#this was a wing study but in the way i looked at the reference picture once before closing it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cactusringed · 3 days

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Etho and Bdubs' meeting | Political Intrigue AU

Putting it in a tumblr post because idk if I can commit to a full fic that'll be posted on ao3 yet so I'll share this way

Word Count: 3,715

Content Warnings: Depictions of a staged suicide

The blood moon illuminates the night sky, painting the surrounding clouds crimson. Looking up through the glass roof of the observatory tower, Bdubs knows that today is to be the day he dies.

Even before his vision, he’d known, somehow, that the blood moon would signify his end. He was always attracted to it like a moth to a flame. Except moths aren’t aware — Bdubs doesn’t think — of the fate awaiting them once their delicate wings brush against the harbinger destined to extinguish their life. Bdubs is. He is, he believes, the most painfully aware one could be about their demise. The blood moon calls to him the way a jailer would a prisoner on death row, marching him through that last corridor towards his end.

“No, wait, I think a siren would be a more accurate metaphor,” Bdubs muses out loud, rubbing at his scruffy stubble. He should’ve shaved. Perhaps he still can. No. He’s meant to look this way, he knows. Images of his destiny flash in his mind and Bdubs screws his eyes shut in hopes to chase them away.

It doesn’t work. He takes one shaky breath, then another. His lungs ache. When he opens his eyes again, his vision blurs with tears that he quickly blinks away.

After spending over a year aware of the grisly details of his own death, one would expect Bdubs to have come to peace with it. He certainly thought he did. Yet here he is, staring up at the moonlit sky for what he knows is the very last time. Fighting back not only tears but primal fear that screams at him to rattle the bars of the cage fate has sealed him in. His heart gallops in his chest with such force he swears he feels its echoes against his ribcage, all the way up to his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he forces his gaze downwards, to the workshop he’s built in the main observatory room. To his very last painting:

A landscape - that of the country of Oblivion. He’d hoped to finish it before his death, but he supposes the least he can do is bring it to an acceptable state. He wonders how much his work will sell for. He wonders if he can ask his murderer to burn it all before they leave.

Bdubs picks up his brushes and palette, the oil paints still wet from his last session, and works at the landscape. He paints a tree — thin, spindly, and grey — only to cover it almost immediately. He refines the cliff-face, as he’s done dozens of times, overworking the surface into a mush of dull colors and clashing textures before he throws his equipment to the ground in frustration.

His mind’s eye always had trouble focusing on the picture he wanted to bring to life, the shapes blurring together even after spending hours studying references of Obliviate scenery — but now, with the promise of death hanging over his head, he finds it downright impossible to not only focus but also keep his every muscle from shaking. Come on, he wants to tell himself, it’s not like you’re going up on stage to give a speech. It’s just the day of your own murder. Relax.

Bdubs worries he might puke. Or cry. That would be worse.

Another couple of breaths in and out. Shakier than before. He’s restless, to the point he knows he won’t be able to sleep no matter how late it gets, but also won’t be able to get anything useful done. What is there to do that would be useful mere hours, or potentially minutes, before his death? He could draft a will. He doesn’t know how to write one. Maybe he should’ve learned before he had to go and die, but to be entirely fair to him… no, he did know it was going to happen tonight for some time now. Ever since he knew of the blood moon. It just didn’t feel real enough to warrant any preparation, somehow.

Bdubs looks at the unfinished landscape. The sculk that snakes through every crack of the cliff-face. It’s too flat, despite how hard he’s worked at it. It resembles the sketches and croquis he’s studied in tomes, but not the feeling they elicit in him. That infinite darkness that threatens to suck him in. He reaches for his paints, but pauses. Gazes up, instead. Up and around himself, searching for that blackness, for that feeling.

It must be here. They must be here. Whoever Oblivion sent to end him. Bdubs isn’t stupid — he knows they’ve been following him for a while. Studying his every move, habits, his entourage. Yet he’s never been able to feel the weight of their presence. Not a shadow has ever been out of place. No matter how hard Bdubs has looked, how much he tossed his room upside down. How much he’s raised his voice.

But he’s got to keep trying.

“Assassin,” Bdubs speaks in the Obliviate tongue, struggling with the soft and flat tones it forces upon him. “Show yourself. I know you’re here. You have to be. You’re here to kill me, are you not? So, show yourself. Let me see my own murderer before I die.”

Bdubs waits. He waits for what feels like a full minute, only to be met with complete, suffocating silence. His lip twitches downwards, but he keeps his chin high, and continues to speak in a register he knows to be far more proper than he prefers to speak in his native Celesti tongue. He should’ve worked harder on his lessons.

“I’m unarmed. I don’t deal in violence. I just… wish to see your face. Then you can kill me,” Bdubs walks slowly, carefully, to the oak desk covered in loose paper and canvas pressed against one of the walls. His fingers trace over his sketchbook. He lets out a soft laugh, peering back up at the ceiling, looking out for any movement overhead. “I bet it’s not often you get to speak with your victim. I can offer you some critique. Because I have to say, the method you have planned for me… Well, it’s a bit too quiet. It’s like….” he frowns, unable to think of the right Obliviate word. “It’s boring,” he settles on the Celesti equivalent, before he switches back to the assassin’s tongue. “It will make my retainers suspect foul.”

Still nothing but silence, no matter how long Bdubs waits. A long sigh, as he lets go of held breath. He takes his sketchbook, worn at the spine, and holds it to his chest. He turns, raises a foot, intends to take a step — only to let out a roar of terror as he’s suddenly faced with a tall figure come out of nowhere.

Bdubs stumbles back, and as quickly as he began screaming he slaps both hands over his mouth to silence himself, letting the sketchbook fall open by his feet. His back hits the edge of his desk, and he waits as the figure stands still as a statue. One, two — his eyes dart to the door, listening for guards, servants, anyone who might have heard the commotion. Only when he’s certain no one intends to ruin his moment does he drop his hands down, letting out a high pitched giggle.

“You scared the life outta me!” he exclaims in Celesti. “I mean,” he corrects himself in quiet Obliviate: “You sca—”

The figure holds up a hand, and Bdubs stills, before letting out another, softer chuckle.

“Right. You understand Celesti. There’s no need to translate,” He insists on continuing in Obliviate, but it does save him some time.

Another stretch of silence. The figure lets their hand drop. They remain still, and though it fills the air with an awkwardness that would normally make Bdubs want to keep yapping — he instead finds himself transfixed by their presence.

Slowly, as to ensure they don’t take it as an offensive move, Bdubs leans down to pick up his sketchbook. He opens it towards the end, and meets with a sketch of himself laid in bed, arms stretched out at his sides, small rivulets of blood dripping down. The blood moon shining in the window. He’s transfixed by it for just a moment, his throat closing up.

He flips the page. More angles of his dead body. A few sketches of gloved hands taking hold of his wrist. The fingers are slender, long — one might call them delicate, even as they hold a blade to Bdubs’ wrist.

A study of how the blood flows. It pearls at the edge of the cut at first. There’s a few attempts at getting it quite right. The amount of blood that begins to trickle, then pour out. The way it soaks Bdubs’ sheets.

Then, finally, the main object of interest: The assassin. His sketches become more abundant, but less clear, as he focuses on them. Looking up at the figure standing in front of him, then down at his sketches, he’s happy to note he got their build right: Tall, slender, but not too much. Loose clothes that likely hide solid muscles. That’s another thing he realises he portrayed perfectly: Their outfit. The long, dark cloak hiding the near entirety of their figure. The large hood obscuring their head alongside a scarf wrapped around the bottom half of their face. The only part that remains uncovered is their eyes and a few strands of silver hair — easy enough to remember and portray, one would think. Yet it always remained blank both in Bdubs’ memory and sketches.

The surface of some of the pages have been rubbed raw from his eraser. Some have frustrated scribbles all over the assassin’s face. Others have just been left blank. It’s endlessly frustrating, and if he doesn’t get to do anything else before he dies, he hopes to at least fix this.

“Can I…?” Bdubs reaches for the assassin’s scarf — only for them to suddenly jerk back before his fingers can even brush against the fabric.

It’s the first movement he’s seen from them, a proof they’re not just a hallucination. It makes him jump, and he tenses in expectation of a blow that never comes. The assassin just adjusts their scarf securely on their face before peering down at Bdubs’ sketchbook. They point. A silent question hangs in the air.

Bdubs frowns. “Can you use your words?”

“No.”

Their voice is deep, surprisingly so. It’s also rough around the edges — the way one’s voice sounds after waking up in the morning. And a bit muffled by the scarf.

“Very clever,” Bdubs grins, reaching to shove playfully at the assassin. They move away. “It does mean you can speak though, so— Oh, how do you say in Obliviate… you know, like… gotcha? Do you guys have a word for gotcha?”

Bdubs swears he hears a quiet, near inaudible snicker from the other.

