” your questioning look prompted him to continue “You’re…a good person.”

“You are to-” You went to say but he cut you off by turning and leaning towards you with a new intensity in his face.

“Not like you. If at all” He scoffed. “ You though, everyone loves you. And they’re right too. Because…” suddenly he stopped himself, seeming to turn a little shy.

“Because?” You wanted, no, needed to hear this.

He gulped down his fear and turned his eyes to the side, unable to look at you as he delivered his next few words, scared of you seeing through him even more than you usually do. 

“MC, you’re..everything. You’re smart, you’re cute, and you’re …kind. You always know what to say to help everyone. And that’s the thing. You try to help people, even people trying to hurt you…” His eyes turned back to you “You saw a good in me even when I didn’t. You risked your life to help my brother to save me. You’re…kind of like an angel.”

You just stared, taken aback by such kind words, from Saeran of all people. 

You were right to be surprised, he wasn’t usually this smooth in conveying his feelings verbally…there must have just been something about you that made it easy for him to talk.

“If it gets better for anyone, it’ll be for you, MC” He reached for your hand out of instinct, but pulled back instantly when your skin touched, as if he just realized what he was doing. His eyes did the same, it looked like he just realized how vulnerable he was in that moment, and a sort of wall was raised behind his irises and his whole body tensed a bit.

He was scared of being rejected.

 …

Your hand slowly reached out to his, which was floating in the space between you two, and when he didn’t pull back, you interlaced your fingers together. 

A look of awe decorated both of your faces.

“Thank you…Saeran.” The light of the TV bounced off your wet eyes, making them look extra glossy.

The boy just looked at you, wide eyed, apprehensive for a moment, then nodded and tightened his grip on your hand. It wasn’t the same anger induced bear trap grip from when he grabbed them before. Now it was just firm, reassuring, like a hug.

“MC…things will get better for you. If not? I’ll make them.” He gave a subtle squeeze of the hand, giving you the nostalgic feeling of a pinky promise.

“You already did.” You let your head, heavy from spinning and sobbing all day, fall on his shoulder.

He just looked at you for a moment, before taking a deep breath a pulling you closer, his free hand rubbing your back gently. 

Maybe he was wrong

Maybe things would get better for him too

[samanthasroberts]

6 Signs You’re The High Maintenance One In Your Relationship

I identify as many things: a self-diagnosed fantasy addict, a half-Jew, a citizen of the UK and a fashion-crazed mascara lesbian with delusions of grandeur. I own all of it, baby.

However, while I fully realize that I’m no “chill” girl— I don’t consider myself high maintenance.

My English mother used to always say, “Don’t be one of those high maintenance American girls, darling. It’s not attractive” as she twisted her mega-carat diamond ring around her finger. I’m one of those girls who thinks her mother is God so I fiercely hang on to every word she says.

OK, then. If mum says being high maintenance is “bad,” well then, surely it’s BAD.

However, my mother is also a woman who, for my entire childhood, would only get her hair done by “Today Show” celebrity hairstylist Louis Licari in his Fifth Avenue flagship salon.

Even when we moved to another state, she would trek into Manhattan to get her hair done by the notorious “King of Color” himself, drinking champagne with foils on her head, rubbing elbows with a European duchess to her left and a supermodel to her right.

She only drinks champagne and only goes to full-service gas stations. She sleeps in $200 silk nightgowns, instructed me to only ever grace my legs in Wolford tights and only uses Creme de la Mer on her skin. The casual day bag she wears when “sightseeing” is a tiny black quilted $2,400 Chanel crossbody purse with a chunky gold chain. She considers the Bowery Hotel a dive bar.

So I guess her definition of high maintenance is a little skewed, huh? And I guess mine is too. Because it only occurred to me recently I might be cut from the same high maintenance cloth as Mummy dearest.

Let me backtrack to a few weeks ago: It’s a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in the lovely Hamptons, where I happen to be from (see, I didn’t stand a chance at being chill!).

