Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. Not today.
"Jason! Precioooso. You know what day it is!"
Just-- what if, just. Maybe if he just buries his head well enough underneath every pillow within reach, there might be hope of escaping--
"Fanservice Friday is a serious and binding commitment, Cariño."
A slight weight depresses part of the mattress passed Jason's feet, both of which he promptly begins to pull closer to his body, reflexively.
Unperturbed, his appallingly awake significant other continues speaking, his tone a bit more terse.
"Jason, come on.
We have a strict fucking schedule to uphold, you know this by now, eh?
The very consistent metrics on each platform prove that the largest uptick in subscribers and viewership each week is directly linked to Friday’s activity. Eh, Jason? Right?"
An explosive sigh is still audible, even muffled by several layers of fabric and dense filling.
"Mmmnnnn. Vaa-aaaaasss," the being partially smothered under a mass of fluffy bedding whinges huskily, shifting to lay flat on his back, and stretching out long, smooth legs.
(Eagle-eyedly observing this, one self-impressed boyfriend congratulates himself on converting a certain white boy to wearing not much more than a close-fitting pair of short boxer briefs to bed.
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