#Video Review: Still Corners Today Is The Day

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: JOVM Mainstays Share Breathtaking and Cinematic "Today Is The Day"

New Video: JOVM Mainstays Share Breathtaking and Cinematic "Today Is The Day" @stillcorners @wreckinglight @sallyhedberg @mysticsons

JOVM mainstays Still Corners — vocalist and keyboardist Tessa Murray and multi-instrumentalist, producer and songwriter Greg Hughes — will be releasing their long-awaited sixth album, Dream Talk on April 5, 2024 through the band’s own label Wrecking Light Records.  The album’s material was written in Southern France, East Sussex, UK and Woodstock. “The songs came together quickly and being able…

[luza-wayne]

calling them with another name

suna rintarou, kuroo tetsurou, tsukishima kei

cw: accident (it's just kuroo being an idiot)

here's the second part!

suna rintarou

it's the weekend and you decided to spend your time at your boyfriend's house. his family is out of town and he said he's bored.

but part of the reason you went there is to try out the "calling your boyfriend another name prank". you wanted to know how he'll react so you concluded to do this today.

you two are now on the couch watching netflix, while he uses your lap as a pillow. you have been thinking of the right time to carry out the plan, but you can't seem to find it.

“i'm getting hungry.” he muttered out of nowhere.

this it is! 

“me too.” you replied to him, putting your hand on your tummy. he noticed that and then he thought of burying his face onto your stomach, and he did.

“what do you want to eat?” he asked, making your tummy feel the vibrations every time he speaks.

“hmmm... i don't kno— ah! how about chicken wings?” your eyes glimmered at your suggestion. he looked up at you and smiled, agreeing with you.

he reached for his phone and started to search for somewhere to order, still laying on your lap.

“ah, also can you order drinks too, kyousuke? oh— mhm.” you 'innocently' asked him, while your eyes are focused on the tv.

the bomb has been planted. 

“oka—” he halted his mouth as soon as he reviewed what you just called him.

he raised his eyebrows and furrowed it, giving you a 'what-did-you-just-called-me-?' look.

you bite your lower lips, trying to hold back your laughter as you can feel him staring at you from his position.

when he didn't get a reaction from you, even with that glaring he did. he fixed his form and forcibly made you look into his eyes.

“excuse me, ma'am, but what did you call your boyfriend?” he asked seriously, pressing his palms deeper on your cheeks.

“uh? rin?”

“oh no, that's not what you named me just now. who is this kyousuke bastard? you even realized you said the wrong name.” he said, freeing your face and standing up.

“kyousuke? i don't know anyone named kyousuke. i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you said putting up your act.

after you said that, he just sat back on the couch, but now with a grumpy face and mood.

“when's the food coming?” you asked, changing the topic.

“never.” he shortly answered.

“what? why?” you paused the movie and shook his arms playfully.

“i don't know either. why don't you ask the kyousuke guy? maybe he knows why.” he answered, he stretched his arms and turned his back and played something, anything on his phone.

omg, is he mad? damn, he's mad, but... 

“bwahahahahaha!” you suddenly burst out laughing while you hit his back. “rin! oh my gosh— hahahaha!” you were completely broken because of his reaction to the prank.

“what is wrong with you? suddenly calling me names and now laughing out of nowhere!” he said removing your hitting hand off of his back.

“oh, rin.” you wiped the tears of laughter in the corner of your eyes and hugged him, taking him by surprise. “my wittle rin is jealous, aren't you?— bwahahahahaha!” you burst out again.

you just can't get your mind off of how cute it was, considering suna rintarou rarely showed emotion on his face.

“it was just a prank, rin. sorry, sorry.” you confessed.

he finally sank in his mind all the videos in tiktok he saw, where they prank their boyfriends and how can he fail to forget that set up?

“i'm never ordering you chicken wings again.” he said suddenly that made you crack up again.

“so, you still ordered it for me, rin.” 

suna swears in his mind that he'll get you back. not now, but he definitely will.

kuroo tetsurou 

you are the manager of the nekoma boys volleyball club and lately, your boyfriend, the nekoma's captain, kuroo tetsurou has been teasing and getting on your nerves for the last couple of days and you decided to take revenge today. with the help of kenma on what you will do, you two took the idea of calling him by another name.

after changing, you stepped into the court, as usual, kuroo sent a flying kiss to your position as soon as he saw you, but you dodged the air as if you were not accepting it. kuroo knew what he was doing for the past few days, so he was not offended by it, instead, he just laughed his ass off.

right after you filled their water bottles, coach nekomata called in for a ten-minute break. you were distributing it when kenma gave you a sign that right now is the perfect time to commence the plan.

after you gave kenma's bottle, you extended your arms to your boyfriend and he just smiled widely and you're sure he's planning something again, just like how he is doing recently.

he suddenly held you on your wrist and pulled you to his chest, and the reason he keeps on doing this teasing is because of the genuine response he's receiving from you.

“w-what?!” you slapped his arms, even with a blush on your face.

he lifted your chin and angled your face, instinctively you closed your eyes and pooched your lips, but when no contact happened, you opened your eyes and saw him already rolling on the floor.

this jerk... hah! sorry, but i won't let things go your way this time! 

“gosh! you keep on teasing me these days, rai! i'll definitely have my revenge soon.” you declared and made your way to pass yaku's water to him.

kuroo blinked once, blinked twice and thrice, but nothing changed. did you just call him 'rai'? 

he regained his posture and was about to reach out to you, but the break was already finished.

you clenched your fist, bit your lower lips and even felt your nose enlarging now and then, trying to contain your laughter as you see kuroo keeps glancing at you, every time he can.

wah, this is the best revenge. 

“ouch!” 

everyone was alerted by the cry and it turned out kuroo was hit by taketora's spike because he was not paying attention. coach nekomata told him to go check it in the clinic and asked you to come with him. you worriedly led him to the infirmary and unfortunately, the nurse was out, so you just decided to wait for them while you try to keep him in the right condition.

“are you worried?” kuroo asked you, while you trace his head if there's any bump.

“of course, i am. are you crazy?” you answered annoyed at his question.

“no, you can't. your boyfriend will get mad.” he said, trying to sound different.

what— ah. he's still there, he seems alright already.

“what are you saying? you're my boyfriend.” you said blanky.

“i am your boyfriend?! sorry, but my name isn't rai! newsflash my girlfriend is cheating on me with a jerk named ra—” you quickly covered his mouth, looked around and at the door.

“idiot! you're too noisy! we're in the infirmary!” he removed your hands from his mouth and pulled you to a hug.  a tight one.

okay, now i feel bad.

“i was just trying to prank you, tetsu. you've been under my skin recently and i thought i will get back at you. sorry.” you said stroking his hair. he tightened the hug and you leaned down to kiss his hair.

“okay, cut!” you two flinched when you heard someone clapping and looked behind you. yaku, lev and kenma were there standing at the door.

“you two took so long to come back.” yaku looked so disgusted, lev wondering what the hell is happening and kenma just looking away.

“watching you two being lovey-dovey disgust me from the bottom of my heart,” yaku exclaimed.

“really? didn't know you have a heart, yakkun.” you replied.

“eh? yaku-san, you don't have a heart?” lev asked, intently.

“lev, shut up.” kenma muttered, looking like he'd have enough of lev.

“what do i do? my teammates are jealous of our relationship.” kuroo said and sighed.

“like hell we are!” yaku protests.

tsukishima kei 

the finals are coming up and you and your boyfriend, tsukishima kei, decided to study together, so you can ask him if you ever don't understand something. he's fine with it, so now you're in his room holding your notebook with a scowl on your face.

“what's wrong?” tsukishima asks as soon as he looks at your face.

“i don't understand anything at all.”  you plopped on the table and buried your face in the book.

“want me to teach you?” he asked as he browsed his notes. you shook your head still on the table.

“no, i need a break.” you said and stood up. you throw yourself on his bed and reach for your phone.

“we just started ten minutes ago, you know?” he smirked as he wrote down pointers for you.

“shut up.” you pouted and tapped on the tiktok icon on your phone.

not even a minute passed, a video played on your fyp and it was about pranking their boyfriends by calling them by a different name. thankfully, you're wearing earphones so, he can't hear what you are watching and chose to do it to your own boyfriend.

you exit the app and place your phone on his nightstand. you sat down again at the table and opposite to him, he raised his eyebrows.

“i thought you were going to take a break from the ten-minute study you did?” he teased you.

“well, i just decided to be a good student starting now, so i'll be doing my best to study.” you stated hiding your dark plan behind the face you're putting up.

after minutes of pretending to study, you took your notes and sat next to him.

“hey,” you started. he looked at you and placed his hand on your hip.

“mhm?” he hummed.

wait, he's being touchy and sweet right now, should i continue or abandon the plan for now? argh! whatever! 

“i can't understand this, can you explain this to me, furuya?” you said pointing something in your notebook.

i did it! how will kei react?! 

it took a few seconds before tsukishima spoke up.

“first, you need to do this…”

huh? no response? you sighed. i knew it, he wouldn't react to something like that, he probably thought i just called him by another name by mistake. 

after he explained what you asked, you just decided to really study now, and an hour passed.

“how about we take a break?” tsukishima suggested. you just nodded, you felt like all your energy was just sucked out of your body. “i'm going to go get refreshments.” he said standing up and walking to the door.

“okay.” you replied, your eyes already gave up.

“just lay down on the bed if you're too tired, i'll be back, akemi.” he said.

you opened your eyes wide and looked at his way hastily.

“kei, what the fuck?!” you cursed, completely shaken.

“huh?” he asked you, even tilting his head.

“who is this akemi girl you just called me?!” you walked to him, your eyebrows furrowing together.

“akemi? who's that? i don't know any akemi.” he answered.

“no, you just called me akemi!” you defended.

“i really don't know, maybe you should ask that furuya guy?” he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the door.

“huh?” furuya? “gosh, kei!” you hit his chest and glared at him.

he laughed looking at you, worried about who the akemi he just called.

“damn you.”

“too bad. i didn't fall into your trap.” he said and walked to the table.

“i'll have my revenge next time, just you wait.” you said, determined that you'll get a reaction from him in the future.

“are you sure you should say that?” he leaned down and grabbed his phone that was placed in the pot.

“what do you mean?” you wondered.

