#best print on demand suite

[kiwi-on-ice]

Favourite pictures of you headcannons with Ashe, Moira, Ramattra, and Lifeweaver with fem!reader

Word count: 700

Warnings: mixture of nsfw and fluff, mentions of sextapes

Notes: Surprise! A small little treat before kinktober arrives and you all get sick of me posting.

Ashe:

Lets get the horny thoughts out the way, she definitely has a few pictures of you that she keeps in the private folder of her phone.

Her favourite being a photo of you on your back against the silk sheets, hair messy and slightly sticking to your forehead. Your lingerie is half torn, bra pulled hastily down so your tits are spilling out, inner thighs parted and glistening with your arousal. But what Ashe loves the most; the red lipstick marks scattered all over your skin, painting you in beautiful salacious brushstrokes.

But she has more sfw ones too. Taped to her new motorcycle was a picture of you both, a candid shot from a bar when deadlock were celebrating a heist. Her arm was around your waist, keeping you pressed against her side. She was giving a smile to the camera, red lips illuminated, but you. Your eyes were firmly on her, gazing at her with such adoration, it gives her a fuzzy feeling in her chest whenever she sees it.

Moira:

she doesn't have a lot of photos period, she finds it unnecessary, society’s need to document everything. So the photos she does have are deemed important for her to keep.

Moira has exactly one photo of you in her lab, framed and away from any chemicals or corrosive materials. It's of the two of you at a scientific gala, her wearing a crisp suit and you wearing a form fitting dress that matched her. You’re holding on to her arm, nails gently pressing into the material of her sleeve, and she loves how relaxed your body looks against her.

You're the one who has more pictures, candids of her while she works. But when you introduced her to your polaroid camera, she's curious.

That's how she ends up with her other favourite picture, tucked away in her wallet. A polaroid of you on your back, her hand wrapped around your throat. Your neck and collarbones are littered with marks and bites, but its your eyes she loves. Despite her choking you, holding your life in her hand, your eyes are bright and excited as you gaze up past the polaroid at her.

Ramattra:

Omnics have photographic memories, incapable of forgetting something they've processed. Because of this, initially he makes fun of you humans and your petty memory cortexes, needing a physical copy to remember in detail.

It's only when you attempt to explain it, that it's not about forgetting but about remembering, of reminiscing, of the feeling the photo gives you, that he starts to understand just a little.

He demands to see your phone, to look at the many pictures you have of eachother, but one photo caught his eye. It's of you on his lap, or more specifically his thigh. The angle of the selfie only serves to exemplify the size difference, making you look so small and puny.

Printing it off, he keeps a small version of it on him at all times, gazing at it when he's alone.

Lifeweaver:

Oh this man is always taking pictures of you. Always.

His phone is always pointed at you, taking snaps of you, posed or candid. Now don't get me wrong, he's always taking pictures when you're dolled up for a date, capturing you in the best lighting to accentuate your dress and makeup. But he especially loves taking pictures of you in your pyjamas, sweatpants and a loose shirt, his hoodie underneath your messy hair. Anytime you look casual, he thinks you're the most beautiful woman on the planet.

His personal favourite of these is you watering a lily he'd bought you, wearing his hoodie that reached the middle of your thighs.

And when he actually bought a proper camera? The reels were just completely you (and the occasional flowers he likes to grow).

But god if you'd let him, he'd 100% be into recording a sextape. He just thinks you're so gorgeous, why would he not want to replay how you look in ecstasy over and over again.

Although his favourite is a teasing selfie you took while he was fucking you from behind. His hands are grasping at your tits, while you're giving a cheeky smile to the camera. He loves it so much he'd have it as is lock-screen if society didn't deem it so inappropriate.

[darkwicks-secret-fanfic-author]

Hi there! I hope you are doing super well. I saw your post about you being a writer. I wanted to know if you can write a Tokyo Debunker HC of Mc being a fashion designer. They create clothes for women and men. How would Jin, Romeo, Leo, and Taiga react?

You can disregard this if you don’t want to do it. I’m just super curious and excited to read your work. Take care! 💙

Jin

Would absolutely put MC to work on customizing every dress shirt and suit they have.

Would want MC to autograph the work by putting their initials somewhere discreet, like the inside of a shirt cuff.

Absolutely makes MC measure them and take notes before every piece is cut and made. It's not that he thinks that his measurements have changed, more that he wants the direct attention and control of having MC do it.

MC would never have to want for anything because Jin would pay them 4x their asking rate and chide them for lowballing themselves.

MC would make them a custom set of pajamas for their birthday or Christmas present. Jin would act like it's expected of MC and not bother saying thank you or appreciating the gesture with words, but MC would come in the morning one day to deliver tea and notice that Jin is wearing them. Tohma would tell MC later that Jin wears them every night.

Would commission new suits for the ghouls of the house because no one expects the chaos twins to have fashion sense and they can't go around embarrassing him anymore after the Pit incident.

Romeo

"Excuse me?? Wear WHO?? WTAF, I'd never debase myself with something indie!!!" would be the initial reaction.

He'd wait until he saw Jin or Taiga in MC's designs before he'd realize what an idiot he made out of himself.

Romeo would be the most to treat MC like an actual designer. He'd go to MC's studio and look through pieces on the rack as well as MC's portfolio of sketches and finished pieces. He'd like bits from different shirts, blazers, ties, etc. and commission a suit that would look the best on him.

Would try to convince MC to only do clothing for himself and Taiga as a status symbol.

He would then immediately change his mind and get designs drawn up for the staff at the Casino.

Taiga

He doesn't actually care if he's covered in blood, let alone what he's wearing so it wouldn't be a big deal for him at first.

Taiga's first fitting would be scheduled by Fico so that he could get some new dress shirts that aren't stained by likedove blood or similar. It wouldn't be until he had MC's attention on him and noticed how comfortable the shirts were that he'd enjoy the clothing.

He would be the least demanding of the ghouls about the specifications of his clothes, but the most outwardly pleased by the efforts after all is said and done.

Would probably commission a couple sets of suspenders.

His new suit jacket would look amazing for all of probably 2 days before he ended up ripping it on a tree limb or something while hunting anomalies to eat.

A lot of his casual clothes would be loud prints that MC would secretly screaaaaaaaam about combining, but it would make Taiga smile and actually seem...happy? so it would give MC more reason to do it.

Fittings and other personal appointments would eventually show the difference in personality in Taiga; the loud forgetfulness would give way to quiet and charming.

MC should definitely not accidentally stab themselves with a needle though. That would maybe be bad. or hot. oops?

Leo

As soon as Leo found out about MC's passion for fashion, he would immediately start trying to make fun of them and claim they're frumpy NPC fits...

Which in turn would push MC to actually design something for Leo. They'd go all out on making a street fashion fit that would be in loud colors and a clash of styles and solids. After being taken aback by the effort put in it... Leo may actually love it. Not that he'd show it of course.

Would ABSOLUTELY hype MC up on Tiktok and insert himself in as manager for their work.

Would go Live for a fashion show that he didn't tell MC he was going to do.

Leo would probably start giving advice (in his own way) on MC's design choices to keep them more popular among streetwear and not just mode-kei.

Would bully Sho into buying MC's fits.

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN THANK YOU BLUE! I didn't know how I'd feel about Leo and MC designing outfits but honestly I could see Leo getting super into it.

If I have the free time i'll do little shorts with each of them! Thank you for popping my prompt cherry.

[1117feverlessdreams]

Drivin’ Me Crazy

🚦⚠️ PAIRING: Yunho x GNreader!

🚦⚠️ SUMMARY: As you begin to break away from the bonds of your billionaire father that has always held you back, you found a newfound respect for Jeong Yunho, his personal driver, who had unknowingly changed your life for the better.

🚦⚠️ WORD COUNT: 12.3k

🚦⚠️ TAGS/WARNINGS: Daddy issues x9999746564545664, passing of mother, angst, name calling, spanking, fingering, choking, spitting, & creampie. Uses of darling, slut, and baby. Cutesy parts with fluff, exploration of kinks.

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While, unlike the dramatic tale of Rapunzel, you are permitted to leave the home you were raised in to venture freedom. However, the means by which you can obtain that freedom is limited and overruled by your father.

It’s always been about him, the billionaire made from profitable expenditures that drags you along on his several business trips.

It is you, ‘the child’, who has not been taught to fend for themselves, compelled with the only choice to follow his suit.

Even as his one and only child, people weren’t interested in who you were, a fact alleviated by your father’s intervention to appease everyone you befriended by showering them with gifts…or screwing their mothers.

To your knowledge, your mother passed away when she gave birth to you. In that regard, it is not ironic that your father cannot even look you in the eye, or manage to speak to you in a “domestic” manner.

In the past, you’ve had one too many step-parents to count beyond two pairs of hands. But not even one real parent you felt loved from ever, on a single digit.

From the day you are born, up until your non-thrilling adulthood, a flat rectangular sheet of paper with a printed value and a dead man's face continues to place before you, money.

You hated that it held so much power. That it’s truthfully so ordinary, but people feel that they need it because of its abusive rewards of control and greed.

‘People’ like your father.

It is only with money that a person can ride so braggingly across many cities in a sleek black Rolls Royce Phantom Sedan, concealing its interior with tinted windows that hide the drowsiness of your father by your side.

Meanwhile on your other side, sits his stiff tuxedo-draped bodyguard, focused with their gaze straight forward through designer black shades.

His employees are the ones you’re quite familiar with to be very serious in most aspects of your life. Not a funny bone in their body, specially built by the demands of your father’s purpose; to be the centerpiece of everything.

Thus, as you grow older, so does the despise you have for him. Evil thoughts conjure in your sensitive mind, some of which you have to control against the strengths of your wish to remain sane.

But even so, as you ride to the next big city for yet another business trip, you make it all about you this time, crossing the line of professionalism by provoking the only unguarded person inside the luxurious vehicle.

Presumably, you do not intend to inflict any harm, but rather a pleasurable honor to yourself which is fatefully ignored whenever you're in the presence of said billionaire of profitable expenditures.

Your father’s new hire, Jeong Yunho, controls the wheel of the Rolls Royce with precise concentration and smoothness.

Perhaps along with the great deal of attention provided to his black mullet-styled hair, or the dry cleaning of his uniformed vest, and the ironing of the underlying tight white button-up, black tie, and smooth trousers without a wrinkle in sight. In addition to cleanliness adds his accessory of a one-handed leather black glove steering next to his bare, veiny, decorative hand with ring bands, and best of all, the pretty jewels in the inner corners of his eyes as a feminine accent.

With the exclusion of Jeong Yunho, everything else was too short of being perfect. To you, he was exceptionally perfect.

You came so far as to remove every obstacle that could prevent your father's tyranny from spoiling him. Yunho was knowledgeable, kind, generous, and sweet. However, all your father could see, was a driving tool.

Thus, it was the ideal time to establish a relationship in the quiet atmosphere of the vehicle, which is the only place at which you can meet…and reclaim the freedom your father had claimed for you, and indefinitely… for him.

…

“Mr. Chauffeur, or, Yunho was it?” Your speech sounds above the AC blowing in the vehicle. In effect, there is a slight shift in your father's slumber, your bodyguard still remains seated stiffly, but the man to whom you were speaking to glances at you quickly through the rearview mirror, nodding in acknowledgment as the front pieces of his hair softly sways, and then he ever so professionally resumes eye contact onto the busy road ahead.

“This may sound forward…” you continue, reviewing his beautiful physique once more as your gaze locks at his ring, specially wrapped around his ring finger. “But I was wondering, Yunho, if you were married by any chance?”

Your father snorts loudly and slowly awakens from his nodding off, yet the stagnant bodyguard's expression remains the same. Yunho, the chauffeur, proceeds to be unfazed, smirking even. Despite this, it was a minor tactic to ensure your father was alert to your next set of words.

“As you may know…dear father is recently divorced, and I was just wondering if you could maybe just provide him some stable relationship advice, you know, man-to-man.”

Your lips bunch in prevention from grinning as the bodyguard moves for the first time since you’ve sat in the backseat. In the brief moment of attempted adjustment for comfortability, they then adjust their shades upward with the tip of a pointer finger, sniffing loudly through their nostrils.

At the same time, your father has sat up and is taking a quick scan of all areas of the vehicle. He is observing the shift change in the enclosed space before glaring at you harshly.

“Y/n, what’s gotten into you?” In response, you shrug carelessly and he averts his gaze to the charmingly focused expression of his newly hired chauffeur. “You’re not obligated to answer that sir…”

Your father then hardens his apologetic gaze into a dark one, directly toward you as he turns in his seat. “Also, it’s Mr.Jeong. I thought I taught you when you were small that you always call our associates by their last names. Have some respect, child.”

With his one handed glove, the tan and handsome driver turns the wheel toone-handed make a right, looking both ways to ensure that he or anyone else does not risk your safety, a basic responsibility of his duties.

“That’s quite alright sir, I understand.” Your attention is drawn to the cherry lips that move with the suddenness of Mr.Jeong’s honey-drizzled voice. In the short time, it takes after completing the turn, he glances quickly at you in the mirror, his smirk never leaving, and the reflections of his eye jewelry gleam from the sun like a frame-by-frame animated effect. “The answer is no, I am not married your legacy.”

If it weren’t for his amusing response- or good looks, the name your father had assigned him to give you in the boast of his ego would have triggered you greatly. Yet you smile in glee as you observe your father exhaustingly adjusting his suit blazer.

His heart sings with relief that your preposterous question didn’t blow things out of proportion, and he exhales a deep breath before settling back in for his nap.

Your mischievous outlook on his actions leads you to see the situation as an opportunity to disturb the peace once more. You actively gain closer to the Chauffeur in front by moving your ass to the edge of the seat, gripping the passenger headrest, and arching your back extensively for a lengthier reach. “So a partner then…or maybe a fiancé perhaps?”

“Y/N.” You hear harshly whispered on your left side. Then looking back a quarter over your shoulder to shrug at your father as if you didn't see the problem in asking.

“Neither your legacy. I am not seeing anyone as of current.” It’s inescapable to not stare into the rearview mirror when the authoritative and single man states his response rather bluntly. He flickers his eyes to meet yours in the mirror again for seconds longer, allowing you to catch a small smile that dents into his defined apple-like cheekbones.

It intrigues you to think that maybe he finds this as amusing as you do, because working with your father certainly doesn’t come with this much excitement.

“What about kids?” An upcoming red light makes him slow to a stop, allowing him to directly response to your question. “I have not bred any children yet your legacy.”

You remove your hand from the passenger seat's headrest and fully lean forward, nearly folding your body in half with your arms crossed against your chest, and onto the middle counsel to further enclose the space in between you two.

A tap on your lower back pokes onto your spine from your father but you ignore it while a sly smirk masks onto the lower half of your face. “Really? So a guy like you, is living a life like this…all alone?”

“Well yes…It’s been like that for quite some time now your legacy. In any case, I believe independence should not always be perceived so negatively. I’m free enough to create the life I want to have for myself.”

In the blink of an eye, his head turns so quickly that you do not notice the sudden movement of direct eye contact. Without warning, you are compelled to lose yourself within those brown orbs without knowing what you are searching for.

It was as if he was trying to communicate something with you that weighed heavy on the brain. You were thrown so high for a loop that you had almost slipped up and forgotten the hidden objective you were trying to accomplish here.

In another blink his eye gems encapsulate a green hue in his interest corners, then snapping you out of a trance. “Green light.”

The charming male regains feel of the wheel and rolls his eyes forward with the never leaving smirk as he hits the gas with a heavy foot. If you hadn’t leaned forward already, you would’ve flown to the front with him.

But in either case, it would’ve been a win-win.

…

It is easy to identify the destination from about two blocks away due to the valet parking belt that secures the building in front. It is for this reason that your father must ride in his Rolls Royce.

Like it’s his own red carpet, he arrives fashionably on decent timing so streetwalkers, service workers, and even business partners can rightfully adapt to his presence.

A speedy Jeong Yunho unbuckles his seatbelt, steps out of the car, and runs around the front of the vehicle to move onto the sidewalk to reach in front of your father's door. He opens it entirely with a leather glove hand, allowing your father, you, and his muted bodyguard to get out to showcase your status.

“Thank you, Mr.Jeong, We will see you later tonight at 9 o'clock sharp.”

“Of course, as previously requested sir.” After your father makes his way out, it takes you a bit longer to come out than usual…almost like you're purposely taking your sweet time. The bodyguard behind you tries to give physical assistance but you insist on handling it yourself.

“Child, it’s important that we make a great first impression by having fine time management.”

“Why yes, my dearest apologies father.” You make yourself ‘unstuck’ from the invisible force that held you bound in the backseat, finally making your way out the door and turning alongside the tall dark, and handsome Yunho, who remains holding the door until…oh no, you accidentally trip and collide into his broad arms.

“Careful! I mean-excuse me your legacy…are you alright?” As you look up at him with what you perceive to be pouty eyes, an old trick that has grown out of whack long ago with your father, Yunho nearly apologizes again, but you cut him off as you stare into his bedazzled eyes whispering, “Drive safely, it’d be a waste if I couldn’t talk you again."

As perplexed as his fluttering eyelashes read him to be, the big friendly giant manages to respond effectively. “I always do”, are the words in which you hear under his breath that only waves in sound inside your close distance. “Hopes for a great evening your legacy.”

Standing beside the hypervigilant bodyguard that guards him, your father nods to Yunho behind you before walking forward to enter the building and unforgettably leaves you behind.

Perhaps your attempts at ‘savoring’ Yunho and simultaneously inducing your father’s frustration were a little extreme…

But to you, it seems like everything was going according to plan.