I’m wearing a blue tribal print bikini from my recent trip to the south of France and I’m sitting at a posh beach club, clutching a $17 glass of Whispering Angel ros with freshly polished Christian Louboutin red nails gazing at the sparkling Atlantic ocean through massive two-toned sunnies:

My feet are in the sand. There is a plate of oysters glistening in the beautiful sunshine. Music is playing. The booze is flowing. And I think, shit I’m so happy right now, there is nowhere in the world I would rather be. I open my eyes and blissfully smile sweetly at my crush, who happens to be sitting to my left.

“You know it really doesn’t take much to make me happy,” I say to her, feeling really bohemian, eating my raw seafood lunch in nothing but a bikini top.

“Really?” she says, grinning, knowing I’m entirely full of shit.

“It really doesn’t. Just like a beach club in the Hamptons with wine and fresh oysters and…” and as the words come tumbling out of my mouth, I realize how amazingly ridiculous I sound. I realize how delusional I really am.

Oh no it doesn’t take much to make me happy just being at an exclusive club in one of the most expensive elitist summer spots in the world with $20 drinks and $300 bikinis and a tower of fresh shellfish.

In that moment I realized. Holy shit, I’m super high maintenance.

Suddenly a flash flood of dating moments wash over me. All of them point in ONE direction: I’m a high maintenance bitch when I’m in a relationship.

Don’t act smug! You clicked into this article, which means, babe, you probably are too. Here are some telltale signs:

1. Your idea of a chill night is pretty skewed.

Your idea of a quiet, chill night with bae consists of getting a room with a view of the High Line at the Standard Hotel, soaking in a claw-foot tub with bubbles to the very tippy top.

You’re ordering truffled cheese burgers (what! burgers are sooo chill) from the Michelin Star restaurant downstairs, drinking a bottle of champagne out crystal stem glasses, cuddling up in Egyptian cotton sheets and having loads of sex in your Agent Provocateur lingerie.

Oh, and definitely using your $500 sex toy.

2. When you’re asked “what restaurant you want to go to?” you always have an opinion.

When your sweet SO asks where you want to go to dinner, you might say “I don’t care” in your best chill girl drawl, but it will always be followed with:

“As long as they have burrata cheese because it’s burrata season, they have Kim Crawford sauvignon blanc (of course), they have oysters on the half shell because I’m REALLY CRAVING THAT RIGHT NOW,their staff has more than threeyears of experience, I personally know the chef, they’ll bring a separate chair for my new Balenciaga bag, they throw out a red carpet for me when I walk through the door, they have someone who can air me down with a fan for the entire dinner and they have strawberry shortcake. I don’t really care where we go, babe. You know me. I’m easy.”

3. You always slow your partner down because, well, HEELS, babe.

There are so many things you can’t do because your feet always hurt from your massive high heels that you insist on wearing everywhere, whether it’s the streets of Manhattan or Fire Island beach or yoga, honey.

4. You love having your hair pulled during sex, except for when it’s not your actual hair.

Wehigh maintenance girls want the best of everything and our hair is no exception. It’s hard to compete with all the gorgeous female celebrities with their forever shining luscious locks of hair.

And we all know a woman is only as good as her hair (I SAID IT AND I DEFEND IT). So when our hair is not going through its best life phase, we weave, baby. And by weave, I mean, we get extensions. Every high maintenance girl I know has had extensions at some point in her life.

In fact there is nothing more high maintenance than maintaining hair extensions. And we’re not going to let you muck up our $2000 Great Length extensions when we’re getting down and dirty in bed.

You can pull my hair anytime, babe, I’m a total freak. But don’t you dare pull my hair when fresh fake hair has just been applied. HELL NO!

5. You will never take public transportation to dinner.

Or anywhere for that matter. High maintenance girls will make you suffer through hour-long taxi rides rather than a 10-minute train ride. We just don’t like to be tossed into a sweaty cesspool of normal people (ew). We want air conditioning and we want privacy.

But don’t complain; taxi sex is the best sex. No one has sex in a subway, that’s just savage. But sex in the back of a taxi is totally bougie. And don’t give me this UberPool bullshit. UberPool is for the weak.