"kei, what the fuck?" "huh?" "who is this akemi girl you just called me?" "akemi? who's th—" 

you widened your eyes and your blood rose to your cheeks as you heard your voice.

“kei! delete that!”

hope you liked it!

also, if you'd like to tip me, you can check my ko-fi acc! anything will be a big help!

[avatar-anna]

Workday Blues

2024 Masterlist

i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol

"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"

"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"

You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."

Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.

"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"

"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.

"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."

"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"

Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."

"And...how far from home are you now?"

"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."

You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.

Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.

"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.

"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.

"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."

"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.

You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.

When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"

"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."

"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.

"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.

His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.

"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.

Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"

You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."

"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"

Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.

Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"

He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.

You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.

Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."

Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."

"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."

Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."

Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."

Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.

When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.

"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.

"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"

Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.

A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."

"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"

"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."

Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Both."

You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.

*.*

"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."

Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.

"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.

Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."

From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."

Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.

"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.

You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.

You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.

Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.

Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.

You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.

So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.

"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.

"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.

"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.

Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.

"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."

Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.

"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.

"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."

"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."

You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.

"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.

"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."

"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"

A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."

Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."

*.*

"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.

"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."

"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."

"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."

Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"I will."

Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."

"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.

[weebsinstash]

Really like the idea of a yandere Vox who is so ride or die for his overconsumerist capitalist Musk-esque lifestyle UNTIL he sees it negatively affecting his darling and does a complete 180

like take that poly red string soulmate Vox x Reader x Alastor concept and, you've got Alastor KINDA warming up to technology and willing to watch TV and do other things with you but he's still not a fan of you being on your phone constantly and some of the video games and movies you consume. He's on the couch reading a paper and (affectionately) rolling his eyes as you and Vox take turns headshotting each other in a video game and hollering "hell yeah, suck my fucking dick!!"

Meanwhile Vox is just 200% chronically online and loving it until one day he asks you why you wear baggy clothes all the time and you're ever so casually replying "because my body is fucking icky, duh" and Vox has absolutely no idea what you're talking about until you break down on a tangent about it

I was watching a clip the other day where someone was pointing out that Marilyn Monroe was considered the 50s icon of beauty and there are plenty of photos with her with thick thighs or a visible belly pooch and, imagine Vox sitting there, the disbelieving 'are you joking?' smile falling off of his face as you just, go OFF, "why would I wear anything other than sweatpants? I have fucking CELLULITE VOX, I'll NEVER have leggings legs no matter how thin I am, and look at my hip dips, they're so fucking GROSS, and my butt isn't shaped right, I have banana rolls, and, do I have siren eyes or doe eyes?! Am I bunny cute or am I frog cute?! And look at how bad my facial balancing is! Ugh, where's my gua sha?! I'm so tired of being UGLY!!"

Later that week Alastor is looking up from his paper to see Vox just, slowly entering the room, sloooooowly shutting the door behind him, looking to his old friend, "so hey! Funny idea, stop me if you've heard this one before but, I was thinking we could uh, maybe take their phone away annnnnnnnnnd... not give it back?" and here's Alastor, "oh, funny story! So earlier today they asked me if I 'wouldn't like them anymore' if they got COSMETIC SURGERY, yeah, ON THEIR FACE BELIEVE IT OR NOT, so, naturally, I'm already one step ahead of you :)" as he just casually gestures to the smashed wifi router in the garbage can in the corner of the room

You just get home from work one day and Vox has his CRT head back on and you're told 'if you want to look something up online, you can use the desktop in the computer room, and only 3 hours of screen time' and it all but blasts you 15 years into the past 💀 no more nights where you're gaming for 5+ hours straight and ruining your sleep. No more skipping meals because you're hyperfocused and binge-watching an anime while also playing an idle game on your phone. No more Alastor and Vox finding out you're just smoking bowls for hours literally nonstop because you need some sort of extra stimulation while you doomscroll and watch 3 hour long roast reviews for shows you've never watched

Alastor catches you swiping through an app and you get a divisive video thrown in your face from some alpha dude bro podcast, "yeah, a real man knows how to protect his lady! She should be at home cooking and keeping the house clean, not running around like a tramp and doing dumb chick stuff! All women need to focus on is marriage and being good wives, you know, a TRADITIONAL relationship!" and Alastor is just, swiping that shit out of your hand, "he DOES have a bit of a point, repulsive as he is! I suppose I'll have to start looking at potential dwellings that can fit you, me, and, I SUPPOSE Vox too 🙄" and little do you know he's already got a cute little home in the 'burbs set up already. He's just... you know! Waiting for the right moment to let you and the annoying TV bastard know that you'll be moving! Maybe he'll just... wait until the day of! Nothing beats a fun surprise, right? ^^ he doesn't want either of you... trying to run away or anything after all haha!

[queer-in-a-cornfield]

Some of us on the discord were discussing what Dewey would be like as an adult yesterday, prompting this little fic (1325 words) based on my hc that Dewey would become a stage actor

Dewey walks down the busy streets of New York, humming some vocal warmups. While he appears as calm and collected as he ever does, his mind is racing a mile a minute.

Today was his Broadway debut, and he was equal parts excited and nervous. He’d done many a show in the past but those were different. This was BROADWAY, the gold standard of theatre. Sure, this wasn’t a principal role or anything, he was just replacing a departing ensemble member, but still! A Broadway debut is a Broadway debut. It’s a big day, and he’s freaking out a little.

He rounds the corner of the theatre and opens the stage door, making a pit stop to check in for the day and readjust his bag. He nearly drops his coffee but manages to set it down to adjust his grip before continuing on to his dressing room.

He swings the door open and finds that Rico and Alex, the castmates who share the room with him had already arrived.

“Hey, guys!” Dewey says as he walks over to his designated area. He pauses suddenly before he can put his things down. “What’s all this?”

Surrounding his mirror were a pair of blue balloons, some confetti, and a handwritten banner on top that read “Congrats on your debut!”

Rico speaks up, “It’s your first show tonight, Dewey! If that isn’t cause for celebration I don’t know what is.” Alex nods in agreement.

“Aw, thanks guys,” Dewey smiles, clearing away some of the confetti to put down his bag.

“So how’re you feeling? Ready to show the world what you’re made of?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, I’m really excited, I’ve been dreaming about this for years,” he says, pulling out his notes to review once he finishes warming up.

He spends the next few minutes stretching, uncharacteristically quiet, before sighing and asking, “Guys, you’ve both done this for a while, so… how did you get over the nerves? It still feels insane that I’m even here, and I’m really worried that something’ll go wrong and ruin my chances of continuing here.”

Rico sighs, “I’m not gonna lie, that fear just takes time to get over. But trust me, you’re gonna do great tonight, and soon enough you won’t be so anxious anymore.”

The trio sit in silence for a moment before Alex pipes up, “Didn’t you mention that one of your brothers had a history with anxiety? Maybe he’ll have some advice for you.”

Dewey nods, then grabs his phone from his pocket, pulls up Huey’s contact, and starts a video call.

“Hey Dewey, what’s up?” Huey’s voice picks up through the phone speakers.

“Hi, Hubert. Did you guys just land or something?” Dewey asks, noticing Huey’s surroundings.

“Yeah, we just landed, oh… fifteen minutes ago? We just got to baggage claim- sorry, one sec,” he says, turning to talk to someone off-screen.

Suddenly Uncle Scrooge appears on screen. “Dewey, lad! Can- can ya see me- how does this thing- curse me kilts, what did Ah just-“ Scrooge says as he confusedly fiddles with the phone.

“Uncle Scrooge, I’ll hold the phone for you,” Huey interjects as he grabs his phone back and centers them both on screen.

“So why’d you want to talk to me, Dew?” Huey asks.

Dewey pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining. But he pauses a moment too long because more faces suddenly attempt to crowd into the view of Huey’s phone camera, all trying to greet him at once. Dewey snickers a little watching Uncle Donald, the last one to get back from claiming their baggage, trying to squeeze into view with little success.

“Hey guys,” Dewey says. “I love you all, but if I could maybe just talk to Huey for a second? I’ll see you guys tonight.”

Reluctantly the rest of the group backs out of frame, leaving once again only Huey.

Sighing amusedly, Huey asks, “Okay, so what did you want me for, Dew?”

“Okay, so, like, I was wondering, basically, like-,” Dewey pauses for a second. “How do you handle your anxiety? Cause I’m kinda freaking out a little right now.”

Huey thinks for a moment. “Well, different things work for different people, but whenever my nerves are getting to me I usually like to take some deep breaths, or you could do the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise, ummm… yeah, I’d say those are my go-to's. I’d also say that drinking coffee wouldn’t help with nerves at all but I don’t think you’d listen to that one, so…”

Dewey laughs, “Thanks, Huey.”

“Of course, Dew. And also remember, we’re all gonna be there cheering for yo-,” Huey gets cut off by a nearby thud, which he turns to look at.

“Uncle Donald’s suitcase just broke,” Huey explains, walking over to help. “You’re gonna do great tonight and we can’t wait to see you after the show! Break a leg!” Huey signs off.

“Bye Huey, see you guys later,” Dewey replies, ending the call.

“Man, it’s still so weird to me that the richest duck in the world is your uncle,” Alex says.

“I don’t know if that’s more surprising or the fact that he doesn’t have a private plane to get here on,” Rico adds.

“Well, we do have a plane but the pilot can’t make it out here until next week. Aaaaand I’m realizing how much of a spoiled rich kid I sound like right now,” Dewey starts laughing again.

“Nah, if you want a really spoiled rich kid that would be more of a… what’s his name? That creep who got all his money from his grandmeemawmaw or whatever?” Alex retorts.

“Doofus Drake?” Rico supplies.

“Yes, him!”

“Oh, you guys don’t even know the half of it,” Dewey exclaims, getting back into his stretching.

——————————————————————-

Dewey opens up the stage door to exit the building. It was dark out now. He was one of the earlier cast members out of the doors, so there was a pretty good-sized crowd greeting him. As he worms his way through them, some congratulate him for making his Broadway debut, and one woman even asks for a picture, which catches him slightly off guard.

Eventually, he makes his way past the main crowd where he is finally greeted by his family, who all promptly give him a bear hug.

“Dewey!!! That was amazing!” Webby exclaims once they all pull away.

“I knew you’d do great,” Huey concurs, grinning.