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A FEW DAYS LATER

“Mr.Jeong.” Your father nods in greeting to Yunho who holds open the car door as usual. “A pleasure to assist you again sir.” Your father smiles at the driver's greeting while subtly fixing his tie, then joining the inside of his fully owned luxurious car with another one of his bodyguards.

You’re trailing a few steps behind him while stumbling to catch up. It seemed he had a tendency of leaving you behind more often lately, not that you are bothered by it anyhow. Especially when you can talk to Yunho even more so as you reach to stand in the way of the opened car door.

“So you’re still alive huh?” The statured man switches his extensive legs and looks toward the ground, scooping his neck to look right into your eyes, displaying his pretty white-toothed smile, and those cheekbones that hold the greatest balls of light. "That I am. I hope that doesn’t cause any inconvenience to the legacy.”

“Not at all…” You take the last digestions in seeing all of him in his well-fitted black waistcoat, trousers, and shiny leather boots until you arrive at tonight’s occasion. “It’s actually quite a pleasant surprise.”

For a brief moment, your breaths mix as you stick one leg in the backseat, coming into the car sideways and meeting Yunho face to face. Not even a minute after you get comfortable seated, he closes the door and does his little jog around the car. Never did you take your eyes off of him even through the window shield.

When the towering and ethereal man enters into the drivers seat buckled and secure, he starts the vehicle immediately and steers onto the road.

Unconsciously you draw closer to the middle to see him, or rather, to make sure he could see you. It wasn’t long until you were talking again shortly, ignoring the groans your father made at your side.

“So, how’s your day been…Mr. Jeong?”

“Just fine your legacy, and yours?

“So good, so far.”

“I’m glad to hear it, your legacy.”

“Oh…are you?”

There was a slight increase in your father's groans, as he began to massage his temples tentatively in frustration.

“Of course. As a person of service-you and your father’s service, it pleases me to know you’re doing well your legacy.”

You’re moving more toward the middle, to make yourself aligned in the mirror for Yunho to view. “It makes me glad to know you’re doing just fine too. However, it’s just this one thing that’s been bothering me…Mr.Jeong.”

Much to your wanted expectations he glances carefully through the mirror attentively with brows furrowing in concern. To enhance your bothered attitude you cross your arms with a slight pout. “Could you not say your legacy after every sentence? I mean it can be annoyingly tedious right?”

While merging to another lane, he has time to respond to your question thoughtfully. Especially with your father wavering by your side. “I don’t mind it all, you’ve rightfully earned the title. But if you so claim that it bothers you, what would you prefer me to call you then your-”

“Y/n works just fine.”

“Does it?” Your father seconds.

“Yes…it does.”

“Child?”

“Father?”

He gives you a ridiculed stare that makes you sit back and stay quiet for the rest of the ride much to your father’s satisfaction, but for you to possession of the last word was enough in regards to satisfactory to yourself.

…

Even though you are the first to get out of the vehicle when you arrive at another business convention, you’re the last to go into the facility as you attempt to bid goodbye to Yunho.

“Drive safe Yunho, I’ll see you later tonight!”

Instead of a verbal response, Yunho bows deeply, and almost apologetically rather than the happy-go-lucky smile he generously gives after picking you up and dropping you off.

You notice his eyes are not meeting yours but rather right behind you. In following his sight, you spot your father next to his bodyguard through the building's stained blue glass. His hands are overlapped behind his back, appearing very unamused as if Yunho and you are being judged for pulling each other back from doing the things you should be doing.

You roll your eyes and turn to meet Yunho again, even with evil eyes hawking you two. It was only then you see Yunho opening the drivers door, stiffly putting a hand up in goodbye when your eyes briefly meet. He then moves into the vehicle, buckling up immediately, and starts the engine, pulling off in a matter of seconds.

Needless to say, he left you behind in dust with the only matter to attend to your obligated duties… ‘your father’s legacy’.

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ONE WEEK LATER

The chauffeur sits still buckled in the seat, holding the shifting gear with his bare leather-clad hand steadily, ready to pull off to attend your father's grand event tonight, a celebration at the Five Star Michelin restaurant he purchased downtown.

Whenever your father invests so much in something so special, it would be unbearable for him not to blow more money on a celebration. Just for the hell of it.

As his child, you should be happy for him. But you’re everything but, rather annoyed, pressed, disgusted. There was a feeling inside your gut that he had everything to do with Yunho's change of attitude from last week.

He wasn’t as cheerful as he once was, his responses to your flirtations were dry and brief, and he would barely look at you in the rearview as you attempted to talk to him.

But the difference with you today is that you decided enough is enough. Your father has brought you down in your most joyous moments, and it was long overdue for you to return the favor.

This time you’re sat right behind Yunho, while next to your father, who’s sat with another one of his bodyguards next to him. The particular arrangement was decided upon by your father for some odd reason. But you’re thinking, with your position being behind Yunho, he would not be able to see you in the car at all.

But he can still hear you of course…and that’s where your diabolical plan comes into play.

Through the space between the window and the headrest, you lean forward and hold onto each cushioned side on the back of Yunho's seat with both hands. His hands then grip harshly onto the steering wheel, turning his knuckles into the brightest tint of white.

“Nice to see you again Yunnie…can I call you that?”

Your father who sits in the middle stares directly into the rear view mirror, burning his laser-like vision through the glass, and reflecting its power back into Yunho's eyes, blinding him with fear.

“If it pleases you, you can call me whatever you wish. But-erm, however, it is still my honorable service to be the legacy’s dutiful Chauffeur.”

Yunho looks briefly through the rearview mirror, and your father gives him an appreciative nod. It was then that you had a favorable idea of exactly what was being done.

How cruel for your father to think he could maintain control of everyone else’s conversations with undercover telepathic signals, or more so, control of Yunho.

In fact, what he didn’t know, is that it couldn’t weaken your determination in the slightest, yet it does the complete opposite. One thing you’re good at is games, and so you play into his little diversion.

“Ughhh you are so unbelievably proper today Yunnie, it’s just Y/n remember?” From your perspective, between the small crack of his headrest and window, you can see that his grip on the wheel grows even tighter. It was then shortly afterward that his head began bobbling from the road, and then to the rearview mirror as he struggled to interpret all the mixed signs and signals. “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, a hand grabs onto your shoulder and pulls you from Yunho's seat to your rightful one. “Don’t criticize him. The question you should be asking my child is; What’s right?” As if those tacky words of wisdom haven’t given you the ick, the second your father throws his arm around your shoulder does.

“Properness is something you should adapt to. The people would beg to converse with you more, and you’d actually have friends. Who then could potentially be fantastic business partners by the way.”

It couldn’t be anymore oblivious that he was trying everything to pin you down to a stump. To keep you from embarrassing him tonight, and acting out ‘unprofessionally and unethically’. Even though it hurts to admit it, your heart pounds vigorously from the slick venom he curated in his artificial advisory. But you’re not a ‘child’ anymore, you can’t be fooled, or kept silent with a jumbo lollipop.

You throw his arm from your shoulder in the nicest yet slickest manner possible, while simultaneously putting your arm around his shoulders. “I’m so thrilled to hear you say that father, which gives me this brilliant idea! Yunho here”, you gesture towards said man with your free hand, “…should come to the event with us. He can be my friend, and teach me how to speak with this ‘properness’ you want me to adapt to.”

The look of shock on your father's face as a result of something you wittily said is something you would die for, but it’s here, on earth, and oh if you had a camera on hand to picture this moment, you’d take it to the grave.

In the absence of an answer, he glances at his bodyguard, nudging the stiff arm with his elbow, and then unexpectedly bursts into a loud laugh, making you jump in your seat. “Absolutely NOT. it’s not a part of his assigned duties to be your ‘friend’. You can make those yourself easy once you learn how to clean up that act.”

Embarrassingly, almost like the child he called you to be, you uplift yourself from your seat backrest to meet his evil eyes with your timid ones. “But father-”

“No buts.” He places the back of his hand in front of your face like a flag of victory that makes you retreat back into the seat.

Even though you tried to refrain from being childish before, but you feel no choice to submit to it now. You grab onto his costly tuxedo blazer, throwing yourself and him side to side against the leather cushions.

“Ohhhh Pleaseeee. Please Please please please please please please please please-”

That's enough, child. I cannot believe you are acting in such a foolish manner." Having been yelled at directly in the face by a provoked outburst, you unhand him with a disoriented look on your face. You began to consider a different course of action while looking out of the tinted window. “Mr.Jeong?”

Yunho looks into the mirror, once, twice, and then thrice as he hears the authoritative voice address him. He has a fair idea of what your father is bound to ask. Unbeknownst to all of you, he’s internally contemplating how he should answer accordingly.

“Would you care to accompany us this evening, as my child-the legacy’s, plus one?”

The gears stop its scornful grinding in your head in the making of the underdeveloped plans to change your father's mind. Rather his question implicates a chance to control, yet you avoid showing the excitement from the thought as you hide your grin in the palm of your hand.

In the time it takes Yunho to respond, the nerve-wrecked chauffeur slows at a stop sign. In terms of location, you are all now across the street from an upcoming town featuring plazas and restaurants with an emphasis on quantity over quality. A reasonable assumption you all are close to where you need to be.

In the meantime, Mr.Jeong drives on the road steadily. Suspiciously though, he increasingly watches in the rearview mirror more than needed.

The gloss coating in his brown eyes becomes more apparent as they shift from person to person each time, unsure of the proper landing spot. “If it’s not a bother sir… I’d be honored.”

“Hmm.” That is all that can be heard when immediately following the drivers statement.

“Well then…you’re welcome to join us. Just make sure you park the vehicle in a safe space, and then you can meet us in the food court inside.”

For Yunho it was a difficult time deciding whether to smile or not, so instead he bows lightly with his head and tucks his lips in for a few seconds seconds. “Everything will be done just as you ask sir, and I will join the both of you shortly.”

“Thank you father.” You add while tucking in a bright smile of your own.

He waves you off, sitting back to relax the very last few minutes of travel with a few peeks of any sneaky interaction.

…

As your father was the personnel behind the main event, there was a stroll of people outside waiting for him. Photographers, business partners in other industries, and lower-class civilians who fantasize about your billionaire lives.

This made it difficult for you to maneuver inside at a reasonable time, but your father didn’t mind the extra attention of course.

As a result, Yunho's best interest lies in waiting for a clearing and using that time to find a safe place to park the luxurious Rolls Royce.

Meanwhile, after a good many minutes of the bodyguard growing extremely anxious about the commotion in you and your father’s space, you’ve finally all made your way into the food court. One would have expected another to just sit and eat, and there was that occurring as you came in of course…and a shitload of a billion questions about your father's next business endeavor, as if the current moment wasn’t celebratory enough.

A guest who is currently speaking to your father cut themselves off in something you believe to be rather uninteresting. “Did your legacy finally get married?!” The guestpointst in the adjacent direction, and thus you see your plus one.

Every time a boot hits the ground he leaves a mark in the room with a beautiful smile, the one that makes his cheeks mold into the roundness of an apple, the inside holding balls of light. In a moment you could’ve sworn a twinkle had shined over his eye jewelry. His mullet tail brushes over the soft tan skin of his neck with every step, oh how’d you love to run your hands over it all.

His strides come to a halt as he arrives by your side. However, that is changed when father moves him in between you two, patting him a bit roughly on the back. “Not quite yet, we have a lot to work to do before we get to that point.” He then looks specifically to Yunho laughing in his face. In return, the taller man shares a polite smile with the group, essentially keeping his cool. “Oh, but this is our wonderful Chauffeur, Mr. Jeong Yunho.”

Like clockwork, a shake of hands is conjoined right after another, and in courtesy, Mr.Jeong Yunho even bows afterward. “What a grand pleasure it is to meet you all.” A, “Likewise.” is said among the group…how humbling.

In just a few seconds you were forgotten because your father moved the focus elsewhere. To be specific, Yunho, a someone who has ‘less work to be done’. “Well then”, you awkwardly intercept, “Me and Mr. Jeong Yunho here are going to be conversing with our other guest. Please excuse us.”

Without thinking, you take him by the hand, wandering off into another group to join some other pesky conversation.

As a waiter passes by with a plate of champagne, you grab a glass for yourself and Yunho, chugging your own in seconds with a lack of grace. “Just nod and smile. This is how people usually conversate with my father since he obviously loves boasting about himself. I bet he’ll be so caught up in it that he probably won’t even bother to spare a glance.”

Contrary to thought, one of the most compliant and respectable soldiers to your father’s commands nods swiftly and begins to follow your instructions. In turn, you are so caught off guard by his loyalty that you nearly forget to follow your own instructions.

Yunho enacts his assigned roleplay with a swig of champagne. The bubbles cascade down his throat as he sticks out a pinky decorated in his embellished ring for class.

The arm in which he uses to raise the glass causes his waist-coated vest to crease, then revealing his bare chest underneath. It is growing to be a little sweaty, presumably from nervousness. His chest sinks and rises, causing patches of wetness to form on the white button-up that a nipple begins to peak-

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” In response, Yunho ceases to sip from his glass and inspects the inside with the tips of his large fingers, gravely observing the absence of any carbonated liquid present.

“I believe I’m feeling a little nervous, but the champagne is a great cause for distraction.”

You take in the view of how adorable he was being, observing the glass like it was a golden antique as if he was hoping for more champagne to magically liquify out of thin air.

Yet the lingering in your admiration doesn’t last as a waiter with a charcuterie board and olives in hand breaks your line of vision, offering the samples to the whimsical tall fellow, which he gladly accepts, and wastes no time shoving it full into his mouth.

As they smile wide and depart with a pleased look, your eyes follow them in disgust as you watch them walk into a different room with its entrance engraved into an archway. Behind it are swaying couples and even more champagne glasses in their hands. It encourages you to offer your hand to Yunho, consecutively wiggling it for emphasis. “I think I know where I can get you some more of that champagne big guy.”

“Really?” He speaks with a mouth full of food, in realization, he covers it quickly to keep in any more flying particles. You nod and tilt your head toward the archway. “And maybe we could dance a little, just to fit in?” Perhaps this idea could have sprung from your jealousy…but at least you’ll appear ‘normal’ and preoccupied.

An instant slap sound is made when his much larger hand intertwines your fingers together. The feeling is so soft, warm, and delicate. It’s not a touch you expected a chauffeur to have. He swallows the last bits of food in his mouth and removes his overly attractive hand. “That sounds delightful your legacy, I think that will work perfectly.”

You look down to see the link that has bonded you together in ways you never have before. Even more so you tighten it as you pull him toward the adjacent area where the classical music overrides your eardrums, you both look to your left to see that it is actually a live orchestra. To you though, it wasn’t all too surprising to see the extremities your father had organized.

As you pass by you move toward the champagne that is now stacked in a pyramid on a dress-skirted table, just outside of the dance floor. For a moment it’s a cleared space away from the other couples to give you privacy and peace. Which is perfect for what you want to confess.

“I would really appreciate it if you could just call me Y/n…please. The moment Yunho hears your plea, he pauses his small sippings, swallowing the remaining sweet bubbly liquid.

“A legacy doesn’t have thoughts of moving out of the country to start a new life. It is particularly difficult to do given that everything has been plated on the table for me since birth, including the future generations to take up the family business. As far as I am concerned though, I never had a seat...and I do not intend to stay for the entree…if that makes any sense at all."

You bow your head in awkwardness, but out of your peripheral vision you see Yunho looking deeply at you and then back in the other room in search of your father who's nowhere to be seen. In truth, he is a bit hesitant to speak, but he knows your father is too far out of reach to hear his words.

“My apologies…y/n it is then.”

…

In short, dancing with Yunho felt lively. His large hands encapsulated your waist perfectly with a champagne glass in hand, and yours were on his shoulders before they slowly crept up to the back of his neck. The tips of your fingers ghostly brush against the ends of the strands. Not to mention the eye contact you were now maintaining was severely intimate. The only subsiding factor was the respectable space between your bodies.

“Yunho?”

“Yes? What can I do for you Y/n?”

His adaption to uphold your governor's name was relatively swift; perhaps he was aware that it was making you uncomfortable all along. Plus, just sounds better.

“Don’t tell my father this but, I really hate how he belittles me sometimes, and so… I’ve been sort of using you as a taunt to get back at him. I just wanted to say, I’m truly sorry for causing any trouble.”

The look in his eyes are unreadable, but his hands being still on your waist shows a good sign.

“Not to worry, y/n. ‘twas fairly obvious anyhow. That is, you taunting him but, also him belittling you. I both hear it and see it without uttering a word. So, If anything, I am the one who is due for an apology .”

In denial, you shake your head. Denying that he shouldn’t be sorry, and/or denying the fact that someone had finally acknowledged what you have as a ‘father’.

“It just feels like he’s not even my father sometimes you know…well hell, most of the time.”

“Hmm. Despite shrugging his shoulders, he appears contemplative of letting go of a running thought. “Don’t tell your father I said this either but…it’s probably because he doesn’t want others to perceive you as his child, Y/n. With the presumption you don’t fit the standards…his words.”

Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek as you scoff and move your eyes to be entertained by the instrumentals of the classical orchestra. Down deep inside you were cowering in fear, hoping that he wouldn’t detect the hurt you’ve been burying for so long. “Well, of course, I’ve already come to that conclusion. But I don’t wanna suck up to him and become like one of these snobs. Like him…”

“Well, lucky for you that has a very simple solution. Just don’t, y/n.” In that same moment, Yunho uses his overpowering strength to cease the swaying you both used to blend in. You became timid, looking deeply into his eyes for the need for separation, yet his hands never slip away, and neither do yours.

“Even if it means losing all your inherited wealth, or being banished from his riches completely, at least you’ll be happy, free of anyone's approval.”