6. Your partner knows to never take you on a date to the following things.

1. A music festival (unless you have VIP seats. We don’t do general population).

2. Camping (unless it’s glamping and a luxury RV has been arranged).

3. A yoga retreat (unless there is loads of wine and a black tie dinner at the end).

4. The zoo (Not only are zoos TERRIBLE, EVIL places, but how can you expect us to enjoy a zoo when we’ve been on safari in Kenya?).

5. A baseball game (there is nothing chic about a baseball game. Not even if it’s VIP or catered).

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/22/6-signs-youre-the-high-maintenance-one-in-your-relationship/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/08/22/6-signs-youre-the-high-maintenance-one-in-your-relationship/

[adambstingus]

6 Signs You’re The High Maintenance One In Your Relationship

I identify as many things: a self-diagnosed fantasy addict, a half-Jew, a citizen of the UK and a fashion-crazed mascara lesbian with delusions of grandeur. I own all of it, baby.

However, while I fully realize that I’m no “chill” girl— I don’t consider myself high maintenance.

My English mother used to always say, “Don’t be one of those high maintenance American girls, darling. It’s not attractive” as she twisted her mega-carat diamond ring around her finger. I’m one of those girls who thinks her mother is God so I fiercely hang on to every word she says.

OK, then. If mum says being high maintenance is “bad,” well then, surely it’s BAD.

However, my mother is also a woman who, for my entire childhood, would only get her hair done by “Today Show” celebrity hairstylist Louis Licari in his Fifth Avenue flagship salon.

Even when we moved to another state, she would trek into Manhattan to get her hair done by the notorious “King of Color” himself, drinking champagne with foils on her head, rubbing elbows with a European duchess to her left and a supermodel to her right.

She only drinks champagne and only goes to full-service gas stations. She sleeps in $200 silk nightgowns, instructed me to only ever grace my legs in Wolford tights and only uses Creme de la Mer on her skin. The casual day bag she wears when “sightseeing” is a tiny black quilted $2,400 Chanel crossbody purse with a chunky gold chain. She considers the Bowery Hotel a dive bar.

So I guess her definition of high maintenance is a little skewed, huh? And I guess mine is too. Because it only occurred to me recently I might be cut from the same high maintenance cloth as Mummy dearest.

Let me backtrack to a few weeks ago: It’s a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in the lovely Hamptons, where I happen to be from (see, I didn’t stand a chance at being chill!).

I’m wearing a blue tribal print bikini from my recent trip to the south of France and I’m sitting at a posh beach club, clutching a $17 glass of Whispering Angel ros with freshly polished Christian Louboutin red nails gazing at the sparkling Atlantic ocean through massive two-toned sunnies:

My feet are in the sand. There is a plate of oysters glistening in the beautiful sunshine. Music is playing. The booze is flowing. And I think, shit I’m so happy right now, there is nowhere in the world I would rather be. I open my eyes and blissfully smile sweetly at my crush, who happens to be sitting to my left.

“You know it really doesn’t take much to make me happy,” I say to her, feeling really bohemian, eating my raw seafood lunch in nothing but a bikini top.

“Really?” she says, grinning, knowing I’m entirely full of shit.

“It really doesn’t. Just like a beach club in the Hamptons with wine and fresh oysters and…” and as the words come tumbling out of my mouth, I realize how amazingly ridiculous I sound. I realize how delusional I really am.

Oh no it doesn’t take much to make me happy just being at an exclusive club in one of the most expensive elitist summer spots in the world with $20 drinks and $300 bikinis and a tower of fresh shellfish.

In that moment I realized. Holy shit, I’m super high maintenance.

Suddenly a flash flood of dating moments wash over me. All of them point in ONE direction: I’m a high maintenance bitch when I’m in a relationship.

Don’t act smug! You clicked into this article, which means, babe, you probably are too. Here are some telltale signs:

1. Your idea of a chill night is pretty skewed.

Your idea of a quiet, chill night with bae consists of getting a room with a view of the High Line at the Standard Hotel, soaking in a claw-foot tub with bubbles to the very tippy top.