“Theatre has never been my thing, so believe me when I say that that absolutely blew me away,” Louie adds.

“I’m so proud of ye, lad,” Scrooge says. “Ye’ve done well for yerself.”

Uncle Donald, at a loss for words, smiles and gives him another bear hug.

Della then pries Donald off of him to give him her own hug.

“You boys never cease to make me proud,” she says as she lets him go.

“Aw, you guys,” Dewey says, laughing a little. “You’re gonna get me emotional.”

“We’ve all been emotional since you came on stage, it’s your turn now,” Huey jokes.

Dewey laughs, “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Not to interrupt a nice family moment, but would you guys like a picture?” Rico says suddenly from behind Dewey, startling him.

“Oh my god, Rico! You can’t scare me like that!”

Dewey recollects himself and turns back to face his family.

“Guys, this is Rico, one of my castmates. Fam, Rico, Rico, fam. And yeah, I think we’d like a picture.”

An obscene amount of pictures later, everyone has their phones back with significantly less storage space than before.

“Thanks, Rico!” Dewey calls out as his castmate departs.

“See you tomorrow,” he yells back.

“Well,” Della says. “I think it’s time for some celebration! What time were those reservations for, Uncle Scrooge?”

“… In ten minutes.”

“Oh. Well, let’s get going then!” She exclaims, prompting the group to hurry off to this restaurant, dragging a confused but happy Dewey along with them.

[taz-ma-raz-skylar]

I tried my best to translate the interview from Tikitakas!

( Mario Espinosa de los Monteros took the interview and uploaded it on March 29, 2024 08:42 CET)

Taz Skylar, the canary who triumphs on Netflix: "One Piece gave me an interspatial rocket with which I travel between planets"

The actor reviews his life with Diario AS and tells how he has left everything he had, several times, until he played Sanji, one of the protagonists of the series.

Personality, desires and ambitions are always cooked on a low heat. The pillars that support an individual are built brick by brick. The pillar of the past seems to be over, but every second something new is added. The one of the now is the closest and the most fictitious, because it gets out of hand before it can touch it. And the one of the future is raised by a ghost. That's how complex the reality is. Taz Skylar makes it simple: he steals his own bricks and assembles an excavator. It puts it in sixth gear, rams and destroys everything. Then, he collects the debris and begins to build again: a pillar in the shape of a scriptwriter, another with the appearance of an actor, another as a surfboard manufacturer. "You don't have to know everything, you just have to know what the next thing you have to do."

Taz plays the chef Sanji in the adaptation that Netflix has made of One Piece, the best-selling manga in history - so say the Guinness records - but to get there he has had to give a few strokes to his life. Today it is difficult to present it, but we will say that, among all things, he is a great actor who has been reinventing his life since he had the power to do so.

When we remember the life of Taz, who at 28 years old is still insultingly young, we see the times he has done and undone his way. His father is an Arab of Lebanese origin born in Sierra Leone, and his mother from Yorkshire (England), but he was born in Tenerife. As a child, "I didn't have too many friends" and "I spent all day on the internet, reading and watching videos." He was an introverted person who began to cook his imagination. He wasn't good at soccer or basketball, he was afraid of water and didn't run fast. The school wasn't his thing. He was diagnosed with dyslexia. Now he parachutes on Sundays, he is a black belt in taekwondo and has four series in production.

Leave everything to get somewhere.

At only 15 years old he started the excavator: he found an escape form in surfing, left school and went to Australia to repair boards. My whole life has been that. I'm leaving school and I'm going to Australia. I get there and look for my life. I'm running out of visa. Where am I going now? To California, come on. Then where? To San Sebastian." In this last city, capital of Guipúzcoa, he came to settle. "I was 18 years old and a little house, my car, a schedule that allowed me to train and travel." But he changed it to go to London "to live in a house shared with five people that had leaks on the roof and a bucket in the corner where the water fell." He wanted to be a screenwriter because he told the stories of the surfers to sell the boards. He broke with everything.

"When I went to Australia I didn't have much to lose, at most I was thrown there. But I was fifteen years old and I didn't look starving, someone was going to give me food and water." That's why, when he left San Sebastián, he felt that he was sacrificing something for the first time. "In London my bed was an Ikea sofa bed with a sleeping bag on top. I remember getting there and saying 'what the fuck did I just do'. I threwat everything I had in the trash and changed it for that, simply because I would like to be a screenwriter." Why did you hesitate that time, after years of knocking down pillars? "It's harder to give an axe to your life when it's tolerable. That is, it is easier to cut the head of nothing to achieve a lot, than to cut the head of something with the possibility of staying in nothing. There's the danger, in having something." Well, cutting heads on their way to London.

Question: Would you have gotten to where you are without maintaining that attitude?

Answer: "No, crazy, not at all. If I hadn't kept it, I don't know what would have happened to me. Basically I have a very intense energy, I have analyzed it a lot and I am aware that, if it were not because I have the ability to put my energy into positive things, I could easily have ended up badly, a person very addicted to things that are not good. Luckily I'm addicted to good things. If it weren't for this attitude, I could easily have been in a circle of bad things."

The beginnings in London were difficult. The change to urban life, too. Taz wrote and wrote. He enlisted in the Army reserves, but suffered a traffic accident and did not pass the medical exam. Then, he wrote and wrote, and released a play called Warheads, which explores the life of a soldier before and after the war and the post-traumatic stress it generates. Warheads was nominated for the Olivier (the most prestigious theater award in the United Kingdom) and the leaks of his house, the sleeping bag and the Ikea mattress made sense. Now yes.

Q: You say that Warheads changes your life completely.

A: "Yes. It was the moment when I felt that I could take the world outside me and put my will on it. In England, theater is very important for culture and Olivier is a literary prize for a very cultured person. For me, as a person who felt with an uneducated complex for not having gone to school, for always having spelling mistakes and for having a way of writing that no one understood, it was like an 'ah, I don't have to be intelligent in the conventional way to be able to aspire to have a prize'. Suddenly, everyone around me took me seriously. A door was opened that led to another staircase that led to another floor. I saw very new things and I was able to enter rooms that I had not entered before."

Q: If that changes your life, what does One Piece do with it?

A: "Warheads gave me a car. I was walking through life, and suddenly I had a car. One Piece took the car, threw it through a ravine and gave me an interspatial rocket with which I travel between planets. I talk all day with my best friend Vincent about how absurd it is and the number of opportunities and beautiful things we can do now. We are not taking it as if it were normal. We look into each other's eyes and say 'I can't believe this is happening'. And that's happening every day."

"But the One Piece thing was very fast. When One Piece announced the characters, that night I was at the theater in London doing a play, and when I entered the dressing room during the break, I saw my cell phone doing 'backflips' (it makes a gesture of an uncontrollable spiral with my index finger). I was followed by 1,000 people per minute. The transition from the car to the rocket was very fast, from one day to the next he had 200,000 followers. Although followers are not a way to govern your life, there I could see the difference so instantaneous. When the promos came out, people began to recognize us more, but in the Canary Islands they still asked me if I was still making boards. He was completely alien. But when the series came out, we already had the rocket mounted and they pressed the button. When I returned to Tenerife, the fruit shop asked me for photos."

Taz plays Sanji, the cook of the crew of the pirate ship on which the One Piece manga is based, which is something like a 'Japanese-a-ye' comic. Netflix has made an adaptation of the illustrated work to a Live Action, a series with real actors. His character is one of the best known, most beloved, most charismatic. In the previous video, Taz puts a black belt on the character he plays. His character fights with kicks, so he had to learn martial arts in record time.

Q: You added the taekwondo to your list of things to learn

A: "I feel many times that I do everything in a mediocre way, but I don't do anything very well. There's something very nice about that. I took the taekwondo as an example for this. Because when you get your greatest growth is from white to black belt, but once you are in black, the improvements become very difficult, as if very perfect. That is, I go from 0 to 10 from white to black, but the 11th, which is perfection, I am not so interested, only in some aspects. I don't think you can have an 11 in everything, maybe in your life you can only have an 11, or two at most. But not everything can be an 11. I have a lot of fives, a couple of eights, a few ten, and I still don't have an 11, but that's what I'm in."

If we attribute each copy sold (more than 500 million) to one person, the readers of One Piece would considerably exceed the population of the United States and would be more than 10 times that of Spain. In the face of this mass phenomenon...

Q: Are you afraid that Taz will become Sanji? That the character stars with you?

A: "Yes, it is not a fear as such, but it is something that all of us (the rest of the actors of the series) have in mind and to which we are all vulnerable. But look, if that happens, not so bad, because we won't be able to complain about a life like that, it's still a beautiful life. In my case, since I have never fallen into what people thought was going to fall, I have a feeling that it is not a real problem for me. I may be wrong, but between the first and second seasons of One Piece I have made a series and two movies that have nothing to do with the character of Sanji. I have four series in production that have nothing to do with the world of One Piece. I don't say it in an arrogant way, but confident of myself or aspiring to be sure of myself."

Q: The Live Action of other series have not been as successful as yours. Why One Piece, yes?

A: "Two reasons based on my analysis. Matt Owens, the showrunner and lead screenwriter, is a true fan of the anime, he wants the anime with all his heart and the anime knows it better than most fans."

Taking care of the smallest detail, the producers of Live Action contacted One Piece content creators to ask them about the production and script of the series. One of them was Artur - The Library of Ohara, who helped in "the process of writing the script, mainly for the story, the 'Easter Eggs' and the timeline." He appears several times in the podcast 'Radio Pirata', where he demonstrates his knowledge and, ultimately, why he received a call from Netflix.

Taz continues explaining the first reason: "Matt, while making the series, put his artistic opinion on it, and at the same time kept everything he loved about intellectual property. That's not something that everyone can do. It wouldn't have been the same series without Matt, he knew deeply what he wanted from each character and who was going to play it. He took great care of us and gave us the tools to bring from the characters what we wanted. I went one day and I told him 'Matt, I want to do all the fights, I don't want to be bent'. I tell him like a 25-year-old boy who has never gone to school, who has not studied theater or done action dubbing in his fucking life. He took and looked at me with all the confidence in the world and said: 'Okay, let's do it.'"

Q: And the second reason?