It was the same non-telling expression that displayed on his soft features nearly two weeks ago after he said ‘independence should not always be perceived so negatively.’ It wasn’t until this moment that you realized he had a feeling of how you truly felt. Then, and now.

“Excuse me? Is everything I need to hear and more coming from my father’s honorable and dutiful Chauffeur?”

At this, he scoffs with a dark chuckle and throws his head forward with a sinister grin that is contrary to his usual smile. “I just take the people that pay me where they need to go y/n. Pretty much everything else outside of that has no limits.”

‘I want to explore those limits. What does his life look like outside of driving us everyday, all day?’

“Why’d you do it?”

“Could you specify that question for me please Y/n?”

“You know…just agreeing to be here with me right now, you could’ve respectfully declined. Everyone else does…”

His eyebrows furrow from the process of newly open emotions, but the meaning of what you intended registers nonetheless. “Don’t you wanna learn how to speak properly y/n? Or was that just another taunt for your father in the usage of myself?”

“Oh no! Your hands begin to wander aimlessly from the back of his neck with no control as you frantically speak. “It’s not like that anymore I promise. I-It’s just easier talking to you, and I think that’s what's making my father upset because this isn’t how we typically speak to our…associates.”

Without your acknowledgment, your fabric hands have vile to a still in front of you. From a bystander's perspective, it looked like you were declining a request to dance. However, the sudden contact of a rock-hard chest pressed against your palm read differently. “Oh shit! Erm, I mean-sorry...”

When you attempt to bring your hands down, they are brought back up again on his hard chest. This time, with his hands over yours, he slowly drags them back onto his neck, regaining their placement from before. “So…what’s next dear y/n? You have me here, dancing with you in the open for your father to see…what’s your end goal here?”

The ability for common sense is overridden by touch in the effects of what happened, and what you think to say next shows the side effects. “You said pretty much everything else outside of paid driving has no limits right?”

“As I have previously stated that is correct, yes.”

“In that case then, I want you to be honest with me. Do you… want to have me?”

His hands lose balance at your waist, blinking rapidly as he takes a few steps backwards.

“M’sorry y/n?”

“What do you think about having me without my father speculating on every little thing we do? To talk, joke, and touch as we are now. Maybe..in other ways of dancing?”

The eyes of the young man avert downward, his expression concerned, and there can be no doubt that he is seriously considering your 'subtle' suggestions. His face softens once more, and a grin appears as his eyes return back into yours. The sense of urgency has dissipated from the beating of your head and chest, as you grin along with him.

“I think…we’re gonna have to find a way to make that happen, but when has your father ever left you unattended?”

Your relief leads you to take a few tiny steps forward in a bid to bridge the gap between the two of you. In the spirit of boldness, you drag your hand down to fiddle with a button on his waistcoat. As for a doubled intention, it soothes you to determine a plausible course of action.

“Don’t worry too much. He won’t have anything to worry about if I have you with me. At least, for you anyway.”

A resuming of eye contact follows, and a shaking emotion of sympathy, lust, and infatuation. As a result, you were concerned that the guest might discover the connection that took place, possibly reporting the events to your father out of interest or judgment.

You part from him, trailing behind his body that turns to follow yours as you face back to the central area where your father can be found. In the moment of staying still with dancing bodies, catering, and live music, you managed to make a way out of no way.

You turn back to make eye contact with a stunned six-foot friendly giant who appears to be wanting more. “Follow me cutie, I have an idea.”

In immediate action, your cute little companion follows behind you as if he were a deeply attached puppy eager to perform any instruction you command.

…

In brief, this is how your idea played out:

By using your own initiative, you were able to guide yourself and Yunho to return to the central food court area so that you would be more openly aligned in your father's sight.

Upon seeing you two, he calls you over to have dinner, which initially kickstarts the exact plan you have in mind.

As disgusting as it was, over an accumulated amount of time, in every bite of food you ate, you left some chewed residue in your mouth, plus a wash of champagne created a perfect combination of barf served right onto your plate.

When you abruptly stand from your seat, the splattered mess grabs the attention of those around you. In effect, it ceased all conversation, then followed up by a unified loud gasp with the adlibs of ‘oh dears’ as the table guest watches you with worried eyes.

You have been seated by Yunho who has quickly risen with you to clean any residue on your body that unfortunately hadn’t made it onto the plate.

With his back toward the table and his gorgeous face planted directly in front of yours, you smirk then wink quickly, causing him to cease both his actions and the internal panic when he realizes this was the commotion you purposefully triggered.

Your father who’s sat across from you both isn’t too worried. Rather he appears more upset about the intimate contact you’re both showcasing to his guests.

“Child! Go to the wash rooms, at once!” Both you and Yunho react to the direction of loud sound and respectfully adjusted your bodies with hands by your sides.

“I apologize father. I think I ate too quickly…and perhaps, maybe I drank more than I could handle. My only desire was to honor you and celebrate you, but I do not feel well at the moment."

In frustration he breathes deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head, then flicking you away with the bending of his wrist.

“Mr.Jeong, would you care to give the legacy some assistance? Afterwards, just drop them off at the most high-quality hotel, and come back to join us shortly please.”

“Of course sir. I will make it a priority to be of assistance, and come back quickly for return.”

In embarrassment, your father continues to conceal his sight of you until you leave. A waiter comes in immediately to clean the mess, and it makes you feel terrible in the slightest.

Although you’re sure the ‘messiness’ your were going to venture, would even things out for you surely.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Upon walking towards the safe spot Yunho secreted your father’s black Rolls Royce, he opens the back door for you in a procedure to which you however slam shut to show your unappreciation.

“There are things that we do with my father, that should not be done without my father. One of the most notable differences is that I will not be seated in the back seat." As you approach the passenger side, he follows your gaze as you open the door. "I call Shotgun!”

Yunho chuckles, then disguises quickly in search of any persons, as he has hidden the car in a secure location in which no one should see you two. He unbuttons his vest which had gotten a little too tight with all the food, drinks, and nervousness he consumed. After further inspecting for a clearing he walks speedily around the car with the uniformed coat in hand to settle awkwardly in the front seat.

Even as he made his way into the car to be seated, the seatbelt strap repetitively formed into a tangle when he tried to secure himself. It was even more awkward when all you could do was stare as his chest squeezed with every pull.

His face read every aspect of embarrassment, yet he persistently tries to fix the belt with endless results of failure. In the coming realization of the uselessness of his efforts, he decides to relieve what’s on his mind as he exhales a deep sigh. “Your legacy- or, my apologies…Y/n?”

You channel out of watching the show of his squeezing the broad breast to acknowledge that his hands are now placed unto his thick thighs, rubbing up and down rapidly onto the top base with accumulating sweat. Your eyes then wander to his puppy dog face which has unexpectedly melted into a childish pout, and that’s when the realization strikes you.

“Let me guess. You’re chickening out of this, aren’t you? I mean- it took me a while to collect that food in my mouth and then ‘fake’ throw it up you know...”

In hearing this he acted as though he was controlled by a switch, exhibiting a variety of expressions, unsure of which to choose. “No! I mean- you just said ‘we’ and ‘without your father’, as if this is going to happen between us often, and I didn’t know if that was your intention or if you just-”

“Only if you want it to Yunho.” Tentatively, you place a hand over his shaky, large, bejeweled one to soothe his nerves. In response, a cute and sad little pout turns into one big goofy smile.

“Listen…soon enough, I plan on getting the fuck out of town to be free of this stupid lifestyle, and without the need for anyone’s approval thanks to you wise sir.” The said wiseman’s smile shrinks in length, he faces you completely, showcasing his full attention and unwavering seriousness as you speak from the heart. “With that being said, I would love to have you to myself even after the time when it is appropriate for me to leave this life behind.”

As you keep your hands over him, Yunho continues to face you. However, you notice that his eyes struggle to maintain eye contact. Your lips, however, did not seem to be too hard of a catch. “That sounds…really nice y/n.”

You take in your bottom lip as if it got shy in hiding from the most angelic gaze. “Cool.” To relieve the initiated awkward intensity, you swiftly remove your hand from his and turn forward to the enclosed scenery, his eyes never moving from you. “I know a detour from that overpriced ass hotel. It’ll make the trip a whole lot longer.”

As a helpful indication as to what you were implying, you turn your head to look at him once more, hoping the knowing expression you were putting on was easy to convey. It didn’t take long for him to notice, and the thought of it made him bat his eyelashes from the explicit mental images.

Shyly, he averts his gaze downward on his lap where his hands are now resting; his ears become the brightest shade of red. ‘How cute’ you thought. “So… you want to take a detour to give us more time to-

“Exactly.”

Simultaneously, upon your immediate response, you both conquer the fear of looking at one another as you match a wide smile. It ‘twas funny how looks could kill the both of you…but a yearning for each others touch excites you both all the more.

…

The tension that was in the air had dropped into your laps, rubbing still between both of your legs. A driving Yunho somehow maintains steady alignment in the lane, and the only giveaway that he feels the way you do is the continuous stares at every slow of traffic, stop sign, or red light.

“If it means anything…unlike your father…I really like the way you think.” You turn to him, unashamed to glance over his towering muscular stature as he focuses on the busy road. “It can be a bit troublesome at times, but, for some peculiar reasoning, it excites me beyond what I should feel.”

You look at him tenderly, heart thumping at a compliment you’ve never heard in your entire life. Heart thumping at the fact you make him feel excited in ways your father prohibits. “Thanks Yunnie, I appreciate that more than you know.”

As you’ve directed him for most of the trip, you have no choice but to turn your highly focused concentration back on as the vehicle makes its way into an intersection. “When this light turns green, you need to make a right here.” You find yourself, for no apparent reason, outrageously grabbing on his biceps with your closest hand while pointing in the said direction.

The contact remains until the light turns green, and you’re forced to let go to enable him to drive properly. The next street approaches as well as your next direction. “Okay, now left.”

Unexpectedly, the black-haired man takes a sharp turn, causing your body to move forward as your hand instinctively grips his thigh for stability.

“My sincerest apologies, I suppose my foot weighed on the gas too hard.”

It’s never happened before…if it did you worst be in the car with this man right now, your father would’ve fired him long ago for a ‘silly mistake’. However, with your level of intuition, you feel as if mistakes happen for a reason.

“No worries, just keep going straight down here…” You rise your upper body back up slowly pulling your hand upward with it to the meatiest part of his thigh with an abrupt stop before his intimate parts. “Now pull into this lakehouse restaurant's parking lot.”

He does so with an anxious demeanor shivering over his body, contrary to the calm ripples of the lake pond with ropes on its borders, in every angle it designs a perfect view. You watch it with grace, symbolically embodying the calmness of the water and the creatures in it living their simplistic lives.

You became so lost in your thoughts that you forgot that your hand was so close to where this man needed you, and to make matters worse, he was so reluctant to speak up for his own benefit. “I don’t recall ever seeing this place before. It’s peaceful, and right now it’s possibly awkward to say… romantic?”It was then you caught onto his hint of neediness, and removed your hand from his lap clumsily in embarrassment.

“Yeah…you got the right idea. I figured it’d be perfect for our special occasion and all.” You laugh off your nervousness as it is now a little too quiet, which also makes Yunho a little wary about his next move.

“Father rarely ever visits this place if that’s what you’re thinking about…” You knew that wasn’t what he was primarily thinking about, but it was a recurring thought in the back of his mind. “As you should know, he’s deadly allergic to shellfish. Plus the restaurant is a little more hidden on the outskirts of town, so it isn't so popular with the common people. Nevertheless, it’s always worth a visit to the lake view."

He nods quietly, a grin slightly uplifting the prints of his cheekbones as a thought walks across his mind. You observe him attentively to gain a better understanding of what he is going to say next. “I think I’m starting to love the way you think. Truly, I’m impressed. You really thought this all out in that ballroom?”

You match his grin, leaning forward as you gain the boldness to grab onto the collar of his white button-up. “That’s right soldier, don’t ever doubt me. Plus, I guarantee you’re gonna love the ways I please you so much better.”

You slowly let go of his collar and make hold your own with one hand. You use your other one to dig behind the material of your tailored satin blazer jumpsuit on your chest.

He gulps as he watches your strip tease act. His bulge behind the curtains becomes evident as it grows in size. You bite your bottom lip as you pull out your hand, revealing a thick wad of cash. “Here. It’s a tip for your courtesy, Mr. Jeong.”

He stares at the stack of cash, shaking his head no like he was in disbelief from what he really wanted to see from you. When you see he isn’t going to take it, you tenaciously bring down the bills between his thighs, stimulating the tip of his erect member and making his hips jerk as his mouth drops further with every movement.

“Dear Jeong Yunho…you truly don’t know how much you’ve changed the entire course of my lonely, miserable, sad life. Please, take this as a thank you.”

His head shakes as he struggles to look down at the action of your stimulation. Yet an evil smile that you don’t recognize awakens his soft features. “Y-you think I want your fucking money darling?” You sense a trembling in your chest as you watch the monster you have awakened swallow thickly, then roll his eyes forward into the depth of your soul.

In response to your slow movements, he roughly grips your hand and places small kisses on the back of it, never leaving eye contact with you. “You shouldn’t cheat yourself, your hole is priceless to me baby.”

Your focus becomes so disoriented from his sudden change of character, that even you nearly forget to play your role, as you are the one that initiated the whole ordeal. “Oh? You submissively pull your hand from his lightly controlled grip, then reach down again unto his lap to take back the bills. Yet as you go for the stack, which there lies still on his erection, he watches you like a cheetah on the prowl, and as his prey, you never stop looking so he doesn’t rip you to shreds. “Who knew you had such a dirty mouth with all that shined and polished vocabulary you speak?”

He smirks, adding to the deviousness of his glare. “Just imagine all the more physical things I can do with it, you would love it, so much better.” He quotes your taunting from earlier, using your own playing card for your little game. “But, perhaps we can save that for another time right?”

You shake your head as you witness your cute little puppy dog transform into a wolf, and you are confused in whether to be frightened, or proud.

“It’s always the quiet ones. Who would’ve thought? I bet this isn’t the only time you’ve fucked your bosses kid outside of driving, Mr. No limit.”

“Actually my darling, you’re the first. Daddy’s little brat who needs to escape bondage from the rich world.” He tongues his cheek in amusement, letting it a huff from your harsh assumption. “But, now that we’re away from all that, with me, you can forget everything but my name.”

With the rushing thoughts of screaming his name while he’s inside you, many words are con-jumbled on the top of your tongue. He smiles devilishly, seeing as to how you’re quickly consumed by the thought. “To the back darling.”

To your surprise, you find yourself obeying as you kick off your shoes, then climbing carefully onto the middle counselor as a bridge way to settle into the back seat. “You really think you’re going to tame me huh? You obviously haven’t paid attention in the last couple of weeks.”

“Y/n my dear, you obviously haven’t had my dick in you yet sweetheart.” Your eyes become blown as you grip the cushions of the seat, and your heart rate begins to accumulate as it beats rhythmically towards your eardrums. Yunho chuckles at your reaction and finishes with an expression of a satisfied smile. “How about you take off that jumpsuit and your underwear to make things easier, if you’re wearing any that is…and make room for me yeah?“

Without any disregard, you follow his commands. It was an odd feeling to be the subordinate here as his duty was to commend service unto you. After he sees you fully undressed, he wastes no time getting rid of his button-up, knee-high boots, and black slacks.

“Hurry and get back here soldier”, you tease. “We’re on limited timing. I don’t want father to create more suspicions than he already annoyingly has.”

“You worry too much rookie, I’m coming.” In immediate action, he climbs toward the back in his black underwear, his dick poking and jumping through the seam.

He hovers over you and takes in the imagery of your naked body, and you rub your fingers over the abs and chest that have grown hard in reaction to your warm and gentle touches.

The sound of a growl can be heard as he squeezes your jaw and collides your lips with his in a heated make-out session mixed with peach-flavored champagne. A final kiss is shared as he bites your bottom lip, gently letting free from his grasp that disconnects a string of saliva. “Bend over, please.”

With the desperation laced in his voice which has gradually become a lot deeper, you assume the position as he makes room for you to do so. He comes from behind you with your back arch like a cat in heat, and you evilly came up with the idea to push up against him to tease his hard-on. He groans and grips both of your hips leaving indents of nail marks, even through the glove.

You found pleasure in it, biting your lips in ecstasy until you felt a hand being removed, followed up by Yunho grabbing the stack of bills in the council. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps this could come in handy.” The wad of cash is tossed into the air and into his hands behind you, where he is possibly weighing it to determine its value.

“What the hell? What’re you talking-“

A loud smack is heard throughout the vehicle as his nail in your asscheek grips into your skin deeper. A duality of pleasure and pain overwhelmed your senses, causing you to moan loudly in the quiet space.

“Where’d you get this from anyway, huh darling?”Your eyes sting and with the current burning of your asscheeks. You try to find time to come up with words that would make sense to effectively reply with. Yet another smack from the bills is what gets the gears operating again. “I asked you a question, darling.”

“I-i-I um deposited it from my bank this morning. It’s my share from the new restaurant and literally all the money my father’s ever given me”, you rush out.

“Oh darling, you poor thing. He rubs onto your sore red flesh to soothe the surface, but the freshness of the burn only makes it hurt worse. “This is only 10% of what me and your father make combined, and that’s saying a lot.” He throws it back in the front as if it were worthless, which to him it probably might’ve been.

You remain silent. But of course down inside you’re pissed at your father, and yet what’s new?

You just wanted to feel loved. It was as if the universe sent Yunho the supersonic signal as he began kissing up your neck, stopping at your earlobes to give them small nibbles. “Oh, what should I do with you, honey. What do you really need huh?”

“Yunnie, please. You waddle your knees backward into the leather seats, finding a way to press into his hard-on that he dodges from your hole. “I just- I need you inside me now, please.”

“Okay, darling. No more teasing okay?” He leans backward, using the hands he once had on you back in their place into your cheeks to spread them apart. “Can you open your legs a bit more father for me?” In eagerness, you obey. “Gorgeous baby, good job. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m gonna stretch you out a bit with my fingers, Just by the looks of it you’ll have me coming in seconds, but Yunnie wants you for just a bit longer than that.”

You’re wanted.

So, are you ready darling?”

You’re going to feel loved.

“Just fucking do it already, please.”

He spits onto your opening, followed by the sleek material of his gloved finger entering your hole with smooth sailing thanks to the lubricant he provided. Unbelievably so, his finger grows deeper which feels to have no end. In a few more seconds after that, he reached a certain spot that made your body jerk uncontrollably and he halted his intrusion. “F-fuckkk. Right there baby.” you roll your hips, “that feels so fucking amazing.”

His concern is replaced by pride to hear he could make you feel good doing barely anything at all. “Oh, I see. That explains why you’re squeezing around it so tightly baby, but maybe we should add another to get you where I need you.”

“Yes, please do.”

He wiggles about finger inside you making you feel like you have unlimited proximity in the tight space. Just like the first, he glazes upon that sweet spot, making you whine aloud in pure pleasure. “Just one more baby, you can do one more right?”

You blink rapidly in a daze, slightly rolling your hips to gain more of the addictive feeling. “Yes Yunnie, give it to me. Give me more please.”

“Of course my dear. You asked so kindly after all.” Just as requested, another smooth gloved finger dived into your hole, opening you with a wide stretch. He memorizes the exact area that makes you squeal. Massaging it, pinching it, and puncturing stimulation with fingered thrust.

Needless to say, you were feeling very pleased and wanting more as you move your hips further backward where your ass cheek meets his palm. penetrating his fingers in and out as you please. “Must be the desperation kicking in huh baby? You need something bigger and deeper don’t you?”

You look back at him and the way his fingers disappear into your opening. “How many times do you want me to tell you that I want you to fuck me?”

He bites his lip, using the non gloved hand to grip an asscheek and inject his fingers into it at a fast pace like he’s preparing a Thanksgiving turkey. After a few minutes, the rush slows down and stops, leaving you breathless and sobbing with your back arched extensively.

“That will be the last time. There’s just one thing I have to do so I can give you what you want.” Just like with the stack of cash earlier, you hear a rumbling in the front seat as Yunho reaches to grab yet another item. It gave you a lot of food for thought about how creatively he’d used it in your sex craze.

The new uprising of growing need between your legs in excitement causes you to feel impatient. You look over your shoulder to tell him you cannot wait any longer, but a firm hand turns your head back forward. “Keep your head right there baby, Yunnie will give you what you want real soon okay?” You tongue your cheek, letting go out the most tiresome groan, that was, until you choked up on something enclosed on your neck.

You dig your nails into the backseat for stability while you bring up your other hand to get a feel of what was holding you from breathing. You feel that it’s a cloth material, then a knot with two long pieces attached, oh you know it’s a…

“Oh, you kinky mother-“ you say in a hoarse breath, but your speech is cut off when your yank upward, and simultaneously, all of Yunho's girthy cock split you wide open. “…fucker!”

“I am going to fuck you, but I just want to let you know that this is how I planned on taming you. Yes, it’s kinky, but I’m sure you’ll take pleasure in it because contrary to life, I think you liked being controlled, but only during sex, hm?”

Correct.

It was the only time you’ve felt wanted and cared for, and given that’s Yunho knows your background, it wasn’t that shocking for him to connect the dots. You probably have your moments of dominance at times just to feel powerful right?

You pointed to the tie around your neck, as it was getting a little too hard to breathe, limiting your communication. Yunho being attentive as he is, takes notice and loosens it up.

A few coughs are released from your throat, as your chest heaves with large intakes of breath. You turn your head to look into Yunho’s eyes, reaching back to touch his muscular thighs, and underneath his cheeks. “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

He grins in amusement, moving to just a few pecks into your lips. “Hmmm. Who knew daddy’s only child could be such a slut huh? Getting railed in the back seat of his Rolls Royce? You are really naughty.”

You pull your chin back, grinning mischievously as you shrug your shoulders, rubbing your ass in the base of his cock. “What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

Yunho grabs onto the tie once more, letting out quiet ‘tsks’ as his tongue clicks in his mouth. “Oh, darling.” An expected tightening of his tie tightens around your neck once more, but what you didn’t expect is for him to hammer into you, his hips meeting your ass in head-on collisions with no end. The indents from his nail piercing were still bruised, but the pleasure overtook all feeling.

You’re whining sounds hoarse, as overstimulation started to creep in, but your words are incoherent to all ears. “What was that baby? I couldn’t hear the shit talking over your choking. He leans forward with his cherry lips on the shell of your ear. “Or had my cock reached so far to your brain that you can’t even speak?”

He kisses your cheeks and loosens the tie. You nearly fall forward as he never stops pounding into you, but he upholds you by the strength of his large hand on your upper arms. “Fuck me harder, please. Fuck me stupid Yunnie, I don’t care!”

Just as your yelling is ceased he pulls out of your enlarged hole, pulling you down to be seated on his lap facing forward. Once seated your eyes make a connection with his through the rearview mirror as it usually does on any drive. The both of you watch each others jaw-dropping expressions as his cock enters you once more scrumptiously piercing through you with an addicting burn.

“One of the world’s national treasures, this tight fucking hole.” After that was said, he waste no time digging for gold, hammering every ounce of cum he had in him.

“Yes just like that Yunnie! I'm so fucking close" You speak through the mirror, your body bouncing, making it hard to concentrate, but more importantly, it draws his attention even more for you. “Give me all your cum, make me your slut.”

He groans into your ear, ejaculating his semen deep into the darkest depths of you body, that awakens it to the light.

“That might’ve been the hardest I’ve ever came in my life.”

He pulls out from your opening, giving you the chance to slide into the other seat. “No fucking kidding. Lesson learned: Never judge your father’s chauffeur by his professional cover, because he might have good dick.” You both laugh exhaustedly through heaving breaths, watching each other's naked bodies shake like the effect of another orgasm.

After it dies down, silence creeps in once again as it did before this all started. The sounds of ruffled clothes provide a few timeskips until it’s back to reality. “So-”, Yunho begins, “with this whole plan you’ve been test driving…was this supposed to be a part of it?”

You frown, recognizing the puppy dog face under the disheveled black strands before his sex drive took control. “Oh Yunnie, of course not.” You place a hand on his bare thigh, this time for the solution of comfort. “I’ve always wanted you taking me like this, and as for my plans for today… I wouldn’t have imagined to have come to this point.” You lean close to his side and whisper, “Literally.”

Yunho breathes out a light chuckle, and stares at your hand at your thigh intensely, causing you to want to remove it as a result. “Besides the sex jokes. Got any regrets?”

With an immediate shake of ‘no’ on your head you say, “Hell no.” However, when you see Yunho's bland reaction to your response, you become compelled to ask him the same question. “Are you regretting it? There must be something since you asked.”

“No.” He says matter-of-factly. “I’m just… conflicted is all. I’ve always taken a liking to you, and I grew more fond of the personality that grew behind the legacy thing. You’ve always had goals of your own.” As you prepare to thank him for his praise, you notice that he opens his mouth once more. “But then again, my support for you risk the possibility of me losing my job, and then I’d have to choose.”

As your interest peaks in his last choice words in his confession, you turn to him in your seat. “Choose? What choice would you even have to make?”

“Don’t you know? It’s either you…or your father.”

“Yunho… you should never be given that ultimatum, or use it against yourself. If pleasing my father is your priority, then you should pursue that, but I’ll never be the second choice. I’ve lived through that already.”

He's slow to respond when he mends through contemplation, absorbing all of the information that contradicts what he has been manipulated with by your father. You pick up his habit of rubbing his hands over his clothed thighs when he has something to work through in his mind.

Having grown uncomfortable with the sudden change of mood sitting next to him, you grab the door handle to go back and sit in front.”Let’s just get to that hotel and forget all of it, fathers still expecting you…”

Just as you were leaving, you feel a warm chest make contact with your back, and a large ring-dressed hand makes its way in front of you, touching your hand on the door handle.“I know what I want more, but I’m afraid to make the choice.” His deep voice rings in your ear, echoing sound waves down each vertebra of your spine.

In response, you turn with your head down, afraid to look into his eyes as he rejects you. “Then you don’t really want it Yunho, because if you did, you’d do anything in your power to get it, no matter the cost.”

He removed his hand from the door handle, pulling it back in what you did not expect to occur- Yunho grasping the left side of your chin to confront you face to face. “I want you…can I have you, please? In the long run, just like you said?”

Your heart squeezes harder in your chest, fueling more ounces of blood by the second from his sweet confession. The imagery of his messy black mullet, his sparkling eye jewelry, and his wrinkled white shirt contrast with his despair. “So…your choosing me? Just like that?”

He shrugs, looking over the details of your face, smiling as he memorizes every square inch. “I’d say that I need longer to think about it, but my mind is already made up.” His thumb pressed against your chin, uplifting your head to look deport into his eyes. “So yes, I’m choosing you, darling. Can I have you?”

You take advantage of closed distance to exchange peach-flavored lips, sloppily trading tongues and groaning each other's names in between.

It was the best decision you’ve ever made, a chance for freedom, to forge your own path, and to be someone outside of your father's shadow. Jeong Yunho was your window to the world, giving you the courage to take on a journey of your own and find what you truly wanted in life.

“Fuck.” You mutter pressing into Yunho's chest as he makes the kiss deeper with a “Mhmmm.”

But it’s not what you said in means to spoken pleasure, but there was something you both kept forgetting. “No wait-, you push away from his lips with the palm of your hand on his chest, “How am I supposed to explain this? I don’t want you to get fired so soon.”

He chuckles, reaching up to fix the collar of your jumpsuit, grinning at your uneasy expression. “You’re just now thinking about that huh? Don’t worry baby, I’ll do the fancy talking.”

Smiling in relief, you took hold of his collar and pushed him against the seat, crawling into his lap as before, yet facing him with the front of your body. “I would be more than happy to do the dirty talking for you, Mr. Jeong. Would you like to take another 'spin around the block'?”

“You’re gonna give me a ride now baby? Take control?” He bites his lip in anticipation, playing with his tie that was loosely wrapped around your neck, squeezing the bouncy flesh on your thighs.

“That’s right, you say smoothing your hand up his damp white button-up shirt and over his abs, unbuttoning the clasps to undress him yourself this time. “I am my father’s child, control runs naturally in my blood.”

“Well then...” He grins, I’ll be sure to buckle in tight darling.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

END

Much love,

Xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.

©️1117feverlessdreams, 2023

[television-overload]

What Really Happened

(an NCIS fanfic)

September 2024. Tali has some questions about her parents' trip to Paris nearly fifteen years prior, and she's determined to get the details.

Written for the September 2024 Tiva Fic Challenge! This month's prompt was "Jet Lag: What Really Happened?"

Read on AO3

For as long as Tali could remember, her father had told her a story. 

Twenty-four hours in Paris. A whirlwind trip, romantic and magical. The thing is, every time he told the story, it was different. Details changed, dialogue was exaggerated to unbelievable proportions… What it lacked in detail, it made up for in sentimentality. 

“And then I told her she was the most beautiful thing in the city, even prettier than the Eiffel Tower when it sparkles.”

“Did you kiss?” Tali would ask, eyes twinkling.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Now will you go to bed?”

Tali could see, now, he just told her whatever would get her to sleep the quickest. While she hadn’t understood back then, it couldn’t have been easy to be so suddenly thrust into fatherhood with no warning. But it never mattered to her. He was her Abba, and he was the best dad she could have asked for.

“No, tell me more!” she’d demand. “What did Ima look like?”

He would adjust the frame on her bed stand, gazing wistfully at the picture within.

“She looked like an angel, just like you.”

Only a few things stayed the same with every retelling, as far as she could figure: Her mother and father together in Paris, a quaint cafe not far from the tourist sites, and a Vespa scooter that they rode around the city together. 

That all may have suited her just fine as a bedtime story when she was little, but Tali was almost eleven years old, now. She could tell she wasn't being told the full truth, and she had a feeling some of the details he would recite were entirely fabricated. She'd done the math, compared the story with what she knew of their lives before she was born—what others who knew them then had told her. Oh yeah, she had sources.

It just didn’t match up.

Time to test out those detective skills to get to the bottom of it. Surely those were genetic?

There was a box in her parents’ closet. It had been there as long as they’d lived here, shipped over from the U.S. when they first moved. Mostly, she figured it held boring stuff like paperwork and whatever else had been in her father’s desk at NCIS before he quit. But maybe there was more. Maybe it contained all the answers to every question she’d ever wondered about her parents.

Or maybe not.

Kneeling on the floor of the closet, she surveyed the contents of the plain cardboard box. It was a mess of papers. Considering the journey it had taken across an ocean and later from their old apartment to their new one, she wasn’t surprised. There were a few other items mixed in, a colorful stapler with a cartoon mouse on it, a few dusty looking service awards…

And an envelope. Now that looked promising.

Reaching in, she pulled it out, growing more and more certain that what she held was a stack of photographs. Photographs of what, she could only guess. Had she found clues that might explain what her parents had been doing in Paris years before they would ever move here? If not, what other pictures might her father have kept in his desk at work?

She held her breath as she opened it, carefully plucking at the corner of one of the colorful prints as she pulled it from the stack.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Tali jumped, only narrowly avoiding throwing the pictures across the room in reflex.

“Ima!” she squeaked, wondering if it was too late to hide them behind her back. The box wasn’t off-limits, per se, but it did have a sort of mystical quality that made digging around in it feel like a breach of some code. It was from a time long past—a time her parents didn’t talk about much, at least when she was around.

But there her mother stood in the doorway to her room, arms crossed over her chest as she fixed a suspicious glare in her direction.

“I was just—”

Her words trailed off as her mother’s expression quickly shifted from suspicion to curiosity. “What do you have there?” she asked, her folded arms falling to her sides as she made her way across the room, glancing down at the box splayed open in the closet.

Tali held out the envelope. Well, this had been a mission failure, she thought—at least the stealthy, ninja-like aspect of it. It remained to be seen if she had in fact found what she was looking for. 

“Just some pictures, I think,” she mumbled, handing them over reluctantly.

Her ima slipped them out of the envelope and flipped through them, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a wistful smile.

“Honey, I’m home!” a voice singsonged from the entry hall, echoey and distant. 

Her dad. 

He’d started saying that when he got home from work as a joke, but now he did it unironically. It got old pretty quick, but she did find it endearing, in a way. 

“Hey, where is everybody?” he asked, his voice getting louder and clearer with proximity. Before long, he was peeking his head around the doorway. “Uh oh, am I in trouble?” he asked, taking note of the box at their feet. “I swear I threw out those old magazines before we moved.”

Tali briefly wondered what magazines he could possibly be talking about, and why he would have a physical copy of a magazine in the first place, but she was much more interested in the photos her mom was holding.

“Look what our daughter found,” her ima said, waving the glossy prints in her father’s direction.

“Not the… in California…”

Her ima laughed. “No. Not those ones.”

Her father looked somewhat relieved. “Ah, then it must be the ones from my brief stint as a travel photographer,” he mused aloud, setting his briefcase aside and approaching their huddle by the closet. He took one look at the photos in her hand and grinned. “I still think that’s my favorite picture, by the way,” he said, nodding down at the one she held separate from the others, then dipping down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“I didn’t actually get to see them,” Tali pouted, crossing her arms with a huff. “Ima took them away before I could see what they were.”

Her mother shared a look with her father, communicating in that infuriatingly wordless way they always did. What were they smirking at?

“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch in the living room and we can look through them together, my love,” Ima said at last, flicking off the light in the closet. 

Tali supposed that was agreeable. Whatever she had found, she could at least now be certain they were photos from her parents’ past. She followed them out to the sofa, taking a seat between them on the cushions.

“You know what these are?” her mother asked, finally granting her a peek at what she had unearthed from the box.

It took all her self control not to whoop in excitement when she spotted familiar streets and buildings in just the first few photos. 

Jackpot. 

“Dad told me,” she said, smiling as she came across one of Ima looking through postcards at a shop. That must be her father’s favorite. “You guys came to Paris.”

Her mother nodded. “We were sent here for work, that’s right.”

Wait, go back a second.

“For work?” Tali asked, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “Dad never told me that.”  

“He—” Ima’s head slowly turned in her father’s direction, fixing him with a meaningful glare. “What did he tell you?” she asked, her tone light and inquisitive, but Tali could sense the undercurrent of tension her comment had sparked. Dad was in troubleee.

She glanced at him quickly before answering. “Well… It all sounded very… romantic,” she spoke. To her left, her father looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions, an awkward grin pulling at his lips. 

Oh, Abba, surely you knew this would one day come back to bite you?

“Tony!” Ima shouted predictably, smacking him in the arm. “Why did you lie to Tali?”

“I didn’t lie to her,” he asserted, chuckling nervously.

“You told me that you kissed her on the Eiffel Tower!” Tali said, adding fuel to the flame. Ima's jaw dropped, and she shot him a look. It was funny to watch her dad squirm. Only Ima could make him do that.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I may have embellished a little,” he acknowledged.

Her mother grabbed the nearest throw pillow off the couch and used it to wallop him in the face, all the while concealing a smile. A woosh of air from the attack blew Tali’s hair back, and she giggled uncontrollably, falling back into the cushions.

“Tony, you have never kissed me on the Eiffel Tower,” she countered irritably.

“I haven’t? Well, we should go fix that,” he said, pretending to get to his feet to leave.

Tali rolled her eyes. “Daaaad.”

He sat back down. “Alright, another time,” he acquiesced. “To be fair, what happened in Paris has always been a bit of a secret between your mom and I. I distinctly remember you lying to Nora on that plane, sweetcheeks.”

“And you lied to McGee,” her mom fired back without missing a beat.

“I knew it,” Tali whispered. Okay, so she knew a little more than she was letting on. Uncle Tim will be delighted that she got a confession out of them.

“I’ll admit it,” Dad started, getting serious once more. “The bedtime story version wasn’t quite the truth.” 

Well yeah, that was obvious. 

“The truth is, we were on assignment for NCIS,” he continued. “Not very romantic, huh? I guess the way I told it is how I wish it had happened. How it should have happened, if I hadn’t been such a coward.”

This brought a fond, slightly sad smile to her mother’s face, and Tali could feel an arm drape over the back of the couch behind her.

“I wouldn’t say it was entirely unromantic,” Ima said, her fingers playing with the short hair at the back of her dad’s head. “She is old enough to hear this story, yes?” she said, her eyes imploring him to agree with her.

“Most of it,” he answered, breathing out a laugh. “I think she can live without the knitting needle incident until she’s a little older.”

“Agreed.”

Tali crossed her legs on the couch, looking back and forth between her parents. She waited with bated breath for the story to begin, but they sure were taking their sweet time.

Sometimes this happened. They'd just go silent and stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces until someone or something snapped them out of it. It was annoying.

“Hello?” she said, hopefully reminding them of her presence. “You were saying?”

Her dad was the first to break eye contact, reaching out for the stack of photos and flipping through them.

“Right,” he started. “Do you want to start, or should I, sweetcheeks?”

“You go,” Ima said with a nod. “I want to see if you are capable of remembering this correctly.”

Dad opened his mouth as if to argue, but Tali, with the gift of foresight, distracted him with a question before he could start.

“So, what was the assignment?” she asked, blinking up at him imploringly.

“Protection detail,” he answered, shifting his attention back to her. “A witness who needed safe passage back to the U.S. for a trial. Nora was her name.”

“So you just went there to pick her up and that was it?” Tali asked, desperately hoping that wasn't the case. How boring would that be? No, she knew they had fond memories of the trip. There had to be more than that.

“Pretty much,” her dad answered. “But we flew in the day before, so we got to explore a little bit.”

“Tell me!”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head at Tali's eagerness.

“Your father wouldn't stop making movie references the entire time we were in the city,” she said. “I think as soon as we stepped foot in the airport, he thought we were on some kind of grand adventure. I had to remind him we were there on business, and that we needed to check into the hotel before doing anything else.”

“You should have seen McGee's face when the Director picked us to go,” her dad said with a laugh. “Oh, it was priceless.”

“What happened next?” Tali implored.

Her father crossed his arms and kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Well, your mom convinced me that we needed to go drop our stuff off at the hotel first, so we caught a taxi. Secretly, I think she just wanted to freshen up, fix her hair and makeup and all that after being stuck on a plane for so long. She had a crush on me back then, you know.”

His eyes met her ima’s here, one eyebrow twitching upward teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Ima said, rolling her eyes.

“It's true!”

“Not a crush, that was earlier. This was something different.”

“Looove?” he singsonged, his grin infectious.

“Nooo,” Ima sang right back, matching his tone. “I do not know. Maybe. I do not think even I knew what it was at the time.”

“Well I was pretty in love with you,” he responded, practically radiating heart eyes in her direction. “Obviously.”

“You were not so obvious. I thought you were just being a goofball,” Ima spoke.

Any easy mistake, Tali thought.

“I was trying to flirt with you, but clearly I didn't succeed,” he corrected. “You know, Tali, your mom refused to go sightseeing with me.”

Tali turned to her mother, surprised. “What? Why?”

“We had a mission, I was trying to keep things professional,” she said in her defense. “It was in the best interest of our witness that we get a good night's rest and stay on task.”

Yeah, but that sounded boring.

Her father, evidently, agreed. “You're no fun,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“I went to dinner with you, didn't I?” Ima asked.

He begrudgingly nodded. “She did go to dinner with me, I'll give her that.”

“And was the dinner not romantic?”

“Hard to find somewhere to eat that doesn't fit that description in this city,” he countered.

Ziva waved her hand in the air with finality. “There you go.”

Tali couldn’t help but feel that they’d gotten a little off track, but it was still fun to hear about their time together before she was born. She tried to picture them, younger than she’d ever seen them and probably a little wilder, too. She wanted to know more.

“So you went to dinner,” Tali summarized, nudging them to tell the rest of the story. “You didn't go anywhere else?”

Ima jumped in next. “Well, your father… He had rented a scooter—you know about the scooter,” she said, referring to the one in the picture Tali still kept on her nightstand. Tali nodded emphatically. This was one element of the story that had remained consistent throughout every retelling. Her mother continued, “He got us so lost on the way back to the hotel after dinner, that eventually I had to tell him to stop so I could ask someone for directions.”

At this, her father looked highly pleased with himself, his small smile concealing an even wider grin. 

“Can I let you in on a little secret, sweetcheeks?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where we were the whole time.”

Ima’s jaw dropped open, and Tali thought her dad was lucky that Ima was all out of pillows on her side of the couch that could be used as ammunition.

“Tony! We drove around for at least an hour!” she chastised. 

“Exactly! How else was I going to take you to look at the pretty lights around the city, or to all the big tourist sites?”

“I cannot believe you.”

“Come on, you loved it,” he said knowingly, tilting his head at her. “You got to put your arms around me for a whole hour.”

Ima raised an eyebrow and Tali could tell she was determinedly resisting the urge to laugh. “Are you sure that was not your motivation for it, then?”

“Oh, it absolutely was,” he answered easily. “If that was the only time I'd get to feel your arms around me, I was gonna make the most of it.”

Blegh, Tali thought. That was one thing that made her different from most kids in her class. Her parents really really loved each other. And they weren’t afraid to show it.

“I did enjoy it,” Ima admitted. “I liked that cologne you used to wear.”

“Well, that's good,” he said, smiling, “I practically drenched myself in it whenever I knew I'd be working in close quarters with you. I think maybe I hoped it would be like some kind of magic potion that would make you fall madly in love with me.”

“I guess it worked,” her mother teased with a shrug, which her father got a kick out of.

“I guess it did,” he said. “Though I hope you love me for more than just the way I smell. That cologne went out of production years ago.”

Ima’s eyes shone, equal parts charmed and amused. “I do. You know I do.” 

His lips pulled back in a smile and he leaned forward, meeting Ima’s lips with his own right in front of Tali. She was practically squished between them, forced to endure their display of affection at close range.

“Would you two like to sit next to each other?” she asked, unimpressed. “I feel like I'm not even here.”

Her parents withdrew, her father suppressing a laugh. “Sorry, where were we?”

“Dinner,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he started. “Well, before dinner, we walked around for a bit, looked at all the little shops. That's when I took this picture of your Ima,” he said, holding out the one of her at the postcard stand. “Pretty good, huh?”

“I still think it would look better in black and white,” Ima spoke, looking at it with a critical eye.

“Maybe we could get a copy made, hang it on the wall,” her father offered, which elicited a chuckle.

“Now, I would not go that far.”

“Did you buy anything?” Tali asked, wondering what someone who didn’t live in the city might want to take home with them as a memento.

“Just some souvenirs,” Dad answered. “And a postcard for McGee. ‘Wish you were here!’”

Ima smiled. “Then we sat and ate dinner.”

“You looked so beautiful that day,” her father mused, gazing fondly at the photograph in hand. “I really do wish I had kissed you. I drove you right by the Eiffel Tower.”

“Which was nowhere near our hotel,” she reminded him.

“Pretty sure we've established that I was being sneaky.”

“What happened when you got back to the hotel?” Tali asked.

Ima looked suspiciously at her. “You are being very nosy today, motek. Why the sudden questions?”

Tali shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “I've just always wondered, that's all.”

Ima narrowed her eyes, not fully accepting that as an answer, but eventually, she continued. “Well, we actually had a nice hotel to stay at, for once. Usually when we traveled, at least in the States, NCIS would book us rooms at the cheapest motels they could find.”

“But not this time?”

She shook her head. “Not this time. They wanted us somewhere close to the embassy, where we would be picking up our witness.”

“Wow.” Their jobs sounded so cool, sometimes. Of course, she knew there was a lot of un-cool stuff they hadn’t told her, but what she did know sounded fun. She still sometimes had a hard time believing her boring old parents were once gun-toting federal agents, chasing down bad guys and saving the day. It seemed even more improbable that her Grampa Gibbs had done the same.

“You're skipping over a very important part of the story, Zee-vah,” her father said smugly, bringing her attention back to the tale. “Tell her what the front desk lady said when we tried to check in!”

Ima rolled her eyes and huffed. “Tony, I can tell you want to say this part, so why don't you just do it?”

He grinned excitedly. “Fine. I will. So we walked in this huge, beautiful lobby, right? And I went up to the desk and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am. There should be two rooms under the name DiNozzo for us, please.’”

“Two rooms?” Tali asked.

“We were just friends back then, you see,” her abba explained. “Actually, we had been going through a bit of a rough patch. Friends might have been pushing it.”

Ima was quick to correct that. “You were my friend, Tony,” she said, looking at him kind of sadly.

He gave a nod. “Friends, then. But not together. And since we were there for work, it was agency policy for two agents of opposite gender to stay in separate rooms.”

That made sense, Tali supposed.

“But then…” Ima started.

“Hey, you said I could tell this part,” her father whined.

“Alright, then get to the point,” she waved him on.

“But then,” he repeated, “the woman at the desk said there was some misunderstanding with our reservation, and they only had one room for us.”

Misunderstanding? Or mischief on Uncle Tim's part as some form of payback for not getting to go to Paris, Tali wondered. She made a mental note to ask him the next time she talked to him.

“Would you have gotten in trouble?” she asked instead.

“We probably would have gotten a slap on the wrist from H.R., and a slap on the head from Gibbs. But no one ever found out,” her father answered.

From what Tali had heard from Uncle Tim, he knew something about what happened. But the specifics were out of his reach too. That’s where Tali came in.

“God, I was so in love with you,” her abba said, gazing lovingly at her ima. “It was pathetic. I don't know how you could have missed it. That mixup with the rooms was like my wildest dream coming true.”

“Tony…”

“I'm sorry if I drove you crazy that night,” he continued, ignoring her attempt to stop him. “I think I was a little drunk on the wine we'd had at dinner still.”

“You were not drunk. I know, because I let you drive us home. You were just… Tony.”

“Mm. Just me, huh?” he asked, smirking at her with a pleased look on his face. 

“I found it endearing. Even if I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation.”

“She offered to take the couch,” he informed Tali. “I told her that she was being ridiculous, that the ginormous bed was big enough for the two of us to share, but she tried to insist. Eventually, I threatened to take the couch myself, and she came to her senses.”

“If I had given up the couch to you, you would have complained about your back the whole flight home the next day,” Ima pointed out.

“Would not!”

Tali had to agree with her mother, here. “Dad, that does sound like you,” she said.

“Now you're ganging up on me! That's not fair!”

“Your father was the perfect gentleman that night, Tali,” Ima continued. “Believe me, I was surprised too. Not even one joke about our situation.”

Her dad seemed shocked at this information as well. “Really? I didn't make any jokes at all?” he asked.

Ima shook her head. “None that I can remember.”

“Huh,” he said. “I was probably too nervous myself to say anything.”

“Why were you nervous?” Tali asked. 

“Because,” he started, draping his arm over the back of the couch and over Ima’s shoulder, “sharing a bed with someone—especially someone you're secretly pining for—is a very intimate thing. You kind of lose your sense of personal space. Whatever mask you put on during the day comes off, whether you want it to or not.”

“You guys wore masks during the day?” Tali questioned. She pictured superhero masks, or maybe the kind you wear when you’re sick.

“Not that kind of mask,” he corrected. “I mean the emotional kind, when you don't want other people to see how you're really feeling, so you pretend to feel something else. I used to do that a lot when I was younger, and not quite as wise as I am today.”

“As did I,” Ima agreed.

Tali’s face screwed up in confusion. Everything seemed so simple. Why did they make it seem so complicated? 

“Why didn't you just tell each other the truth?” she asked.

This time, her mother answered. “We did, more than we told others at least. But that was a very difficult time for your father and I. We were just learning how to trust each other again.”

“Didn't you always trust each other? You were partners!”

Dad’s knee bumped companionably against her own. “You have to understand, Tali, our jobs were very difficult. I don't think you’re ready for the full story quite yet, but your mom had just been through something horrible and scary, and part of it was my fault.”

Ima’s face fell, and she shook her head. “Tony. It was not your fault,” she said.

“At least some of the blame was mine,” he insisted.

“No. Tony, do not think that way.”

He gave her a small, placating smile. “Alright, we'll agree to disagree,” he said. “But the point is, Tali, it was a very strange time for the two of us. Being completely honest with each other wasn't something we were particularly good at.”

“But we got through it,” she said, reaching for his hand.

He smiled, eyes watering as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Yes. Yes we did. We just danced around a lot of things we probably should have discussed much sooner.”

“Like the fact that you loved each other?” Tali offered.

Her dad gave a dry chuckle. “Oh yeah. That was the biggest one of all.”

“We were not ready for that conversation yet, motek,” Ima said, running a hand through Tali’s hair.

“But that didn't stop you from getting all cozy with me that night, did it, sweetheart?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, teasing her playfully.

“I think that is probably enough for one day,” Ima said, trying her hardest not to smile at his antics. Her cheeks blossomed pink.

“No, let's keep going!” he said, spurring her on. “Look at you blushing, I can't believe you still get embarrassed talking about this!”

“I am not embarrassed, Tony,” she countered.

“You aren't? Could have fooled me. When I brought it up in the morning at that cafe, I thought you were going to strangle me for mentioning it in broad daylight.”

Tali giggled at this back-and-forth that they were so good at. It wasn’t often that her dad managed to get under Ima’s skin in this way, it was usually the other way around.

“I thought there was a mutual agreement never to speak of that night again,” Ima responded, her voice low.

“Well, I never agreed to any such thing.”

Things just got curiouser and curiouser, Tali thought, intrigued. “What? What happened?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, we started out the night happily keeping to our own sides of the bed,” her abba explained. “A nice, sensible space between us.”

“I was asleep, Tony, I cannot be held accountable for–”

“But then your ima, here, decided that I made a much better pillow than the one she was using, so I got a face full of Ziva hair.”

Tali laughed, her mother’s indignant attempts to correct him striking her as utterly hilarious.

“If you were awake, you could have very easily pushed me off you,” Ima argued.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because, Tony, we were supposed to be keeping a respectable distance!”

“Counterpoint: Your hair smelled really good and, oh yeah, I was super in love with you.”

Ima huffed, having no comeback for such a line. “So you have mentioned.”

“Anyway, it was the best night's sleep I'd ever had,” her father finished. “Ziva?”

“What?”

“Would you agree?” he asked.

Ima blew out a breath, thinking it over. “Well, at the time, I often dealt with nightmares.”

“And?”

“And… You just want me to admit that I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't go back to my side of the bed, don't you?” Ima stared accusingly at Dad.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, yes, I did. I was comfortable, and the dreams weren't as bad as usual for some reason.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that reason was,” Dad said sarcastically, tapping a finger thoughtfully on his chin. But then he looked at Ima again and smiled, his expression melting into one of adoration. “I wish you would have told me all this back then,” he said. “Could have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

“No point in dwelling on it now,” Ima surmised, and he gently rubbed her shoulder before pulling back.

“When I woke up in the morning, she was still in my arms, conked out and snoring like a freight train,” he continued his tale.

“What a lovely sight that must have been,” Ima said sarcastically.

“It was!” he said. “I could have laid like that forever. I guess, now I get to.”

More mushy stuff. Great. “Okay, I get it. You love each other. Now is that it?” Tali asked.

Dad shrugged. “Pretty much. The next morning your mom got all awkward and tried to pretend we hadn't just spent the night cuddling in the most romantic city in the world,” he narrated.

“Meanwhile, your father woke up in an unnervingly pleasant mood and hurried off to go sightseeing, while I headed to a cafe for a late breakfast.”

Tali turned to her father. “What did you go see, dad?”

“Well, the embassy isn't too far from here, actually,” he spoke, glancing toward the window in their living room. “I drove around for a bit, past the Louvre, saw everything in that area. Took lots of pictures.”

“And then we met up at the cafe for a little while before it was time to pick up our witness,” Ima finished.

“That's when we got that picture taken. The one in your room.”

Her dad told her, sometimes, about the moment he realized she knew who he was. How that picture had been her connection to him before they met, and how it later connected her to her mother while she was away.

Their family’s story was a strange one. For a long time, she hadn't known the particulars, of course. But she was the only kid at school whose mom was off who-knows-where hiding from who-knows-who and doing who-knows-what. Not that she was allowed to talk about any of that. She only picked up bits and pieces when her dad would talk to Pop Pop after she'd gone to bed, and her memories of those conversations were pretty fuzzy.

She also never fully grasped the significance of the lack of pictures from when she was a baby, or the fact that she had been born in Israel, while her father lived in the U.S.

But now, she had begun to piece some things together, and it made her a little sad. She wondered if she would ever fully understand what had happened. Why, until she was six, they had never been a family together, all in one place.

The fact that her parents had been so close, and yet so far from their happy ending back then… Almost fifteen years ago, now…

“Is that why you wanted us to live in Paris?” she asked her father.

“I guess so,” he said, reaching for Ima's hand. “Part of me, I think, hoped we'd find her here right away. Like maybe that picture frame in your bag had been a message telling me where to meet her. But also, yes. We had nothing but good memories here. Seemed a good place for a fresh start.”

“The same cannot be said for the airplane we took back to America with our witness,” Ima joked, lightening the mood.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Dad agreed. “If I wanted to experience mortal peril on an airplane, I would just watch Liam Neeson in ‘Non-Stop.’ But then, that movie hadn't come out yet. Come to think of it, I feel like we should have been contacted for our expertise by the studio that made that movie. Do you think they could have given us writing credits?”

Tali sensed that the rest of the story would have to wait for another day. Most of their case stories were like that. Just a couple more years, then maybe she’d be old enough.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said, interrupting her father’s rambling about movies.

“Of course, neshama sheli,” Ima said, placing her hand on her knee.

“Anytime, kiddo. This was fun.”

“And?” Ima prompted.

“And,” he continued, “I’m sorry for making up stories when you were little. I should have told you the truth.”

Tali looked at him, smiling when his eyes met hers. She leaned into his side, and he lifted his arm, welcoming her in for an embrace.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I liked your stories. They were like fairy tales.”

He sighed. “If only it had really been like a fairy tale.”

“It is, though!” Tali said seriously, leaning back to face him. “You got your happily ever after, right?”

Dad’s eyes lifted to meet Ima’s, and they shared a smile, another one of their silent conversations.

“You are right, Tali,” Ima said, eyes shining with some deep emotion. “Maybe we had a fairy tale ending after all.”

-.-.-

Tali waited until her parents had gone to bed before sneaking out of her own room and into the kitchen. She found the phone out on the countertop where her father had left it, and quickly navigated to the right name in his contact list.

She pressed the call button and the phone rang. While she waited, she tried to mentally count backwards and estimate the time it was in D.C., but that was entirely too much math for this time of night.

Eventually, the line connected with a click.

“McGee,” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Uncle Tim!” Tali said in a whisper.

“Hey, Trouble!” he greeted jovially. “Whatcha got for me?”

Tali’s chest bubbled with giddiness, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting the answer.

“Uncle Tim, they told me everything!”

-.-.-

Tags <3 @tiva-fic-challenges @benedettabeby @butwhenthesuncameup @earanemith @hopeless-nostalgiac @indestinatus @loudlooks @mrsmungus @nicolem194 @putthekettleon @slippery-soapbox @tivafanfic @tivajunkie @tonysziva @whoa-myninja

[cepheusgalaxy]

The WRU customer’s guide

Chapter 2 - Product receival

(Distributed by WRU ©)

Your Boxie arrived! And now what?

Congratulations on getting your new Pet! The WRU staff thanks you for your preference. 

We assure your new Pet is suited to attend all your necessities and wishes thanks to its top-tier training with WRU’s most brilliant teams of professional handlers. If your experience is enjoyable, please consider leaving a feedback on our site! Your opinion matters a lot to us.

Your pet's serial number and designation can be verified at its register that was printed and shipped alongside the product, and also sent to your online mail. If there is a mistake and you can't find it, please refer to custome service on the nearest WRU store or our site, wru.com.

What's included in your product

Inside the box that you received is one (1) WRU Box Boy, which is wearing a basic WRU shipping uniform and collar. Alongside it is your Pet's Owner’s File that includes its designation, medical record and further information.

If there is any damage or parts of your delivery missing, please don’t hesitate to call the WRU team (DDD xxxx-xxxx) that will promptly resolve your issue.

Unboxing your Boxie

Unboxing your new Pet should be very easy. However, if this is your first time unboxing a Box Boy you might ask your deliverer to assist you.

[ID: A loosely drawn pet box with the WRU logo on the side as well as two handles instead of one. Below the box is written "Box lol". /end ID.]

Please check if your package is an WRU Pet Box.

The Box was sealed during the shipping process to avoid opening up and damaging your Pet on the way. To unlock it, remove the bolt of the door and pull the six locks arranged as 2 on the top, 2 at the bottom and more 2 on the left side. This should be enough to unlock your box.

Your new Pet is awaiting inside! It might be curled up awake or sleeping, in which case you can press the button under the red compartiment on the right side of the Box, which will send a quick shock to awake it.

Depending on the delivery, your boxie might have stayed in there from two to nine hours. Give it some time to come out of the package, and it should kneel in front of it. If you think your Pet is taking too long to come out or is not taking the supposed position, it might be hurt or confused, in which case, you can demand a self diagnostic by asking it if there is any damage. If that is the case, do not worry; You can acess the Pet First-Aid guide on our site or refer to the nearest WRU store, that will promptly take care of it for you.

Tip: You can keep the Box until you have arranged a proper enclosure for your Pet.

Settling your new Pet

After taking your Box Boy out of the package, look for a green sheet that contains its information and history. That is your Pet Owner’s guide. Be sure to verify it is indeed your Pet and that it has not been any mistake in the shipping process.

Your Pet is now ready to serve you, but it needs you to state the boundaries and rules of your house, so it may act accordingly. You can let them in some room as you put the shipping package away.

Once you’re done, show your house to the Pet and tell it what its duties are gonna be. You might name it or assign a room and belongings to it, if you so wish, but be assured it doesn’t need any accomodations besides the basics to be in its best behavior.

If you have any doubts about accomodating your new Pet or how to handle it, please check our site for more information.

Thank you for trusting WRU with your comfort! :)

Did you know?

WRU © not only cares a lot about our customers, but also we care about the environment!

In order to fight climate change, we in WRU adopted the Tip for a Tree project, in which every dollar you donate goes to WRU’s partners who are working for a greener future!

Acess more information at wru/tipforatree.com.

[ID: The WRU logo, a grey W with a V crossed over it. /end ID.]

--

lmao what do you guys think

credits of the logo to @endless-whump

[wannaeatramyeon]

A national boyfriend day fic with Gun & Goo? >///< (Separate if that's ok!)

Ever so slightly late. Just a touch! To all my other requests, sorry for some reason my brain wants to work backwards 🫠

Happy National Boyfriend Day! Goo Kim, Gun Park

Goo Kim

"No, why did you put that?" Goo whines and you erase your last couple words.

"Say I'm the best instead. Put that down." He scans over your caption, leaning closer to the screen with each passing second before reeling back and jabbing a particularly offensive part with his finger.

"There's a typo there cupcake!" You quickly correct it. "And are you using that picture? That suit was last season. Here, let me send you a better photo of me."

Goo starts to tap away on his own phone. You hear the tell tale ping of a message sent, and he slings a smarmy grin your way too.

With a sigh, you change the picture and redo the entire caption so it finally, finally passes his royal highness's scrutiny.

It's live. Thank fuck for that-

"Sweetheart~" Goo sings songs, elongating the vowels and you feel a headache come on, "Did you get me a present too?"

You want to snap of fucking course you did. He's been dropping hints for the last couple of months. Getting more obvious with each passing day, until he just came right out and demanded the specific item.

Which you would have gotten for him of your own accord, but this fool has no patience and no subtlety.

Thinking of the packaged box in tasteful gold wrapping, well tasteful by Goo Kim's standard anyway, you point wordlessly to the walk-in closet and he scampers off with glee.

You suppose you can't complain, after all it is his credit card you used.

.

.

Gun Park

"Happy National Boyfriend Day," you say somewhat shy, handing over an envelope.

Neither of you are big on celebrating these silly little made up holidays. Actual birthdays, anniversaries you are both more attentive to.

At least you are, then Gun took your lead after the first time he missed a particular occasion of something or another and you didn't speak to him for days.

He has learned his lesson since.

It didn't take much to make you happy, anyhow. And each time he remembered a date, your eyes lit up - that was even before giving you a gift and taking you out. So how could he deny you such simple pleasures?

"Thanks," he responds, a little stiff and taking the item from your hands. Because he definitely doesn't care for National Boyfriend's Day and thought you didn't either.

"Open it," you encourage with an excited smile, and he follows your instructions obediently.

Inside the envelope is a card. Printed on high quality cardstock. Dark and matte and heavy, with a simple heart design on the front.

"You can read it!"

And Gun does.

He's never been one to be affected, positively or negatively, by media. By prose or poems or songs. Words are frivolous, especially for a man who lives by action and violence.

But as he reads over your tidy, neat writing. Recalling your favourite memories together, your love for him, the future you see together.

Gun can't help but be touched. 

Feel his eyes soften and a small smile tug at his lips. Want to pull you into his arms and hold you and cradle you like you're the most precious thing in his world.

"Thank you," He tells you again, and this time he means it.

[zzoomacroom]

Fic: Tutoring Sessions

Dreamling, Smut, Professor Hob/Student Dream, Dom/sub, Brat Dream

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/?

Read below or on ao3

“I won’t sugarcoat it: Caxton was a bit shit at printing, relatively speaking. So why are we still talking about him, you ask? Well, given that there was no standardized version of the English language at the time—”

Whatever doubtlessly fascinating point Hob was about to make dies on his tongue. His mouth goes dry and his brain dribbles steadily out of his ears when he sees the student in the front row, sprawled low in his seat with his legs spread wide. Neither the flimsy fold-out desk nor his painted-on black jeans do anything to hide his raging erection.

Dream Endels is smirking wickedly at Hob, clearly pleased to have rendered him speechless. Hob glares back at him from behind the podium as he shuffles through his notes and tries to salvage his lecture. He’s furious with Dream, yes, but he’s even angrier at himself for allowing this to happen. And it goes without saying that he’s also desperately aroused right at the moment.

Dream, all willowy limbs and perfect cheekbones and bewitching blue eyes, has given Hob nothing but trouble since the start of term. Always flirting with him and showing up to class in crop tops and miniskirts that leave even less to the imagination than his current ensemble, sucking on his pen and pointedly asking Hob if he could do any “extra credit” to improve his grade. The perfect brat.

At first, Hob refused his advances on principal. But god, was he tempted. In any other context, no one but the most prudish busybodies would bat an eye at their relationship—Dream is 21, Hob is only 34, and this is the 21st century; it’s not that scandalous. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Still, Hob’s never wanted to be that sleazy professor who sleeps with his students and gets into messy entanglements. At least, not until he’s tenured.

It didn’t take long for Dream to wear him down, though. He’d shown up to Hob’s office in an outfit better suited for a fetish club than a university campus and demanded “private tutoring sessions,” which was frankly an insulting thing to ask of someone with a PhD. And it’s not as if Dream needs tutoring anyway; his essays are brilliant, with far more depth and insight than Hob would expect from any undergraduate. He actually would’ve liked to discuss them with Dream sometime, maybe over coffee—purely for scholarly reasons, with no ulterior motives, of course.

But the afternoon—and indeed, Hob’s entire life from that point forward—had taken a decidedly different turn.

When Hob sighed wearily and directed him to the campus tutoring center, Dream dropped the coy act and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was accustomed to getting his way and would make Hob’s life a living nightmare if he continued to reject him. Hob laughed and, before he could think better of it, took the lad over his knee and gave him the good, hard spanking he clearly needed.

“It’s about time someone taught you a lesson,” he’d said. “No one’s ever said no to you in your life, have they?”

Dream hadn’t answered, merely let out the sweetest little whines and whimpers before promptly coming in his pants. Hob nearly passed out as all the blood in his head rushed suddenly to his cock, and if he weren’t so overwhelmed by raw lust he’d have noticed the dangerous flare of affection warning him that this was the point of no return; keep going and he’d be well and truly fucked.

So what had he done?

“Tsk tsk. Oh darling, that is pathetic,” Hob scolded. “Can’t even control yourself, can you? You need to learn some discipline.”

He yanked Dream’s dirty panties off and stuffed them into his mouth while Dream scrambled to bend over the desk, presenting his cute little arse for Hob to fuck. It was fast and rough and, honestly, the best sex Hob had ever had in his life. The whole thing was surreal, like… well, like a dream. One minute he was a boring, mild-mannered literature professor, and the next his life had suddenly turned into a bad porno film.

Things only spiraled from there. It was rather alarming how easily they slipped into their roles, how well their dynamic worked for the both of them. How very, very compatible they were. And it’s not just sexual, even if they both pretend it is. Hob really likes Dream—he’s smart and funny, and Hob has caught glimpses of the sweetness that hides beneath his bratty façade. And that’s why this whole thing is such a bad idea; because it won’t ever be anything more than this, no matter how badly Hob might, hypothetically, want it to.

But Hob is in too deep now (literally and figuratively). He couldn’t break it off even if he wanted to; Dream’s family has more money than Hob can even conceive of, and he has no doubt that Dream could deliver on his promise to make his life a nightmare. So Hob figures if he has no choice but to be trapped in a porno—at least until Dream graduates, gets tired of him, and moves on to bigger and better things—he may as well enjoy it.

Some of the things they get up to could actually be considered “tutoring,” if one is very lenient with the definition of the word. Sometimes Dream warms Hob’s cock with his mouth while Hob reads his essays and picks apart his arguments, perhaps more critically than he would with any other student because he knows Dream likes a bit of humiliation. Other times, Hob quizzes him and spanks him for every wrong answer (or every right answer, or simply whenever he feels like it). Most of their “tutoring sessions” end with Dream sucking Hob off, or Hob sucking Dream off, or eating him out, or fucking him, or any combination of the above.

Which brings them to now. Hob knows exactly what’s going on, even as he sweats and stutters his way through the excruciating final minutes of the class. His lecture notes had been open on the desk last night when he’d bent Dream over it and held him there by the neck, his cheek pressed to the scattered pages while Hob railed him until he cried. Hob looks at the paper in front of him and, sure enough, there are crinkled bits where the ink bleeds together, splotches of dried tears and saliva.

So Hob knows that Dream isn’t sitting there with a massive hard-on because he’s all hot and bothered about Caxton’s Eneydos. No, the little shit’s gone and developed some sort of Pavlovian response to Hob’s lectures. He narrows his eyes at Dream, who confirms his suspicion by flashing him a shit-eating grin and an honest-to-god fucking wink.

Oh, he’s going to pay for that.

After class, Dream saunters into Hob’s office, still sporting a semi and looking like the cat that got the cream. Hob locks the door and grabs him by his stupid, sexy leather choker, tugging him close. Dream’s eyes darken, black eclipsing blue, and he heaves a hot, shuddering breath against Hob’s neck.

“Thought you could get away with that, did you?” Hob growls in his ear. “Can’t believe what a shameless whore you are. What makes you think you can go around letting everyone else see what’s mine?” He punctuates that last word by firmly taking hold of the bulge in his lover’s trousers while simultaneously shoving his tongue down his throat. Dream moans into his mouth and ruts against his palm, his arms slowly snaking around Hob’s neck.

“It’s not my fault your lectures are so stimulating, professor,” he gasps when Hob finally lets go of his collar, his head lolling back as he peers up at him through kohl-smudged lashes.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you get to go showing off your pretty cock in public. That’s for my eyes only, Dream.”

“I am hoping for more than just your eyes,” Dream purrs.

“Oh, I know exactly what you want, sweetheart. But trust me,” Hob grunts as he hoists Dream up and carries him to the small sofa in front of the desk, “you have no idea what you’re in for.”

He sits and flips Dream face-down across his lap, wrenching his jeans down to his thighs and delivering a sharp smack across his flawless pale arse.

“No knickers today? Tart,” Hob tuts as he spanks him again. “You were counting on getting fucked, weren’t you?” Dream mewls wordlessly in reply. “I know, love. I know. But that’s a reward for good boys, and you haven’t exactly earned it.” He gives him several more quick, hard swats before soothing his hand over the tender, reddened flesh. He’d keep going, but Dream enjoys being spanked a little too much for it to work effectively as a punishment. “Right then. On your knees.”

Dream slides off Hob’s lap and kneels in front of him, his trousers slipping further down around his slender hips and his rosy cock bobbing up against his stomach. He’s so fucking pretty like this, with his face flushed and his eyes brimming with tears. He’ll be even prettier when Hob is done with him. He wants to see him wrecked, eyeliner running down his cheeks and lips painted with Hob’s cum.

Hob unzips his trousers and frees his cock, which by now is painfully hard. Dream sways forward as if magnetically drawn to it, his mouth already open and glistening with spit. His pink tongue darts out to catch the pearl of pre-cum that wells up from the tip of Hob’s prick, but Hob stops him by grabbing a fistful of raven-plume hair and pulling his head back, baring his throat and forcing Dream to look up at him. His gaze is sultry and sex-drunk, and his Adam’s apple bobs gracefully beneath the perfect alabaster skin of his neck as he swallows in anticipation.

“Someone’s eager,” Hob chuckles, more gently than he’d intended. He almost forgot he’s supposed to be angry; in fairness, it’s not easy to stay angry at Dream when he’s staring up at him like… like that. The words ‘adoring’ and ‘worshipful’ come to mind, although that’s probably wishful thinking on Hob’s part.

Christ alive, Hob thinks for probably the hundredth time since he and Dream began their… whatever this is. What am I doing?

Ah. Now he remembers.

“My greedy little cockslut,” he sighs as he feeds his length into his lover’s mouth, pushing deeper, deeper, until he’s entirely enveloped in warm, plush velvet. Dream swallows around him, his tongue sliding deliciously along the underside as he adjusts to the solid girth probing into his throat. “Didn’t even gag. I’ve trained you well,” Hob says, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut at the praise, a muffled moan rumbling from his chest and vibrating around Hob’s prick.

He keeps his iron grip on Dream’s hair as he begins to fuck into his mouth, slowly at first, then quickly building to a brutal pace. It doesn’t take long for Dream to achieve the thoroughly debauched look that Hob was hoping to see: soot-black tears roll down his flushed cheeks, and saliva dribbles from his swollen lips down to his chin. He’s a mess.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this,” Hob pants. Dream makes another strangled noise of pleasure and reaches down to touch himself, but Hob snatches his hand away and tugs harder on his hair. “Ah-ah, naughty boy. Not yet.”

Dream obediently puts both hands on his knees, and Hob’s free hand finds its way to the back of Dream’s head, moving him back and forth in time to his thrusts. Hob looks down to see a rivulet of pre-cum oozing steadily from the younger man’s throbbing dick, while his fingers clench into the fabric of his jeans, bone-white knuckles above black-lacquered nails. He’s itching to get his hands on his cock, but he’s holding back because Hob told him to, and that’s enough to send Hob right up to the edge.

“There’s my good boy. Look at that, you can behave yourself after all,” Hob grits out. Then, without warning, he buries himself to the hilt in Dream’s mouth, holding his head there as he comes explosively down his throat. Dream chokes a little, but manages to swallow it down, gasping and sputtering once Hob finally lets him up for air.

He hauls Dream back up into his lap and kisses him fiercely, licking the taste of himself from his lover’s palate. Dream has gone all loose and pliant, his lips twisting into a dopey, cum-glazed smile, though Hob can feel how fast his heart beats as he sags against him, burying his face in the older man’s shoulder and sobbing hoarsely when Hob finally gets his hand around his cock.

“I’m going to let you come,” Hob whispers in his ear, their cheeks pressed together, “even though you’ve been such a brat today. Enjoy it, because it won’t happen again soon.” The words don’t even appear to register to Dream, and Hob feels a treacherous surge of tenderness upon realizing that he’s fucked all the thoughts out of his pretty little head. He smiles fondly to himself as he thumbs at Dream’s slit, smearing pre-cum down the length of his shaft. It takes only a few deft strokes before he’s spurting thick ropes over Hob’s fist, whimpering softly and clinging to his chest as he mouths absently at the collar of Hob’s shirt.

Hob cleans them up and gets Dream settled on the sofa while he rummages through one of his desk drawers. He comes back with a bottle of water, a large bar of chocolate, and a small black box that Dream pretends not to notice, even though Hob sees the way his eyes dart curiously to it. Hob’s next class isn’t for another hour, so they have some time for a cuddle. He may have been angry with Dream—although the sex did take the edge off considerably—but Hob prides himself on providing good aftercare, especially since he knows Dream wouldn’t bother hydrating or eating anything unless Hob makes him. This part is secretly Hob’s favorite; sitting here, with Dream draped over his chest, neither of them pretending anymore, just being together… it’s honestly as good as the sex—maybe better—and that’s saying something.

“So,” Hob says, clearing his throat and shaking off the incipient daydream of a life he can’t have, “I got you something. Was going to save this for another time, but you earned it with your behavior today.”

He hands the box to Dream, who jolts upright and smiles bashfully at Hob (God, he’s so cute when he’s not being a brat) before tearing the package open like a child on Christmas. He pauses, the smile fading from his face and his brow furrowing in confusion as he examines the stainless steel object in the box. Then his face goes crimson, his eyes widening in horror as he realizes—

“It’s a cock cage,” Hob grins. “Since you keep getting those embarrassing erections during class. You can’t control yourself, so I’ll be deciding when and if you come.” Dream gulps. Hob laughs. “What, did you think you’d gotten away without a punishment?” Dream still says nothing, merely stares at the shiny contraption in his hands, and for a moment Hob worries if he’s gone too far. “Well? What do you say, dove?”

“Th-thank you,” Dream murmurs, almost too softly to hear. Hob beams; it’s not often he hears those words from his arrogant little prince of a lover.

“Yeah? You like it?”

Dream nods fervently, leaning back and spreading his legs wider so Hob can lock him into the cage. “How long will I have to wear it?” he asks.

Hob shrugs. “We’ll see. Depends on how good you can be for me,” he says, kissing the tip of Dream’s nose. “Oh, and you know that plug I got you? The sparkly pink one? I’d suggest wearing it tomorrow. You don’t have to, but I’m going to fuck you the second office hours are over, so you might want to be prepared.”

“Yes, sir,” Dream whispers. His blush has, by now, spread to the tips of his ears and down his neck, and his dick is making a heroic endeavor to harden inside its confines. Hob is right there with him; if he were a younger man, he’d be ready to go again just from hearing those words. Dream so rarely calls him “sir,” and when he does it’s usually said with a sneer and a roll of his eyes. Not this time, though. This time he means it, and Hob clenches his jaw, choking back a swell of complicated emotions that threaten to burst from his mouth, probably in the form of a very embarrassing noise.

“Good lad,” Hob says gruffly, zipping Dream back into his jeans and helping him to his feet. He grasps him by the chin and steals one final, searing kiss before giving him a firm swat on the arse. “Off you go, then.”

Dream smiles at Hob over his shoulder on his way out the door. Not one of his snooty little smirks, but a real, genuine smile. Hob winks back at him, and once the door is closed and he’s finally alone, he buries his face in his hands and groans.

Yep, he’s absolutely fucked.

✨✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are appreciated! 💗

[menacinmasochist]

Ruki’s Pov:

I return back to the manor, printing out the photos then taping them onto the wall of photos I have of her in the secret room connected to my room. When I see her at school, she is always with the irritating Sakamaki brothers, and I remain stoic and cool, yet I do try to obtain her trust. Day by day I am getting closer and closer to bringing her here, once she sees this shrine I have dedicated to her, she'll never escape me. Plotting this for the past few months has been exhausting, admittedly but it will all be worth it when I get her in my clutches.

The next night, I noticed she was walking very slowly, she must be drained of her intoxicating blood, I "accidentally" bump into her. "Ah..Ruki..I'm so sorry." She apologized, that apology took all of her strength. "You're really okay with being reduced to livestock?" I asked her, sounding somewhat concerned in my tone, but this was all a part of my plan. "..I..I don't know how to answer that..'' she stammers around, unable to provide a solid answer. I place my hand on her cheek, cupping it gently. "If you come with me, I can guarantee you will not be reduced to that level.." I lied, of course. She still looked hesitant. "You know that I used to be a human right? I understand pain and suffering better than anyone, I wouldn't put you through that. " Another lie pours out my mouth. After a few more moments of convincing, I had her wrapped around finger and she came back to the manor with me. The plan was going along just right.

As soon as she came up, I offered her food or drink, as expected she said no and we went up to my room. Once we entered, there was no going back. I pushed her down onto the floor and locked the door, blocking off any chance of escape. “Ruki..??” She questioned, I chuckled slightly and opened the secret room with my shrine of her, she look mortified. “..these are all pictures of me..? And this doll- it looks just like me..” she quietly said to herself, shaking in fear. “Yes I’ve been admiring you for a long time” I tell her, coming closer to her but she backs away in fear, this offends me. “Ruki please ..this is scary” i laugh at this then pull her close to me, sliding my hand to her waist. “It’s not scary at all, I’ll show you proper loving, I’ll make you forget all the tainted misfortunate memories you’ve had with those Sakamaki turds.” I tell her, close to her ear. I pull her in for a deep kiss, her lips felt juicy she tried her best to suppress the pleasure she felt, I wasted no time and began touching her inappropriately. Sliding my hands under her clothing and cupping her breasts, I gently pressed deeply against her so so could feel how aroused I was getting.

I took her hand and placed it on my crotch. Using her hand to rub it, this won’t do. Her mouth would be better suited for this. I tugged down my pants a bit so that my part would plop out, she looked at me confused but I told her to get on her knees and relieve me, she hesitated at first but then she did, it felt sensational. This was Eve doing this to me, I can become Adam after all, I noticed her bopping her head up and down looking into my eyes, yes that face, I took out my phone and snapped a picture, I wanted this as a memory. I had to finally finish and I did, in her mouth but she did not swallow it she spit it out…

“That won’t do..lick it off the floor” I demanded. She looked disgusted. “Lick it off the floor or I’ll fuck you to death” I clarified, that must’ve triggered something in her because she did it, how disgusting, I laughed at this. This was just the beginning of all the things I was going to do to her body, she’s never escaping me.

[greyskyflowers]

Musings on a type of devil fruit that would work kind of like a curse

💭

The girl manages to touch skin on Sanji and say something along the lines of you'll ruin everything you touch.

Which sounds kind of ominous but nothing happens, so they put the incident and the island behind them. Chopper insists on looking him over but doesn't find anything, sniffling and rubbing at his nose the whole time.

But then Sanji messes up dinner for the first time in years. He's burned it somehow but he doesn't know what exactly he burned or how he missed it.

The others aren't upset, more worried as they keep sending him looks out of the corner of their eyes. He imagines he looks as anxious as he feels.

They write it off as a bad day and eat leftovers. And that would have been it, nothing other than just a bad day... But it happens again.

And again.

And again.

Until things keep getting worse and they finally put everything together.

Grey dust sticks to his suit and skin

All the food tastes burnt and smokey

Everywhere he goes he leaves a sooty hand prints and ashy footprints

He smells like smoke and dirt

Chopper can't be too close because his nose hurts from all the ash in the air.

Luffy goes a little wild eyed when the burning smell gets too strong.

Sanji tries not to let it bother him that they're all avoiding him. He understands they're worried about making him more upset somehow, he understands, but it doesn't help the emotional side of him that's angry and scared.

⚫️

Zoro, Brook, and Robin handle the situation the best.

Zoro eats whatever he's given with the same grunts as always, finishing everything and demanding more booze.

He's around more, not hovering but there in a way he usually isn't. He's stepping in where Luffy can't and they're all grateful for it. He doesn't budge, doesn't flinch, doesn't do anything besides be Zoro and it's so welcoming.

Sanji briefly remembers something about a muddy rice ball and his chest burns from something other than the fucking devil fruit.

Brook doesn't get irritated by the smell or taste - he doesn't have a nose after all yohohoho. It's also hard to feel too bad for yourself sitting next to a skeleton, and he's good company.

Robin is Robin. She smiles at him like nothing is different and she drinks her tea stonefaced, not even flinching at the burnt taste he knows is there. She finishes it and asks for another cup please Sanji.

⚫️

They go back and find the devil fruit user. She's young and scared, her eyes going big when she sees Sanji.

She hunches her shoulders when Nami starts yelling at her, her eyes getting bigger and wetter with each word.

She didn't know and they know that's the truth, which actually makes things more frustrating because they had hoped they'd be able to work out their anger on someone.

She immediately takes the curse back, a small black dot like a ink splatter appears on Sanji's skin where she originally touched him days ago. She sets her hand against the dot and it slides over her fingers and settles against her wrist before fading away.

She says sorry again, briefly saying something about still getting familiar with the devil fruit but they don't really care. They got what they wanted and they leave the island behind them.

⚫️

Luffy clings for a few days, like he's trying to make up for when he couldn't.

Sanji cooks and cooks and cooks. They have a feast and his face hurts from smiling so much.

The others disperse after eating, leaving Sanji alone to reflect.

Zoro doesn't linger in the kitchen with the excuse of wanting more booze, Robin doesn't ask for tea before going to settle down and read, and Brook has been dragged off by Luffy.

It's quiet.

The kitchen smells like food, not smoke. There's no ash on the floor or soot on the counters. His clothes are clean and he can smell only himself when he takes a sniff.

He cleans up, his mind going through everything as he brews some tea.

Robin smiles when he delivers the cup of tea and she takes a sip with a pleased hum.

He ends up sitting down with Luffy and listening to Brook play for a little while, the breeze carrying the notes out over the water. He eventually gets up and heads back to the kitchen.

He happens to pass Zoro napping and tosses a bottle onto his lap, ignoring the lazy grey eye that he knows opens to look at him as he walks back to the kitchen.

[lavenderarts]

Revamp: Monthly Subs and Reward Art!

Hi everyone! After a long hiatus on this due to inconsistent health, I'm back and feeling better than ever, and I'd like to re-institute my monthly subscription service for art rewards. These will be active on my Ko-fi starting on August 1st! Read on to hear about the changes from my old system and details of what you'll get for subscribing, but if you don't care about any of that and just want to see the rewards page, here it is:

Please share this and consider tossing a couple bucks a month my way to help me support myself and my dog! Details below the cut!

So last time I was offering art rewards, it gradually became unsustainable for a number of reasons, chief among them the fact that I was basically offering severely discounted full commissions of all styles, and it was exhausting to fulfill in addition to regular commission work. I just couldn't keep up and got overwhelmed. So to help prevent that this time around, here are the changes I'm implementing:

I'll have a single reward type: single character busts! These are easy to crank out in an hour or less, so I can keep up with demand better. I'll reserve the right to decide between lined/lineless flats and papercrafts as I see fit to keep them interesting and fun for me, but if it's your birthday month or your yearly sub anniversary, you can choose the style and get a little something extra! For examples of what a bust looks like, please check out my recent ArtFight submissions :)

I'm going to do my level best to institute a hard 3-week turnaround rate for all regular commissions, and save the final week of each month for giving these rewards full priority along with onboarding new batches of clients for the following month's commissions.

I'm moving my subscription service over to Ko-fi, where anyone can give between $2-9 a month as a very generous tip and get access to my Discord server, or give $10+ for monthly bust rewards, early access to adoptables, and more! You can choose to give more than $10, but no other rewards exist for higher tier subs, it's up to whatever you feel is appropriate! Ko-fi has both Stripe and PayPal integration, which should be easier on the subscriber end, and it allows me to use PostyBirb to post across multiple sites at once, which makes it much easier to post early-access WIPs and finished work than it was on my old subscription service. It also automatically handles Discord onboarding and role assignment, yay!

I'm on the hunt for a simple Discord bot that can post a single repeating message on the first of every month with a link to a Google form for everyone to submit their requests, so that I don't have to ask for them manually. (If anyone knows of such a bot or is capable of making one, please get in touch!)

Previously I offered a whole suite of other rewards in addition to the monthly art -- things like subscriber-only request streams, early claims on adoptables, and even physical merch, which were not sustainable for me. Going forward, early adoptable claims for a discount will still be available as a reward, and I may occasionally do request streams, but on a less formally-scheduled basis and only as I have the free time to do so. I am not able to offer physical prints/stickers at this time; I might revisit the option in the future, but I need to know more before I try it again! I'll also be continuing to offer a subscriber discount on all commissions that will stack with other sales and discounts, along with the ability to skip the waitlist and jump directly into the work queue.

So to recap, if you subscribe to me, here's everything you get:

For $2-$9 USD: Discord server access with a special role, and my thanks for your generous support!

For $10+ USD: Discord server access with a special role, 24 hour early adoptable access with the ability to claim for a discounted price, a bust of a single character each month, first looks at finished artwork and WIPs/timelapses, commission discounts, and potentially more down the line.

My Discord is open to anyone, and all members can freely chat, post art, attend/host art streams, and answer polls regarding prompts for adoptable designs and more. You just get some nice bonuses for subscribing! While these subscription tiers are available, one-time tips and donations of any amount are still an option for commission clients or anyone else who just wants to show some love.

I hope this all makes sense and sounds enticing; I really love seeing people's OCs and getting to bring them to life and put my own little touch on them, and I'm very excited to start giving something back to all of you out there whose support means so very much to me, and without whom I could never do what I do. Thank you so much for checking out the Ko-fi! As a reminder, reward eligibility begins on August 1st! The tiers are active on Ko-fi now, but if you subscribe before August you won't be rewarded for the month of July, so keep that in mind.

[wednesdayismyfunday]

IT support

Summary : Henry found y/n trying to print something and her computer isn’t working . Henry is more then happy to help.

Pairing : henry cavil x yn

Warnings : fluff . Smut . Bad jokes .

Henry was always much better at computers then Y/n . But she was determined to do this herself . She was booking a holiday away for their anniversary and the stupid computer wasn’t printing and kept freezing .

“ I’m pressing print ! I’m literally clicking you stupid f-“ beep beep . “ Why are you beeping ? What the hell , stop beeping.” Y/n stood up and threw her hand in the air. She knelt down to go under the desk to figure out if something wasn’t connected.

“ This stupid machine .” Y/n didn’t notice that Henry was watching the entire thing . He was leaning against the door admiring her ass while she looked at the plugs . Y/n tried to stand up and hit her head on the desk then pulled some plugs out on there way out. She had tangled herself with plugs and was on the verge of a mental break down . Henry bent down to get a better look at yn .

“ Hello darling , need some assistance.” Henry said smiling at y/n .

Y/n huffed and looked up at Henry. She felt so defeated .

“ I’m trying to print something.” Y/n sighed.

“ Do you need help?” Henry asked.

“ It was supposed to be a surprise .” Y/n whispered .

“ How about this . You get out from under the table. I’ll sort out the computer. Then when we print out whatever you want to print , I will act surprised.” Henry smiled.

“My Hero.” Y/n forced a smile. She felt like she couldn’t do anything right. Henry could sense she was upset so he concocted a plan.

“ I am gonna need a favour from you though.” Henry said as he began working on the computer .

“ Sure. What is it?” Y/n said.

“ Can you check in the top drawer for the manual and then read out section 13 to me .” Henry asked . He stood up and noticed there was something wrong with main board. He knew exactly how to fix it without the manual but this way he could get y/n to watch and learn . They started working . Y/n handing Henry small tools and watching him work . It didn’t take long before he had fixed the computer and the printer started printing . In fact it wouldn’t stop printing.

“ My darling how many did you print.” Henry laughed .

“ I honestly have no idea.” Y/n laughed as she tried to stop them from printing . It took a few minutes but she cancelled all the other prints. Henry watched again in amusement when she screamed in excitement . Y/n stood up and smiled at Henry . She walked up to him and jumped up. Henry effortlessly lifted her up so he was carrying her. Y/n kissed Henry while smiling . Henry could feel her smile.

“ Are you gonna tell me the surprise?” Henry asked breaking the kiss.

“ I booked a villa in Italy for us . Very remote”-kiss- “private pool”- kiss- “ for our anniversary”. Yn said. Henry laughed .

“ We should really stop surprising each other . I booked suite in Paris .”kiss-“ Penthouse” -kiss- “ best view of Paris” - kiss-“ private hot tub” Henry moved yn to there bedroom . Y/n smiled as Henry lay her on their bed.

“ I know . I saw the booking. I booked for after that. “Yn smiled cheekily . Henry laughed, he should have known. They were awful at secret keeping . The kisses became hungrier and more urgent . Henry lay half on top of yn and put his hand on her hip. Gently digging his hand as the kiss became more passionate. Y/n moaned in Henry’s mouth . Henry moved his hand up to Y/n just below her bra strap. Y/n put one hand on his chest and the other in his hair . Tugging and digging to earn groans from Henry.

“Put your hands above your head.” Henry demanded. Y/n put her hands above her head.

“Good girl.” Henry said. He pulled down her pants leaving her in her underwear and used the pants to tie her hands. Y/n squirmed underneath Henry. Henry realised he hadn’t taken her top off yet and tied her hands up to quickly.

“My darling , how much do you like this shirt.” Henry said as his hand gripped the hem of her shirt. His thumb touching just above her underwear.

“I would like it more if it was on the floor.” Y/n whispered suggestively. This wasn’t the first time Henry got ahead of himself. Henry smiled and started ripping the bottom of the shirt . He ripped the front of the shirt and the sleeves to free y/n of her top. Y/n now in a bra and underwear.

“ Henry darling , you can’t rip the bra. It’s gonna have to stay on. Next time you need to be more patient.” Y/n laughed. Henry grunted in response . Henry took off all his clothes painfully slow . Y/n’s whole body felt like it was on fire. She could easily get out of the hold she is in but last time she did that Henry didn’t let her finish. She knows better now.

“ Henry please .” Y/n begged . Henry smirked and left the room. Y/n sighed and looked at the ceiling . A few moments later Henry was back in the room with a stack of papers.

“ Henry ? What is that?” Y/n asked.

“ Well these are all the things you printed. Let’s read them .” Henry sat down infront of yn and read the itinerary. He turned the pages and kept reading .

“ Henry it’s only two pages long , why are you reading all of them.” Y/n asked.

“ Well I don’t want to waste it. So I’m reading every single one of them.” Henry laughed.

“ Oh my gosh Henry please there’s like 30 pages.” Y/n groaned . Henry smiled but kept his eyes on the pages . Y/n started clenching her thighs together . Needing some relief . Then an idea popped into her head . Something she knew Henry could never ignore.

“ Henry, if you don’t come here now I will take matter into my own hands.” Y/n said. Henry knew what she was doing , he flinched but didn’t look up. Y/n got up hands till tied up on this time it was infront of her . She moved towards Henry , who still hadn’t looked up. Y/n put her tied up hands over his head and around his neck and sat on his lap.

“ You keep reading Henry.” Y/n whispered. Y/n positioned her self so she was riding one of his thighs. He was trying to ignore the moans. He could tell she was getting close. He threw the paper on the floor and grabbed y/n’s ass. He forced her to stop. He place her on his lap and moved her underwear to the side. He positioned himself inside of her and began thrusting. It was rough and animalistic. It was desperate. At some point they had moved to the bed. Henry had gone from hungry to loving . They went into waves of pleasure for hours. Both trying to prove to each how much love they had .

“ My dear y/n , why did you choose Italy.” Henry asked while holding Y/n.

“ The pasta .” Y/n responded . Henry laughed and kissed y/n in the forehead .

“ Ask me why I chose France.” Henry said .

“ Why did you choose France?” Y/n asked.

“ The pastry.” Henry asked. Both burst into laughter .

“ I could go anywhere with you , aslong as there is food.” Y/n whispered .

“ So a stranded island with no food is a definite no.” Henry asked.

“ Sorry I don’t love you enough. I need the food” Y/n laughed .

“ Don’t worry , I’ll find you something good to eat.” Henry winked . Y/n laughed and hit him in the shoulder.

“ Henry .” Y/n said while sitting up.

“ Yes”. He replied sceptically.

“ I can hear the printer again.” Y/n said motioning towards the door .

“ How many did you print?” Henry laughed.

“ I honestly have no idea.” Y/n smiled

[therealslimshakespeare]

| Upcoming: Dear John Sneak Peak

Paris, April 1945 💌

…

Julie watched Marge as she watched Gale at his bath and she wondered if this is what it was like in fairytales when the gates of the kingdom are thrown open, everything wanted and wished for is there. The protagonists never know what to do with a dream come true: do you eat it? Fondle, crush, preserve it in a glass case? Such a cruel kindness, dreams come true; Marge’s twitching fingers and gasping lips suggested a torture going on inside her, heavy lidded love and belly hot want.

Julie swore to herself then, she’d feel it too. Soon, she’d be watching the man who owned the jacket as he showed her himself, just as he’d written his heart out for her eyes alone, one day soon he’d be naked and hers and she could watch him and do what people do with dreams.

Perhaps feeling vindictive for being ignored, or perhaps merely thirsty, Spangles suddenly made a series of determined little hops across the suite floor, threaded the blockade of the girls’ feet with ease and, perhaps seeing his chance, nudged open the crack of the bathroom door only to bounce along the marble floor in a cacophonous clatter of little paws that even Gale could hear over the faucet’s roar. Like a slippery fish, he skidded to his side along the bottom of the wide tub, a pink bath warmed hand clutching at the edge and hauling his sopping golden head above the lip to observe his long eared visitor -and the guilty little audience of girls in their night clothes at the threshold.

The look he leveled Marge made Julie’s toes tingle and second guess how chaste these two’s reportedly tame trysts pre-war had really been. “We merely wanted to make sure you didn’t-“ Marge clasped and unclasped her hands, “-drown.” it was a deflated little excuse by the time she got it out.

Spangles had begun to sneeze, ever sensitive to steam and Yardley’s lavender soap, his poor little legs skidding apart further and further on the damp floor. Gale bit his lip from laughing at the cute little creature’s plight.

“Oh laa!” Julie gave up all pretense and entered to save him -the bunny, that is- causing Gale to flail a little harder as if there was a deeper level to the bottom of his tub where he could take refuge. “Add in the bubbles, Major,” Julie always had a remedy, “it’ll hide everything nicely. Don’t ruin poor Marge’s first evening with you by being a prude, she misses you. It’s been years, you know.”

They spent much of that evening in the following way, Gale in his topped off frothy tub, Marge with a mostly useless cloth beside him on the ledge, and Julie primly sat with Spangles in her lap on the closed toilet seat.

“Bucky’s confirmed as best man.” He told Marge, sheepish grin breaking out until both girls laughed at the thought of the boys indulging in their own wedding planning.

He tells them about the radio he built, about the first time they heard her broadcasts, of the photo she’d sent which Bucky and him divided in half each keeping their girl in their pocket, about Brady and the liturgy of devotion he made up for Egan to recite to Julie’s printed picture on the combine wall. The particulars were left out, Gale being a gentleman to the last, but Julie glowed and wept under the obtuse assurance anyway.

“I trust you kept him warm.” Julie demands, “Seeing as how it’s your fault he didn’t take his jacket.”

Gale tells her of Egan’s presumptuous bunk sharing, how strange things were happening every day and that grew to be commonplace. At her inquiring look he only blushes and stares down at the water, the bruise on his throat blooming under the flush, and for once Julie thinks she knows Gale Cleven better than his Marge.

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

Shopping Spree With Dio (Dio Brando x Self Insert Fanfic) JJBA—but make it at a Mall in California.

“You’ve worn that outfit twice this week.” Dio pointed out as I got dressed for the day. He swirled his drink in his wine glass as he observed me from the armchair by my closet.

“I washed it in between though. Is that… not good?” I asked.

“Not good? Tsk tsk. I can’t have you looking like I don’t spoil you rotten, my sweet girl.” Dio scoffed.

“Dio, you already got me all that jewelry from the museum. Most of it wasn’t even from the gift shop. I doubt people think I’m deprived living with a stingy boyfriend.”

“Josephine de Beauharnais had immaculate taste in white sapphire and ruby jewelry. I think you’ll find those pieces will suit you well.” Dio smirked.

“Shameless.” I said playfully. “I do admit I like her tiara.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied, getting up and standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders.

“It’s a shame I have nothing to go with it for the party tomorrow night.” I sighed, leaning back into Dio a bit so I could feel the comfort of his body pressed up against mine.

“That’s it. We are going out. Where is the nearest clothing boutique?” Dio demanded.

I laughed. “The mall? It’s ten minutes away.” Dio was already dragging me out the door and pushing me firmly into the passenger seat of his sports car. I braced myself, knowing full well Dio Brando only drove one way: fast. It wasn’t road rage. My man just had no patience for red lights.

He blasted Children of the Grave by Black Sabbath through the car speakers as we drove through several red lights and a grassy park. I shouted directions at him, only somewhat calm because… well… if we crashed I had a feeling he’d find a way to revive me.

We arrived in half the drive time in front of the mall. He even slowed the car enough to make parking on the sidewalk less abrupt. I sighed, disoriented.

“I’m a bit dizzy, Dio-sama.” I said, clutching my head.

He nodded sympathetically, getting out of the car and unbuckling me. He scooped me up and carried me through the entrance to the Mall. I leaned my head against his shoulder, enjoying how easily he lifted me. I wasn’t used to getting this treatment without complaints from my date as a plus-sized girl, but Dio wasn’t exactly your average boyfriend. I could feel his biceps taught with strength.

If Dio noticed the strange looks we were getting, he didn’t show it. I mean, towering god-like radiant vampire in gold and leather takes normal looking human girl shopping. I blushed with a sense of pride, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world to have a boyfriend so shamelessly into me.

He stopped in front of Forever 21, setting me back on my feet now that I felt better. “Let’s try this shop first.”

“Ok!” I replied, eyeing a pretty burgundy dress i saw on one of the racks as we entered.

I sorted through the sizes, finding their largest size. I held it up to my body. But I couldn’t be sure it would fit me right without trying it on. Dio watched me intently, occasionally commenting on which color crop top he thought would look best with my eyes.

I loved his input. Dio was never wrong when it came to fashion advice. And he also liked that I had my personal preferences.

I went into the dressing room to try on the clothes we had selected. It was only a matter of minutes before I heard Dio’s voice outside the door.

“Mind if I join?” He asked, the smooth timbre of his voice instantly identifiable to me. I sighed, not bothering to ask how he got past the employees. Opening the dressing room door, he stepped inside. After trying on several dresses I soon realized that their largest size didn’t fit me. I frowned, frustrated and on the verge of tears as I tried to zip up the leopard print dress I had selected. It was the final piece of clothing I had left to try. Tears streamed down my round cheeks as I gave up on zipping up the dress.

Dio noticed immediately and pinned me up against the dressing room wall. His gaze was intense and he was inches from my face. “They don’t have your size?” He asked.

I nodded, turning red with embarrassment.

“What a shame.”

“I guess I just wish it was easier to find clothes…. Am I really that overweight?”

Dio’s eyes blazed amber red, narrowing as he realized what I was saying. “You’re goddess shaped. Stop crying and start making out with me.” He commanded.

My eyes widened, initially shocked by hearing him say such a high compliment. Then, remembering his demands, i closed me eyes, savoring the feeling of his sinfully delicious lips kissing my neck. I tore at his shirt and he ripped off the dress that was too small for me with ease. Making out this time felt more real, my doubts about my own body’s worthiness fading away as Dio caressed it, grinding up against me with ravenous sexuality.

“Ohhhhh god… yes!” I cried, as he knelt, licking my nipples and digging his long nails into my thighs. Dio paused, grinning at my obvious excitement.

Only then did I realize there was rapid knocking on the door of the dressing room. “What’s going on in there?!” An employees voice said sternly.

Dio looked annoyed, and glanced at me with a silent question of whether or not he should dispose of this nuisance. I shook my head vigorously. He sighed, looking mildly disappointed that he couldn’t crush their skull with his hands.

“This is a clothing shop, not a place for prostitution.” The employee continued.

I frowned, grabbing my clothes I had arrived in and getting dressed reluctantly. Once I was fully dressed, Dio opened the door, coming face to face with a very cross man.

“Are you calling my woman a whore?” He said, arching an eyebrow.

Upon seeing Lord Dio, the man backed away nervously. “I uhhh. I wasn’t really— I didn’t mean.”

Dio shot me another glance before I gave him the “go-ahead” shrug.

One swift kick in the groin and the employee went down, doubling over and coughing up blood. Dio picked me up bridal style again, stepping over the wheezing man, and carrying me out into the main rooms in Forever 21.

Lord Dio marched up to the checkout and placed me on the counter in front of the cashier woman. “Provide suitable clothes that fit this girl or meet an unpleasant end!” He demanded.

The woman looked at me, then at Dio, then back at me. “Let me go talk to my manager… uhhh… just wait here.” She said, frowning.

After ten minutes of waiting, I could tell Dio was growing impatient. I distracted him for another ten minutes (yes, my tits were involved). But when the clock hit the 1:00pm. mark, Dio Brando had waited long enough, and saw through to his promise. Hell hath no fury like my boyfriend.

If we got weird looks going into Forever 21, leaving it in shambles full of zombies got us a different kind of reaction. I didn’t mind. I may not have gotten the dress I wanted in my size, but I had lost a part of me that was always questioning whether Dio saw me as unworthy because of my plump features. He saw me as beautiful, and worthy, in ways I had never seen myself. That’s when I knew I’d never leave his side.

Thanks for reading! Reblog if you enjoyed this very self indulgent fic!

Tagging: @chaos-4baby for encouraging me!

[n1ghtcrwler]

So I have decided to take Tall Tales back to the drawing board a bit. This will involve pulling it from publication and giving the series an overhaul.

There are a number of reasons for this, but most of them revolve around the fact that the books were an afterthought. Tall Tales is an easy name to summarize and work into the url of a webserial, but it's garbage for making books findable on stores like Amazon. The structure of the books is just repackaging the content of the webserial (with rounds of edits applied) into a printable form, without having stopped to ask if that was the best way to actually translate the story to book form. There was no marketing; I was pushing the website, and the books were just a way to make a few bucks and direct people to the website. But when I dropped the webserial aspect of the project, none of it made sense anymore.

So, at the end of the year, I'll be pulling Tall Tales from Amazon. The existing copies I already have in my possession will be available for sale on my website, but anything not printed by the end of 2024 will not get printed. I am going to take the stories in the meantime and completely revisit the format, plan a proper launch, and write whatever new content is needed to suit the new format. During this time, I will work out proper book launch plans and develop a new name for the series.

There are a lot of details to work out yet, but I do know that one change will be the way things are organized. For instance, the blog following Benedict de Monte is, on the website, listed as the files from a trial that was planned to actually happen in Volume Four, but this isn't very clear in the current format of the books. I'm planning to pull those out of the current layout and make them their own book(s), in which the trial itself is happening and gives an overt framework in which those stories are brought up and those documents considered. Jackie's blog was intended to be a study of the nature of magic, but the demands of the webserial schedule made it much more narrative; I think maybe I'll write her notes as a standalone work within the world. The narrative around the Alethea plotline will be largely intact, though I may revisit some of the way it's told, but putting it into a more focused book will require some new content (which is good, because I think Volume One relies too heavily on time skips to keep the book a reasonable length, which will not be an issue when the Benedict-focused stuff is pulled out). I will probably keep the epistolary format for at least portions of the books.

Overall, I think the story will benefit from this new approach, even though it feels weird to start over when some books are already published. But the books deserve to be treated as their own project, and this is the best way to do that.

The content on the website will remain available, though I am considering moving it to the Rabid Haberdashery website and closing down the Tall Tales one.

[maniabits]

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[silversiren1101]

👕💕

Agria! Yes of course! It would be an honor, my lady. Mino is picking this out for you for an ice cream and carnival date! Try not to get too competitive at the carnival games, you hear? She can’t control herself that well, either.

(Both ladies walking away with oversized stuffed animals and some very angry carnies wondering how their rigged games were bested by the most stubborn women ever)

Top: Reminiscent of your signature look but light and airy! Much more breathable and suited to the hot sun of Cheliax than blisteringly cold Sarkoris. Tied front and cropped for hot girl summer, which will go perfectly with your...

Bottoms: High-waisted sunshine yellow shorts! The blue floral pattern on them works with the floral print of your top and calls back to that azata blue, and is too ridiculously cute! I'm a big fan of the white inside, as it really gives a great 'bookends' feel with your white top when they're rolled up! Wider flail on the legs is cute and playful, and will keep you cooler all day long.

Shoes: Hightops with the high waisted look, absolutely. These are a nice cream color with a cute floral design and butterflies!

Hair/Hat: Agria, with hair like that it'd be a shame to cover it in anyway, but the sun is a demanding tyrant. Try this denim and leather ballcap! The faded colors will work with your outfit and it's cute as all hell! Plus, it's a blank canvas perfect for some customization. Pins? Patches?

Other Accessories: A labradorite cuff with a striking blue butterfly on it - a reminder of Elysium. Just the single, chunky accessory I think will do wonders with this outfit - after all, wouldn't want to take away too much attention from your gorgeous red hair. The blue will contrast perfectly with it.