You’re ordering truffled cheese burgers (what! burgers are sooo chill) from the Michelin Star restaurant downstairs, drinking a bottle of champagne out crystal stem glasses, cuddling up in Egyptian cotton sheets and having loads of sex in your Agent Provocateur lingerie.

Oh, and definitely using your $500 sex toy.

2. When you’re asked “what restaurant you want to go to?” you always have an opinion.

When your sweet SO asks where you want to go to dinner, you might say “I don’t care” in your best chill girl drawl, but it will always be followed with:

“As long as they have burrata cheese because it’s burrata season, they have Kim Crawford sauvignon blanc (of course), they have oysters on the half shell because I’m REALLY CRAVING THAT RIGHT NOW,their staff has more than threeyears of experience, I personally know the chef, they’ll bring a separate chair for my new Balenciaga bag, they throw out a red carpet for me when I walk through the door, they have someone who can air me down with a fan for the entire dinner and they have strawberry shortcake. I don’t really care where we go, babe. You know me. I’m easy.”

3. You always slow your partner down because, well, HEELS, babe.

There are so many things you can’t do because your feet always hurt from your massive high heels that you insist on wearing everywhere, whether it’s the streets of Manhattan or Fire Island beach or yoga, honey.

4. You love having your hair pulled during sex, except for when it’s not your actual hair.

Wehigh maintenance girls want the best of everything and our hair is no exception. It’s hard to compete with all the gorgeous female celebrities with their forever shining luscious locks of hair.

And we all know a woman is only as good as her hair (I SAID IT AND I DEFEND IT). So when our hair is not going through its best life phase, we weave, baby. And by weave, I mean, we get extensions. Every high maintenance girl I know has had extensions at some point in her life.

In fact there is nothing more high maintenance than maintaining hair extensions. And we’re not going to let you muck up our $2000 Great Length extensions when we’re getting down and dirty in bed.

You can pull my hair anytime, babe, I’m a total freak. But don’t you dare pull my hair when fresh fake hair has just been applied. HELL NO!

5. You will never take public transportation to dinner.

Or anywhere for that matter. High maintenance girls will make you suffer through hour-long taxi rides rather than a 10-minute train ride. We just don’t like to be tossed into a sweaty cesspool of normal people (ew). We want air conditioning and we want privacy.

But don’t complain; taxi sex is the best sex. No one has sex in a subway, that’s just savage. But sex in the back of a taxi is totally bougie. And don’t give me this UberPool bullshit. UberPool is for the weak.

6. Your partner knows to never take you on a date to the following things.

1. A music festival (unless you have VIP seats. We don’t do general population).

2. Camping (unless it’s glamping and a luxury RV has been arranged).

3. A yoga retreat (unless there is loads of wine and a black tie dinner at the end).

4. The zoo (Not only are zoos TERRIBLE, EVIL places, but how can you expect us to enjoy a zoo when we’ve been on safari in Kenya?).

5. A baseball game (there is nothing chic about a baseball game. Not even if it’s VIP or catered).

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/22/6-signs-youre-the-high-maintenance-one-in-your-relationship/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/164499028112

[jimdsmith34]

6 Signs You’re The High Maintenance One In Your Relationship

I identify as many things: a self-diagnosed fantasy addict, a half-Jew, a citizen of the UK and a fashion-crazed mascara lesbian with delusions of grandeur. I own all of it, baby.

However, while I fully realize that I’m no “chill” girl— I don’t consider myself high maintenance.

My English mother used to always say, “Don’t be one of those high maintenance American girls, darling. It’s not attractive” as she twisted her mega-carat diamond ring around her finger. I’m one of those girls who thinks her mother is God so I fiercely hang on to every word she says.

OK, then. If mum says being high maintenance is “bad,” well then, surely it’s BAD.

However, my mother is also a woman who, for my entire childhood, would only get her hair done by “Today Show” celebrity hairstylist Louis Licari in his Fifth Avenue flagship salon.