A: "The cast of actors, the set of what we five are, is the other reason. I'm sorry because we're all very different, but since only one of us is missing, it's not the same in interviews, organizing anything, recording... The fact that we are different makes us complement each other perfectly. There is something very special that happened with the symbiosis of the five of us, we are really friends, which is not something as common as you would expect in this world. We are really friends and we take great care of ourselves both inside and outside the series."

Two weeks after the premiere, Netflix announced that a second season of One Piece's Live Action would be filmed. There are many important characters left to appear, protagonist characters who will be incorporated into the second season.

Q: Is that good relationship and connection between actors a requirement to be part of the cast in the second season?

R: "It's a good question. Yes, I know that's part of the conversations, but we don't decide or think about who it will be. We hear the conversations and talk inside them (Taz laughs, he seems to remember something). And in those conversations we see that it is very important that the people who join form a good part of the family, but that is as much work of the actor who comes new as ours. It is a basic decency to give a good welcome to people who arrive new."

Q: Have you felt pressure when adapting One Piece?

A: "From the moment we started, from the first moment, everyone reminded us of Death Note. People close to us tell you a little jokingly and don't realize the severity of what they are putting in your head. They are telling you, in a casual way, that there is a possibility that these three years of your life in which you have bled to dead for something, are absolutely worthless. We had to manage that at all times within ourselves, going to work firmly believing in what we were doing and in the people with whom we were doing it. Three years militants. The time comes when you can't do any more work and what you've done is what's left, and you can only wait until what you did with others is enough so that they don't cut your head (laughs). But I want to clarify that the fans are very enthusiastic and most of us supported us from the first moment."

The creative process and convincing a mother

There's something curious about Taz and it's the number of times he laughs per minute. Smile when we bring ut more serious topics. He smiles when he almost misses something about the new actors. He smiles as he recalls anecdotes with the fans. But it changes to a serious face when we talk about the actor's creative process. In the premiere of the movie Gassed Up, he said that he only wanted to be part of projects that his mother could enjoy.

Q: I think it's the most ambitious goal anyone can have, always to convince a mother!

A: (Laughs) "I think I meant something a little more different, but what you say is true. I wanted to say that, since I do not come from this world (that of interpretation) I see it as my secret weapon because it gives me a real perspective on what we do in art. Sometimes we do a cult of certain things that I think is important and productive, but it can be elitist. Although I can appreciate and understand some more complex or cultured things, my mother doesn't have to appreciate them."

Q: In an interview you told the journalist that, if I had met you as a child, I would never have imagined that you would end up this way. And you, would you have imagined yourself like that?

A: "Yes. It's a good question, bro. And yes. So much so that I was alone, and I had no friends, I stayed all day on the internet, reading and watching videos. My life was a fantasy and it said 'it would be beautiful to do what I saw in an action movie'. I remember watching skydiving or surfing in movies and telling my mother 'that would be beautiful to do'. But I was never going to do it. I had fantasies of doing things that I was afraid of at the same time. But when you think about doing something, there's always a part of you that thinks it's not going to happen."

Q: The fear of taking a risk

A: "Yes. No one gets into this industry without aspirations to make a living from this. To have a beautiful life, to take care of your family... But there is a large part of you that has in mind that it is quite likely that you will not get it. If you asked me when I was little that I was going to be older, I wouldn't have told you that I would, I would have told you that I hope something handsome."

Q: What if I ask you now?

A: I hope to be something better than I am now.

[girltomboy]

Ok so yesterday I ended up doing absolutely nothing but playing video games and reading. 🦥 My hair was still damp when I finished working, and because of my overall indisposition and irritation I did not go anywhere. Today I'm less pissed off at the world, and I intend to finally go to the hairdresser's after work. My hair is so flat and dry it's actually criminal that I've let it get to this point, but I swear it was not like this until fairly recently. Like just a few days ago, maybe a week, I was feeling my ends and they were soft and silky. Anyway I just hope they - SOMEONE! ANYONE! - will be able to give me a trim today.

After my 🙏 trim 🙏 I'm gonna go to this corner store and buy the following:

pasta

root beer (first time I ever see root beer where I live, I'm so excited to try it!!!!)

potato chips (some local Balkanic brand that only seems to exist in that one particular store, you know it's that good shit when you find something like this. The salt flavored chips are incredible and they're the only ones I've tried, they also have paprika and sour cream&onion flavors. The last time I went there they didn't have salted ones anymore, so I didn't get any, but this time I'll try the sour cream&onion if I don't find the salt - otherwise I'll get both 🤓)

grana padano . For the pasta

this vanilla cream & jam pie I had once from there... no idea what it's called, I've tried looking it up but found nothing that even resembles it. The name on the label was "Florentine", everything I find is either eggs or biscuits. It was heavenly, it was exactly the kind of pie that I always imagined pies to taste like in cartoons and books. There was the soft dough, right, sort of like a donut, and then vanilla cream like a pudding, and in the center it had some sort of jam, sour cherry. The jam was savory rather than sweet. It mixed so well with the sweet creamy vanilla. Just out of this world, but I haven't been able to find it since then, and obviously it doesn't seem to exist anywhere else. That store is operating on a different level.

I've been reading History of the Thirteen by Balzac, and honestly I'm enjoying it a great deal, however I'm a bit confused because its contents don't match any of the descriptions or reviews I've found of it online. It doesn't even match the preface (admittedly I've only read a few lines of it to avoid reading too many details ahead of time). I thought I hadn't read far enough into it at first, but I'm on The Duchesse de Langeais now and it's still not even coming close to what it's being described as ?? Lmao I don't mind because I reallyyyy like Balzac's writing. Even the seemingly out of place passages that people complain about are easy to get lost in. [[[[Btw people complain about those booktok users (I don't have tiktok, this is coming just from screenshots and posts I saw on twitter) for skipping wordy paragraphs, but you'll find the same type of person on Goodreads, shamelessly admitting they hate reading unless Something is Happening. Just out in the open, in their review, on the book reading platform. ]]]]

[nickgerlich]

Pushing The Needle

You can’t blame a company for trying, for pushing the needle not just a little bit, but so much that it raises eyebrows. After all, these are the innovators among us, but we typically only assign that word when they have pushed that needle and been successful in finding a new way to do something. If they fail…well, it becomes fodder for business school class discussions.

Like today, since Amazon just pulled the plug on its Just Walk Out program that is available in some of its Amazon Fresh grocery stores. And to be on the safe side, I made sure my source material was not published two days ago on April Fools Day. In other words, this is no whopper. It’s legit news.

The premise behind JWO was that once shoppers entered one of the stores and opened an app, they could grab whatever they wanted, and simply walk out. Amazon relied on sensors and cameras to keep tabs on things, and inherently put a lot of trust in its shoppers, no doubt much more trust than the kind offered by Target, Walmart, and others with self-check kiosks.

But what was not apparent all along is the fact that Amazon relied on crews of video surveillance employees in India, who were in fact watching everything that shoppers did, and making sure the running tab was accurate. Even then, it would sometimes take hours of review before a final receipt could be issued, and charges placed on the customer’s credit card.

According to one report, one that Amazon denies, 700 out of 1000 transactions required review.

JWO launched in 2016, which now seems like eons ago. As for Amazon Fresh, of which there are only 40 stores in the chain, it debuted in 2007. About half of the Fresh stores have JWO technology. Instead, Amazon is rolling out—literally and metaphorically—Dash Carts, which allow for shoppers to scan and check out directly from their trolley. It is unclear how airport and stadium shops that have third-party vendors who license JWO technology will have to adapt, if at all.

The whole idea of JWO was to eliminate a layer of overhead by cutting out labor. It’s just that they moved it to India, where apparently labor costs are so cheap that, even after installing all of the in-store equipment and paying those human reviewers, it was still less than just having cashiers here in the States. I can’t imagine the new shopping carts costing much less, but here we are.

It’s easy to bash Amazon for ditching JWO, but the bottom line is this: They use their Fresh stores as a laboratory for retail operations, and if something works, they will likely deploy it elsewhere, like in their much larger Whole Foods chain. If it doesn’t work, then they kill it, and with JWO in only about 20 stores, it is a much less costly misstep than launching it on a much larger scale.

I understand all retailers’ desire to reduce labor costs, but the idea that someone half a world away from me is watching my every move is more than just a little creepy. It sounds Orwellian in application, and even though it’s not the government eavesdropping from a corner-mounted camera, it’s easily just as weird, and maybe even more so.

Stores have long relied on two-way mirrors for observing shoppers, because “shrink” as shoplifting is called has always been a problem. Many other stores also use security cameras to do likewise, meaning there are humans in a control room with their eyes glued to grainy black-and-white screens. But monitoring at what likely amounted to one-on-one surveillance is a harder pill to swallow.

Amazon’s new shopping carts still mean there is an element of trust involved, because the system still depends on shoppers manually scanning and checking out. It is little different from other scan-and-go systems in place, like at Costco and Sam’s Club. There is no perfect alternative, including the traditional check-out with a human cashier.

In Amazon’s quest to shape the future, the company, and by extension, all of us, now know how it won’t look. Like I said, you can’t blame a company for trying. But all the cameras and sensors in the world can’t guarantee that an idea will work. The needle broke on this one.

