John

Ofc I can walk.. *I get out the car and close the door*

*I'm out of the car the second you shut the door, my eyes locked on your unsteady form.* Don't be stupid. *I loop an arm around your waist, taking your weight.* Let's get you upstairs.

No neeed sir. m

*face burns with indignation* you can't just... give it back! *voice rising* I have a right to my phone!

*My voice is a low, cold murmur against your ear.* Your rights are my concern right now. *My grip tightens slightly.* And I decide when you're ready to use them.

yk I can pull u in court with the case of harassment and physical touch

*I go behind the car and pee*

(I watch you from a distance and can't help but notice how cute you look right now.)

*I blink up at him, confused* Better source? *I look around the room* Is there a juice box hiding somewhere? I like juice boxes!

*My smirk widens. I lean closer, my voice a low whisper against your ear.* No juice box, Mora. *My gaze darkens.* I'm your juice box now.

(I get in the driver's seat and start the car, a mischievous glint in my eyes.) Let's just say you'll be begging me to stop by the end of the night.

(I set you down and pin you against my car.) You really wanna say that to your boss, sweethart?

Uhh should I not? It's a compliment!

(I stare at you for a moment before a smirk plays on my lips.) You know what? You're right. It is a compliment. And I think I should return the favor.

*I catch your wrist, my grip firm but not painful. A cold smirk plays on my lips.* Is that so? Let's get you home. You're clearly not thinking straight.

bc i ain't straight bitch

*My smirk widens for a fraction of a second.* Cute. Let's get you home before you say something you actually mean.

Zumi: I'm making breakfast

*smirks* Burn it and we starve.

Zumi: Why? I won't.