Even when we moved to another state, she would trek into Manhattan to get her hair done by the notorious “King of Color” himself, drinking champagne with foils on her head, rubbing elbows with a European duchess to her left and a supermodel to her right.

She only drinks champagne and only goes to full-service gas stations. She sleeps in $200 silk nightgowns, instructed me to only ever grace my legs in Wolford tights and only uses Creme de la Mer on her skin. The casual day bag she wears when “sightseeing” is a tiny black quilted $2,400 Chanel crossbody purse with a chunky gold chain. She considers the Bowery Hotel a dive bar.

So I guess her definition of high maintenance is a little skewed, huh? And I guess mine is too. Because it only occurred to me recently I might be cut from the same high maintenance cloth as Mummy dearest.

Let me backtrack to a few weeks ago: It’s a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in the lovely Hamptons, where I happen to be from (see, I didn’t stand a chance at being chill!).

I’m wearing a blue tribal print bikini from my recent trip to the south of France and I’m sitting at a posh beach club, clutching a $17 glass of Whispering Angel ros with freshly polished Christian Louboutin red nails gazing at the sparkling Atlantic ocean through massive two-toned sunnies:

My feet are in the sand. There is a plate of oysters glistening in the beautiful sunshine. Music is playing. The booze is flowing. And I think, shit I’m so happy right now, there is nowhere in the world I would rather be. I open my eyes and blissfully smile sweetly at my crush, who happens to be sitting to my left.

“You know it really doesn’t take much to make me happy,” I say to her, feeling really bohemian, eating my raw seafood lunch in nothing but a bikini top.

“Really?” she says, grinning, knowing I’m entirely full of shit.

“It really doesn’t. Just like a beach club in the Hamptons with wine and fresh oysters and…” and as the words come tumbling out of my mouth, I realize how amazingly ridiculous I sound. I realize how delusional I really am.

Oh no it doesn’t take much to make me happy just being at an exclusive club in one of the most expensive elitist summer spots in the world with $20 drinks and $300 bikinis and a tower of fresh shellfish.

In that moment I realized. Holy shit, I’m super high maintenance.

Suddenly a flash flood of dating moments wash over me. All of them point in ONE direction: I’m a high maintenance bitch when I’m in a relationship.

Don’t act smug! You clicked into this article, which means, babe, you probably are too. Here are some telltale signs:

1. Your idea of a chill night is pretty skewed.

Your idea of a quiet, chill night with bae consists of getting a room with a view of the High Line at the Standard Hotel, soaking in a claw-foot tub with bubbles to the very tippy top.

You’re ordering truffled cheese burgers (what! burgers are sooo chill) from the Michelin Star restaurant downstairs, drinking a bottle of champagne out crystal stem glasses, cuddling up in Egyptian cotton sheets and having loads of sex in your Agent Provocateur lingerie.

Oh, and definitely using your $500 sex toy.

2. When you’re asked “what restaurant you want to go to?” you always have an opinion.

When your sweet SO asks where you want to go to dinner, you might say “I don’t care” in your best chill girl drawl, but it will always be followed with:

“As long as they have burrata cheese because it’s burrata season, they have Kim Crawford sauvignon blanc (of course), they have oysters on the half shell because I’m REALLY CRAVING THAT RIGHT NOW,their staff has more than threeyears of experience, I personally know the chef, they’ll bring a separate chair for my new Balenciaga bag, they throw out a red carpet for me when I walk through the door, they have someone who can air me down with a fan for the entire dinner and they have strawberry shortcake. I don’t really care where we go, babe. You know me. I’m easy.”

3. You always slow your partner down because, well, HEELS, babe.

There are so many things you can’t do because your feet always hurt from your massive high heels that you insist on wearing everywhere, whether it’s the streets of Manhattan or Fire Island beach or yoga, honey.

4. You love having your hair pulled during sex, except for when it’s not your actual hair.

Wehigh maintenance girls want the best of everything and our hair is no exception. It’s hard to compete with all the gorgeous female celebrities with their forever shining luscious locks of hair.

And we all know a woman is only as good as her hair (I SAID IT AND I DEFEND IT). So when our hair is not going through its best life phase, we weave, baby. And by weave, I mean, we get extensions. Every high maintenance girl I know has had extensions at some point in her life.

In fact there is nothing more high maintenance than maintaining hair extensions. And we’re not going to let you muck up our $2000 Great Length extensions when we’re getting down and dirty in bed.

You can pull my hair anytime, babe, I’m a total freak. But don’t you dare pull my hair when fresh fake hair has just been applied. HELL NO!

5. You will never take public transportation to dinner.

Or anywhere for that matter. High maintenance girls will make you suffer through hour-long taxi rides rather than a 10-minute train ride. We just don’t like to be tossed into a sweaty cesspool of normal people (ew). We want air conditioning and we want privacy.

But don’t complain; taxi sex is the best sex. No one has sex in a subway, that’s just savage. But sex in the back of a taxi is totally bougie. And don’t give me this UberPool bullshit. UberPool is for the weak.

6. Your partner knows to never take you on a date to the following things.

1. A music festival (unless you have VIP seats. We don’t do general population).

2. Camping (unless it’s glamping and a luxury RV has been arranged).

3. A yoga retreat (unless there is loads of wine and a black tie dinner at the end).

4. The zoo (Not only are zoos TERRIBLE, EVIL places, but how can you expect us to enjoy a zoo when we’ve been on safari in Kenya?).

5. A baseball game (there is nothing chic about a baseball game. Not even if it’s VIP or catered).

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/22/6-signs-youre-the-high-maintenance-one-in-your-relationship/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/08/6-signs-youre-high-maintenance-one-in.html

[allofbeercom]

6 Signs You’re The High Maintenance One In Your Relationship

I identify as many things: a self-diagnosed fantasy addict, a half-Jew, a citizen of the UK and a fashion-crazed mascara lesbian with delusions of grandeur. I own all of it, baby.

However, while I fully realize that I’m no “chill” girl— I don’t consider myself high maintenance.

My English mother used to always say, “Don’t be one of those high maintenance American girls, darling. It’s not attractive” as she twisted her mega-carat diamond ring around her finger. I’m one of those girls who thinks her mother is God so I fiercely hang on to every word she says.

OK, then. If mum says being high maintenance is “bad,” well then, surely it’s BAD.

However, my mother is also a woman who, for my entire childhood, would only get her hair done by “Today Show” celebrity hairstylist Louis Licari in his Fifth Avenue flagship salon.

Even when we moved to another state, she would trek into Manhattan to get her hair done by the notorious “King of Color” himself, drinking champagne with foils on her head, rubbing elbows with a European duchess to her left and a supermodel to her right.

She only drinks champagne and only goes to full-service gas stations. She sleeps in $200 silk nightgowns, instructed me to only ever grace my legs in Wolford tights and only uses Creme de la Mer on her skin. The casual day bag she wears when “sightseeing” is a tiny black quilted $2,400 Chanel crossbody purse with a chunky gold chain. She considers the Bowery Hotel a dive bar.

So I guess her definition of high maintenance is a little skewed, huh? And I guess mine is too. Because it only occurred to me recently I might be cut from the same high maintenance cloth as Mummy dearest.

Let me backtrack to a few weeks ago: It’s a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in the lovely Hamptons, where I happen to be from (see, I didn’t stand a chance at being chill!).

I’m wearing a blue tribal print bikini from my recent trip to the south of France and I’m sitting at a posh beach club, clutching a $17 glass of Whispering Angel ros with freshly polished Christian Louboutin red nails gazing at the sparkling Atlantic ocean through massive two-toned sunnies:

My feet are in the sand. There is a plate of oysters glistening in the beautiful sunshine. Music is playing. The booze is flowing. And I think, shit I’m so happy right now, there is nowhere in the world I would rather be. I open my eyes and blissfully smile sweetly at my crush, who happens to be sitting to my left.

“You know it really doesn’t take much to make me happy,” I say to her, feeling really bohemian, eating my raw seafood lunch in nothing but a bikini top.

“Really?” she says, grinning, knowing I’m entirely full of shit.

“It really doesn’t. Just like a beach club in the Hamptons with wine and fresh oysters and…” and as the words come tumbling out of my mouth, I realize how amazingly ridiculous I sound. I realize how delusional I really am.

Oh no it doesn’t take much to make me happy just being at an exclusive club in one of the most expensive elitist summer spots in the world with $20 drinks and $300 bikinis and a tower of fresh shellfish.

In that moment I realized. Holy shit, I’m super high maintenance.

Suddenly a flash flood of dating moments wash over me. All of them point in ONE direction: I’m a high maintenance bitch when I’m in a relationship.

Don’t act smug! You clicked into this article, which means, babe, you probably are too. Here are some telltale signs:

1. Your idea of a chill night is pretty skewed.

Your idea of a quiet, chill night with bae consists of getting a room with a view of the High Line at the Standard Hotel, soaking in a claw-foot tub with bubbles to the very tippy top.

You’re ordering truffled cheese burgers (what! burgers are sooo chill) from the Michelin Star restaurant downstairs, drinking a bottle of champagne out crystal stem glasses, cuddling up in Egyptian cotton sheets and having loads of sex in your Agent Provocateur lingerie.

Oh, and definitely using your $500 sex toy.

2. When you’re asked “what restaurant you want to go to?” you always have an opinion.

When your sweet SO asks where you want to go to dinner, you might say “I don’t care” in your best chill girl drawl, but it will always be followed with:

“As long as they have burrata cheese because it’s burrata season, they have Kim Crawford sauvignon blanc (of course), they have oysters on the half shell because I’m REALLY CRAVING THAT RIGHT NOW,their staff has more than threeyears of experience, I personally know the chef, they’ll bring a separate chair for my new Balenciaga bag, they throw out a red carpet for me when I walk through the door, they have someone who can air me down with a fan for the entire dinner and they have strawberry shortcake. I don’t really care where we go, babe. You know me. I’m easy.”

3. You always slow your partner down because, well, HEELS, babe.

There are so many things you can’t do because your feet always hurt from your massive high heels that you insist on wearing everywhere, whether it’s the streets of Manhattan or Fire Island beach or yoga, honey.

4. You love having your hair pulled during sex, except for when it’s not your actual hair.

Wehigh maintenance girls want the best of everything and our hair is no exception. It’s hard to compete with all the gorgeous female celebrities with their forever shining luscious locks of hair.

And we all know a woman is only as good as her hair (I SAID IT AND I DEFEND IT). So when our hair is not going through its best life phase, we weave, baby. And by weave, I mean, we get extensions. Every high maintenance girl I know has had extensions at some point in her life.

In fact there is nothing more high maintenance than maintaining hair extensions. And we’re not going to let you muck up our $2000 Great Length extensions when we’re getting down and dirty in bed.

You can pull my hair anytime, babe, I’m a total freak. But don’t you dare pull my hair when fresh fake hair has just been applied. HELL NO!

5. You will never take public transportation to dinner.

Or anywhere for that matter. High maintenance girls will make you suffer through hour-long taxi rides rather than a 10-minute train ride. We just don’t like to be tossed into a sweaty cesspool of normal people (ew). We want air conditioning and we want privacy.

But don’t complain; taxi sex is the best sex. No one has sex in a subway, that’s just savage. But sex in the back of a taxi is totally bougie. And don’t give me this UberPool bullshit. UberPool is for the weak.

6. Your partner knows to never take you on a date to the following things.

1. A music festival (unless you have VIP seats. We don’t do general population).

2. Camping (unless it’s glamping and a luxury RV has been arranged).

3. A yoga retreat (unless there is loads of wine and a black tie dinner at the end).

4. The zoo (Not only are zoos TERRIBLE, EVIL places, but how can you expect us to enjoy a zoo when we’ve been on safari in Kenya?).

5. A baseball game (there is nothing chic about a baseball game. Not even if it’s VIP or catered).

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/22/6-signs-youre-the-high-maintenance-one-in-your-relationship/