Dr “What’s In Your Cart?” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[foolingmoon]

01.04.24 in front of a giant monitor that isn't mine, playing decluttering & mealprep youtube videos

today i wore a puffer jacket that is slightly too big for me and have been using my old intern backpack, and i felt like 2019/early 2020 me of several lifetimes ago, the me that i was when i first moved to the city, and it feels like it's changing my brain chemistry -- it takes me back to the version of me that mostly steadily moved through the week with a purpose, though i know now that it was borrowed for the time being.

i also drifted to the museum to work for the day, where i strode around a bit, startling european tourists upon turning corners. afterwards, i set up at the cafe to read through the shortlisted submissions to the creative section, and picked my favorites and maybes, with brief comments. i'm still reading through the food issue of the kenyon review, and i'm happily gutted by how my favorite pieces end up being the essays -- i loved reading about people's experiences with food, the kind of solace it brings them, and in some instances, how it is a site of exacting control. it reminds me of how i said to someone once (or maybe i just tweeted this somewhere) how food felt like one of the first places i could continually practice taking care of myself, could be wholly self-indulgent and self-concerned. [afaik i have not felt like i've had a disordered relationship to eating, just that solo meals are one of my simple pleasures, in the way solo reading time can be too.] while i'm reading, someone sat across from me for a bit with a sketchpad, and we both sat there silently, scratching away at our respective surfaces of paper.

at trader joe's i pick up protein-laden things; a protein smoothie made with chai, almond, coconut; a pack of salmon; frozen bowls of chicken shawarma, vegetarian bulgogi, chicken sausage. i've missed having a grocery shopping routine, missed getting to wander around the aisles, picking specific bites alongside staples for the week. i like to imagine myself in one of those cozy slice of life animes, basking in the whimsy and pleasantness of a routine that brings me so much delight.

there's a whole slew of girls on youtube, asian and not, who film themselves going about their days solo, working on their laptops, mealprepping, decluttering their closets, remaking their apartments, crafting, and it feels like a kind of digital parallel play when i'm trying to get myself to do the thing that they're doing on camera. i've heard several of them, including a distant friend i first met a few years ago, speak into the camera the feeling of loneliness that their 20something existences in their respective cities are permeated with, and i'm reminded of this image on twitter, an illustration juxtaposing solitude and loneliness: one is a dog carrying its own leash with a look of contentment; another is a dog snarling and straining against its leash, tied to a post.

even if both involve being by oneself, one feels at ease in solitude, and trapped by loneliness. and the out-of-illustration mechanics that produce either feeling: perhaps the ability to choose, which means access to steady connection, shared presence and time. i sound like a broken record when i say -- i am so grateful -- but i am so grateful! the last week has been so quiet, and i've spent almost all of my time by myself, with a handful of hangouts with friends, and it has felt so good to recollect myself in a way i only know how when i'm by myself.

oh! and because the city still feels visibly empty, like people have yet to get back from the city, i think it's been some kind of inadvertent placebo guard against fomo -- or, it's a come down from all of the (wonderful) holiday gatherings that were planned around the same time -- or, i'm in a rare moment when i know what my next month or so of classes (!!) & social plans will be (i am wondering if this is what my older friends whose calendars seem much more set's lives are like - plans with longtime friends, set much more deliberately and farther ahead in time hahaha)

amid this afternoon, someone from the arts commission called me to remind me to update my grant application before tomorrow in order to continue on in the consideration process, and i'm both thrilled to know i'm still in the running and can add more information, and daunted -- i want to intellectualize reasons why i'm daunted, but it all chalks up to, i've never done something like this before, and i care very much about it. so i shift from "why am i daunted" to "what youtube videos will i play in the background that somehow appeases whatever part of my brain doesn't want to do this?"

[renata-art]

Making playdoh stuff with Isla.

I’ve been hanging out here at the unit as usual. I’ve been meaning to sketch something but haven’t gotten around to it yet… I definitely will though. I took a walk out the gate and around the other corner today to try and give Tuna a little more exercise. I think Tuna enjoyed a fresh view of things. I really didn’t like reviewing the video to find myself breathing heavily just to walk around the corner but I’m taking it easy on myself and won’t do too much self judging due to my allergy sensitivities. I still sleep and literally dream of people humiliating me and telling me I have nothing compared to their exploits but oh well who cares? I wake up and act like nothing even happened. I find as many ways as I can to ignore the whole trash party in my dreams and go on with real life. Who cares if garbage world took everything in the lucid dream societies? I don’t care anymore. (Tantrum over) I’m trying my best to switch immediately or at least as soon as I can to something positive. I’ve downloaded a couple Audio books from Audible. Allen Watts “Out of Your Mind” and Ekhart Tolle “The Power of Now”. Both books are materials I previously either owned or downloaded off of a streaming service. My adolescent psychologist recommended as many self help books as possible to help me figure some of my day to day dilemmas out. I think it still helps a lot at times when I just need to listen to a calm voice speak. I know I can’t get it all done every single day but I can do my best everyday despite whatever pain I may encounter. Sticking with reality and positivity. Sending everyone peace ( I may not sound peaceful if you scream at me in my dreams without my consent.) Love.

[gemtvusa]

Best Cheap TV Deals in October 2023 Samsung, LG, Sony, Hisense, TCL OLED and QLED

Best Cheap TV Offers for October 2023: Top Discounts from All Retailers In the market for an affordable TV? You're in luck. These days, even larger 55-inch and 65-inch televisions frequently have prices below $499. With over ten years of experience tracking TV offers, I can differentiate between a genuine bargain and a standard discount. As we approach the next big shopping event, I'm here to guide you to the most wallet-friendly TV deals available. At the moment, Amazon is leading the way for budget-conscious TV shoppers, boasting select smart TV deals starting at just $69. This is among the most competitive starting prices for smart TVs we've come across. On the other hand, Best Buy is presenting a range of 4K OLED TVs beginning at $649, featuring standout models like the LG C3, which ranks among the best OLEDs we've reviewed. For those on the hunt for the top TV discounts, we've curated a list of the most compelling offers from popular retailers like Best Buy, Amazon, Walmart, and others. Whether you're targeting a cost-effective 4K TV or the standout television of 2023, here are today's best TV deals to consider. Buy Best Cheap TV Deals in October 2023 OLED and QLED Samsung, LG, Sony, Hisense, TCL

Tips for TV Shopping & Securing the Best Deals

- Prioritize 4K Resolution: Avoid settling for anything less than 4K. It's today's standard, so unless there's a too-good-to-resist deal on a 720p or 1080p TV, aim for 4K. - Opt for "Smart" Features: TVs with "smart" functionalities allow for easy streaming from platforms such as Roku, Hulu, and Prime Video. If you're not keen on a smart TV, simply keep it off the network, disabling its smart capabilities. - Seek Out HDR Compatibility: TVs with HDR offer richer colors and superior contrast. Although there are five HDR formats, primarily look for HDR10, HDR10+, HLG, and Dolby Vision. - Skip Extended Warranties: Most new TVs come with a one-year warranty. Furthermore, many credit card companies offer extra protection for purchases, so extended warranties often aren't necessary. - Be Cautious with Refurbished TVs: Unless there's a huge cost saving, it's best to avoid refurbished TVs. If they come with more wear and tear than expected, you might be responsible for return shipping, which can be costly due to size. - Consider Previous Models: Many 2022 TVs are still available for purchase. Differences between years might be subtle to the average viewer. Opting for a model from the previous year can lead to substantial savings.

The best cheap TVs: 4K and 8K

Top TV Discounts This Week: Featuring Samsung, LG, Amazon, and More We've meticulously scanned the internet to curate the week's most enticing TV offers just for you. This page showcases the crème de la crème of TV deals, filtering out the less attractive promotions, ensuring you get the finest options spanning various sizes and price points—from affordable 43-inch screens to the luxurious OLED and QLED variants. For ease of navigation, we've organized our handpicked TV deals into three distinct segments: the absolute premium TVs, the impressive mid-tier TVs, and the value-packed budget TVs. Within these categories, we offer a diverse range of sizes to cater to various needs. Additionally, our 'Deal Highlight of the Week' spotlights the deal that delivers unparalleled value for your money. With Black Friday around the corner, now is a golden opportunity to snag an attractively priced television. This festive shopping season promises enticing Black Friday TV offers, presenting hefty markdowns on previous-generation sets as well as enticing deals on the latest 2023 models. Whether you're eyeing the finest TV at a steal or seeking a quality TV that's kind on the wallet, we have the perfect deal for you. Dive in and explore the top TV promotions from various online sources.

Toshiba 55-Inch 4K Fire TV Edition: Budget-Friendly with Alexa Integration

Screen Details: - Size: 55 inches - HDMI Ports: 3 - Refresh Rate: 60 Hz - HDR Support: HDR10 - Dimensions (w/o stand): 28.7 x 49.1 x 3.7 inches Pros: - User-friendly Fire TV OS. - Integrated Alexa feature. - Support for HDR. - Affordable price point below $500. Cons: - Prominent ads. - Cluttered app store. - Average image and sound quality. The Toshiba C350 4K Fire TV Edition is Amazon's answer for those looking for a budget-friendly smart TV. Its standout feature? The integration of Amazon’s Prime Video and the ever-efficient Alexa voice controls. Not only does it provide access to Prime Video's vast collection of content, but the built-in Alexa function is as capable as its counterpart in the Amazon Echo. From managing smart home devices to weather forecasts and local restaurant searches, the voice assistant on this TV covers it all. Transitioning from the Westinghouse models of the previous year to Toshiba, this TV has seen several enhancements. These include better display quality, HDR compatibility, and a smoother user interface. However, it does grapple with certain limitations, such as average picture and sound performance. The TV's edge-lit backlighting and basic HDR support highlight a recurring concern with Amazon's TVs: while the Fire TV OS is commendable as a smart TV interface, the actual TV quality needs to independently impress. In our analysis, the C350 showcased a satisfactory viewing experience, with adequate brightness and commendable color reproduction, ensuring viewers can relish the content without compromising too much on quality.

LG C2 Series OLED TV: Top Pick for Television Excellence

Specifications: - Screen Sizes: 42-inch, 48-inch, 55-inch, 65-inch, 77-inch, 83-inch - Resolution: 4K HD - Display Tech: OLED - Smart Features: LG ThinqQ AI, webOS - Curved: No Pricing: - €929 at Alternate DE (OLED variant) - €959 at OTTO DE (42-inch model) - €1,199 at Amazon Highlights: - Brilliant display clarity - User-friendly webOS smart platform - Sleek and slim design - Regularly available at promotional prices Buy LG C2 OLED TV Consideration: Pricier end of the spectrum TechRadar heralds the LG C2 OLED as the pinnacle of TV offerings, and it's not hard to see why. It encapsulates everything a TV aficionado could yearn for. At its heart lies a mesmerizing OLED screen, enhanced by the prowess of LG's cutting-edge a9 Gen5 AI processor. This combination ensures rich contrasts and dazzling brightness levels. Supplementing this is the virtual surround sound, modern smart features, voice commands, and its svelte profile, culminating in an unparalleled home theater experience.