“You can switch to Celesti. I’d rather you did, actually,” they say in perfect Celesti. Not a trace of an accent. Not even an intonation amiss, despite how much more melodic Celesti is compared to the flatness of Obliviate. Bdubs could mistake him for a native if he didn’t know better, and if it wasn’t for the paleness of his face.

“Right, yeah, I was tryna impress you, but turns out I’m real rusty. But hey, I was doing well enough, yeah? Since you came down from your little hidey hole?”

Silence. They’re still pointing.

“...So, uh, what’d you want my sketchbook for?”

The silence stretches, until the assassin seemingly remembers it’s their turn to speak. “I want to see.”

Bdubs raises a brow. “Not the most eloquent sort, are ya?”

They blink.

“Just gimme a second, okay?”

Bdubs reaches for one of his charcoal pencils, and holds the book open against his chest. He peeks up at the assassin, then down at the page, lightly finishing up one of his attempts at a portrait. He sticks out his tongue as he adds the outline of lips he can barely see through the scarf, refines the shape of their face, and draws the long, white eyelashes caressing scarred skin. The hint of sculk Bdubs can barely see, pulsing like veins burrowing deep within the assassin’s skin. He goes at it for a moment, before he finally gives up with a dissatisfied huff.

“It’s not as pretty as you are in real life,” he holds the sketchbook out to the assassin. “But have a looksie, if you want. It’s kind of… Ah, well, you can keep it as a souvenir after you’ve killed me! I’m sure in a few decades you’ll be able to resell it for some pretty money. I mean, can you imagine?” Bdubs gestures when the assassin takes hold of the book. “‘The prophet prince’s last drawings.’ People will fight for it!”

The assassin doesn’t seem to find it quite as funny as Bdubs does. They stare at him blankly, jaw slack, before seemingly remembering to look down at the pages, ignoring Bdubs’ grin as they do. He doesn’t let it get him down. Instead he watches their piercing grey eyes dance across the pages. He doesn’t think he did them justice. He wishes he had more time. They genuinely are beautiful.

Their fingers run over the sketches. As they study the depictions of themselves knocking Bdubs unconscious and slitting his wrist, Bdubs can’t help but hyperfocus on their hands. They’re like a pianist’s. He wonders if they play instruments. Are Obliviate assassins allowed to partake in hobbies? Arts?

“I wasn’t sent by anyone,” their voice force Bdubs out of his imaginings. They stop on a page depicting them hopping out of Bdubs’ bedroom through the window and disappearing into the darkness of the night. It was a bit of a challenging pose to figure out. Bdubs is proud of that sketch. He doesn’t think it’s what they’re admiring. “My actions were planned by myself, in opposition to my orders. You are dangerous, but no one seems to see that.”

Bdubs swallows heavily. A strange calm had settled over him, ever since the assassin revealed themselves — but their saying that turns his blood to ice. He’s suddenly aware of every inch of his body, and the way they scream at him to run, or hide, or fight — something. Instead, he stays frozen as the assassin circles him, takes in the room as if they hadn’t been spying on him for stars know how long.

“You showing me this,” they tap their fingers on the pages. “It made me realise something I hadn’t considered before.”

Bdubs opens his mouth to speak, but the assassin continues before he gets even a sound out:

“If I choose not to kill you tonight. What happens with your vision?”

“I…” Bdubs looks down at his dead body laid on the pages. It’s hard to speak. He should stop staring. He can’t. “I don’t… know. Every single thing I’ve predicted has come true, no matter how hard I’ve worked to stop them. I don’t know what happens if… if they don’t. I think it would just push away the inevitable. If you don’t kill me today, then you’ll do it on the next blood moon. Or the one after. It’s not the first blood moon I’ve seen since the vision, after all. I could just be wrong on the exact date. Both of us could be.”

The assassin shakes their head. “Even if the date isn’t right, I won’t do it like this,” they gesture at the book. “So it still wouldn’t be true. Besides, you knew this blood moon was to be the one. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve never called out to me the way you have tonight. You knew it was today.”

“I just… felt it, somehow. I tend to, with my visions. Even if nothing indicates a specific date within the vision itself, I just… feel it, when it’s about to happen,” he shrugs. “With normal prophecies — you know, the one they do all those fancy rituals for? With those, it’s kind of a fifty-fifty as to whether they’ll actually happen. But mine have always, always come true, no matter what. I’m just too good at this divination thing!” He laughs. It comes out wrong. Stilted. Tearful.

The assassin watches Bdubs pace.

Bdubs’ eyes find the image of the assassin’s bloodied blade, placed in his limp hand.

“...I don’t wanna die,” he finally admits, quietly. A few tears roll their ways down his cheeks. “I just know — well, I don’t know… what’s meant to, to happen. If you stop it, I mean. I don’t know what happens if you don’t kill me. If I— If I wake up, tomorrow. I don’t know what… what would happen. I’m not meant to. It— It won’t. It won’t happen. You know?” he looks up, his lips trembling uncontrollably.

He feels like a damn child.

The assassin is obviously uncomfortable. Their previously relaxed posture grows suddenly tense. Their shoulders are almost all the way to where Bdubs assumes their ears would be. They reach into their coat and Bdubs gasps, sharply. His eyes squeeze shut. He expects the stab of a knife. For all of it to have been a ruse. A way to finally end their conversation and get to the very reason they came here.

But nothing comes.

Bdubs takes one, two — up to three shaky, hiccuping breaths, before he opens his eyes again and looks up. What he sees is not a knife, but instead a handkerchief. It’s held in front of him awkwardly, the assassin staring at him unblinking. Bdubs hesitates, before he takes it and wipes the tears off his face. Except the very act of compassion coming from what should be his assassin makes his tears double, and Bdubs sobs embarrassingly against the cloth.

“We’ll find out what happens when a vision of yours does not come to fruition, then. Because I won’t kill you. You won’t die by my hand, prince Bdubs.”

Their voice is so gentle, now. Bdubs nearly chokes on air as he tries to calm himself. As he tries to listen. Take it in.

“I was only sent here because we found out about your vision. Before you worry — none within your court knows. We’ve only inferred it through our surveillance. I will report back, explain what happened. They’ll send another spy to continue monitoring your safety. Oblivion never wanted you dead, so you won’t have to be afraid of them. And it means… you’ll know: There’s a way to stop your visions.”

Before Bdubs can say anything, before he can thank them, they turn away. They take a step to leave. Bdubs’ tears stop in an instant, and he reaches for them. For their cloak. He pulls them back towards him, and wraps his arms around them in a tight embrace, feels the air escape from their lungs as he squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, voice only shaking a little as he clings to the assassin’s clothes. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you. I don’t even know your name, I—”

“My— My name’s not important.” The assassin’s voice is strained, as if in pain. They pat Bdubs’ hand in what he assumes is a gentle attempt to pry him off. He doesn’t let go quite yet. “We won’t meet again. Just… try to find a way to stop your visions. If anything, for your own sake.”

Bdubs shakes his head. “I won’t let you leave,” he declares. “Not after you saved my life. Not after you did… did this. You were sent to protect me, right? So you must be pretty good! Then, I want you to stay. I can write to Oblivion, get them to keep you here. Then you can help me stop the visions from coming true again. Yeah?”

He finally pulls away so he can walk around the assassin and face them, sniffing as he watches them shake their head.

“I’m not a protector. I’m an assassin. The only reason I was sent here was to neutralise your murderer. Since I technically have, there’s no reason for me to stay. Especially now that I’ve revealed myself to you. It… goes against almost every tenets of the code,” they sigh, reaching to pinch the bridge of their nose. “It just can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

“... Will they hurt you? For… you know,” Bdubs gestures. Could the price of his life be his would-be assassin’s death? Does he want to know? “...If not your full name, can you give me… I dunno, a nickname, the first letter — anything? I don’t wanna forget the person who broke my curse. Please? Then I’ll let you leave. And I’ll promise not to speak a word of this. To anyone.”

The other furrows their brow, and studies Bdubs’ face. They shake their head again, and brush Bdubs’ hands off themselves. “Slab,” they finally offer. Bdubs recognises it: A clan name. A… very prominent one. “And what happens to me isn’t something for you to worry about. I’m… uh… Sorry. For causing you stress.”

There’s an awkward pause, then, before they take a step back. Bdubs lets them. He watches them as they climb back up to the rafters, open a window, and leave without a trace.

“...Slab…” Bdubs looks down at his sketchbook, hugs it to his chest. Clouds creep closer to the blood moon, obscuring its glow. The observatory is plunged in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering candles on Bdubs’ desk.

He’s alive. His vision has come and gone.

He sits at his desk. Opens his sketchbook, picks up a pen, and begins sketching.

He draws until the sun rises. A feverish attempt to burn the Slab assassin’s image in his head. Draws until one of his retainers knocks on the door and scolds him for not showing up at breakfast. Until they drag him out of the observatory, force him to breathe the fresh air outside.