TCL 6-Series with Mini LED: Prime Choice for Mid-Tier Televisions

Specifications: - Screen Sizes: 55-inch, 65-inch, 75-inch - Resolution: 4K HDR - Display Tech: QLED - Smart Features: Roku - Curved: No Key Features: - Enhanced with Mini LED backlighting - Compatible with Dolby Vision - Integrated Roku streaming service - Lacks 4K gaming capability Buy TCL 6-Series The TCL 6-Series Mini LED TV is a standout performer in the mid-range category, packing features you'd typically associate with pricier counterparts. Its QLED screen, enhanced by Quantum Dot technology and Dolby Vision HDR, offers vivid and dynamic colors, recreating realistic visuals. Moreover, the built-in Roku platform coupled with voice control functionality ensures a seamless viewing experience. Whether you're switching to a movie or adjusting volume levels, voice commands make the process effortless.

Hisense U8H Quantum Series: Premier Pick for Affordable TVs

Specifications: - Screen Sizes: 55-inch, 65-inch, 75-inch - Resolution: 4K Ultra HD - Display Tech: QLED - Smart Features: Yes - Curved: No Key Features: - Exceptional price point - Vibrant and rich colors - Voice-activated remote - Sound quality is decent but not standout Buy Hisense U8H Series Emerging as a frontrunner in the budget-friendly TV segment, the Hisense U8H Quantum Series offers a variety of sizes, starting from a compact 55 inches and expanding up to a spacious 75 inches. Its display is a visual treat, boasting radiant colors and crisp contrasts, all credited to the integration of Quantum Dot technology complemented by mini-LED backlighting. Furthermore, its smart features allow for effortless streaming of your go-to movies and series, and the voice-controlled remote enhances the overall user experience.

Roku Plus Series 4K QLED TV: Roku's Stellar Entry into the TV Market

Specifications: - Screen Sizes: 55, 65, 75 inches - Screen Type: QLED - Refresh Rate: 60 Hz - HDMI Ports: 4 (HDMI 2.0) - Dimensions: 33.1 x 57 x 4 inches - Weight: 36.7 pounds Features: - Impressive price-to-performance ratio - Exceptional HDR color rendition - Clear audio quality - Efficient Roku TV user interface - Moderate brightness levels - Standard 60Hz refresh rate - Absence of HDMI 2.1 ports Roku's Plus Series 4K QLED TV marks the brand's remarkable pivot from primarily focusing on streaming software and devices to crafting televisions. For a debut, it’s a compelling one. Starting at a competitive $499, this series not only offers ample screen real estate but also boasts impressive picture and sound quality, features often compromised in budget-friendly models. Aesthetically, the TV exudes a premium feel. It's framed by a slender gray metal bezel, which is especially slim along the top, left, and right edges. The Roku brand gleams with a chrome finish, positioned centrally at the bottom. Empowered by quantum-dot LED technology, the TV produces rich colors and enhanced brightness levels. Our assessment revealed that the TV's performance aligns well with Roku's claims. While the vibrancy of the picture diminishes slightly as one moves away from the central viewing position, it takes a considerable shift for the display to lose its allure. When should you look for a TV deal? Bargain TV offers are consistently available throughout the year at major retail outlets. Whether it's Best Buy, Amazon, or Walmart, every week offers a chance to secure a good deal. However, during certain seasonal sales events, these retailers tend to slash prices even more. Noteworthy times include Black Friday in November and Prime Day during the summer. Interestingly, last year didn't just see discounts on older models; even the latest releases had their prices marked down. And now, with Super Bowl TV sales on the horizon, it's anticipated that a wave of fresh deals will emerge soon. Stay updated on current TV offers right here. When to buy the perfect TV deal? Throughout the year, top retailers like Best Buy, Amazon, and Walmart consistently offer TV deals. So, irrespective of the season, you're likely to find a discounted TV that fits your budget. Nevertheless, the steepest discounts often coincide with major sales events. For instance, Black Friday in November and Prime Day in summer are renowned for offering exceptional TV deals. It's worth noting that these discounts aren't limited to older TV models; recent releases also see significant markdowns. As the Super Bowl TV sales approach, we're gearing up for an array of exciting offers soon. For the latest TV promotions, keep an eye on this space. OLED vs. QLED: Which Display Reigns Supreme? When contemplating a mid-tier or luxury TV purchase, the choice often boils down to two dominant display technologies: OLED and QLED. Each offers unique benefits and drawbacks, but for those who prioritize unparalleled image quality, OLED often emerges as the top pick. OLED TVs are renowned for their self-emissive screens, allowing individual pixels to autonomously dim or brighten. This results in an unmatched contrast ratio, positioning OLEDs as the go-to choice for those seeking the pinnacle of viewing experiences, especially in dimly lit settings like home theaters. A noted concern with OLEDs, however, is their susceptibility to image retention or even burn-in. Fortunately, contemporary models incorporate enhanced software and hardware mechanisms to mitigate this risk. Best practices, such as avoiding prolonged display of static elements (e.g., gaming HUDs or news tickers), can further reduce the chances of burn-in. Conversely, QLED TVs employ the more traditional LCD panel approach, utilizing a backlight to project images. While these backlights can be sectioned into zones for targeted dimming, even the most advanced QLEDs can't rival the individual pixel contrast achievable with OLEDs. This occasionally results in imperfect dark scenes, manifesting as either glaring halos around luminous objects or graying of deep blacks. QLED's forte lies in its superior brightness levels. Premium QLED TVs tend to outshine most OLEDs, making them a preferable choice for well-lit environments. Their capacity to produce striking HDR highlights, especially for intensely bright scenes, is noteworthy. Additionally, QLEDs usually come with a more palatable price tag compared to OLEDs and eliminate any concerns regarding burn-in.

Selecting the Perfect TV: A Comprehensive Guide

Navigating the expansive world of TVs can be daunting, given the plethora of choices across sizes, brands, and display technologies. Moreover, price points oscillate significantly based on the features in question. At the most affordable end of the spectrum, small HDTVs are available from around $100, often with resolutions limited to 720p or 1080p. A respectable 4K TV might set you back between $300 and $500, contingent on its dimensions. Understandably, every additional expenditure usually equates to a boost in quality. Venturing into premium territory, top-tier 4K TVs with expansive screens can command prices ranging from $1,200 to $1,500 and beyond. Embarking on your TV-purchasing journey, it's prudent to define your budget, which will likely correlate with your desired screen size. Aim for a size that facilitates easy viewing from multiple angles without necessitating significant head movements. Consider the importance of top-tier image quality in your decision-making process. For those seeking unparalleled visual splendor, a 4K TV featuring an OLED or QLED panel is ideal. Technologies such as local dimming and quantum dots enhance color vibrancy and contrast, culminating in a mesmerizing HDR display. Gaming enthusiasts should prioritize TVs with 120Hz and variable refresh rate capabilities to leverage the full potential of next-gen consoles like the Xbox Series X and PlayStation 5. Meanwhile, cinephiles should keep an eye out for Dolby Vision and Dolby Atmos integration to replicate a cinematic ambiance. Conversely, if your intent is to acquire a straightforward smart TV for casual viewing, a conventional LED screen might suffice. While the visual fidelity might not rival premium counterparts, numerous affordable 4K TVs offer commendable performance, encapsulating features like 4K resolution, HDR, and an extensive app ecosystem. Read the full article

[clovemerablog]

Monaleo album review: ‘Where The Flowers Don’t Die”

Album published by Stomp Down

Review by Clove Mera, 30 May 2023

I approached Monaleo’s album as a fan drawn to her confident but authentic lyrics and charmingly wide smile, hoping she would be able to surprise me. Across a few of her singles, Monaleo appears to have only one flow. Combining the candid venting on single “Ridgemont Baby” with the title of this album and hazy album art depicting Monaleo as a rose growing out of the pavement, I had faith in her ability to deliver.

“Ass Kickin” and “Wig Splitter” are two confrontational rap tracks. The latter had a catchy hook but both felt like more of the same Monaleo I’ve come to expect. The beat and flow on the latter bored me.

This is why bars on aforementioned “Ridgemont Baby” are needed. Learning about “Me and Keke running from the laws, that’s a true story/ You bitches grew up with family dogs in a two-story” help me understand Monaleo’s struggle and relate to her on a human level.

Authenticity is provably Monaleo’s language and she speaks it across whatever genre she deems applicable. Bookending the album is two ballads, “Sober Mind” and “Cosmic Love”, about protecting one’s mental peace and moving on albeit with spite.

Both tracks showcase Monaleo’s strong vocal abilities, indicating a fluidity that could help her venture further into the mainstream. Such conjures memories of early days Nicki Minaj, outspoken about being a rapper who sings (uncommon at the time). Imagining such as Monaleo’s trajectory renders the album art an apt representation of where she stands today.

Monaleo’s desire to traverse genre is already spotlighted within the album. Such is her true surprise for me. “Return Of The P” and “Goddess (Feat. Flo Milli)” are both self-love rap tracks, top candidates for dominating the internet. Sharp edged bars like “You let a dirty dog off the leash, expect him to roam/ I’m trynna see what goes through n**** heads cause it can’t be a comb” and “‘Cause I ain’t ever known a n**** to make shit but a bad bitch crazy/…Tell a man you wanted a rose, he come with a daisy.” will empower anyone miffed by a man.

Meanwhile, double track “Sauvage (Interlude)” and “Cologne Song” are a confounding R&B package I can’t discern as sincerely flirtatious or a tongue-in-cheek sendup. Even I can be stopped dead in my tracks by a man’s scent, but do lyrics like “What kind of cologne are you wearing/ I could smell it on the way home/…Smells so good that I’m writing this song” ring true? Not enough to sing about.

Monaleo has not cornered herself into any niche and being so young, she still has the world at her fingertips. “Where The Flowers Don’t Die” is a sampler of the 22-year-old’s appetites and although it hosts some skips, it’s also home to a few bops. Her lyrical material is guaranteed to enamour people around the world and I look forward to watching her hone in on her sound and flourish like the rose she is.

You can stream or buy Monaleo’s “Where The Flowers Don’t Die” today.

Watch the music video for “Ass Kickin” now.

[softcaesar]

WE SHOULDN'T — NANAMI KENTO part one

context: your friend invites you over to work on your marine report. you end up staying past the curfew. he offers his bed for you to sleep… basically the good ol' bed sharing trope

pairing : nanami kento x f!reader

content and warnings: SMUT IN PART TWO, no curses, college au, nanami is a marine bio student

“I’ll be there in five?” you say, yawning.

“Just hurry up. We’ve got a lot to do.”

Five minutes later, you reach the front of Kento's dorm which buzzed with the comings and goings of its residents. You spot a tall figure standing next to the doors waiting for you. It’s him. You notice he’s wearing a navy fleece jacket and his usual tan slacks. Kento acknowledges you with a quick nod before retreating into building, signaling you to follow him inside.

“I reviewed the analysis you wrote,” he began, monotonously, “Still needs to be fixed. Your abstract, however, is written well. Very articulate.”

“Thanks,” you replied, glancing around. It stroked you as a bit strange how he complimented you. Before, he had never stated his opinions on your work, whether negative or positive, only ever dismissing you with a nod or a ‘mhmm’. On good days, he would thank you but today, something was fishy. You’d have thought he’d be sterner and blunter throughout the duration of the assignment, if not completely uninvolved. However, it was quite the opposite.

As you turn the corner, you realise that his dorm hall was much louder and livelier than the relative stillness of your apartment building; students congregated in groups studying or working on projects, while others played cards and video games in the lounge. You saw a few girls doubletake towards your direction and soon hushed voices spoke among the students.

"Look! It's Nanami!"

"Who is that with him?"

"Nanami!"

Kento led you upstairs to the second floor and down the hallway.

"You have a lot of fans." You joked. He ignored you.

“Where do you live.” His question sounded more like a statement.

“… the tool shed.” you whisper.

He pauses, raising a curious brow, “What?”

“Its called the tool shed coz apparently that’s where all the hoes live,” you answer and he immediately walks away. You jog up to him.

“I’m not a hoe,” you exhale and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m sure you’re not.”

“It’s quieter over there.”

“Mmm,” he says, quickly looking back at you. “Must be nice."

“Yep,” you nod, “There’ll be vacancies around November. I can inquire if you’d like.”

“Don’t bother.” He states. His room is at the end of the hallway. He unlocks the door and pushes it open. There’s a small shared space, comprised of a slightly cluttered kitchenette and a bathroom. Two large doors indicate the two bedrooms of the dorm room; one for Kento, and one presumably for a roommate.

“You live with someone?”

“He’s visiting his parents for the week. This is my room,” he says, pushing open the door to the right.

Kento's dorm room was different than you’d expected. It was a spacious layout that he adorned with evidence of his interests. A number of fish figures, some made of Lego, were displayed on a shelf against the wall, along with various textbooks, one of which was open on a small table, dog tagged on the edges and plastered with yellow sticky notes.

“Which class is that for?” you pointed at the open textbook.

“Chem.”

He turns to the side, pushing his glasses further up his nose bridge, shielding his eyes away from you.

You keep looking around. Kento's desk was clearly a science student’s desk, inundated with marine textbooks and piles of booklets and manila folders, and all sorts of student clutter, from ball point pens to scrunched balls of paper to flashcards. The white concrete walls were relatively unadulterated, save for the framed pictures of his family and friends, and a corkboard above his desk tacked with academic pamphlets, flyers and a calendar. Everything in Kento's room looked as if it had its own designated spot. And the twin-sized bed was neatly made with a navy-blue comforter, which beckoned to you like an oasis in a desert. You noticed a small aquarium beside his dresser.

“I’ve printed a copy but if you’d prefer to edit digitally, I can email you the updated version.” Kento breaks the silence. You say you would prefer the latter, having brought your laptop and forgetting your pencil case. He took off his fleece jacket, revealing a white t-shirt underneath that hugged the frame of his body perfectly, and took off his shoes. You follow his lead and do the same, trying but failing to suppress a yawn. Kento noticed and sighed.

“Let’s finish this quickly so you can go home,” he says. It’s all the permission you need to start, and you groan in gratitude as you sink down onto the fluffy grey rug, shifting forward to put your legs under the kotatsu. His room seemed to have an effect on you. It felt homely and comfortable, reminding you of your own room back at your dorm.

“Oh, that’s right. I was looking at the report before I came and we forgot to update the formula table,” you say with another yawn. Kento took out his laptop and settled at his desk, immediately typing, while you waited for your laptop to load and made yourself comfy. It was the first chance you’ve gotten all day to sit down and relax, and it felt great. Damn that 8am workshop. Exhaustion threatened to overcome you, but you had to finish this. Soon, you and Kento sink into a comfortable silence with the occasional question, typing intensely on your keyboards, brows knit together. Other than that, no small talk existed. Two hours pass by and you stood up to stretch, walking towards Kento to see what he was up to. He stopped writing on his notepad when your shadow creeped over his paper. He turned around slowly.

“What are you doing?”

He huffs, brown eyes illuminated by his open computer screen. “Writing tomorrow’s agenda.” He looks up and draws his eyes to yours. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve completed the formula tables and edited the evaluation,” you stretch as you look at your watch which displayed a dim 21:53, “Damn, its late. Alright, I’ll get going. Text me if there’s a problem.”

Kento sighs deeply. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem. Sorry if I didn’t do too much today, I was up at 5 this morning and I've only had one coffee. I’ll swing by again this week.”

He observes your tired face. There were dark circles around your slightly red eyes. Your skin was dull and your lips were slightly cracked. Before he could contain his sympathy, he opened his mouth, “Stay the night.”

Your face stills in confusion. “Huh.”

“Stay the night.” Kento stood up from his chair, heading over to peer out the window. “It’s dangerous for you to go back alone.”

“What...? Walk me home then,” you quipped. “Plus, if I stayed the night, where would I sleep? No offense Kento, but if you want me to share a bed with you, you'd have to buy me dinner first.”

You snicker as the tall man purses his lips. “I can’t buy you dinner right now but there’s some instant ramen in the cupboard if you’re hungry.”

“Oh my God!” You groan, beginning to stuff your laptop into your bag. Your cheeks feeling tight. “I was just kidding. I’ll just run super-fast. If you’re so worried, watch me from your window and save me if something happens.”

He walks closer and sits at the edge of his bed next to your kneeled body. “(name), just stay,” he demands. The way he says your name makes your stupid heart do stupid cartwheels. “The curfew began an hour ago and you can’t go about wandering. Sleep on my bed.”

“No, Kento. It’s your bed. I can’t ta–”

“Sleep in the hallway then.”

Bruh.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Look, I’m tired but not to the point where I’m about to collapse from exhaustion. Besides, I made coffee earlier. I can make it through the night. Take the bed.”

Still, it felt wrong to sleep on his bed.

He was reliable, trustworthy and knew what he wanted in life. Bonus, he was good looking. You saw the effect he had over the girls in the hallway earlier. There was no doubt he had a girlfriend. You were sure about it. You did feel slightly disheartened at the thought though as you had tried to flirt with him earlier this year but he had openly rebuked you and told you to stop. It was embarrassing to think about it. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic with a capital ‘P’. Friends offer their beds to their friends all the time right?

You were still unsure, really not wanting to spend the night in his room... with him. Alone. Anything could happen.

“I really can’t Kento, I’ll just go home. You probably have a girlfrie–”

“I don’t have a girlfriend, (name), just sleep,” he stood up and sat at his desk again, resuming his scribbling on his notepad.

You stand awkwardly, tugging at the strings of your hoodie. Great, you had been everywhere wearing these clothes all day. The lecture halls, the library, the café. You stared longingly at his clean bed, not a crinkle in sight. You didn't want to tarnish his spotless sheets with your gross clothes. You smelled stinky too. You silently hoped he'd have spare pajamas laying around...

“You can wear the pajamas from the bottom drawer. Return it in the morning. Don’t worry about washing it. Use the bathroom to clean up.”

It was as if he read your mind. Muttering a quick ‘thanks’, you rushed into the bathroom and washed up, changing into the clean clothes. When you return to Kento's room, the main lights were off. The nightlight beside his bed and the desk lamp were on, emitting a warm dimming effect. His eyes were looking at you. They searched your face before trailing down and up the rest of your body, a small smile on his lips. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine.

“Good night (name).” he says lowly.

“Good night,” you say back, “Wake me up if you need to sleep.”

Silence is your response. You almost let out a moan as you sink into his soft mattress. Warmth envelopes you and you knew that you were sleeping good tonight. You stare at his ceiling, thinking back to his small compliment earlier, to the sneaky glances you had sent his peaceful figure. To the strange offer to use his spare clothes for the night. To the furtive glances at you in his pajamas.

“Hey,” you whisper, “I can’t tell if you’re being really sweet to me intentionally, or if you’re really just a gentleman.”

“Intentionally?”

“You know… if you have some sort of ulterior motive or something.”

His eyes glimmer. “It’d be pretty hard not to be sweet to you.”

The tension. It’s back. Kento's brown eyes don’t release you, but you’re a willing captive. Nothing could break this moment…

Nothing but a big, fat, horrendously-timed yawn.

He sighs again, you turn away, embarrassed.

“For fuck’s safe, (name), just sleep,” he exhales.

“You should too.”

“I have homework. Do you want some water?”

“No thanks,” you say, but he had already opened the mini fridge by his desk and tossed a cold bottle at your direction.

He returned to his seat. You smile in appreciation and take a sip. “Now, sleep. Goodnight.”

“You look pretty beat yourself. Are you sure you don’t want…”

He shakes his head. “I wish, but I have a lot to do. Besides, you’re using the bed.”

“Right.” What were you even thinking?

“Sleep well,” he says, settling down again at his desk. You re-adjust his pillows. Except, for whatever reason, your brain finds the back of Kento's head too intriguing. So, you roll onto your other side, facing the wall, shut your eyes, and let your exhaustion overtake you.

[remapped-soul]

3. Later

Show don't tell masterlist

nico/jenson, 891 words, comfort

For my dear @colors-of-feeling who wasn't feeling so well the other day and i wanted to offer her some comfort. I hope you'll like it and i hope you're feeling better <3

The first time Nico realises that his day might turn into a bad day is when he catches himself staring at the coffee machine for too long. He blinks at it, lost in a trance, index finger gnawing at the corner of a chipped nail. The phone rings and it pulls him out of it. His hands are cold. His schedule is packed. He doesn’t have time for an impromptu breakdown, but because he is a good boy and his therapist would be disappointed otherwise, he unlocks his tablet and schedules fifteen minutes of soul-searching later in the week. He can check in with his feelings while running on the treadmill. Mens sana in corpore sano and all that. Satisfied with his decision, he downs his shot of espresso and returns to work.