He’s free of the burn in his lungs as he’s smothered into unconsciousness, of the blade splitting his arms open.

He’s alive.

#pltclau #writings

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jplupine · 7 months

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Day 2: Szayelaporro Granz ~ Tentacles

Pairing: Szayelaporro Granz x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~2.6k Date Published: October 2, 2023 WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Monster!Szayel, Dom!Szayel, Exophilia, Size Difference, Tentacles, Tentacle Bondage, Vaginal Sex, Hair Pulling, Outdoor Sex, Throat Grabbing, Creampie, Dub/Non-Con Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. Szayel also uses the term 'little fighter' to refer to Wynter. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.

Summary: Wynter is on a camping trip and walking back to their tent when a strange flower catches their eye.

You can also read it on AO3!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Sighing as I pushed a lower tree branch out of my way, I was heading back to my tent. This camping trip had quickly soured when a fight broke out between two of the others, but it was thankfully quiet now with everyone going off to bed.

The night sky was full of stars as crickets chirped from the shadows. The moon was high and bright, so I could thankfully see the woods around me.

I was almost back to my tent when a sweet scent tickled my nose. It was floral and enticing, and when I looked in the direction it was coming from, I saw a large flower growing from a squat bush. I'd never seen one like it before with thick, pink petals and a paler center.

Glancing back ahead, I could see my tent between the trees. It wouldn't hurt to take a short look at the sweet-smelling flower.

Getting closer, I realized it was bigger than I had previously thought. The stem also looked black with strange swirls like eyes. The center lacked any stamens or pistils as well.

My brows furrowed at the odd flower. I didn't have a clue what type it was and pulled out my phone from my back pocket. Pulling up my camera app, I used my other hand to cup the flower to keep it still for the picture. I was shocked to find that it was warm to the touch.

It was summer, but the heat of the flower couldn't be explained by the warm air. Taking a picture to be able to later identify it, the flash revealed more beyond the squat bush.

Stumbling back after seeing what was just a few feet away, I tripped and fell. My phone landed in the grass, and the creature on the other side of the bushes stood up. It was tall with a lithe body and wing-like appendages stretching out.

When it turned, I was surprised to see the face of a man. He looked down at me with his pale eyes before resting a clawed hand on his chin. The strange flower moved, and I saw it was actually the tip of his tail as it now swayed behind him.

How his eyes seemed to study me before his wings lowered gave no indication as to what he was thinking. Glancing at my phone, I thought fast and picked it up before bolting toward camp. I didn't get far when something wrapped around my leg and dragged me back.

I hit the ground with a quiet thud, and when I went to shout for help, my mouth was covered.

"I haven't seen one like you before." He spoke with a calm, cool tone from behind me. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw more appendages coming from him with markings that looked like black eyes with white, slit pupils.

I was panicking as another one wrapped around my other leg and I was brought closer to the bushes. Dropping my phone, I then twisted around to try and pry the tentacles off my legs. More quickly grabbed my wrists to pull my hands away.

I kept struggling and shouting even if it was muffled. Kicking out my legs, I was then lifted off the ground.

"Aren't you a fighter?" He smirked while watching me squirm and fight to no avail. From this angle, I could now see his legs were long and bird-like with sharp talons. "Oh, listen to your little heart racing. How adorable." He held his cheek while having a patronizing tone.

Screaming as loudly as I could, my throat hurt from the strain, but his tentacle covering my mouth muffled most of the noise. My failed efforts made him chuckle.

"You don't have to be so frightened. I only wish to sate my curiosity." He then reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. "I've never seen a human with such features before." I was brought closer as his hand tilted up my jaw. "Let's have a better look, shall we?"

His claws lazily dragged over my skin as his fingertips went down my neck. I swallowed, and his fingers went lower. His dark lips curled up into a mischievous smile when his claws met the top of my shirt.

My heart beat faster when he began to undo each button. My hands balled into fists, and I felt his claws rake down my chest.

"Mm. Such pretty skin." I tried to fight to get free again and didn't succeed. The tentacles wrapped around my limbs tighter, and my button-up was pulled open. "Oh? What's this?" He looked perplexed when he saw the scars on my chest.

His fingers lightly traced my scars, causing a tingle to go up my spine from the gentle touch.

"How peculiar." He muttered before his head slightly tilted. "Would you tell me what these are from?" He only looked me in the eye for a second to get his answer. "No, you'd scream as soon as you got the chance. You have a stronger drive for survival than other humans I've encountered." His hands went down my torso as his eyes observed the exposed parts of my body. "Short stature, but strong physique. Healthy looking." He was muttering to himself absentmindedly until his hands reached the waistband of my pants.

His warm hands traced over my hips, sending sparks dancing across my skin. I was terrified of this creature and what he might do, but his gentle touch and soft voice were eliciting reactions I didn't want.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried to ignore how my nipples had hardened. It also didn't help that his human face was rather handsome.

Around his pale eyes were dark while the left one had black markings reaching up his forehead and down his cheek. His pink hair went past his shoulders, and his pale eyes were still looking down at my stomach.

"How odd. You don't seem to have any other scars, little fighter." Without hesitation, he grabbed the button of my jeans and undid it before grabbing my zipper. I hollered against the tentacle still over my mouth while struggling to get free once more.

The creature simply wrapped another tentacle around my hips to keep me as still as possible as he pulled my pants down. I tried to kick but couldn't.

"I'm glad I caught you when I did. I'd bet you'd be rather fast once you picked up speed." He mused while looking at my thighs that were flexing from trying to kick him in the face. However, his gaze drifted, and he did a double-take.

I felt my cheeks burn with shame since I could tell he was looking at my crotch. Even if I had on underwear, I still felt as if I was bare.

Without saying a word, he grabbed the waistband of my underwear to pull them down. I tried to close my legs only to fail. He didn't say anything as his slit pupils continued to stare.

He then looked back at my chest and seemed to figure something out.

"Now I wonder what other mysteries you may hold." The tentacles holding my limbs moved to make me nearly parallel with the ground. "Hm. This looks normal enough for your species." The tentacles around my ankles forced my legs higher, and my face burned with shame.

I hated this. I hated it. I hated it.

But something about it had me so aroused.

"Wait...." His brows furrowed as he leaned in closer. I struggled to keep him back, but he ignored my fighting since his tentacles kept him from harm. My fingers flexed like claws as my jaw clenched when I felt his claws against my vulva. I yelled in frustration and anger as he spread my lips with two fingers. "Oh. I see." The creature smirked with my wet heat exposed to him.

I yelled some more, but any noise I made was smothered by the tentacle over my mouth. His tail swayed before he looked up at me.

"You certainly are unique, little fighter. To struggle so much for freedom, yet become so aroused by being bound." He gently blew, and his breath rolled over my skin in a way that made my thighs twitch. "Let us explore this further." My eyes widened as he spread his fingers wider, and his tail came closer.

I jolted when the petal-like appendage nudged against my clit. The warmth and velvety texture made me shudder. My eyes closed as I bared my teeth and tried not to enjoy it.

However, the way it rubbed against me reminded me just how long it'd been since the last time I was touched. I was soon dripping wet and covering the tip of his tail with my slick arousal. The beast watched with amusement as I squirmed and gained a devilish smirk when my hips bucked.

"You can't look away anymore, can you?" He questioned as his head slightly tilted. "You're too curious. Too fascinated. I, too, am curious about the outcome of this experiment." The tip of his tail pressed against my entrance, and I grunted from the bulbous head pushing inside.

It then occurred to me as he inched in deeper that this appendage may not even be a tail at all. He was an amalgamation of features creating a creature I'd never seen before. How certain was I that anything I saw was what I assumed it to be?

The way he exhaled and his feathered ears twitched made me believe even more....the flower was the head of his cock, not the tip of his tail. And it was currently buried deep inside me.

He sat down, and his tentacles brought me down into his lap. He grabbed my legs with a firm grip before his tentacles shifted to pull my pants and underwear off completely. I tried kicking, but he was much stronger than he looked.

The free tentacles then traveled up my torso and slid over my chest. The floral appendage inside me slid out until only the very tip remained. He shoved it back in, and my thighs flexed as I moaned.

"You're so small. I'm surprised you can fit so much." The creature cooed near my ear. "But how long can you last?" My hands were held firmly near my head with my ankles spread as he looked down at me.

The shape and texture of the flower stroking from inside made me have to bite my lip and clench my hands into fists in an attempt to quiet any more moans. I tried to close my legs but only managed to press my knees together. However, that didn't stop the creature from fucking me as he gave a disapproving hum.

The tentacles on my chest moved and wrapped around my thighs to pull them apart. I tried to fight it, but he was so damn strong.

And that excited me more deep down.

His hands let go of my shins to touch me more. I shuddered and watched as his cock plunged into me over and over again with sick fascination. Each time I saw the pink petals glistening in the moonlight when he pulled out, I couldn't believe how wet I was.

"You're so warm." He purred near my ear before squeezing my chest and pinching my nipples. "I wonder how you taste." His tongue glided over my cheek and temple as his breath caressed my face. "Delicious." His nose ventured into my hair, and he dragged his thumbs over my nipples. "My, you certainly don't want me to know how good this feels, do you? Go on, little fighter. You might as well moan since no one else can hear you."

He was becoming distracted, and I could tell by how the tentacles around my wrists were loosening just a bit. The creature didn't seem to notice, and I quickly reached back before he could stop me. I grabbed his long hair and pulled hard enough that his head flew back just as his cock drove deep into my pussy. My back arched as I moaned, but it was utterly drowned out by his lewd moan.

He didn't even bother to take my hands away because of how much he liked having his hair pulled. His claws raked down my chest and stomach as the tentacles around my wrists actually loosened more. In fact, they let go entirely to touch my body along with his hands instead.

And I didn't let go of his hair. I pulled harder, making him moan again as the flower-tipped tentacle was making rhythmic, wet sounds between my thighs. I shuddered as my toes splayed from him pumping faster with enthusiasm.

I felt his thighs twitch beneath me, and one of his hands came up around my throat. His lips brushed over the shell of my ear before he spoke again.

"Do you want to cum?" His voice was low before he groaned. My back arched as I shivered, and he licked the side of my neck. "If you don't answer, I'll drag this out until you're whimpering and won't let you even if you beg."

My hips bucked as heat dripped down my ass and trailed down the dark flesh of his cock. I nodded and moaned as my grip in his hair tightened.

"Yes? You want to cum?" I nodded again, and he hummed before one of his tentacles slid down to my clit. I cried out as my head lolled back from the added stimulation. My back arched and my toes curled while I grabbed his thigh.

Soft feathers were between my fingers as my hips rocked into his cock and tentacle to get more friction. His other hand pressed against my lower stomach, making me feel how the floral tip was pounding into me even more. Fuck, my head felt as if it was spinning.

The tentacle on my clit undulated as the need to cum became so strong. I could feel the pressure building and so close to exploding. The beast leaned back and kept my back against his chest by his hold on my throat. His tentacles kept my thighs spread, and the new angle made it easier for his cock to rapidly fuck into me at an inhuman speed.

My body shook as I cried out and the dam broke. I couldn't take anymore and was cumming around his floral dick while moaning and bucking since he didn't stop or slow down. He forced me to ride out my orgasm to the very end before I felt something warmer flooding my pussy.

With how he groaned, I could only assume he was cumming as well. His grip on me tightened so much that I thought I might be covered in bruises later. He growled low near the end, and when his cock pulled out, a mix of fluids covered the floral tip. The petals looked darker and more swollen than when I'd first seen them, and cum dripped from them to the ground.

"I'd deem this experiment a success. Wouldn't you?" He cooed near my ear, and I was just panting as my chest rose and fell. His other tentacles began to unwrap from my body, and I was dropped limply in his lap. "What would you say to future experiments? I'd like to see if these results are replicable." The tentacle around my mouth lifted to let me verbally respond.

"Yeah. Same place?"

"I'll be waiting, little fighter."

"Wynter."

"Hmm?"

"My name's Wynter." I sighed and closed my eyes while resting my head against his shoulder. "What the fuck are you?"

"I'm just Szayelaporro." He chuckled as his knuckles brushed against my jaw.

#31 days of bleach #szayelaporro granz #bleach #bleach smut #szayelaporro granz smut #exophilia #monster szayel #dom!szayel #bleach fanfic #oc x canon #kinktober 2023 #dom!character #lemon #cw dubcon #cw noncon #Wolf does fanfic

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gxrlcinema · 2 years

Text

― 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐓, 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Steve Rogers x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. Your boyfriend is about as Brad Majors as they come, which is why you don’t tell him that you’re playing Janet in a production of Rocky Horror. What happens when he finds out anyway?

𝐀/𝐍. This isn't my usual thing but I wanted to try my hand at fluff! I hope y'all enjoy.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. The Rocky Horror Picture Show, heavy sexual themes (it’s Rocky Horror), insecure!reader, internalized slut shaming, references to past slut shaming, loving and friendly use of words like slut and whore, various queer original characters, feminist!Steve Rogers

𝐖𝐂: 2.6k

The excitement backstage is palpable. The familiar cacophony of clicking platform heels and swishing fishnets as your castmates run around, the thick cloud of hairspray, glitter and cheap perfume.

You smile at yourself in the dressing table mirror. The Rocky Horror Picture Show has been part of your Halloween tradition since your teen years, but only in the last couple years have you begun participating in shadowplays of it. There’s nothing like the community that you find between the boas and glitter. And there’s no feeling more powerful than standing in your underwear lip syncing to Susan Sarandon. You smack your lips together, making sure they’re fully covered with the soft neutral color you’ve coated them in.

“Alright, Miss Janet Weiss!” you hear from behind you.

You look up in the mirror to see your friend Mac, already fully dressed in a corset, garter, and a pair of black leather platform heels you’re certain that you’d topple over in. This was Mac’s first year as Dr. Frankenfurter, but you’ve known each other for years from various Rocky Horror screenings around New York.

“How’s the crowd looking tonight?” you ask.

“Good,” he smiles, pearly white teeth glinting mischief against red lipstick. “Lots of virgins.”

You laugh, leaning down to fasten your white kitten heels around your ankles. While you do that, your phone buzzes on the dressing table.

“Text from Steve,” Mac says, lifting your phone. They gasp. “Y/n, have you still not told this poor man what you get up to in October?”

Your shoulders tense, and you fumble a bit at the clasp on your shoe.

“I told you, he’s old school,” you grumble, snatching your phone back from Mac’s manicured hands.

Old school is an understatement. Steve was born in 1918. He’s older than color film, and he can barely say the word sex even when you’re in the middle of having it. On top of that, he’s Captain America, the country’s symbol of wholesome family values and the pinnacle of good men. You can’t even begin to imagine his reaction to you prancing around on stage half naked while the audience calls you a slut and a camp horror musical plays in the background.

You finish with your shoes, standing up from your chair and stepping back to get a full view of yourself in the mirror.

You sigh. “I just don’t know how he’d react to all this, and I don’t want to scare him off.”

“As if the sight of you in your underwear could scare any man off,” Mac scoffs.

You study your appearance in the mirror. You look positively virginal in your white cardigan, pink knee-length blouse and skirt combo and kitten heels. This is the image of Captain America’s perfect girlfriend. Unfortunately, you know that the white lace bra, panties and garters you have on underneath are going to be exposed before the end of the show, all of the innocence ruined.

“All you sluts need to be backstage in five!” your stage manager calls from the hallway.

Corset-clad bodies scramble for last looks around you, heels clicking as people make their way out of your dressing zone and into the wings. Mac fluffs his wig in the mirror one last time, and then turns to you.

“I’m just gonna reply to Steve,” you tell him.

He nods and sashays away, throwing in one more unimpressed glance over his shoulder before he disappears from your sight.

You sigh, looking in the mirror for confidence once again. You stare down at your phone, the text Steve had sent earlier staring back at you.

STEVE: I just got off of work, can I come see you? We could get a slice of pie at the diner, my treat.

Guilt twists in your gut.

Here, words like slut and whore are interchangeable with hon, dude, or babe. But outside of the Rocky Horror-sphere, people don’t mean anything good when they direct them at you. You think of the disgust on the face of your first boyfriend, hot shame trickling down your spine as he berates you after discovering that he wasn’t your first. You think of your friend’s parents' comments on the length of your shorts in 5th grade, about getting dress coded over every inch of unapproved skin visible in the hallways of your high school.

Steve’s not the type to judge, but that doesn’t exactly mean he’d stick around after seeing you pretend to do the dirty on stage for a crowd of freaks in leather and crazy makeup. He’s a man of his time after all. And your heart won't be able to take it if he looked at you with disgust, same as your first boyfriend all those years ago.

You type out a quick response.

YOU: i promised wanda a sitcom night :( that diner pie sounds amazing. next time?

You watch the message go through, a familiar knot of guilt settling in your stomach.

Delivered.

With that, you turn your phone off and walk into the wings to wait with your castmates for the show to start.

You’re backstage half-naked, your cardigan and blouse having long since been surrendered to the bizarre inhabitants of Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s castle. The beginning of the show had gone well, the virgin sacrifice as hilarious as it is every year. You watch the stage as your castmates act out the movie playing out on the screen above them, the audience chiming in with their own commentary at every opportunity.

Jeremy, who plays Rocky, walks up next to you in the wings. He smiles at you, all blond and cheeky. You have to admit that he’s your type, in so much as he looks a lot like Steve. (A fact which Jeremy and his boyfriend Ahmed had taken advantage of the year prior, when they’d gone as self-described “slutty Cap and Bucky” for Halloween. You’d sent the pictures to Bucky, who’d only responded that his arm wasn’t silver anymore. You’d never shown them to Steve). He looks even more like Steve now, his golden briefs and gold knee high boots - the only two articles of clothing on his toned body - oddly reminiscent of the USO tour costume your boyfriend had donned back in the way.

“You ready to get your cherry popped?” Jeremy whispers as he sidles up by your side.

You grin up at him. “Bring it on.”

You hear your cue and the two of you quickly take your positions on the stage. The movie projector’s light streams above you, showing the film in tandem with your performance. You and Jeremy mouth the lines being said on screen to each other, the actors playing Columbia and Magenta chiming in from the opposite side of the stage. And then your song starts.

I was feeling done in, you pout, lip syncing to Susan Sarandon’s voice. Couldn’t win. I’d only ever kissed before.

I said there’s no use getting into heavy petting. It only leads to trouble and, you pull a grimace, seat-wetting.

The audience laughs, sending an electric warmth through your body as you launch yourself into the next part of the song.

Now all I want to know is how to go. I’ve tasted blood and I want more, you lip sync to the music.

You move downstage, closer to Jeremy. He staggers back, clumsy, exactly how a man born two hours ago would be. The two of you play up the virginity of your characters, stealing furtive glances and nervously touching your own bodies as the song continues.

I’ll put up no resistance, I want to stay the distance. You’re almost chest to chest with Jeremy, a scared and confused frown on his face that you nearly want to laugh at.

I’ve got an itch to scratch. I need assistance.

You throw yourself at Jeremy, and the two of you begin your more complicated sexy choreography. Your skirt disappears. You’re practically on top of him when you catch a sliver of light out of the corner of your eye, coming from the back of the house. The light disappears, but you see a flash of light hair move through the aisles of the theater, until it disappears at the back of the house. You internally roll your eyes, returning your attention to Jeremy. It’s probably just some twink who spent too much time oiling themself up, but still, rude.

You turn back to Jeremy and grind down. You throw your head back, rocking on top of him while Susan Sarandon does the same on screen.

This is why you do this every year; in your normal life, you work a normal 9 to 5, and Jeremy is a yoga instructor. Only here do you two get to be harlot and himbo, respectively, having fake sex while people yell at you and yet feeling happy and at home. For the month of October this cast and the audience is your spooky little family, even down to that late-arriving twink.

You end the song to raucous cheers, panting from your perch on top of Jeremy, behind the colored plastic of Rocky’s tube. Jeremy throws a wink your way, knowing that the audience can’t see him. You grin back.

You’re still grinning as you walk offstage after bows, the raucous hooting and hollering of the audience ringing in your ears. You run back to your dressing station, hoping to change quickly and head to the alley on the side of the theater where the cast all hang out after the show.

You find your station as you’d left it, and quickly throw on the corset top, skirt and boots you’d had on earlier in the day. Unfortunately, your jacket is nowhere to be found. You shrug, figuring it’ll turn up by next weekend’s show, and head out the back door of the theater. You round the corner to the alley, spotting your cast immediately.

“There she is, the supreme slut herself!” Mac calls when he sees you.

You grin, and give a little bow. Ahmed had clearly found Jeremy after the show, so you join the circle between him and your castmate Jaz as the group hoots and hollers at you.

“Where’s your coat?” Ahmed frowns at you.

“I’m sexy, Ahmed, I don’t need a coat,” you say, shivering.

Ahmed is unimpressed. Jeremy snorts.

“Sexy grandpa over there has a coat,” Jeremy points to your right, where a tall, broad blond is making his way over towards your group. The smile drops from your face.

“Is that the guy who came in late?” you hear Jaz whisper right as Steve reaches you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“I have an extra jacket in the car,” he whispers to you, letting you know he heard the entire conversation prior.

“I’m Steve,” he says, waving at your castmates.

It’s obvious by the looks on their faces that they know who he is, but they have enough tact, at least, not to comment on Steve’s obvious celebrity status. Steve’s appearance on the other hand…

“Damn, Y/n! We thought you had a Brad at home but turns out you were hiding a full on Rocky!” Jeremy hollers. Your cheeks go hot and Steve blushes a furious shade of red. Ahmed smacks Jeremy on the arm, but the himbo just looks down at his boyfriend, confused.

Mac swoops in to save your ass.“Oh, the famous boyfriend! I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

Steve gives a tight smile. “It was a surprise for Y/n.”

Your stomach drops at the hurt you hear lurking under his words.

“Sorry to get here late, I uh,” he looks at you, the threat of a talk to be had later clear in his eyes, “got a little lost on the way.”

Your castmates fawn over Steve for a little while longer and then you quickly make your goodbyes, Steve walking you back to his car. If you were shivering before, you’re shaking now, your nerves and the cold working in tandem. Steve’s eyes fall on you as he climbs into the front seat, concern shining through. He reaches into the back seat, pulling out a navy SHIELD hoodie.

“Here,” he gently places the sweatshirt in your lap.

His eyes trail over your face for a moment, searching for something. You don’t know what to say.

Steve sighs, pulling the key out and turning it in the ignition.

You throw the sweatshirt over your head, fasten your seatbelt. Steve pulls the car away from the curb in total silence.

Neither of you says anything for the entire drive back to your apartment. Steve keeps looking over at you, expressions shifting through his eyes too quickly for you to catch, and then turning back to the road without a word. You want to say something, but your mind fills with your first boyfriend, with hot shame on your back. He pulls the car up outside of your apartment, parks on the street (which is no small feat in the city).

“Is it alright if I come in? I think we need to talk.”

You only nod, hands nearly trembling in your lap.

You can hear the sound of every mechanism as you unlock the front door, Steve’s stoic silence so utterly unnerving that you nearly flinch when you actually get the door open. Steve walks in behind you, clicking the door shut and locking it after you’re both safely inside.

“That was-” Steve walks to one of the armchairs in your living room and takes a seat. “That was some show you guys put on back there.”

He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to sit down on the couch in front of him. You acquiesce, forcing yourself to take your seat at the very edge of the couch, hands twisting in your lap.

“How much did you see?”

“How’d you find out?” you ask, unable to really meet his gaze.

Steve “You weren’t with Wanda. I got worried and then tracked your phone.”

Guilt twists in your gut like you ate something bad. Of course your perfect superhero boyfriend found out you lied about your location and got worried. You glance at Steve, taking in his furrowed brow, his focused gaze trained completely on you.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask, unable to take the silence anymore.

Steve sighs.

“I’m not happy that you lied to me,” he says.

It’s his Captain-America-is-disappointed-in-you voice. Brutally effective. The guilt twists again.

“But I guess- I want to know why you felt the need to?”

You swallow, trying to find the words. It made so much sense to you before, but now all your insecurity feels so incredibly stupid.

“I thought you’d think- well, I didn’t know what you’d think. I guess I was scared that you wouldn’t want me if you found out I didn’t fit your image anymore.”

Steve raises a singular self-righteous eyebrow. “Fit my image?”

“You’re Captain America! One of Earth’s mightiest heroes! The embodiment of truth, justice, and the American way!”

“That’s Superman,” Steve deadpans.

You glare at him.“So not the point. The point is, you’re like, this paragon of virtue and I’m with you. I’m supposed to be Cap’s best girl. And what I did tonight… What I do in October… I thought it’d be like, an ‘embarrassing display of perversion’ to you or something. It’s not a good look for you if Mrs. America turns out to be a two-bit floozy.”

Amusement curls at the corner of Steve’s lips. Your cheeks burn.

“Floozy?”

“What, do you prefer ‘hussy’?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sorry that I don’t know your favorite old-timey word for slut, Steve!”

A laugh bursts out of Steve, one you’d find infectious and charming if it wasn’t aimed at you. Your gut sinks. Maybe he would have forgiven you for being a whore but now you’re a dumb whore. You cross your arms over your chest while Steve sobers, taking a few moments to shake his head and clear his throat before he looks back up at you.

“Do I get to talk now?”

His voice is a warm mix of stern and gentle. It gives you the distinct impression of being scolded by your favorite teacher in middle school. You steel yourself.

“Three things,” he says, holding up three fingers. “First off, I don’t think you’re a floozy. Or a hussy, or a loose woman, or whatever it is you think we said back in the day. I’m not some pearl-clutching grandmother at church. I’m not in the habit of judging someone’s character based on how much they have sex, and I wouldn’t assume to know anything about it based on a performance or a costume.”

He fixes you with a gaze that’s all fire but not quite meant to burn you. “I really hated it when people used to make those assumptions about me.”

Shame washes over you. He’d been so open with you about his life before the serum, about all the assumptions people had about his former life. And you, like an idiot, had taken Captain America at face value, just like they had.

Your mouth falls open, excuses already forming on the tip of your tongue, but Steve holds up a hand. You sag into the couch, but nod for him to continue.

“Two: you’re my partner, not a marketing campaign. I don’t care and have never cared what the optics are. I want to be with you, Y/n. I’m in love with you. I don’t know who put ‘Cap’s best girl’ shit in your head, but I want it gone.”

You sit stock still, shock setting in. Yeah, the other stuff is important and you’re not off the hook but he’s in lo-

“You’re in love with me?” you’re tense, half sure that pointing out his words are the wrong move.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then they go wide. He flushes bright pink, flashing a sheepish smile.

“That’s not how I wanted it to come out.”

Your heart flutters. You can’t help the little smile that breaks the line of your lips. You quickly school it down, so that you can look him in the eye and deliver your honest apology.

“I’m sorry, Steve. It was shitty to lie to you, especially given what can happen with your job. And it was shitty to make assumptions about what you’d think. I should’ve just talked to you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” he repeats, clearly trying to make that stick. “I’m sorry, too, that I didn’t make it clearer how much I love every part of who you are.”

Your lip twitches. You really love hearing him say that.

Steve’s sharp eyes catch everything, as always. “You like that?”

He stands from the chair, walking over to sit beside you on the couch. You nod furiously. He smiles a little, but then goes serious again.

“There’s no pressure to say it back. If you’re not ready or-”

“I love you,” you rush out.

You don’t give him time for the victory to settle in, instead launching yourself at him so you can press your lips against his. You make out for a while, melting into Steve as you lay him out under you on the couch. When you pull away, it’s abrupt.Steve pouts, his lips bereft from your absence.

“What was the third thing?” you ask, giving him a quick peck to keep him sated.

His mind is miles away. “What?”

“Earlier, you said you had three things to say. What was the third one?”

“Oh. Oh.”

He smiles, a particularly devastating blend of shy and wicked that only Steve could manage to pull off. “The third thing is how unbelievably hot I found that ‘embarrassing display of perversion’ you put on.”

Your cheeks heat in an entirely different way than they had earlier.

“Yeah?”

Steve nods vigorously. You giggle at him, before dropping an assessing gaze over his form.

“You know, you’d look really hot in a corset and fishnets,” you muse aloud.

Steve’s eyes go wide as saucers, the color in his cheeks rapidly getting darker. His mouth hangs open.

“I’ll uh- take that into consideration,” he manages.

You giggle again and pull him down into another kiss before his cheeks can get any redder.

#ip fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #halloween fic #marvel fic #mcu fic

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swirlmup · 1 year

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It’s le piece of resistance, the episode of Fixing RWBY I contributed the most art to! Let’s take a look, shall we?

Believe be when I was obsessively looking at reference pictures of the castle both from canon and from RWBY: Fairytales, and hating the design of it more and more the more I studied it. xD It’s just not super great lmao, so I did some tweaking to the castle’s design throughout my scene, mostly adjusting some of the tower roofs and the layout. In this scene I’m particularly pleased with the statue of Salem’s mother now inset in the roof above Salem’s room. I had to extrapolate her mother’s design from the silhouette we saw in RWBY: Fairytales, and kept it relatively simple in the interest of honoring the silhouette. I think my favorite detail I added to her was giving her a fox-skin scarf. I also downloaded a star brush on CSP to fill in that sky, very fun to paint in.

Another thing I hated from canon and canon-adjacent material was how empty Salem’s room was. You look at canon or Fairytales and it’s like, “My God, does anybody actually even live here? How dull! It looks like an Ikea display!” So that was another one of my goals for this scene, that I wanted to design Salem’s room with a lot more Stuff(tm). Just stuff everywhere, as many necessities as I could think of for living, and clutter because she’s a teenage girl and she probably isn’t super tidy. A bookbrush I downloaded saved me a lot of trouble as well, for filling in even more Stuff everywhere. xD

You may notice that there’s a lot of stuffed animals and depictions of animals in her room, and that’s because I headcanon that Salem likes animals a lot, especially fanciful animals that have wings. xD I also felt the need to give Salem other hobbies besides just reading and writing, since even the biggest reader would get bored of that reading. Hence the painting easal, the embroidery ring, and the violin and deck of cards and dancing ribbon. Bitch(affectionate, Salem is my daughter) needed more stuff to do in a day. xD

This is an interesting drawing, because it’s actually right when I was shifting my style a bit! I’d discovered another artist whose art I admired, and so I was training myself to incorporate elements from their art that I liked into my own repertoire. It’s kind of hit and miss sometimes in how well I pull it off, but I like how this one turned out. :) Salem’s pajamas were designed at the last second as I was working the scene lol. I like how plaintive her expression is here.

This was a fun and quick drawing to do, and the first peek we get at the redesign we made for Salem! Explicitly, once we learned that Salem was canonically 16 when she was rescued, according to RWBY: Fairytales, we felt the need to redesign her so that she accurately reflected her age at that time. More on this further down when I share her reference sheet!

One of those more awkward moments on trying to work in a style I wasn’t super comfortable yet. xD More extrapolation on her father’s design, although it’s much easier to work with him since we have more visual reference on how he looked.

Another view of Salem in her room. The perspective was very difficult to do here! I wanted it to be like the camera was set right on Salem’s writing desk, and make it obvious that’s where the camera was and that we could see her writing implements in the foreground. But because the writing desk I gave her has an angled surface, it greatly complicated things in terns of trying to maintain a dead-on perspective and still keeping her writing stuff in frame. I kinda fudged it a little for the sake of visual clarity, after all was said and done. xD Her pen was fun to just doodle on lol.

Another fairly quick drawing. The longest part was lining up the text on the edges of the paper so that it displayed the way it ought to. Curious about what Salem wrote in her letters exactly?

text reads: Brave hero who finds this note, Please come and rescue me immediately! I am imprisoned by my father with no hope of escape. He refuses to let me go and I fear I shall never know the feel of grass beneath my feet, or the embrace of a husband. Please, I beg, rescue me from him. I am in the tallest tower of Dawnfall Castle, in Duskerfield Valley of the Kingdom of Scatheudo. Should you succeed, the Kingdom and all its lands shall be yours, and I your happy wife, to stand by your side as we explore all the realm we will rule together. —Graciously awaiting you, Princess Salem.

You just can’t help but feel sorry for how desperate she must’ve been, to offer her hand to the first guy who can reach her. And think of how lucky she was that it was Ozma who reached her, and not any of the rough-looking folk we saw in the RWBY: Fairytale episode. I made up the names of the location of the castle on the spot pretty much, and looked at proto-germanic for the name of the Kingdom. Would you believe me that I took inspiration for the structure of the letter from that bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail? xD

More castle tweaking and redesign, put an actual wall around the whole place so that it was, ya know, defensible? xD perspective remains the bane of my existence, but I did a convincing-enough job with this. Happy Salem’s so cute, I don’t get to draw her smiling and showing off her dimples enough. :3

RED. I did also redesign the soldiers of the king’s castle. I actually forgot that we were given a glimpse of the soldiers in RWBY: Fairytales, and so went through the process of researching what armor style to use and how to dress them and this and that. And then I double-checked the episode and saw we actually had a glimpse of them. Oops. xD But I liked my design more than super-heavy duty one shown in canon, which I felt clashed with the castle’s overall aesthetic and the role of archers I wanted to portray them with. And so, I used the design I came up with for them anyways wwwww.

No longer happy Salem. :c Throughout each of the frames I drew for my scene, I kept playing with how the colors were done. It’s mostly filters to save on time, and lots of experimentation was done each time to achieve the exact looks I wanted.

I love when I can work on a drawing and profoundly feel the emotions the picture is meant to have. The perspective is fucked but once again i didn’t care very much lol. My main focus was showing Salem’s magic mirror now shattered, as she’s given up on ever leaving her tower. ;n;

Highlighting Ozma as the other main player in the story by him being the only other person given a full palette and not just colored with a contrasting solid color with the bg. :0 I did not give a flying fuck about attempting to replicate the actual design on Ozma’s staff, so we get a bunch of swirlies(and sometimes not even those LMAO).

This was almost a completely different image! The script talks about Ozma facing the King and his forces, and at first I just sort of copied what we were shown in RWBY: Fairytales. However, that never quite sat right with me. We’re told that Ozma used his cunning to defeat the king, but then the Fairytale just kind of showed him generically fighting the soldiers, albeit with magic instead of a sword? That never seemed very cunning to me though, and I couldn’t tell what the difference was supposed to be that made Ozma more qualified to rescue Salem than the others.

And so, I came up with the idea that Ozma really does use trickery and cunning to circumvent the castle’s main defenses and approach the king directly. It’s a little complex here and there was a lot of information to try and get across, but basically what’s happened is that Ozma has disguised himself as the dead queen in order to gain access to the castle and to the throne room without having to dismantle all the defenses. The king, of course, is able to see through the disguise with his own magic, but was allowing to hear out the charlatan if only for the novelty of their trick and the chance to see his wife again. I also felt it would be cool if Ozma used the image of the dead queen to chew out the king for his actions, abusing their daughter the way he has, and no doubt planning even worse atrocities in the future towards her in order to keep her locked up for the rest of her natural life.

A poignant moment that deserved a frame by itself, and a minimal-effort floor lmao.

The big meeting! This was a moment I was very excited to draw. In small contrast to canon, I felt that the way Salem was portrayed in the show was that she was just a little too ready for Ozma to burst in all swashbuckling. So here I made a point to portray Salem as having been in the middle of something, because obviously why would she expect a visitor to bust in, let alone a complete stranger? She was occupying herself the way she always does, with her hobbies, in this case playing the violin.

From here on out the scene also uses more and more vibrant palettes for the environment, because ooo salem’s world is expanding and becoming more colorful thanks to ozma ooooo symbolism oooooo

Also a fun moment to draw. Salem’s delight contrasted with Ozma’s shock at seeing how young Salem really is. Plus I love dramatic height differences in characters, they’re so fun lol. You think Salem hurt her head at all against Ozma’s armor, rushing him like that? :,)

One of those trickier scenes to do, it’s always hard to figure out a character’s height relative to another when they’re kneeling. I think I accidentally drew Ozma a little small here, breadth-wise if not height-wise, but oh well. This is also the last view we get of Salem’s bedroom, fare thee well!

Here, it was all about the expressions for me. I wanted to emphasize the kindness in Ozma’s eyes as he pities this child who was prepared to offer him literally everything just for helping her escape a bad situation, and the lovey-dovey look in Salem’s eyes as she’s completely smitten for her rescuer. As a side note, I consistently struggled to draw Ozma. From his armor to his face and hair, he was just very challenging to me. xD

Some commenters from the video thought it was kinda funny that Ozma was covering Salem’s eyes as he led her out of the castle. I agree. xD It’s one of the smaller, practical things that I think make for very nice touches in storytelling. Such as Ozma realizing “it would probably be really bad if she saw her dad’s corpse on the floor, or the corpses of any of the other people who worked in the castle, I better cover her eyes and lead her out by hand.”

Some might note this is very different from canon, where it states that Ozma and Salem fought their way back out of the castle together. But tbh that didn’t really make a lot of sense, especially after the RWBY: Fairytales episode came out? If Salem could fight her way out the whole time, why did she need Ozma to rescue her? If Ozma had to defeat the king and his soldiers first to get to her at all, then who the hell were they fighting on the way out? The straggling survivors, the noncombatant servants? So we cut that detail, in the interest of maintaining logical continuity. Salem will have her chance to be badass and uber-powerful later in life, it doesn’t need to happen while she’s still a teen.

There’s also something I quite like about the imagery of a knight using his cape to help shield his maiden from something, very noble and chivalrous.

Had to shrink this image a bit for tumblr! The last frame of my scene, and the most colorful. Ozma’s horse here is a peacock leopard appaloosa! I was looking for horses so that I wouldn’t just give him a generic-looking one, and decided that appaloosas were perfect for a mage like Ozma. Spent a little more time detailing the forest here as well, I’m pleased with how it came out. It would’ve been nice to include a frame of Salem looking back and seeing for the very first time that there was a statue of her mother positioned over her room like a guardian angel, but alas, it would’ve been superfluous. :,) and i was tired by this point wwww

Now let it be said we like Salem’s canon design, quite a lot actually, but we like it for adult Salem, not a Salem who’s meant to be 16. xD We never expected we would need to do this, but @themixedcoffee whipped this up in the discord and me and Butterfly pretty much fell in love with it, it’s so cute and perfect, and so we just pretty much went and wholesale made it her official teen design. I like how she looks kind of bookish and unkempt, sort of like the awkward teen you might expect Salem to be, quiet and raised with good manners, but raring to let loose and run wild.

Of course, there were other redesigns which made their appearances this episode. O.O We reaallly weren’t jazzed by the technicolor mannequins that canon gave us for the designs of the Gods. xD We felt they could use more style, more flair, some pants, and just generally be more interesting to look at. For Light, we leaned into those eastern influences from his dragon, and went very bishounen for him. We also thought that Light/life as a concept was more nuanced than just creation, and that there were elements of a need to fight and defend in order to protect life, hence giving him the armor. We figure that Light specifically makes himself approachable for humans, which is why he’s so human-like(despite being 8 feet tall lol). Though i also liked adding the touch that when he’s angry the facade starts to drop and his features become more inhuman. O.O Another thing I quite like about his design here is adding a point of sharp contrast by giving him a purple gem. The darkness within light type of thing, to kind of bring the brothers more towards a yin/yang dynamic. Speaking of...

For Dark, our perspective was that he wouldn’t care about trying to impress humans or be approachable for them. He was the less-acknowledged yet still very important half of his brother, for without destruction there can be no creation, and volcanoes distribute fertile soil vital for plant growth after their eruptions.

As a slight compensatory act and a nod towards the more general prevalence of darkness as opposed to light, he gets to be twice as big as his brother. We were looking at all sorts of references and inspirations for him, to explicitly make as inhuman and macabre looking as possible. The cracks on his body also came from volcanic allusions, like his skin is cracking rocks. The floating, expressionless mask in place of a head came from a claymation movie about Mark Twain and a very creepy scene in it featuring The Actual Devil who also uses a mask instead of having a head. His forearms having gaps in them came from the 80s Bakshi movie Wizard, wherein the villain in that had a similar thing going on with his arms. Not really human, not really alive, and not really there either. I think my favorite part is probably his eyes being the sole spot of bright color in his design, light shining in the darkness.

And finally Maria!! I was very excited to work on her design and for people to finally see it in our rewrite. Some may think that it’s surprising that we redid Maria’s young design as well as her old design, but if you ask me, her young design isn’t very good either. xD I wanted her to have more colors, to have contrasting colors. To make the blue really pop and to make her look like the Grimm Reaper she was supposed to be. Hence the use of black and gray, with blue and orange as highlights to capture the eye. Tweaked the design of her mask as well to be more elaborate and a little more sugar-skull like. C’mon RWBY, you’re a 3d animated show, you can go for the fancy patterns and textures way more than a 2d artist like me can. xD We also made a point of making old Maria a more normal size instead of being a midget. I get that aging can make you shorter and Maria canonically as terrible posture, but it’s not that extreme. xD In both cases, I paid special attention to suggestions that were made by the members of our team who were actually mexican/hispanic/latino, which is actually quite a lot and they were very helpful to me. xD Maria’s goggles were also simplified just a bit.

Wow that was a lot of art to cover! This post almost didn’t survive it, had several failed uploads happen. xD But we’re not done yet! Even more art and redesigns are waiting in the future, which I’ll be just excited to talk about! So stay tuned, and thanks for watching/reading! ;D Btw, if you want a better view of the images in this post, here’s the twitter thread I made featuring all of them, so check that out as well! https://twitter.com/Erica_D_C/status/1624121234010013721

#art #fanart #rwby #fixing rwby #salem #ozma #the lost fable #god of light #god of darkness #maria #maria calavera

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onelastfic · 2 years

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Messed Up Kids Club Quotes

Nico: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Cindy: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back.

Nenet: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Bruce: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

JJ: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Dylan: Mental stability, my old friend!

Nico: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

——

JJ: A butterfly! Hey, little guy, gal or nonbinary pal!

Nenet: Can a butterfly be nonbinary?

JJ: I mean, maybe? I don't judge.

Cindy: (staring dreamily out of the window) Ah, have you ever imagine having butterfly wings? Then-

Dylan: Then it would be inconvenient as hell. Your wings would smack every door frame and your clothes would have to have holes in the back.

Nenet: Also, your wing's paperthin, so even a six year old aimed a NERF gun at it would... Yeah...

Nico: (sips coffee) According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a-

Cindy: No, nononono. You have already shattered my dream, you don't get the privilege to make that reference.

Laika: Also, it's about a butterfly, not a bee... Why would you make that reference?

Dylan: You clearly have not lived with them long enough.

——

Cindy: So, did everyone learn their lesson?

Laika: No.

Dylan: I did not.

Nenet: I may have actually forgotten one.

Nico: Also no.

Nenet: Wait, what was the lesson again?

JJ: *Exhausted sigh*

——

Laika: Man, they look like a real handful. How do you deal with them?

Cindy: (watching Nico screaming, Nenet trying to set Dylan on fire, and JJ choking on air) I don't know either.

——

Dylan: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Cindy and JJ's convo?

Nenet: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.

Bruce: I'm in the washing machine.

Nico: I'm in the closet.

Nenet: We accept you Nico.

Nico: No I'm literally in the closet.

Dylan: Love is love, bro.

——

Cindy: If you put 'violently' in front of anything to describe your action, it becomes funnier. Violently practices.

Nico: Violently studies.

JJ: Violently sleeps.

Laika: Violently shoots pictures.

Dylan: Violently boxes.

Nenet: Violently murders people.

JJ: Violently worries about the previous statement.

——

JJ: Is it still visible? Where the criminal slapped me?

Dylan: Your face looks like a don't walk signal.

Laika: Your face looks like a photo negative for the hamburger helper box.

Nico: A palm reader could tell the criminal's future by looking at your face.

Nenet: The phrase 'talk to teh hand cause the face ain't listening' doesn't work for you, because the hand is your face.

JJ: ...A simple 'yes' would've sufficed.

———

Laika, Bruce, Cindy, and Dylan belongs to @laylaylamode

#callyieverse #oc #future au #next gen #nextgen #saw this quote and just thought it fit them SO well #which is your fav?

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fallenwingzero · 2 years

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Frozen Teardrop Volume 2 Afterword

The first half is very loosely translated (sorry my manga history knowledge isn’t 100% ^^; but I did try with what I could look up), so there may be some mistakes but the second half Sumisawa talks about some interesting points about the original GW anime as well as Heero and his voice actor, Hikaru Midorikawa.

This afterword is long so translation under the read more:

Afterword

Putting myself aside, I think the human imagination is truly amazing. Especially in the case of Japanese imagination, it is outstanding. First, the language and its writings may have reached a perfection through a Galapagosian evolution unlike any other culture.

Novels written in the style of matching words and sentences that began in the Meiji era, even in short sentences that could be said to be lacking in expression or complicated sentences that could be said to be redundant, people at the time surely imagined images and characters. I think that I was deeply moved by their emotions, and I think that it’s wonderful that this has been passed down through the generations in the current novel style.

After the war, Osamu Tezuka invented the grammar of manga, and it would have been impossible without the Japanese language to express the “movement” that appeals to the reader’s imagination with a still picture, which was revealed in a recent study.

In addition, the anime culture that followed (sorry but I will dare to write it because it is my main business) when expressing “pause (tempo and rhythm)” and “voice” in scripts etc… If it is not in Japanese writing, it is also impossible to make the person in charge of the storyboard for the next stage imagine the image. Actually, that part is the difference between the script of a live-action drama movie and an anime.

Even though it’s a light novel postscript, I might get scolded for what I am saying. However, despite the rules I have made a contract with my readers to rely on this great imagination (I would like to use the word “delusional thought” if allowed). I am aware that it is superfluous, but I am still writing here.

I don’t expect you to judge me, I just want you to feel it, and there is no doubt that this is a “floating feeling”, “tension” and “excitement” that can only be experienced now.

It’s ok to think that only the “conclusion” is important logically, but that would spoil the “imagination”, “dream”, “delusion”, “speculation” and “guessing” that the readers are currently enjoying. I don’t feel like they’re going to lose it. I am sure those that watched “Mobile Suit Gundam Wing” on TV in real time more than 15 years ago must have enjoyed it in this way.

At that time, I was aiming for a script that made hearts skip a beat, with no idea what would happen next. Now, I want to reproduce that feeling so I am writing a novel like this one. So, it might be interesting for the readers to read it with the feeling of a director or producer who decides what kind of image to make, or an actor who thinks about how to play this role.

For that reason, since there is still time, I hope that young people who did not know Gundam Wing and experience it in real time or who bought this book by mistake I would be grateful if you could pick up the “Gundam Ace” in which the continuation of this story is being serialized and send in along with your impressions in the questionnaire so you can refer to it and react actively.

It seems to be a luxury, but I will give priority to analog over digital. In other words, I would rather receive a postcard or letter than the internet. Thank you.

Well, as I promised in the liner notes of “G-Selection”, I will write the inside story of the voice actors of “Gundam W” here.

I think that the voice of Hikaru Midorikawa, who plays Heero Yuy, has a unique warmth to the coldness. And I think that that beautiful voice has intelligence and naivety that can be felt both poetically and literary. If you read the prologue in Volume 1, you will understand that the long composition where Heero uses the name of Duo without permission and recites endlessly is the one used at the end of episode 18 in the main adaption.

The dialogue, that was written by director Masashi Ikeda at the storyboard stage, and his sense of style is worth a thousand gold, and I think that style of writing and that context are the most suitable for expressing the world of “Gundam Wing”. I tried to make that style my own by copying it, digesting it and sublimating it in my own way. Thank you.

There is a famous story about Mr. Midorikawa at the time. In the 11th episode of the main story, Mr. Midorikawa made a title call, “Whereabouts of Happiness”. However, Heero does not appear in the main story. After all, in the previous story, Heero pressed the self-destruct switch.

Because he was there at the script stage, He was groaning “Uh, uh…uh..uh...”, but that scene was cut due to the scale. Even so, Mr. Midorikawa was there until the end of the dubbing. He is a nice person, but there is no such disrespect to the actors. I’m really sorry.

Nevertheless, in fact, I had made a similar mistake to Mr. Midorikawa in another work. In 1992, in a program called “Dragon Ball Z”, Mr. Midorikawa played the role of “Android 16”. Originally it was a taciturn role, but I wrote “No. 16” in the character column of my script, and it was written as it was in the dubbing script.

In the end, Mr. Midorikawa didn’t say a word, and I don’t think his name appeared in the ending telop. I can’t help but be labelled an incompetent if I make this mistake twice (!). Still, Mr. Midorikawa remembered me.

In 1997, in a program called “Slayers Try” (I was a lazy scriptwriter who wrote only one episode, but the direction and storyboards were directed by Mr. Seiji Mizushima, who later became the director of “Mobile Suit Gundam 00”. It turned out to be an interesting event), I met Mr. Midorikawa again at the party, and he kindly talked to me, and I had a great time. Really nice person.

I have a very long relationship with Toshihiko Seki, who plays the role of Duo.

In 1988 Mr. Kazuho Aki released the original operation MM series “Shiroma no Wakusei”, which was released in the cassette version of Asahi Sonorama Bunko. It was me, a newcomer, who wrote the script for the drama. Although it’s hardly recorded in official records.

I’ve worked with Ranma ½, Hao Ryuu Knight, Saiyuki, Naruto, Inuyasha, and many other works, and just the other day, I finally handed over the unopened cassette. I was able to do it. Mr. Seki, who was happy to receive it even though it was late, is a really, really nice person.

It may be useless to explain what you can’t obtain, but this cassette has names similar to “Gundam Wing” such as “Operation MM” and “Battleship Chang Fei”.

Ah, I had more to write. I’m sorry, but I’ll continue it next time.

Katsuyuki Sumisawa.

#gundam wing #frozen teardrop #katsuyuki sumisawa #my post #my translation #translation

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irvinenewshq · 2 years

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What actually goes on on the Metropolis on a Hills Sunday pub sermon

The church is dealing with backlash over its controversial feedback on abortion, being transgender and same-sex attraction, but was fast to play the sufferer of ‘cancel tradition’. Patrons of Metropolis on a Hill (Picture: Fb/Metropolis on a Hill) A lot of Metropolis on a Hill founder Man Mason’s Sunday night time sermon is uncommon. It’s held in a pub, for one, with arancini balls, scorching wings and rooster tenders served. It comes off the again of per week of intense media scrutiny following the church’s chairman, Andrew Thorburn, stepping down as CEO of Essendon Soccer Membership after simply 30 hours within the function. And it contains an apology — Mason regrets feedback he made in a 2013 sermon that in contrast “authorized homicide by way of medication” to focus camps. “That specific reference to the Holocaust was not useful,” Mason stated on Sunday night. “I did not intend it to be inflammatory. I used to be improper. And I am sorry for that. And 10 years on, I might use totally different phrases.” The sermon stays on-line however now contains an editor’s notice. Metropolis on a Hill is a conservative church that enlists progressive trappings. It was based simply 15 years in the past in a pub — so folks may “have a beer whereas we have a look at the Bible”. A band opens and closes the service, taking part in songs that debate kneeling to, submitting to, and most of all loving Jesus. The overwhelming majority of its 80-odd attendees are underneath 40, with many younger and numerous faces within the crowd. Learn extra about what occurs at a Metropolis on a Hill sermon. Already a subscriber? Log in to maintain studying. Or, register your e mail tackle for a FREE 21-day trial. Originally published at Irvine News HQ

#Irvine News HQ

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unhinged-crow · 2 years

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grian :D

#grian #grian fanart #mcyt #mcyt fanart #hermitcraft fanart #hermitblr #hermitcraft #this was a wing study but in the way i looked at the reference picture once before closing it #hermitcraft season seven

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yougotthatbilly · 3 years

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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

#johnny seo scenarios #johnny seo scenario #johnny seo smut #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct smut #lets not talk abt the ending i needed to end this monster

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