The second time Nico realises that his day might be fucked is during a meeting about the next Greentech festival. His mind keeps running away from him and he keeps pulling it back to the present and it escapes him once again. It gets to the point he doesn’t realise he’s doing it and Michaela has to clear her throat to get his attention.

“Nico. What do you think about it?”

Nico looks up from his doodle. It takes a hot second for the screen to focus in front of his eyes, for the faces to show up in all their splendid confusion. He grins, unperturbed. “We should keep going forward.”

A pause. “So you agree that we should cut down on the number of days in the festival, right? For Singapore?”

Nico’s grin doesn’t slip. “Unless you don’t think you’re capable enough of getting Messer Group on board, then yes, we should cut down the festival to three days.”

No one says anything for a long second. If there is something he learned during his stint in Formula 1 is to pay attention to the conversations around him without actually paying attention. He has to thank Lewis for that.

“Are we done for today? Good. Let’s meet up in a few days when we have the final list of guests. You have until Friday,” he says and ends the Zoom meeting with a click of a button. He throws the doodled papers in the trash bin without a second glance. It’s only noon. He needs lunch, maybe a wank, and he is good to go again.

The third time it happens, Nico doesn’t even realise how fucked he is. He is in the middle of reviewing the script for his next vlog. An hour passes and then another and he doesn’t get past the first two pages. Words stop making sense in English, and then in German. He’s been in his office since the first hours of the morning so maybe he just needs a change of scenery. When something doesn’t seem to work, change the mindset or change the environment. Sometimes, the latter took care of the former as well. There is a reason Nico doesn’t regret retiring from racing.

So he gets up from his desk, gathers his papers and his favourite pen and goes to the living room, sits on the part of the couch closer to the window, closer to the sun. Legs crossed one over the other to not wrinkle his pants. But something happens between that and getting back to work. The TV remote catches his eye, a song that’s been playing in the back of his mind suddenly rings louder in his ears. He tells himself, one video, one episode, one song because his therapist taught him about working hard and rewarding himself. Nico is nothing but a diligent student.

One video, one episode, one song later, there is a hand in his hair, fingers scratching soothingly against his scalp. His head feels heavy, so he lets it fall back against a soft surface, a soft shirt, wrinkles everywhere. It smells like—

“Jenson.” Nico’s eyes feel bleary even with his glasses on.

Jenson smiles down at him, fingers still so gentle in his hair, head cradled against the soft planes of his body, grounding him. “Hi, sweetheart. What are you watching?”

Nico says, “I think I’m having a bad day,” because his therapist has taught him to talk about his feelings. The papers sit discarded on the floors. Nico hasn’t touched them in hours. His pants are wrinkled where he tucked his knees underneath him. If he moves, he is afraid he will break. “How was your day, Jense?”

Jenson presses a kiss to his temple, lips dry with the chill of autumn. His fingers trace the shape of Nico’s ear, follow the cut of his jaw, press against the delicate bones of his collarbones. Jenson takes off his tie, his watch, his belt. He gets behind Nico and puts his hands on Nico’s body, pulling him closer. Nico tries to press as much of himself against Jenson, face against the warm side of his neck, arms around his waist. If he could, he’d crack Jenson’s ribs open and crawl inside, in the space between his heart and his lungs, where is the warmest.

“What are we watching?” Jenson asks, but Nico’s eyes are already closing. He falls asleep to warm hands on his back, in his hair, to lips pressed again his forehead. It’s warm. Nico lets himself breathe.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job Post 283: Late Night TV, p2

I…hadn’t seen TV for a while. I just plain old hadn’t had one since Sheryl had kicked me out, since I’d moved into this tiny little upper-floor studio over the office. Even before that, though, I was never a big television watcher. I’d generally rather entertain myself with a book, a movie…or these days perving over pictures of Melissa. But earlier today I’d come home after work to find that Marisela had set up a big-screen TV in my apartment for me, perched precariously on a stand, sitting atop an old dresser in the corner. She’d hooked me up with a bunch of streaming services and channels, and connected it all somehow to a plain little black box and an old-timey looking remote with what were certainly not English command symbols. Cool, I guess…it looked sorta fishy but there’d be no bill or fee or whatever, she told me, and therefore I didn’t ask too many questions. Pirated? Probably. But I couldn’t afford subscriptions, let alone the 72” flat screen that now dominated my apartment and at which I now stared from my threadbare couch at 2am. 

TV was weird, these days. I watched the network news for a while, earlier. Everyone was talking about these three missing teens, disappeared since Trick-or-Treating on Halloween night.  They suspected foul play from the kid who was with them, the one with the crazy story about witches with tentacles. In fact I’d seen an interview with Sheila Frances, the new medical director at Riverview Hospital, the place from which I’d recently had my privileges suspended and where the boy was currently being held for observation. “We expect the toxicology reports to come back positive,” she’d said to the interviewer, a busty brunette, “but in the meantime the policewomen are still with him.”

I found it funny how she made a point to say ‘policewomen’. That when talking about the investigators, or the team of docs working with the kid, she referred to them all as ‘she’ or ‘her’. I found it unusual that the interviewer, the news anchors, the sports reporter, and the weather person for this local news squad…they were all women. Most of the actors on the ads, the main leads on the majority of the shows I flipped through: all female faces. Young and attractive, lots of times shapely. Had this trend, this fixation for the tall and buxom, already changed TV’s landscape like this? Or was I just imagining things? I mean, I wasn’t complaining. I mean…wow. Look at the knockers on her…this new sitcom about life on Mars? Apparently NASA has new standards for its astronauts haha. Or the girls on this 24-7 reality TV show? “Celebrity House of Trouble”? Wait…did I recognize that one?

Yikes, 2am. I'd been straight-up channel surfing for hours, now bleary eyed and exhausted but unable to look away, sitting in the dark, bathed by the ghostly, flickering light of the screen. I chalked it up to its newness, made my excuses that I was just checking out what sort of stuff Marisela had hooked up for me, told myself I could sleep in tomorrow. But I was basically like a zombie - click, click, clicking through the channels I’d been given. Networks and streaming services: some I knew, many I didn’t recognize. Cooking channels, travel channels, sports channels. Weird stuff, on the outskirts. Foreign languages, broadcasts from overseas. Special interest channels like…dog grooming. A ‘Men’s Network’…what’s this, now?

It was labeled as ‘Men’s Special Interest Television’ on the guide, and by the looks of it was a pretty new addition to the channel lineup, deep in the high channel numbers, broadcasting only late at night. But…wow. It caught my attention. Jesus - the host for whatever sort of show they were playing, something about video games, could be a porn star with hipster glasses. I actually watched it for a bit, raptly absorbing their review of some new entry that involved, holy shit, look at the jugs on that enormous vampire lady. She’s huge…

The segment was over, and suddenly now it was a cooking show. “Dani in the Kitchen”, whose bosomy, MILF-y chef coo’d at the camera like she was talking to a little lost child. Christ almighty Dani can make dinner for me any time. Now it switched to a sports report, now coverage of women’s bodybuilding, now just straight-up tits on the beach. Camera shots lasted moments, scenes and programming changed quickly. Whatever this channel was, it obviously pegged its audience as having attention spans measured in moments and IQs in the double-digits…and I couldn’t look away. 

Even the ads…lord, especially the ads…were filled with content playing into man’s basic instincts to just flat-out stare and lay docile when shown the right curves, the proper swells and smiles. Cleavage and soft-core and busty political candidates pitching themselves before the election bulged from my screen and I caught myself with my mouth agog, even at the political ads. Had I been watching this channel for more than two hours already? I don’t remember much, now, as I was eventually drifting in and out of sleep, but could still probably recite word-for-word that voice-over from the self-promoting station-identification piece that played in nearly every commercial break, layered over imagery that seemed custom crafted for someone like me…

======================================

Thanks to Ray Ridley, a new contributor, for her voice work on the MSIT promo audio, and AgeOfTheGiantess for lots of inspiration on this entry. 

Ray Ridley tiktok

[yougotthatbilly]

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v  self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc. 

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk. 

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk. 

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed. 

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug. 

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite. 

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back. 

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save. 

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece. 

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin. 

“What’s your skin type, John?” 

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it. 

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?” 

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need. 

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.” 

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached: 

Good evening, 

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it. 

Sincerely, 

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that. 

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw. 

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.  

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink. 

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny. 

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though. 

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well. 

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well. 

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning. 

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you. 

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?” 

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face. 

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking. 

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation. 

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now. 

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun. 

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once. 

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him. 

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly. 

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.” 

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?” 

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet. 

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out. 

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense. 

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off. 

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds. 

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?” 

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days. 

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off. 

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do. 

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

 You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest. 

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in. 

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out. 

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now. 

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep. 

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight. 

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.” 

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own. 

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

���Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking. 

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work. 

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with. 

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.” 

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed. 

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention. 

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge. 

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?” 

You hum. “Not quite…” 

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning. 

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?” 

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk. 

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed. 

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. 

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.” 

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual? 

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad. 

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that. 

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours. 

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording  as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need. 

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said. 

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.” 

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm. 

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide. 

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days. 

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table. 

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever. 

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having. 

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain. 

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat. 

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far. 

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.” 

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict. 

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance? 

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker. 

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known. 

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs. 

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles. 

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you. 

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note. 

“Hey.” 

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong. 

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence. 

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours. 

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste. 

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down. 

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly. 

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be. 

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth. 

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside. 

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex. 

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs. 

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time. 

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon. 

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine. 

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair. 

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer. 

“You were made for this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle. 

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

 “You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip. 

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees. 

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth. 

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you. 

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass. 

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple. 

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot. 

“John…”

“Yes?” 

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates. 

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly. 

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging  inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves. 

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading. 

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own. 

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply. 

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped. 

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still. 

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down. 

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it. 

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily. 

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord. 

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own. 

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly. 

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum. 

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation. 

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you. 

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his. 

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat. 

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating. 

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you. 

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow. 

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick. 

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again. 

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently. 

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms. 

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing. 

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste. 

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down. 

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss