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eightmakesonebraincell · 9 months

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ateez as mafia boyfriends (christmas special)

genre: mafia!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, brainrot and smutfest of mafia x christmas tropes

length: 13.8k

c/w: nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), graphic depictions of death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (murder, abduction, corruption), pet names (kitten, babe, baby, love, sweetheart)

a/n: this one’s for yumi (@sorryimananti-romantic), mafia anon and everyone who’s sent in an ask about mafia!ateez before 🫶 loosely based on aammwffy but this is still a standalone fic not part two thank you for coming to my ted talk 😙✌️ merry christmas y'all

hongjoong

the stocking in your hand jerks when you suddenly feel it

it’s a black stocking that hongjoong has made for wooyoung from out of a spare shirt

there are already several other hand-made stockings hanging on nails that he has hammered into the wall of the warehouse

and this whole ‘ateez’s mob boss couple decorates the gang’s old warehouse for christmas’ shenanigan would have been cute and wholesome…

if not for the vibrator that is currently pulsing inside your throbbing pussy

“why’d you stop, kitten?” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from behind your shoulder, knowing very well the reason why is currently in the pocket of his black slacks

when you struggle to answer, he snakes the hand that isn’t toying with the remote around your waist to the front of your pants

“hmm? what’s wrong?” he asks teasingly

your knees buckle when he suddenly cups your core, pressing the vibrator further into you as he switches it to a higher setting

gripping onto his forearm to ground yourself, you’re unable to stop yourself from moaning at the feeling of his muscles rippling underneath your fingertips while he grinds his hand against you

but as soon as you feel your high approaching, it is ripped away from you

hongjoong switches the vibrator off and removes his hand

you are close to cursing him out, but the way that you can feel the hardened front of his slacks chase after your ass for friction whenever you move away even the slightest has you confident that it will not be long until he is cracking

until he begs for you

letting out a shaky exhale, you hang the stocking still in your grip next to mingi’s one; a dark, navy blue that used to be a fluffy towel, now repurposed for christmas

hongjoong passes you the last stocking but you let it drop to the ground

“oops,” you drawl coquettishly

you bend over to pick up jongho’s stocking, slowly and deliberately brushing up against hongjoong’s cock with the curve of your ass

you smirk when the friction draws out a guttural groan from his chest

a hand comes to rest just below your waist, “you’re playing with fire right now, kitten”

“looks like we need a little…water to put it out, then,” you press back against him once more

he snaps

it’s not long before the tip of his swollen cock is pressing against your entrance, his slacks still bunched around his thighs in his hurry to fuck you

he pulls out the vibrator and he shushes your whines at the feeling of emptiness by thrusting three fingers right into you

“fuck, kitten,” he mouths the side of your neck, “you’re already stretched out and ready for my cock”

your mind goes fuzzy at his words and hongjoong smirks in satisfaction

sliding his fingers from out of you, he lines the tip of his cock between your legs-

you both freeze when a loud clang resonates throughout the warehouse, like someone has hit the outer steel walls

hard.

“kim hongjoong!” an unfamiliar voice yells with fury from outside

another clang, this time closer towards the entrance

there’s not much holding the warehouse doors closed; you two weren’t exactly expecting hostile visitors

“you think we can get a round in before they make it through the doors?” hongjoong asks

“if you can cum in the next ten seconds, sure”

a colourful string of curses leaves his mouth before he pulls out of you and fixes his slacks - with difficulty, you must say - while you adjust your own clothes

just in time for the warehouse doors to fling open

“you killed my fucking brother, you motherfucking bastard!”

“who are you again?” hongjoong leans back to rest against the edge of the table while he watches you pick up jongho’s long-forgotten stocking on the floor. “you’ll have to remind me.”

numerous men stride in towards the far end of the warehouse where you two are - were - hanging up the stockings

you look away with disinterest; it’s nothing you and hongjoong can’t take care of

“kyungseok,” the man grits out, jaw clenching with irritation when neither of you show any signs of recognition. “you killed my brother, kyungtae. leader of the bluebirds.”

at his last word, it finally clicks

“ah,” hongjoong cracks his knuckles and stretches his neck lazily, “the one who thought they could touch my kitten and get away with it”

meanwhile, you step back after hanging the last stocking on the wall, admiring the row of decorations

you direct your question at the man behind you, “what do you think, kyungtaek?”

“it’s kyungseok,” he snarls

you wave dismissively, pressing a kiss against hongjoong’s jaw as you praise, “these look wonderful, babe”

you hear kyungseok yell out at his lackeys followed by a flurry of movement

hongjoong sighs, sneaks a kiss in, and then gently steps the both of you to the side out of the path of an incoming kick

“if we make this quick, maybe i can finish fucking you before seonghwa and the others get here,” he winks

then you two move

in quick succession, you use the momentum of their thrown punches to yank two men over your shoulder, one after the other

the wind is knocked out of them and you aim a sharp blow to their necks to render them unconscious

realising that close combat may not be the best idea, another bluebird member brandishes a knife to gain the upper hand

“weapons? that’s not very fair,” you purr

you lunge forward before you have even finished your sentence, catching him off guard and grabbing hold of his arm

twisting his wrist backwards, he shouts in pain as his grip on the knife loosens and it clatters to the floor

“oh dear,” you mock, your hands twisting up to curl around his throat

vaguely, you register hongjoong yell out your name

“duck!”

you barely have time to crouch, your hand yanking down the man with you from where your fingers are still wrapped around his throat, before a burly male is tossed right over your body and sent careening into the table nearby

you watch in dismay as cookies scatter onto the floor, wood splintering with a loud crack

“fuck you, hongjoong, i spent ages arranging them onto the plates”

he has the audacity to smirk in apology while he wraps his arms around the neck of another man and twists, forearms flexing as the bone gives way with a sickening snap, “sorry, kitten”

the man whose throat you have been squeezing is now limp and he sags to the floor

he’s too heavy for you to throw at hongjoong, so you settle for picking up the knife you disarmed and fling it at your boyfriend

“duck,” you tease

hongjoong rolls his eyes and drops his body towards the ground, your knife hurtling past the empty space where his forehead was just milliseconds ago, before it hits its mark and makes itself home in the chest of a man who has been sneaking up from behind

moving in tandem, hongjoong extends his leg and sweeps it along the ground to knock the thug off his feet

the man’s arms fling backwards as his weight crashes towards the ground, colliding into the christmas tree you had decorated earlier and taking it down with him

you pinch the bridge of your nose as the ornaments shatter

“oops?” hongjoong shrugs his shoulders noncommittally

stepping over the lifeless bodies scattered by your feet, you move away a little to pull out your phone

most of the bluebird gang has already been taken out; hongjoong can handle the rest himself

“hey, seonghwa and i are nearly there,” yunho’s voice sounds over the receiver

“oh,” you hum contemplatively, “is anyone else still on their way?”

“probably wooyoung. you know him, he’s always late,” he chuckles into the phone, “why?”

“can you see if he can buy some new ornaments? and pick up some fresh cookies while he’s at it”

there’s a yell and a loud thud as a body rolls to a stop just a few feet away from you

“what was that?” yunho startles

hongjoong has picked up the fallen christmas tree and is currently swinging it around like a crazed batter

“just hongjoong having some fun”

when you hang up, you are just in time to hear the loud thwunk as the tree connects with kyungseok’s temple

you’re not sure whether the splinter you hear is a result of the trunk or his skull cracking

the last bluebird member drops down dead, blood pooling out from under him

hongjoong scoffs, “merry fucking christmas”

and for good measure, hongjoong shoves an intact bauble into the man’s mouth

it’s finally silent

“now,” he turns to you, “where were we before we were…interrupted”

at hongjoong’s predatory gaze, you feel the arousal from before washing over you

he approaches you leisurely as he uncuffs his sleeves to roll them up, loosening the top buttons of his shirt, all the while undressing you with his lustful eyes

you drink up his appearance, eyes raking over his exposed chest that shines with a sheen layer of sweat

he’s in front of you now

“looks like i’ll have to prepare you again, kitten”

his fingers start to slip under the waistband of your panties when-

“heard you fucktards knocked over the cookies!”

his voice echoes throughout the warehouse before he even steps foot into the warehouse

wooyoung is fucking early.

you’re quite positive hongjoong is about to deck him through the roof

“wow,” wooyoung lets out a low whistle as he walks in to survey the scene, eyes scanning wildly over the splattered blood and mutilated bodies across the floor with an expression that appears mostly impressed

hongjoong’s clenched fists are white

uncaring of his leader’s lack of response, wooyoung continues, “when you told us the dress code was red, i didn’t think you meant this kind of red”

he approaches you two to squat down beside kyungseok’s body and taps the bauble in his mouth with interest, “rad decorations”

you watch in amusement as hongjoong’s last string snaps

“wooyoung,” he says evenly

it goes in one ear and out the other

wooyoung looks around as he asks, “can i tie him up with tinsel before the others get here?”

“jung wooyoung”

said man finally blanches

good thing too

because you don’t think hongjoong is joking when he says,

“if you don’t get the fuck out right now, you are going to become part of the decorations.”

seonghwa

“remember, as soon as i leave-”

“i need to lock the door,” you finish seonghwa’s sentence cheekily

he chuckles as he shakes his head fondly, “and if you feel like anything is off-”

“call you or hongjoong straight away,” you mimic, emphasising the last two words with the same seriousness he nags you with all the time

despite your words, your heart flutters shyly at seonghwa’s neverending protectiveness and worry for you

with his line of work, it isn’t easy for him to leave your side, much less leave you alone in the apartment

he understands though

it’s only been a few months since he found you; barely a shell of the curious, energetic and endearing person that you are now

under his careful nurturing, you have flourished and learnt to love and trust again

it doesn’t mean that you are quite ready to leave the apartment just yet for something other than a quick grocery run or walk in the park with seonghwa at your side

but it’s okay - baby steps

“i’ll be back at 6 and then we can cook dinner together,” he kisses your temple sweetly, “see you later, love”

you watch as he lingers outside the door, feet always ever so reluctant to leave

he motions for you to close the door and you know he won’t leave until he sees that you have closed and locked it

so with a final wave, you shut the door, turn the lock and then press your ear right up against the wood

he thinks you don’t know that he does it, and you won’t admit to it in fear that he will stop out of embarrassment

but you hear him whisper love you before his footsteps recede down the corridor

you have most of the day to yourself until seonghwa comes back

he had said that hongjoong was giving the gang christmas night off, a pleasant and welcome change from all the nights you fight the sleep tugging at your eyelids as you wait curled up on the sofa for seonghwa to come home

you occupy your day with little odd jobs here and there around the house, like washing the dishes and doing the laundry and cleaning the bedroom

he always tells you off because he wants to be the one doing them for you, but the small exasperated smile that he gives you every time barely conceals his underlying fondness

and then when you have exhausted the chores, you pull out a pencil and some paper and start drawing out ideas for a gingerbread house

because seonghwa had promised to make one with you later tonight once he discovered you had never tried it before

you cannot contain your excitement as the clock finally ticks to six

your little sketches lay abandoned across the coffee table as you start to pace the living room skittishly, ears perking up whenever you hear noise outside

half an hour passes just like that but there’s still no sign of seonghwa

that’s okay, you tell yourself

you understand that he doesn’t have a normal office job where he can just clock out and walk away as he wishes

sending him a quick text asking if he is on his way home, you busy yourself with lining up all the utensils on the kitchen counter perfectly parallel, just the way he likes it

the chopsticks

the spatula

the knife

the cooking board

again.

the chopsticks

the spatula

the knife

the cooking board

you glance up at the clock

it’s seven

you tap on your phone to bring the screen to life

no notifications

you try to quell the growing panic inside of you

but you cannot ignore the fact that seonghwa would usually send you a quick message when he is held up by something, especially on a day where he has clearly told you when to expect him home

what if something went wrong?

what if he is hurt?

what if he is missing?

what if he is…dying?

you take a shuddering breath as you pick up your phone again with shaking fingers

7:24 PM

the glare of your screen seems too bright all of a sudden

you press on the first contact of your speed dial, seonghwa’s name popping up, decorated with a little heart that he added himself when he first entered his number into your new phone

the call rings and rings and rings

“the person you have called is not available, please leave a short message after the tone-”

your chest heaves to force oxygen into your lungs

you haven’t had a real reason to contact him yet, not with seonghwa personally keeping you in the loop

but you don’t hesitate to press the second contact on your speed dial

hongjoong greets you with a little surprise, obviously not having expected a call from you, “hey, is everything alright?”

you fight to keep the panic out of your voice as you ask him, “is hwa still there?”

there’s some rustling in the background

“hwa? no, he left almost two hours ago”

your stomach lurches dangerously

you don’t realise you’ve let out a soft whimper until hongjoong is repeating your name over and over again into the phone

“take a breath for me,” he soothes, “what’s wrong?”

“he said he’d be back by six,” your eyes start to well with the tears you’ve been suppressing. “he’s still not home”

hongjoong curses, calling out for the others still at base

then his voice filters through the speakers again, “we’re going to look into this, okay? everything’s going to be fine. you’ve done a good job letting me know”

with reassurances and words of comfort, a promise to call you back in a couple of minutes, hongjoong hangs up the call

yeosang and jongho sidle up to hongjoong on high alert, having heard the end of the conversation

“seonghwa’s missing,” hongjoong grits out, already trying to track down the other’s phone location

san appears in the doorway to the room looking grim

he holds up seonghwa’s phone in his hand, “he forgot to take it with him”

hongjoong curses lowly, “park fucking seonghwa. i swear if he isn’t already dead by now, he will be when i find him”

he tells yunho to hold down the fort at base while he, yeosang and wooyoung trace the route to the apartment you now share with seonghwa

you are unsure how long it will be until hongjoong calls you again

what you do know is that you’re not going to sit around idly while seonghwa could very well be in danger

your mind flashes back to all those times you both stand in the expanse of his living room, coffee table pushed to one side, as he gives you what he coins the ultimate self-hwafense class

he demonstrates and talks you through both defensive and offensive stances and how you can use your size and agility to your advantage

sometimes, he hates that he has to even teach you how to protect yourself

because if it were up to him, he would be your protector forever

but seonghwa knows the dangers of being involved with the mafia and so instead, he gently adjusts your movements, gives you praises when you grasp the concept, and demands kisses when you successfully pin him down

and more often than not, his self-hwafense classes end up in giggles and laughter because there is nothing less intimidating than his sparkling doe-eyes and wide grin as he pretends to act the part of a threatening intruder

just as your fingers brush over the cold steel of the gun hidden underneath the table, your blood runs cold when you hear your doorknob jiggling

it’s not purposeful - it is hesitant, intermittent and careful

exactly how an intruder would open a door

you know you do not have a choice

you have to protect yourself

slinking slowly towards the door and positioning yourself so that the intruder will walk in with their back to you, you grasp the gun in your hand a little tighter with bated breath

the lock clicks open and you watch the knob turning to nudge the door open

your mind screams at you to run and hide as you fight every cell in your body to keep your feet rooted where they are

amongst the fogginess of fear clouding your brain, you have enough sense to wait for the perfect opportunity

…now.

with as much strength as your shaking hands can muster, you slam the butt of your gun against the intruder’s head

hongjoong’s phone vibrates in his hand and he answers the call within the first ring

but before he can even get so much as a word out, he hears your trembling whisper

“hongjoong, he- he’s here”

“shit,” hongjoong says at the same time wooyoung steps harder on the accelerator, “who? are you okay? are you safe?”

“oh no,” your voice becomes harder to hear as the phone slips further away from you, “he’s awake”

“we’re close, hang in there- fuck” hongjoong punches the side of the car door when your call cuts off

wooyoung doesn’t need to be told - he floors the car

the tyres squeal as they pull up to the street of the apartment, wooyoung having just barely turned off the ignition before the three of them are dashing in and bypassing the lift for the stairs

as they reach the door of your apartment, they see that it is nudged open

a sign that cues the three of them to immediately slip out their guns

with hongjoong at the front, they barge in and point their guns at the figures in the living room

“move and i’ll blow your fucking brains out,” he commands

“hongjoong?”

said man falters

that’s not your voice

“the fuck?”

of all things he was prepared for, this was not one of them

because seonghwa is in the living room

sitting on a chair nursing a very bruised head with a sorry bag of frozen peas pressed to it

but it is very much seonghwa, alive and kicking

something on hongjoong’s face must show how much he wants to skin the man and feed him to the sharks because seonghwa grimaces and makes a very poor attempt to break the tension

“surprise?”

wooyoung loses it and keels in on himself with laughter

seonghwa gestures weakly with the hand that is not holding the bag of peas at the inconspicuous paper bag sitting on the kitchen counter, which is looking slightly sad and saggy after he quite literally crumpled on top of it, “i bought donuts?”

when hongjoong exhales the longest sigh known to mankind, pinching the bridge of his nose, you completely understand how he feels

“they’re shaped like reindeers and elves…they’re limited edition…” seonghwa’s voice trails off and you see him visibly wilt like a sunflower in a cave

because as much as he knows and is sorry for making you and the gang worry, he had rushed to line up at that donut shop you have recently fallen in love with because he thought surprising you with the cute christmas donuts would make you smile

well, surprise you he did

it’s not everyday you knock out an intruder, only to find out that it’s actually your boyfriend

“i’m sure they are very cute, hwa,” you tenderly replace his hand on the makeshift ice pack so that he can rest his arm, “thank you”

and you really do mean it

seonghwa perks up at your words and snakes his arm around your waist, tugging you closer until you are basically sitting on his sturdy thigh

he looks haughtily at the other three men, “at least somebody appreciates them”

and then he lets out a yelp as his hands scramble to catch his forgotten phone that hongjoong has tossed at him

“i’ll let you off the hook this time, park seonghwa, but only because it’s christmas and i have better things to be doing. we all do,” the leader makes a move with yeosang and wooyoung to leave

but he seems to think better of it because hongjoong whips around to make one last biting remark

“they better be some fucking good donuts, the best fucking donuts you’ll ever eat”

you and seonghwa dissolve into giggles once the door slams shut behind the trio

“how’s your head feeling now?” you take the bag of peas off and gingerly touch the red bump

“much better,” his eyes twinkle, “all it needs now is your kiss”

you blatantly turn your nose into the air and stand up to grab the bag of donuts, “no kisses. that’s for scaring me”

he grumbles indignantly under his breath like a five year old; nose scrunched up, lip jutted out

you laugh, presenting the bag to him and watching as his demeanor immediately brightens

“well, let’s find out if these are the best fucking donuts we’ll ever eat”

seonghwa opens the bag excitedly, having made it very clear that he wanted to do the honours and present them to you

but then he freezes, mouth opening to form an ‘o’

and then his shoulders sag once more

seonghwa wails

and it all makes sense when you peer into the bag

“the donuts are all squished!”

yunho

“J, can you take a look at my sniper? i think something’s wrong with the scope”

you dog-ear the page of the file you’re scanning through to look up at yunho

“i’m pretty sure i know the least about scopes out of everybod-”

“cause i can’t seem to take my sight off you,” he waggles his eyebrows at you with an overly-smouldering gaze as he leans oh so casually against the doorframe

you swallow the insult that is about to leave your mouth, instead, undoing the dog ear and dutifully continuing from where you left off

unfazed, yunho steps closer towards your table with an excited bounce, “want to see my gun? i’ve got a pretty big one”

you hum, “i’ve seen it plenty times, nothing new”

his eyes crinkle at having received a reaction, which spurs him on further

yunho leans down a little into your space so that you are forced to look up at him, “then can i put my gun in your holster?”

you finally laugh at the crudeness of his words and you hate that he looks utterly pleased with himself

(you don’t really hate it, but you know that he loves flustering you)

(you can pretend if it’s for him)

“remind me again why you’re my boyfriend?”

“cause i shoot my load into you,” he flirts, complete with a wink, finger guns and then a flying kiss that you pretend to snatch out of the air and slam against the ground

immediately, he looks like a puppy whose tail you have just stepped on, so you reach out for his hand and tug him closer with another laugh, turning your body so that you can bury your face into his stomach and wrap your arms around his waist

one of his arms naturally slides over your shoulders to encase you, his other hand running through your hair the way he knows you like it

“what do you want, you big puppy,” your voice comes out muffled

yunho may have claimed you as the J to his PB, but you think he is better nicknamed BP than peanut butter

BP as in Big Puppy

“i miss you,” he admits

you pull away and shake your head, “you see me every day, yunho. we work together”

“yeah, and i’m sick of work cockblocking us,” he says with finality

yunho swipes your files to the side in one smooth motion, clearing the table as he easily lifts you by the waist to perch you on the edge

you barely have time to complain about the files until he is pressing his lips against yours

“i miss you,” he repeats when you break apart to take a breath, “and it’s christmas. relax”

“you talk too much,” you say, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for another kiss

his large hands settle on your waist, just below the hem of your shirt

your back arches from sensitivity when the fingers of his right hand slip under your shirt and slowly trail upwards towards your chest

his other hand snakes behind you to splay across the pretty arch of your back

you loop your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair for purchase

a stuttered moan escapes your lips when he shifts and his thigh brushes against your core

“you like that?” yunho grinds his thigh against you once more, eyes dark as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “bet you’d like to ride my thigh until you cum”

you’re about to hook your legs around his waist when there’s a yell from the doorway

yunho immediately retracts his hands and you rush to tidy the appearance of your top, both of your heads snapping towards the door

wooyoung is there, body already turning back the way he came from with a hand blocking his own view, “can you guys get a room or close the door at least?”

“or you can stop walking in on us,” yunho suggests with a red face

but the younger is already out of earshot, too busy prancing through the rest of the base announcing, “PB&J are fucking in the office again, nobody disturb them!”

yunho rubs the tips of his flushed ears and you pepper one final kiss along his jawline before you bend down to pick up the scattered files from the floor

“don’t tell me you’re going to read your stupid files again,” he groans

“well, reading these stupid files happen to be direct orders from hongjoong,” you retort

“then good thing i’ve already asked him for permission to take you out today”

he snatches the file from your hand and tosses it haphazardly onto the table, quirking an eyebrow teasingly

“what do you mean?”

yunho grabs your hand, leading you towards the door as he tells you excitedly, “let’s go on a date”

and that’s how you find yourself wrapped up in yunho’s coat over the thin sweater you slipped on because nobody told you that you’d be fucking freezing your ass off on the open rooftop of a building on christmas night

it had taken all but three seconds of stepping out onto the rooftop for a shiver to descend through your body from head to toe

“this is a date?” you had groused

yunho had then immediately taken off his coat to wrap around your shoulders as he made a pleased noise of affirmation

“then do tell me why you took your sniper along,” you sniffle a little, compliantly allowing yunho to button you up. “you want me to tell you how sexy you look while you shoot someone through the head?”

yunho grins down at you

“you think i’m sexy when i snipe people?”

you roll your eyes at his selective hearing

(you think he’s always sexy)

at your playful shove, he reaches into his pockets to pull out a pair of earplugs for you

“put them in,” he tells you before you can even ask what they’re for

when you make no move to do so, he gingerly tucks your hair out of the way so that he can put the plugs into your ears

watch me, he gestures with his hands

and then he is perching along the edge of the rooftop, setting up his sniper in front of him and adjusting the scope as he looks down the sight into the far distance

you watch as he applies pressure to the back of the rifle with his broad shoulder, as his slender fingers curl around the trigger, as he closes one eye and exhales a slow breath

then he shoots

you think that he is going to get up and finally tell you what he is doing, except he pulls the bolt back to chamber a new bullet and adjusts the angle of his rifle

and then he shoots again

you catch yourself staring at the veins running across the back of his hand and the way his finger flexes around the trigger

because you know all too well how it feels for his finger to flex in…other places

you lose count of how many times yunho pulls the trigger - at one point, he even reloads a magazine

he has almost finished the second round of bullets before he finally appears to be satisfied, scrambling up and dusting off his knees

with an eager tug once you have taken out your earplugs, he brings you to his sniper that he has left in its place on the floor

“look through the scope!”

you are careful to ease yourself down into a mimic of yunho’s earlier pose, knowing that even the slightest of nudges can displace the target by miles

hovering behind you, he shifts from foot to foot, waiting for you to see it

and when you do, your eyes nearly fall out in surprise

“yunho!” you exclaim, unable to fathom what you are seeing

because yunho has shot a fucking heart shape made out of bullet holes into the side of an abandoned building

“is this meant to be romantic?!”

contrary to your tone, you don’t think you have ever found your deadly 6’1” sniper boyfriend to be more endearing than now

he preens with the widest smile on his face, “yeah!”

you stand up with a matching smile of your own and step closer to pull him into a hug

“i don’t think i’ll be forgetting about this christmas for a while”

“you better not forget about it ever,” he threatens with a harmless tickle to your side

“thank you,” you tell him sincerely, “i love you”

he peppers your face with kisses, “i love you too”

distantly, you hear the sound of sirens, no doubt the sound of gunshots having been reported

“i guess that’s our cue,” he grins, stepping away from you and slinging the sniper over his shoulder

“our cue to do what?” you allow him to lace his fingers through yours

“our cue to fucking leg it”

and so with his hand warmly encasing yours, laughter bubbling out of your chests and cheeks flushing as the first flakes of snow start to fall, you both make a run for it

yeosang

“get some napkins, snacks, cooking oil and maybe a couple of drinks if you can carry it all”

you listen while seonghwa lists off the things you need to get from the shops for the christmas party

it’s nothing huge - just a get together between you, your older brother, hongjoong, and the rest of the ateez gang

yeosang sidles up to you to ask, “ready to go?”

as you smile with a nod and lean into him, hongjoong narrows his eyes from where he’s sitting on a chair

it seems like the two of you have gotten quite…close recently

not that you two weren’t already close before

and granted, hongjoong was the one who raised hell to ensure yeosang followed you everywhere as your bodyguard

except you and yeosang are getting a little too chummy for his liking

but then you’re giving seonghwa a quick goodbye peck on the cheek and you are turning around to look at your brother with that damned smile of yours to ask if he is coming along too, and hongjoong thinks that he’s just looking into things a bit too much

“yeah,” hongjoong gets up from his seat, “let’s go”

once your little trio makes it to the mart, you decide to divide and conquer the items on seonghwa’s shopping list

you’ve just grabbed a packet of napkins when someone suddenly tugs you down one of the aisles

the squeal of surprise that comes out of you quickly turns into an exasperated laugh seeing that it’s just yeosang

he’s looking at you with his sparkling eyes and expectant smile

“you’re hopeless,” you tell him because you know exactly what he wants

“hopelessly in love,” he corrects you, still waiting with an eager expression

you hiss his name and frantically look around to make sure your brother isn’t around before you relent and press a chaste kiss against the corner of his lips

yeosang immediately blushes and tries to hide the smile on his face like he didn’t literally just kidnap you into a shopping aisle demanding for kisses

you always find his bashfulness endearing though, so you rest your hands on his shoulders to balance on your tiptoes and quickly pepper several more kisses over the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose and the sharp of his jawline

“i don’t think santa needs rudolph this year,” you tap his nose affectionately, “you’re much brighter”

as you watch yeosang grow even redder at your statement, you wonder how this is the same man who will move heaven and earth to protect you

“y/n? yeosang?”

hongjoong’s voice is frighteningly close and you’re pretty sure he is just in the next aisle over

grabbing the first thing that you see, you clutch the item and the napkins to your chest and walk out to meet your brother

“there you two are,” hongjoong frowns, “what took you two so long?”

you reach out and touch his elbow in apology, “sorry, joong. i needed help finding the plastic plates”

except hongjoong doesn’t think you two are very sorry at all, because not only did he pay, but the backpack stuffed full with the shopping bags is now on his back

“why am i carrying the backpack,” he complains, looking at you and yeosang already mounted on the latter’s motorbike

yeosang smiles innocently and jerks his head back in your direction, “i’ve already got a cute little backpack”

“well that cute little backpack also happens to be my sister so shouldn’t she sit behind me- hey!”

you press yourself closer against yeosang’s back, both of you breaking out into laughter as he revs his bike and leaves hongjoong behind in the dust

your brother flips the bird at your backs, grumbling colourfully under his breath as he twists the throttle on his own motorbike to catch up to you two

and for someone who prides himself in being an observant mafia boss, it takes hongjoong many, many days to belatedly realise that plastic plates were never even part of the shopping list

yeosang gently takes your helmet from out of your grasp and tames an unruly strand of your hair that has become ruffled as you two walk back inside, bypassing seonghwa hanging a wreath on the front door

the eldest watches you two for a moment, seemingly in thought, before he picks up something else to hang up

that’s how, when hongjoong arrives a few minutes later with the shopping, he runs into seonghwa fixing mistletoe to the doorframe of the kitchen

“mistletoe?” hongjoong questions as he places the bags onto the countertop, “the fuck for?”

seonghwa shrugs vaguely, “the couples”

“the only couple i see is the couple of losers over there”

hongjoong stares pointedly into the living room, where san is starting to wriggle under the weight of the ornaments balancing on the top of his head and shoulders and hanging off his ears and fingers, courtesy of wooyoung who is currently yelling out stay still!

except the ornaments all come tumbling off in a flurry of movement when yunho thunders past them, mingi in tow

“snowball fight!!”’

it’s not snowing heavily but there’s a layer of snow thick enough for all nine of you to stumble outside in glee

and as it turns out, yeosang is very serious about his job as your bodyguard

even during snowball fights

jongho and yunho have formed some sort of alliance, so by an unspoken agreement, pretty much everyone else has teamed up in hopes of defeating the formidable pair

(no one’s entirely sure which side mingi is playing for, but he’s having fun scooping handfuls of snow and dumping them onto people, which is all that matters)

hongjoong is busy fending off wooyoung’s snowballs - another person who has broken the unofficial alliance - so yeosang stays close to you

he alternates between adding fresh ammo to your snowball pile and blocking any snowballs that are thrown around

it doesn’t matter if they’re thrown in your direction or not; if yeosang sees a snowball, then he is ready to keep it far, far away from you

somehow, amidst all the chaos, yunho manages to unearth a whole slab of snow that is still intact

he cackles evilly as he lifts it above his head and hurls it somewhere into the centre of the whole group

now, the deadly snow slab is nowhere even close to landing on you

but again, yeosang takes his job as your bodyguard - and boyfriend - very, very seriously

he makes a dive in your direction to take the hit and the angels up in heaven blow their trumpets in celebration when he knocks you over instead and you two fall into the snow together

he lands on top of you, arms bracing himself as he encases your frame underneath him

you’re a little winded - the breath has been knocked out of you, you want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and also yeosang looks extremely stunning

you can see every single snowflake that has fluttered down and clung onto his long lashes and soft hair, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s looking at you with the most tender eyes

“merry christmas,” he murmurs with a smile, “i love you”

the sounds of snowballs breaking and consequent screeches mute themselves into the background, the crystal petals falling from the sky blurring in slow motion as yeosang dips down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss

one of his hands cradles your face gingerly as you sigh into the kiss, almost as if he is afraid you will melt and seep into the snow

jongho is about to take the opportunity to pelt yeosang’s exposed back with snowballs, but pauses his deadly pitch when he sees that the older is actually a little…preoccupied right now

he realises very quickly that not only have you two caught his attention, but you’ve also managed to grab hongjoong’s attention

said man squints his eyes at who he thinks is yeosang and…you?

you’re both awfully close together in a heap on the ground and hold the fuck up are you two kissing?

right before hongjoong can rub his eyes and take a closer look, a snowball is smashed to smithereens against his face

hacking snow out of his mouth, he searches furiously for the culprit, eyes landing on jongho who is staring right back at him with his hand still pitched forward from throwing the snowball

why jongho looks flustered, hongjoong has no idea

but it’s not like hongjoong can take on the younger anyway so he chooses to ignore the snowball and looks back in your direction

…where you and yeosang are both lying on your backs making snow angels

hongjoong frowns, rationalising that the kiss had just been a glitch in his imagination

because surely he would’ve noticed ages ago if you and yeosang were indeed dating

seeing as the leader shrugs it off and drops to the ground to shovel an enormous snowball with renewed vigour, jongho lets out a sigh of relief

that is

until wooyoung very helpfully points out, “why are yeosang’s lips all glossy”

you and yeosang freeze mid-snow angel

like zombies in a horror film, you and yeosang slowly sit up with unease creeping through your bodies as you both look towards your brother

his back is turned, body eerily still

most of the other members have also frozen, snowballs still clutched in their hands as their knowing pupils waver

then mingi also helpfully tacks on, “it looks like he kissed y/n or something”

at his words, hongjoong’s arms start to move again

he does not turn around yet, simply hums and says, “interesting”

yeosang nudges you with an elbow and theatrically whispers, “if we leg it right now, do you think it will notice”

it starts to stand up from its crouching position

“...i think it will, yeo”

hongjoong finally turns around and you can see that, similar to yunho not too long ago, he is carrying a huge slab of intact snow in his hands

what’s different is that hongjoong is most definitely not smiling

you have a feeling that he is going to be putting a new definition to snowball fight

hongjoong approaches with his snow weapon

“snowballs?” he shakes his head mockingly with a frighteningly blank expression

“after today,” his gaze drops down pointedly towards yeosang’s nether region, “no balls”

san

you don’t need to rely on your past experience working in an underground casino for you to know what the odds of your current gamble are

you are a mouse walking into the lion’s den

the last time you were with crescent - the mafia gang you had been brought into and was supposedly your family for almost a decade - you were wrongfully accused as being a traitor and had nearly lost your life

now here you are, walking back into crescent’s base with your own two feet just a mere few weeks later

and yet, you are not afraid

your former gang does not know, but tonight, you are the dealer of this poker game

minsu, crescent’s mob boss, leers at the sight of you entering the small building

they do not have many affiliates, having kept their numbers small over the years, but most of them have gathered together for drinks tonight

you already knew this, though

you have chosen to confront them on christmas for a reason

“ahh, merry christmas, darling,” minsu drawls saccharinely, “has santa answered my wishes for a personal slut?”

his words do not register in your ears when your eyes involuntarily flit over to the back of the room

there’s a face sitting in the corner that haunts you

the day you were labelled a traitor, you had been accompanying your capo to make a trade deal with a relatively new gang

the boss of the gang who is currently sitting in the same room as the rest of crescent, comfortable smirk on his face like he wants to show you that he is where he belongs

you realise now that it was a set-up all along

there was no deal to be made and there was no emerging gang

it was - is - crescent against you

looking back at minsu now, you address him, “why did you betray me”

he pretends to look appalled, one hand perched daintily against his chest as his jaw drops

“we saw the way you were getting closer to choi san of ateez,” he spits out san’s name, “and after you betrayed crescent during the trade, you ran pathetically to his doorstep like a damsel in distress, which only proved our suspicions”

he states it so believably, as if your loyalty wavered and led to your own inevitable downfall

it’s all bullshit though

you and san have never interacted outside of the negotiations your gangs made with each other

without anywhere to go after crescent had backstabbed you, only then had you sought san’s help

“so what are you doing back here, darling?” minsu stands up

he stalks closer towards you with fake pity plastered across his face, “to beg for forgiveness? to beg for us to spare your little boyfriend’s life?”

the flicker of fury inside of you is quickly growing into an inferno at minsu’s mocking tone

but before it starts to consume you, a new voice enters the fray

“i don’t think we’ll be the ones begging by the end of the night”

a figure steps in and you hear the sound of metal buckles scraping against the ground as a limp, bloodied body is also dragged along

the person comes to a stop beside you before they toss the body in their grasp carelessly to one side

the familiar lilt of their teasing reaches you

“hey, sweetheart”

the inferno inside you smothers itself out at their words

“choi san,” minsu snarls, hackles now raised at the unforeseen addition of his presence

the rest of crescent also seem to become restless, shifting on the edge of their seats or making a move to stand up

because they’re not foolish

they know san’s reputation for ruthlessness, particularly when someone has wronged him

and by extension-

more footsteps resound behind you

-the rest of ateez

you may be a mouse walking into the lion’s den

but when you have poachers behind your back, it becomes your den

minsu’s face finally drains of all blood when he realises the deep shit he has landed himself in

and so do several others, it seems

you wince slightly in embarrassment when a handful of his men scramble up from their seats and push past the ateez members surrounding you to run out of the building

for a moment, no one dares to breathe as they watch you and ateez with trepidation

san simply raises a brow as his eyes narrow with disinterest

the sounds of the cowards’ feet striking the pavement once they make it out onto the street are suddenly replaced by the crack of gunshots and the distinct thump of flesh falling to the ground

from somewhere up high, yunho chambers another bullet as he stares down the scope of his sniper with impassivity

“anyone else want to give that a try?” san taunts

no one answers

hongjoong finally emerges from the flanks and almost immediately, the already-frigid atmosphere drops another several degrees

“a gang of members who have no qualms betraying their own will only end up destroying themselves eventually,” he calmly approaches minsu, who shuffles backwards in response

hongjoong continues, “as much as crescent isn’t worth my time, i don’t really feel like waiting for that day to come”

before anyone can react, he swipes a glass bottle from one of the tables and swings it across minsu’s head

the latter stumbles backwards in shock with a hand flying up to stem the blood flow coming from his temple

ateez do not need a further command

all at once, the members jump forward bloodthirsty for vengeance, save for san, who grabs a chair that mingi has quite literally tossed a person off and brings it over for you to sit on

he winks as he quips, “we’ll probably be on santa’s naughty list this year, but maybe if you just watch you’ll get away with it, sweetheart”

san knows you can hold your own in a fight, but he also knows that your ribs are still sore and bruised

so he waits until you sit with a laugh before he turns around to face the others

he doesn’t really care about most of the crescent lackeys

he knows hongjoong and the rest of ateez will wipe them out fine

who he really cares about is that bastard who pretended to lead the fake gang

and that motherfucker minsu

san is going to make them regret hurting you

san is going to make them wish they were never born

he advances towards them with deceptive calmness

minsu is slumped against a table, still licking at his wounds pathetically

he’s only alive because none of the members have bothered with him

san leaves him for the time being and takes out a dagger as he advances upon the nameless member who had duped you

easily evading the man’s frantic punch, san responds by slamming the hilt of his dagger against the other’s temple

the man goes crashing down and minsu tries to scramble away from them in fear

“i would cut your tongue off, since you spew so many fucking lies,” san grips the man’s jaw hard enough that his fingers turn white, “but i don’t want to touch your filthy mouth”

instead, san drags the dagger across the gang member’s throat

blood rapidly gurgles out of the wound as the man’s fingers make futile attempts to grasp san’s hands, but very quickly, he attempts to stem the blood flow instead

but a fence can only hold a dam back for so long

san shoves him aside and lunges for minsu

“your turn,” san smirks

whipping out his pistol, san flicks the safety off and shoots minsu’s hand as the latter lets out a primal shriek of pain

san shoots again, this time at his other hand, once more, through his calf, once more, through his stomach

minsu swears to the high heavens in between wails and howls, begging for san to stop

“what did i say,” san places a foot on his stomach wound and pushes down, “it wouldn’t be me or my sweetheart begging tonight”

minsu’s animalistic cries are silenced with a final gunshot

san exhales and makes his way back to where you are still seated to reassure, “you’ll never have to worry about crescent ever again”

“thank you, san,” you sink into his embrace

you’ll thank the rest of ateez later, but for now, you focus on the man in front of you

“i said that i would protect you, didn’t i, sweetheart?”

he gathers your face in his hands and thumbs the round of your cheeks sweetly

you nod in his grasp, blinking up at him through your eyelashes

“i want to kiss you,” san suddenly confesses, “can i kiss you?”

a teasing smile tugs at your lips, “it’s christmas. shouldn’t you kiss me under a mistletoe?”

san looks up to check, as if he really thinks that a mafia gang’s base would have mistletoe hanging from the ceiling

when he confirms that indeed there is not, his eyes wander around the room for a substitute until something appears to pique his interest

you watch as he unsheathes another dagger from his belt and points it in the direction of minsu’s body

“i can cut his foot off,” san tells you with determination, “then we’d have a minsu-toe”

amidst the last of the fighting amongst the room, someone overhears and chortles at san’s words

“i can’t believe you,” you let out your own laugh

“so…” san beams, “is that a yes?”

“fuck the mistletoe,” you laugh as you pull him forward, “just kiss me already”

and kiss you he does

mingi

for the first time ever, you think you hate the snow

even if it’s christmas eve today and it’s the first snowfall of the year

you had been prepared for a peak in business at your little bar, the mist, but with the sudden onset of heavy snowfall and a rapid drop in temperature, you’ve barely had any customers

admittedly, you are used to slow business considering there is a much larger bar, the chilli peppers, just across the street

but not even your few, regular customers have shown up today nor for the past few weeks

you’ve scanned the outside of your bar several times already, each time unfruitful as you are met with an empty street save for the falling snow and soft glow of the streetlamps

sighing, you decide to look out once more before making yourself a mixed drink when you spot a figure walking up to your doors

your breath hitches when you recognise who it is

it’s him

the handsome stranger who, you suppose, is not really a stranger anymore

it has been almost two months since he first took refuge in your bar while being chased by another gang

his visits since have been rare and infrequent, but they will always span late into the early hours of dawn when he does

“hey,” mingi softly greets you as he steps into your bar, a shy smile adorning his face

your stomach flutters as you stand up from your stool, “mingi, hi, hey, i wasn’t expecting you to come today”

you internally cringe at your own words

you hope he doesn’t pick up on the connotation that you wait for him to come on other days

he peers around hesitantly at your words, “should i, uh, go?”

one of your hands reach out in his direction before you even realise what you’re doing

“no- i meant,” you lick your lips, “it’s a nice surprise”

mingi’s shoulders relax

“i heard some areas lost power because of the snow,” he starts to explain, “so i thought i’d come to check on you- your bar”

your heart grows warm at his seemingly nonchalant words

fighting back a blush, you gesture around your bar, “well, i still got power-”

just as it fizzles and dies

the steady hum of the heater in the background of your bar also halts, creating a world of both darkness and silence

startled, you jump slightly

you can hardly see him in front of you as your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, yet mingi’s hand naturally finds your searching ones

he slips your smaller hand into his, gently squeezing and rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he soothes, “i’ve got you”

you let out a nervous chuckle, not because you feel awkward but because it feels so natural to be soothed by his touch, and he reciprocates with his own soft laugh

“well,” you look up at him, “looks like business is closed for the night”

his eyebrows knit together in concern, “are you sure? i can call someone to get your power back up and running. i know a person”

he scratches the back of his neck as he continues to ramble, “or they could probably fix your whole area…yeah that’s a better idea, wouldn’t want you getting singled out or anything”

you’re not sure whether to be endeared or to be impressed by his connections

“you can do that?!” you gawk

mingi blinks twice as if to say, you can’t?

laughing, you shake your head and pat his hand that’s still holding yours to tell him that it’s okay

“i wasn’t getting customers anyway,” you reassure

selfishly, mingi is glad that you weren’t busy

because it means that he can have you all to himself

“do you want to stay for a bit?” you offer, “it’s probably not safe to leave with all the snow”

mingi is a member of a mafia gang

snow is the least of his worries

but he nods solemnly in agreement anyway

he thinks that his heart cannot squeeze with any more fondness at your concern until you carefully tug him forward by the hand to lead him up the stairs at the back of your bar, murmuring that there’s another step and the doorway’s a little low

it doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him being pursued by other gang members, or that he smells like gunpowder and has a pistol hidden on him - you still look out for him and mingi has to fight the urge to pull you into a hug

instead, he grips your hand a little tighter under the guise of not knowing where he should be stepping

in reality, he wants to make sure that he can keep you steady should you be the one to trip

usually, when the power cuts out like this, you will simply bury yourself under your covers until you fall asleep

but it seems like it’s a common occurrence now - when mingi is by your side, sleep is easy to forget

so you take him to the small room you’ve leased above your bar and it is as though you have both rediscovered the innocent joys of life

hushed giggles are shared as you rifle through your storage and take turns lighting up the stubborn candles you have found

you nudge him as he nudges you back over where to scatter the candles around the room for maximum brightness, both of you falling into another bout of laughter when a particularly hard nudge ends up snuffing the candles in your hands

mingi takes out his phone and creates a playlist of cheesy christmas songs that he lets run in the background

grabbing your hands, he twirls you around the cramped space of your living room as you flush with joy

you shyly let him lead you through his silly little dances, but very quickly, you are both spinning and jumping and swaying barefoot to the music as the candle flames flicker in tandem all around you

the excitement teeters off slowly as the playlist transitions to slower instrumentals and you realise that without the heating on, your room is starting to become freezing

mingi is first to notice, attuned to the way a quick shiver racks your body

“come here,” he says, arms already moving before he can think better of it

he grabs the blanket that covers the back of your small couch and throws half of it over himself, one arm extending the rest of it so that he can wrap it around your form too

mingi slowly rubs his hands up and down the sides of your arms as he shuffles the two of you over to sink down onto the couch

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing, even as his every touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps and electricity

“better?” he asks after a while

untrusting of your voice, you nod instead whilst clearing your throat, trying not to chase the feeling of his embrace when he retracts his arms from around you

silence falls upon you two

it’s not uncomfortable

but with the lack of noise to distract you, you are acutely aware of his close proximity and the warmth that he emits from your side

“it’s pretty, isn’t it,” he muses, gaze focused on the falling snow outside the window

“it is…”

…with you here

“you know what they say about the first snowfall of the year?” he nudges you softly

you chew on your bottom lip

shyly, you offer, “that if you confess your love it becomes true,” at the exact same time mingi says-

“that you shouldn’t eat the snow for the first hour or two”

you quickly cough and splutter out a question to cover up your statement, “h-how come?”

“the snow absorbs all the bad stuff in the air when it first falls”

the grin on his face makes you think that he may have heard your answer after all

slightly embarrassed, you avert your gaze and fumble for something to say

mingi saves you though

he points at the clock that has just ticked past midnight

“merry christmas, y/n,” he says tenderly

“merry christmas, mingi”

you relish in the moment, not wanting this night to end

“did you have anything you wanted for christmas?” you ask him

he hums in affirmation, slowly mulling over his next words before he answers, “there was someone i wanted to see”

he’s looking ahead, and from where you’re sitting next to him, shoulders brushing with each slight movement, the warm glow of the candles accentuates the sharp slopes of his side profile

you’ve noted this before, but in this moment mingi is beautiful

“did…did you get to see them?” you’re unsure why you’re holding your breath in anticipation

he doesn’t answer straight away

there’s a beat of silence

then he’s slowly turning his head with a gentle smile

“yeah,” he breathes out, looking at you with his soft, round eyes, “yeah, i did”

with your rosy cheeks and bashful expression, mingi cannot help himself

he confesses

“and i still am”

wooyoung

wooyoung very naturally reaches across the counter with the barcode scanner so that he can align the laser with your id badge

he hums happily as your employee discount is applied to the bag of chips he is purchasing

at this point, you don’t even bat an eye

he has long made himself at home in your convenience store whenever you work the night shift

“so,” wooyoung says as he finishes ringing up the price, “why are you working on christmas eve?”

you tilt your head, confused

“why shouldn’t i be working on christmas eve? and why aren’t you working? don’t you need to manage all your lackeys at the boxing rings?”

“no? because it’s christmas eve? everyone takes the week off,” he frowns as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world

you didn’t realise the mafia celebrated christmas too

apparently you say that out loud, because he is suddenly crossing his arms

…a little too defensively for you to take him seriously

“i didn’t know you were the mafia police,” he grumbles, “you gonna pull out a handbook and tell me that section 3.2 bans christmas for the mafia?”

you chuckle as you attempt to appease the childlike fire in his eyes, “sorry, you guys just seem like-”

you think better of your words and pause

“seem like what?”

“nothing”

“what? tell me what you were going to say!”

he pounces on you, attempting to bite your forearm as you squeal and relent

“you guys seem like the type to beat santa up, not celebrate his existence”

he stares at you

you stare at him

“you have three seconds to run,” he tells you

and run you do

filled with glee, you dash out from behind the counter and weave through the narrow aisles in a circle, wooyoung hot on your heels with his own matching shrieks

you both collapse in a fit of uncontrollable laughter when he suddenly switches direction and you end up running straight into his arms

sitting on the dirty floor of your convenience store during the quiet hours of night, your eyes teary from how hard you and wooyoung are laughing, you do not think there is a better way to spend your christmas eve

“i get paid almost double for working today,” you explain when you have both settled back behind the counter, sharing the bag of snacks he paid for earlier

you toss a chip in the air for wooyoung to catch as you continue, “plus, i can’t just take holidays when i want to”

it bounces off his forehead and he fumbles to catch it before it hits the ground

“why not?”

“because my boss won’t let me”

“oh. that’s it?”

“tHaT’s iT? shut the fuck up,” you shove a chip into his mouth as he sniggers

he excuses himself to make a quick call, so you take the opportunity to finish off the remainder of the snacks

hah.

this time, when he walks back in and sees the empty packet, he does bite you

and he makes you buy him another bag as compensation

(honestly, he should be buying you snacks because if you’re honest, you’re pretty sure he has enough money to buy your store and the whole chain)

you’re sharing the second bag of chips - read as: wooyoung being petty and hogging the snacks - when the store is suddenly plunged into dimness for a split second

you look up, blinking as you watch the lights flicker once, twice, and then completely die out with a fizzle

there’s still enough light coming from the frozen section as the standby generator kicks in for you to make out the inside of the store and wooyoung’s raised eyebrow

then the door chimes, alerting you to the arrival of customers

…or not-customers, you suppose

honestly, you should really be used to this by now

two men saunter in with shoulders squared like they own the place

you take one look at their balaclavas and the pistols in their hands and deduce that, “they wouldn’t happen to be some of your friends, right?”

wooyoung steps a little closer to whisper back, “nope”

“well, fuck. you going to do something about them or what?”

“are you kidding me? they’ve got guns”

“you’re part of the mafia. you’re telling me you don’t have one on you?”

he has the fucking nerve to flirt with you as he flexes his arms

“the only guns i got are these bad boys”

the men point their guns threateningly and wooyoung has the common sense to pipe down, both of you raising your hands cautiously

“get in the car,” one of them snarls

wooyoung moves after a split moment of hesitation, arms still raised as he walks towards the door

he looks back at you to see if you are following along, as if you two are taking a walk in the park and not being kidnapped at literal gunpoint

you’re going to roundhouse kick his head off once you make it out of this alive

his stupid gang better be real good at finding people

the kidnappers usher you and wooyoung into the back of a car, a very nice one you must say

it’s spacious and well-cushioned

at least the trip to whatever warehouse or abandoned building they take you to will be a comfy one

the door locks click and you hit the headrest behind you when the driver steps on the accelerator

“jesus christ! can you drive any faster?” wooyoung yells

you jerk your head sideways to look at him in horror

what is he thinking, provoking the armed men like that?

the man in the passenger seat must also share the same thought, because he whips his head around dangerously fast to stare at wooyoung

oh shit shit shit-

he raises a hand

he’s going to shoot wooyoung-

and pulls off his mask

“that’s not what you were saying when you called us 15 minutes ago, wooyoung”

“san?!” you screech in recognition

“hi again, darling,” san greets you with a sweet, dimpled smile, as if everything is okay

the driver also takes off their mask and he looks at you through the rearview mirror as he introduces himself, “hi, i’m mingi!”

you are absolutely incredulous

“you staged a whole fucking kidnapping for fun?”

wooyoung looks overjoyed, “so you can enjoy christmas eve!”

you’re not sure whether you want to laugh or cry at the ridiculousness of the situation

“you do realise the police are going to interrogate me, right?”

“don’t worry. jongho has connections with the police,” san reassures you

“what about the security footage?”

“hongjoong jammed the feed so there’s none,” mingi pipes up

“my boss is going to find out when he comes to check the morning shift”

“nah,” wooyoung waves away your concern this time, “he’ll be out of commission for a solid week or so”

now that catches your attention

sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you close your eyes and ask very calmly, “what did you guys do to my boss?”

wooyoung lets out a weak chuckle as he presses himself a little closer to the car door; a little further away from you

“yeosang may have, uh, knocked him out”

at your silence, he scrambles to redeem the situation, tugging at the end of your shirt for forgiveness, “we made sure to give your boss a pillow for his neck while he’s out cold!”

“you’re insufferable,” you tell him, starting to feel exhilarated from the whole situation

“just for you,” wooyoung puckers his lips teasingly

you sigh to conceal the smile that is starting to creep onto your face, but you are weak for him and he knows, so you don’t pull away when he laces his fingers through your hand

“merry christmas eve,” he beams at you

there’s the faint sound of someone gagging

wooyoung’s adoring gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as he kicks the back of san’s chair hard

you laugh, truly happy and free, “you know i’m still going to get fired for this, right?”

there’s silence

“well,” wooyoung contemplates

and for a split second, you think he is going to offer you a solution for the mess he made

but then again, what did you expect from wooyoung

“does this mean we get to spend christmas together then?”

jongho

jongho has one hand in the pocket of his slacks

his stance is relaxed, even as his other hand aims the gun at the police officers in front of him

they cower despite the abundance of money piled on the table before them and the stars and service strips that decorate their uniforms

after all, what use is dirty money and corrupt power in the face of death?

pathetic

their pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears

several gunshots ring out, followed by the thud of bodies dropping to the ground

elsewhere, you notice that it’s nearly time for you to clock out

it’s christmas eve and you are not spending a minute longer than you need to here in this hellhole

double checking that your badge is somewhere in your bag, you make a move to leave the police station when there is a sudden influx of noise

pagers beep, phones ring, voices shout

your ears perk up to catch the conversation and you hear the same few names leaving the lips of the police officers around you

the blood coursing through your veins freezes

because you know these names

these names have been burned into your brain, only recently, but still to the point where you can see them clearly whenever you close your eyes

they’re all officials in positions of high power, spending their days in air-conditioned offices and not actually doing anything apart from accepting bribes

but the thing that truly links them together - the secret that quite possibly, of the people in the station right now, only you’ve discovered through your connections - is that they are all involved in covering up the death of an officer five years ago

your father’s death

jongho and his gang have made sure that your father’s murderer has paid the price with his own life-

“all killed?!” you hear the police of chief gush with disbelief

-as have the corrupt officers who buried your father’s case, so it seems

a sense of calm settles over you

the clock tells you that it’s now three minutes past the end of your shift

the news is not a bad note to end on before your two-day christmas break

you sling your bag over your shoulder while the rest of the officers continue to speculate with nervous energy

the police force had no qualms turning their back on you years ago, so neither do you on them

you leave

when you make your way home, back to the modest apartment you now share with jongho, you are greeted by the smell of a cooking meal and the warmth of the blasting heater

you enter the open kitchen whilst removing your scarf

jongho is there in his suit, his coat slung over the back of a chair, tossing an assortment of diced vegetables into a pot of boiling soup

his sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and you feel your throat go a little dry when the muscles along his forearm flex as he holds up the chopping board

you notice there are streaks of dried blood across his sleeves

and you would be concerned about the blood if this weren’t such a common occurrence

you know now that it’s never his own

when he notices your quiet presence, jongho turns to look at you the same way he always does whenever you come home from work

like he can never quite believe that you’re here with him after so many years apart

he greets you, smiling with anticipation, “did you like my christmas present?”

your mind flashes back to the frenzied panic at the station just earlier

“that was you?”

the smirk you receive is more than enough of an answer to your question

“you didn’t have to, jongho,” but despite your words, you walk over appreciatively into his outstretched arms

“of course i did,” he shushes you with a deep kiss as his arms wrap around you tightly. “nobody messes with my girl”

his words send a hot rush right through your body

the corner of his lips quirks as he feels you squirm a little in his hold

“cop or not,” he nudges your head to the side so he has easy access to nip at your throat, “you’re mine to protect”

you fist the front of his shirt in an attempt to hold back a needy whine, instead, letting out a shaky breath that does little to hide how affected you are

in a last-ditch effort to take control of the situation, you take a step back and reach into the side pocket of your uniform to pull out your handcuffs

“too bad this cop is going to arrest you for murder,” you joke

jongho cannot help but smile at the cocky facade you put on when your cheeks are so clearly flushed

he brings his wrists together in front of him and offers his hands to you

“are you going to frisk me too, officer?”

when you swallow, now silent, jongho continues, “i might be armed with something that could…destroy you”

a shiver of excitement runs through you and it doesn’t go unnoticed

he steps forward to close the gap between you both, one hand reaching for the handcuffs hanging loosely from your grasp

jongho pauses when his fingers touch the cool metal, waiting for you to look at him properly

you see his eyes darting between your own as he searches for any signs of discomfort or hesitation

can i?

you let go of the handcuffs so that they are in his hold alone

yes

his gaze turns predatory almost immediately

“my turn,” he rasps lowly

he flips you around so that you face the kitchen counter, grabbing your arms and holding them behind you

you are pliant under his touch, but you cannot deny that it turns you on when he is a little rougher with you

jongho cuffs your wrists together and he waits as you tug on them experimentally

you feel the flutter of his fingertips dancing around where the metal surrounds your wrists

“is this okay?” he asks, voice gentle again

you reassure him, “yeah, more than okay,” before you emphasise your words by grinding your ass back against him

he tuts with a chuckle as he stands steady behind you, allowing you to use his rapidly-hardening cock for stimulation while his hands rest on your waist

it’s not enough though

“touch me, please,” you breathe out

“please, who?” he teases, hands sliding up and down your sides but never adding any pressure

your thighs clench because you know exactly what he wants

“please, officer,” you beg

“see, that wasn’t so hard,” jongho whispers right into your ear

the buttons on your uniform blouse are suddenly undone and in one swift motion, he yanks your bra down to expose your breasts

his fingers find your nipples easily, familiar with every inch of your body, and you let out a gasp of pleasure when he pinches them

he pins your hips against the countertop with his own, clothed bulge pressing firmly into you

your cuffed hands scrabble to find purchase when he nudges your legs open with his thigh

but then all of a sudden, his heated touches and wandering hands disappear

the whine you let out at the loss of his presence is almost pathetic as you twist your head around to look for him

“give me a second, baby, i just need to,” he steps over to the bubbling pot of soup and twists the knob down on the stove, “adjust the fire”

you bend forward onto the countertop, exposing the wet patch that you are sure has started to show on the crotch of your pants

“jongho,” you start to beg again, “i want to cum”

“i know, baby, but i don’t want to burn our house down and i want to make sure i get to feed you dinner,” he strides back to you in two quick steps

“now that that’s sorted,” he turns your body around so that you’re facing him, “i think it’s time for my appetiser”

he swiftly tugs your pants and panties down, kneeling to tap on your ankles lightly, a silent request for you to step out of your clothes

he tosses them to one side before his hands come back up to grip either of your thighs so that he can spread your legs

you brace your cuffed hands against the edge of the countertop behind you

it’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but then jongho is using his fingers to spread your pussy apart and your ability to form any coherent thought leaves your body

he blows lightly on your clit, enjoying the way you flinch at the sensation

“look at you,” he drags a fingertip at an agonisingly slow pace through your folds, “already so wet when i’ve barely even touched you”

he holds you still when you try to grind down on his finger

“use your words, baby,” he grins up at you with a smug expression

“i need y-”

he cuts your words right off by attaching his lips to your clit, drawing out a strangled cry of pleasure from you

you feel the long-awaited stretch of your pussy as jongho foregoes one finger and plunges two digits straight into your hole

“fuck!” the curse slips out of you when he sucks and licks your clit in time with the thrusts of his fingers scissoring in and out of you

he curls a finger and your knees very nearly buckle from under you, your back arching as jongho groans against your pussy and continues to abuse the sensitive spot he has found

a pressure starts to build in your core

“i’m close,” you manage to choke out

you miss the moment jongho briefly removes his lips to glance to his side, replacing his mouth with a thumb to rub harsh circles against your clit, before he tells you, “not yet, baby”

“i can’t, jongho, please, let me cum,” you plead

“wait, hang in there a little longer. i know you can,” yet despite his words, he shoves his fingers up harder with renewed vigour

you almost sob from desperation, “wait for fucking what?! your dick isn’t even in me!”

“just a little longer, baby,” he reassures you as your thighs shake around him

you can’t do it anymore

you have to cum

you have to-

“cum,” he simply says, before reattaching his mouth to your clit

your orgasm rips through you and you cannot do anything but tremble and shudder under the administrations of his tongue and fingers

jongho holds you through it all, milking out your orgasm until its very last waves-

just as the timer on the stove goes off

“what the fuck?” you blurt out

your mind is still hazy from pleasure but you’re pretty fucking sure he just timed your orgasm with the stove

jongho licks his fingers with a brazen smile and then goes over to peer into his pot of soup

after he gives it a final stir, he turns the fire off completely and places a lid on the top to keep it warm

you watch, rendered speechless

except when he turns back around, you stay silent for a completely different reason

he eyes you hungrily as he strips his tie and unbuttons his dress shirt

“round two, baby”

he grabs your cuffed hands and guides you towards your shared bedroom, then fishes out the keys from your blouse

you welcome the feeling of jongho unlocking your handcuffs for a moment of rest

settling against the head of the bed, you watch as jongho fully sheds his shirt and lets it drop to the ground

he unzips his slacks and his cock springs free, the bulbous head a tantalising pink as he easily strokes himself to full erection

your pussy clenches desperately around nothing in anticipation and jongho watches your own arousal leak out

he gathers your wrists together once more and pins them above you, handcuffing you to the headboard as you completely submit to him

jongho leans over you and encases your smaller frame with his muscular build

his voice is low and teasing

“you have the right to remain silent,” he says as he aligns his girthy length with your entrance, “but i doubt you will”

2K notes · View notes

cheollipop · 9 months

Text

⚜ 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 6.5k

genre: mafia au, smut, mutual pining, some fluff, tiny bit of angst, some dark themes, slightly ambiguous ending

In a city where the mere whisper of his name sent shivers of terror through its core, Choi San's barbarous reputation proved powerless to dissuade you from delving deeper, the glint in the feline eyes cast upon you exposing a sliver tenderness hidden beneath the façade of bloodlust.

⚜ warnings: mentioned death/murder (no one significant), insensitivity from all major characters to said murder, san is lowkey psychotic, and an asshole, reader is a badass bitch, gun play (kinda?), service/soft dom!san, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (👎), kinda public sex, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, creampie, begging, praise, some cockwarming, san gets whiny, he is whipped your honour, not your typical mafia boss ehehe, nicknames (baby, darling; sannie), I believe that's it. ^^

⚜ A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent. who doesn't want a psychotic mafia boss obsessing over their very being? happy reading! ^_^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Another day dragging on for far too long, tedious — incompetent employees getting paid to induce headaches rather than doing their jobs, new clients unaware of who they’d gotten themselves involved with, augmenting the torturous panging against San’s skull. His eyebrow twitched, a bead of sweat hanging onto the thick hairs, another trailing down the ink decorating his slick chest. He’d thought a late-night rendezvous would silence the ringing in his head, but the cheap perfume, the bright lipstick, the obnoxious, high-pitched tone of her voice only amplified it. And yet, the woman now laid beneath him, his fingers digging into one of her tits while pornographic moans rolled off her tongue. With her head thrown back, she missed the grimace painting San’s features, but his hips were undeterred, continuing their ruthless rhythm while her ringing voice pierced through his eardrums. He just needed release, even if it were aided by a woman he had not a lick of interest in.

The door cracked open, a bleached head of hair peeking into the hotel room before his tall frame followed to stand in the doorway. San didn’t stop, simply shutting his eyes to drown out his surroundings and the pain shooting through his head.

“We’ve got trouble, boss,” the gravelly tone dragged San’s attention away from the distractions he attempted to draw up in his mind, eyes cracking open with an irked exhale.

“Important enough for you to interrupt me?” he spat, his thrusts now pointed in aggravation.

The man’s gulp masked under the continuous moans, he averted his gaze off the woman’s spread legs to explain, “a fight broke out in our Seoul location.”

San’s rhythm faltered, an unnoticeable hitch, but enough to stir up images of a familiar face, sly grin and confident walk followed by the sweet scent of vanilla and cheap tobacco. A subtle wink as you replaced the drinks his men had ordered for him with ones that would spare him the added flush, ears and chest tinted a dusty pink while he fought off the heaviness weighing down his eyelids. Sultry voice and swaying hips, the memory of fleeting touches and fluttering eyelashes sent urgent waves of heat scorching through San’s body, unwanted, vivid images of your haunting form flashing in his mind before he could stop them. But he pushed them away, prominent vein trailing down his forehead as he fought off the unrelieved headache, slapping a palm over smudged, red-tinted lips to muffle the agitating sound.

“Is that all, Mingi-ya?” he moved his gaze to the man at his side without twisting his head, watching as he straightened up at the sudden eye-contact.

“We’ve got casualties, Sir,” Mingi added, drawing a frustrated sigh out of San.

Pistoning his hips once, twice more, he pulled out, swiping his saliva-coated palm over the woman’s trembling thigh before finding his footing over the carpeted floor. He tossed the condom into some random corner, tucking himself back into his pants before snatching the luxury coat dangling from Mingi’s hand, the taller man’s eyes flitting to the side to avoid ogling at all the exposed skin. Just as they were about to take their leave, manicured fingers grasped San’s sleeve, arms drawn closer to her body to cram her breasts together in an act of seduction, bedroom eyes peering up at the tattooed man.

“Are you just going to leave me here like this?”

San didn’t hide his grimace, “it’s late, go home,” he retrieved his coat, tugging his arm away rougher than intended to make his way to the room’s exit. He paused at the doorway, turning his head slightly to address the dejected woman abandoned on the lush, silk bedsheets, “and call your husband back, he must be worried sick.”

He didn’t wait for a response, walking into the hallway to meet with two more guards, Mingi following closely behind. “Jongho, you’re coming with me,” he addressed the broader of the two, then turned to the other, “and you,” he angled his chin towards the door left ajar, “get rid of her.”

Walking past the swung-open door resting against the frame with broken hinges, glass shards cracking underneath heavyset boots, San took in the scattered bodies splayed out over the wooden floor. He grimaced, thousands of dollars’ worth of imported liquor pooling under shattered bottles, blending into a concoction reeking of alcohol poisoning. Bullets lodged into the polished bar reflected the orange hue in which the room basked in, stools broken and thrown into the walls and windows, splintered pieces of wood lying amongst the lifeless figures scattered over the floorboards.

“What a mess,” Mingi muttered, taking in the scene with repugnance unhidden in his expression.

“Looks exactly like something the both of you would do,” San’s retort was instant, “wasn’t it just last week, Jongho?”

His tone was void of any judgement, simply recalling his men’s afternoon endeavors, and yet, Jongho’s ears flashed red as he stuttered through a flustered response, reaffirming San’s memory of the incident. His eyes shot a glare up at the taller man as soon as San looked away, “just keep your mouth shut, Mingi-ya,” he elbowed his side, unappreciative of Mingi’s attempts at earning him another lecture about the improper use of his gun.

While the two bickered wordlessly, pinching and shoving the other’s side, San walked further into the bar, looking around for another sign of life while gnawing at his bottom lip, evidence of his night-long rendezvous trickling down his temples in salty beads of sweat.

“Where’s our staff?” his voice cut through the silence, as well as the guards’ banter, the two straightening up to address his inquiry.

“Changbin called it in, ‘said most were okay but a few got caught in the crossfire,” Mingi spoke, tone steady and hooded eyes focused on San, “they’ve all left already, I believe.”

“You believe?” Narrowing his eyes at the two men, he snarled before huffing in umbrage. “I don’t pay you to fucking believe.” It wasn’t Mingi’s doing, he knew, but he’d rather berate the two men before him than admit to the anxiety crawling up his chest, blocking his airway with a lump large enough to restrict his breathing. “Did he say anything about—” he attempted to maintain the resonance in which he spoke in, clearing his throat before proceeding, “what about—”

“—Looking for me?”

A sharp turn to his side was all it took to ease the tension stiffening his shoulders, a deep breath escaping his lungs when his eyes settled on you: hand on your hip while leaning you weight onto one leg, the corners of your glossy lips upturned into a smile that sent his heart racing.

“Y/n,” he sighed, rotating his body to face yours, arms limp at his sides while his features softened at the mere sight of you before him. Choi San with his guard down was a luxury not many could revel in.

“What’s with your face? Don’t tell me you were worried about me?” you teased, swaying your hips as you took a few steps towards his broad form, only a few inches separating your bodies where you were stood now.

Close enough to run a hand over the hair covering the side of your head, San’s lips curled into a playful smirk, “oh baby, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hummed pleasantly at the gentle fingers gliding over your scalp, teeth digging into your bottom lip before releasing to purr back a response, “very much so.”

The aroma of cheap cigarettes followed you, laced with hints of vanilla and caramel, the specs of ash dusting the sunken collar of your top exposing the smoke break you’d taken while chaos unfolded during your late shift.

The bullets lodged into wood glimmered in his peripheral, and his amusement dwindled as he pushed through the intoxicating haze your proximity cast upon his senses. Eyebrows furrowed, his gaze traveled over your body while firm hands ran over your sides and waist, peering over your shoulder and twisting you in front of him while he questioned, “fuck, are you hurt?”

To his surprise, you exhaled a breathy laugh, mischief glinting in your irises, “hurt?” The coyness in your tone didn’t go unnoticed, but the arm reaching behind you did, and before he could react, you had San at your mercy with the nose of your pistol dug into the skin underneath his chin. Leaning further into his space, your lips stretched further at the raised hand stopping the two men at the door from reaching for their own weapons. You tilted your head while addressing him, faux innocence painting your features, “who do you think finally killed that bastard while the men you hired were too busy shitting their pants?”

His eyes followed yours to his right, the bastard in question sprawled out near the entrance with a bullet rooted between his eyebrows. Even with the pistol firmly boring into his skin, the corners of San’s lips quirked upwards, redirecting his focus to take you in with dazed, unreadable eyes. “Oh, darling,” rough, broken knuckles grazed your jaw, his lips widening as you unconsciously leaned into the touch, “just when I thought I couldn’t want you more.”

Eyebrows shooting up — the first hint of surprise flashing over your features — a blend of amusement and curiosity seeped into your expression, “oh?”

He walked you backwards, guiding you with the pistol pressing an indent into his flesh and a hand spreading warmth over your lower back, stopping his pointed steps once the wooden edge of the bar replaced the heated touch. He towered over you, leaning you back slightly over the glossy surface with lidded eyes studying your unchanging expression, the tip of his pointer tracing a languid line down the side of your face. Despite the gruesome scene surrounding you, and the firmness in which you held onto the pistol’s handle, your features were relaxed, easy smile gracing your lips and head tilted slightly in a discrete attempt to chase the gentle gesture. Choi San was not gentle, but one thing he did was make exceptions, unconcealable tenderness breaking through a rigid exterior to bleed into his calloused touch, to glimmer within narrowed eyes, and shape the honeyed words rolling off his otherwise sharp tongue.

Choi San didn’t make exceptions, scratch that. He made an exception.

To say he had been intrigued by you would be an understatement, years passing with him making time to drop by when he rarely ever needed to, making excuses to conceal his interest in a particular bartender who knew about his low-tolerance — classified information only a select few knew of —sneaking non-alcoholic beverages his way when he got pressured into drinking after a successful deal had been made in her presence. And despite the confidence oozing off you, shoulders straight and chin lifted as you batted your eyelashes flirtatiously at various customers, San noted the tremors shaking your fingers, the wary eyes darting in each direction while the men you worked with grazed against you while passing by, and those slurring their words drunkenly calling out to you from their booths. He noticed the tension in your shoulders even as the years went by, and regulars became familiar, their orders sliding across the bar seconds after they’d found an empty seat, before a greeting could slip out their smiling lips, pleased to be served by you once again. You knew the respect this façade had brought upon you, and yet your eyes remained sharp, solid walls built up behind the sultry smiles you handed these desperate men on a gold platter. And in the restless fight to break them down, San found himself too deep into a pit he could no longer pick himself up from. A pit brimming with burning want, a yearning so fervid, it ate at him from the inside out the more he pushed it away, cheap whores and endless mistresses futile in their attempts to simmer it down.

But now, the woman he so desperately wanted to break down between rough palms was trapped between his firm chest and the bar, still holding him at gunpoint while her free arm wrapped around his shoulder. It felt like hours, the steady ticking of the vintage clock hung on the bullet-riddled wall fading the deeper San peered into your eyes, looking up at him through curled eyelashes as the longer hand continued its clicking. Playfulness glimmered in your irises the longer San dragged his silence, as though he had no intention of building on his prior statement.

“What’s this about the great Choi San wanting me?”

Your tone indicated a challenge, a ‘how will he avert the situation to his advantage this time?’ while you kept your eyes on him, fingers tangling into the short hair at his nape to watch his eyelids droop even further at the pleasant stimulation. And perhaps what he needed was a pistol threatening to blow through his brain, realizing — after a chase lasting too many years — that he was tired of the endless back and forth, tired of the eager hands brushing over your body while he sipped on some fizzy beverage you’d handed him, watching as you basked under others’ attention, his own bullheadedness and pride pushing him further away from you when all he wanted to do was break every audacious finger that dared touch your skin in his presence.

Leaning closer, until his hot breath mingled with yours in the negligible gap he’d left between your faces, his hand curved over your jaw, thumb caressing the skin of your cheek, “baby, I’d give you the whole world if you’d just ask.”

The sudden confession surprised you, eyebrows flying up and jaw slackening under his touch, but you swiftly picked yourself up, a pleased smile stretching your lips as you bumped noses with him, “Mm, I’ll hold you up to that, Mr. Choi.”

Unlike the gradually deepening kisses shared in romance novels, teeth clanged and tongues pushed against one another, San’s hand travelling down your side to grab at your thigh until your feet lifted off the wooden floorboards. He set you down on the bar, fingers digging into the washed-out denim gathered at your hips while his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. Placing the pistol somewhere to your side, your hands wandered down San’s sculpted body and over the expanse of honey skin peeking through his open coat, fingertips grazing his nipples to elicit a sudden groan from the man’s lips, parting against your own. You made a mental note of his response, the corner of your mouth lifting as you repeated the action, the hungry clash of lips dwindling into interval pecks as you toyed with San’s chest, flushed and heated under your touch.

“About time you started thinking with your cock,” wrapping your legs around his frame, you dragged his pelvis closer to feel him against your core, hard and heavy within the confines of his pants.

He rolled his hips, eyes dazed as he took you in through the negligible gap separating you, breathing the same air as the friction and lust glazed over his lidded eyes. “Who said this was my cock speaking?”

Fingers pausing over his chest, you took in the implication behind his words, his heartbeat frenzied and erratic against your palm as though it was communicating in its own language, desperate to be heard amongst the chaos that was your nonexistent relationship with Choi San — a game of cat and mouse, with the roles reversing each time you’d crossed paths. Playful banter and meaningless flirting remaining at surface level with no endpoint in sight, both players stuck in a turmoil of pridefulness and cowardice, none willing to relent.

If you’d known a cheap, rusted pistol would push San onto his knees before you, you would’ve blown a bullet through someone’s head three years ago. It wasn’t the game you wanted to win for the sake of your treasured ego, but the thrashing muscle beneath your palm, one many would assume didn’t beat, cold-heartedness and dispassionate eyes only a few could see through. And perhaps that’s what drew him to you, your willingness to look past the blood on his hands and the barbarism in which he carried out his business, your eyes sparkling in interest rather than fear as you sneaked an unknown drink into his hand, treating him like a customer you wanted to woo into becoming a regular, and not as Choi San.

The silence stretched, until San’s mutter broke through the stillness, “do you fear me?”

You blinked up at him, pondering over his question for barely a second before whispering back, “no.”

Huffing out a small laugh, he cradled your jaw in one of his palms while his thumb caressed the skin of your cheek, “that’s reckless.” Perhaps his response should have scared you, or at least sent an icy chill down your spine, but your heart only ached for the man before you as you took in his feeble, half-hearted attempt at pushing you away. Ironic, considering he’d unconsciously leaned into you while he spoke, chest brushing against yours with every breath he inhaled. “You know I can’t be trusted.”

“Not when you look at me the way you do.”

A dangerous glint sparked in the dark of his irises, burning as he silently went over your words in his mind, the few seconds’ wait stirring up butterflies in your gut as you resisted cowering under his fierce gaze. And before you could question his speechlessness, or attempt a teasing remark to lessen the rigid tension beginning to choke you, San’s face was lurching forwards to capture your lips in another kiss. Hungrier, greedier, as though he’d been starved of you — and he’d argue he was — and was finally offered a taste, teeth clashing with his nose pressed against the side of yours as he sucked out the last of the oxygen in your lungs.

Emotion flooded into San’s chest, and he allowed it to seep through into his actions, hands restless and wandering over your frame while his tongue busied itself with exploring your mouth after you’d given him access. Short, breathy moans left your lips when his fingers tucked into the denim waistband of your jeans, eliciting a desperate groan from his as he struggled to undo the button separating him from your heat. The dizzying haze San’s soft lips on yours cast upon your mind broke, his eyes closed as he chased your retreating touch when the sudden awareness of your surroundings jerked you away from him. Despite your sudden rigidness, he didn’t allow you to move too far, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume masking the sharpness of the three cigarettes you’d smoked earlier.

His mouth found your pulse, tongue peeking out to drag kitten licks over the delicate skin in between the gentle pecks pressed onto the column of your throat. His breath warmed the stripes of saliva he’d left behind, “what’s wrong?”

San’s mouth stretched against your skin when your button finally popped open between his fingers, his thumb and index dragging the zipper down until black lace peeked through the opening. You flinched slightly, eyes wandering to the side while a bashful flush rode up your chest.

“San we—” you cleared your throat, “what about…?”

The thumb toying with the dainty lace paused when you’d placed your hand over his, directing his gaze over his shoulder with a faint nod of your head, eyes fixed onto your denim-clad lap. The two guards stood awkwardly by the entrance — Jongho appeared to be unfazed, yet the red tinting the tips of his ears betrayed his nonchalant attitude, intermittent coughs to relieve the dryness of his throat not going unnoticed under San’s watchful gaze. Mingi, on the other hand, fidgeted uncomfortably in hopes of relieving the suffocating tightness in his ironed dress pants, shifting his weight from one leg onto the other in a futile attempt to be discrete, the heavy arousal pressing against his zipper too tricky to conceal.

Moving his attention back to you, San lifted your gaze back to his softened eyes with a finger under your chin, “don’t worry, my darling, they wouldn’t dare look at what’s mine,” the words rolled off his tongue laced with dizzying sweetness. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you noted the averted gazes of the two men, as well as the obvious arousal bulging in the blonde’s pants. San’s finger guided your focus back onto him, “uh-uh, eyes on me.”

With a gentle grip around your wrist, he guided your hand down the toned muscle of his abdomen and over the luxury, leather belt, his hand cupping the back of yours to press it into the twitching lust tenting his pants. Your eyelashes fluttered at the rush of arousal drenching your panties, wrapping your fingers around the clothed girth to elicit a shaky exhale from the parted, plush lips mere centimeters away from yours, leaning forward to close the gap between them. No longer minding the two spectators, your low moan vibrated over San’s mouth, tongue running over his front teeth while you palmed over his hardness, his chest shuddering against yours at the friction. With an arm around your waist, San lifted your hips just enough to tug the bothersome denim off you, leaving you to kick it off while he revelled in the gentle friction you provided him.

He rolled his hips into your touch, one hand still covering yours at his crotch while the other hurriedly pulled your shirt up to your chest, followed by your bra to watch your tits spill out under the band. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You hummed, watching as he’d begun leaning down towards your exposed chest before your hand shot up from his pants to grab his jaw, watching as he confusedly looked up at you, cheeks smushed between your fingers and eyes glazed over with want.

“Mm, I bet you’d like that,” tilting your head to the side, a playful smile curving your lips as you watched him process the mocking tone he’d previously used on you — your refusal to comply bewildered him, but most of all, it sent shocks of burning arousal straight to his core.

The arm around your waist dragged you closer to the edge of the bar, his other hand raking through the hair at the side of your head, desperation leaking into his tone as he sucked in a sharp breath, “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

His pouted lips found yours in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, bodies colliding as his urgency and yearning revealed themselves in hungry nips and bites. You carded your fingers through the dark strands, wrapping your legs around his hips once he’d slotted himself between your thighs, heavy bulge pressed and rutting against your overwhelming heat.

Your own impatience clawed at your cracking composure, a man you’d watched from afar, unobtainable to all but those he’d handpicked himself, only to toss away the morning after. And for as long as you’d remembered, you’d hoped he’d never pick you, afraid of the lingering feelings he’d leave behind as his broad frame walked out the room, his scent permeating the sheets still covering your sweaty figure, fingers entangled into the cotton in a hasty attempt at preserving the memory of a man you’d wanted for years, but who only wanted you for a night.

Drawing back to take him in, the dystopian scenario your mind had drew up faded into dust as said man chased your lips, feline eyes shut, eyebrows drawn in as he registered the unreturning loss of your touch. While Choi San’s warmth may very well still be torn away from you, the morning sun shining over the world while leaving you alone in the chilling shade, you wondered if the memory of the burning body heat radiating off his soft skin would accompany you during those frosty, weary days. Barely weighing your options, you pressed yourself to the man before you, dragging him impossibly closer with the legs around his waist.

If the dawn of a new day were to illuminate the shards of your shattered heart, at least the moon would have borne witness to your undoing within Choi San’s fervid embrace.

“How about you be good and fuck me already?”

Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, San allowed you to guide his hands past the lacey waistband until your sweet arousal coated his fingertips, running them through your folds to feel you throbbing against him. His response was delayed, breathy as he struggled to focus with his hand in your panties, “be patient.”

Unlike any other statement that had left his plush lips, San’s tone was lacking, the noted detail stretching the corners of your mouth. “I can feel you shaking, Sir.”

The accusation earned you a firm glare, his gaze shifting from the indents of his knuckles against the lace to the cockiness painting your features. Was it nerves, or the anticipation? You wondered if Choi San ever felt any of those emotion, let alone allowed them to translate into his body language. And yet the unsubtle trembling continued, even as the deep baritone sounded in the negligible space separating you.

“Call me by my name.”

It seemed as though your choice of nickname was more alerting to him than the implication associated with his jitters. You wondered if this was his way of showing vulnerability, and the thought of another noticing his quivering irked you, “don’t wanna.”

To your surprise, San’s eyes softened, taking your jaw into his free hand and running his thumb beneath your bottom lip, “please, baby.” He circled his middle finger around your fluttering hole before breaching it, sinking all the way inside while his eyes studied your features. Letting out a breath at the stretch, your lips parted further when San’s thumb ran along the cracking skin, tongue peeking out to run over his nailbed. The sternness in his voice vanished and subtle whines mixed into his tone, “please, ‘wanna hear you saying my name.”

He slid another finger alongside the first, curving and running them over your walls until he grazed the spongy surface he’d been seeking, noting the flutter of your eyelashes, thighs tensing around his waist before spreading to allow him further access.

“C’mon,” he urged, fingertips digging into your g-spot as he shallowly thrusted them into your cunt, studying your face for encouragement as your eyebrows drew in and soft exhales quickened in pace. His thumb pressed into your bottom lip, and he leaned forward to leave an upwards trail of wet kisses over the slope of your jaw, mumbling against the flushed skin, “say my name, baby, let me hear it.”

You were putty in San’s arms, pleasure building in your gut as he fucked his fingers into your pussy, his hand trapped behind the lace and grinding his palm into your clit, the single syllable rolling off your tongue before you could help it, an airy repetition of his name, “San, San, San—” so sweet, melodic, bucking his hips into nothing at the sound, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and groaning into your skin, deep and gravelly, before sinking his teeth into the flesh.

A high-pitched whimper followed the echoes of his name, your walls clamping up around him as a sudden orgasm rushed through you, thighs shaking and back arching, head thrown backwards as he guided you back down with slow glides against your walls and tender kisses over the bitemark he’d left as a keepsake. Just as the tension in your muscles dwindled, San’s hand retreated out of your panties, hurriedly tugging the fabric down your legs and ignoring the audible tearing at the frantic action. He interrupted the complaint at the tip of your tongue with a look, berserk and brimming with searing lust,

“I need to fuck you right now,” his breathing was heavy, rapid, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip while his free hand rid him of his belt, tossing the leather to the side before undoing his pants and leaving them to fall to his ankles. “Can I, baby? I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a whine, wrapping your fingers around his biceps after he’d shrugged off his coat, revealing the wide expanse of soft, tan skin and bulging muscle, “want that, want you.”

San’s boxers gathered around his mid-thighs before his impatience became too much to handle, wrapping his arms around you to drag your hips closer before the burning heat of your core met his leaking cock. You breathed the same air, panting into the gap separating you as San ran his length through the slick coating your folds, once, twice, before his eagerness could no longer be held down. A visible shudder shook his toned figure as he breached your clenching hole, his cock stretching you open while you held onto his shoulders for stability, head angled downwards to watch your cunt swallow his cock whole.

“Fuck—darling, you gotta relax for me,” he bumped his forehead with yours, pressing tender kisses to your lips while you adjusted to his girth, unclenching your muscles and allowing the fullness to take over your senses. “Good girl,” he squeezed the back of your neck soothingly, planting a few pecks onto your cheekbone and temple.

He moved in shallow thrusts, craving the friction but refusing to part from the magnetic warmth of your cunt, slick squelching every time he pushed in and soft grunts leaving his lips as he cast his gaze onto your contorting face. He could tell you were still trying to hold your ground, but the pleasure soaring through your body at the languid grazes of his cockhead over your clenching walls dismantled the front you’d built up. And Choi San proved relentless in his pursuit, wanting nothing but to have you falling apart in his arms.

He snapped his hips without warning, a choked moan echoing in the back of your throat, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” he was so close, so deep, building up to a rhythm that rendered you momentarily speechless. “My own pretty girl to ruin.”

You made no effort in concealing your voice, intermittent ah’s making San’s insides flutter as he pounded into you, arms holding you firmly against his body as he seeked the tight squeeze of your cunt.

“You fucking wish,” lidded eyes not moving off him, you rolled your hips in sync with his, meeting his thrusts with just as much urgency, the heavy presence of his cock continuously fucking into you satisfying a years-long hunger you’d endured in silence.

“You can pretend all you want, but I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself,” the hand on your nape moved to the back of your head, pushing it down to vaunt his slick-coated cock peeking out of your pussy before stuffing it back inside, toned pelvis and snail trail glistening with your arousal as he grinded against your clit every time he sheathed himself within you. Leaning forward once again, San’s lips pressed against your cheekbone, moving over the skin as he rephrased his previous question into a sure statement, “you’re mine.”

And this time, you didn’t protest, didn’t tease, but simply nodded your head and breathed out a defeated, “yeah, ‘m all yours.”

San’s cock twitched, his hand dropping to your thigh to dig his fingers into the flesh, the other still wrapped possessively around you while he pistoned his hips into your sopping cunt, sweat beading over his temples while your foreheads remained flush, hot air circulating between your mouths as you pressed them against each other in breathless kisses, swallowing each other’s moans as ecstasy soared through your bodies.

“San—nngh fuck—" the more your back arched you away from him, the closer San drew you in, as though he couldn’t function without every patch of your skin glued to his own; until your nipples pressed together and his scent was all-consuming.

San prided himself in his stamina, but with your walls wrapped around him, his cock pulsed violently and all he could think about was fucking you full. “Gonna give you all I have,” he grunted, rhythm faltering and growing sloppy as the build of his orgasm blinded him, “you’ll take it all, won’t you?”

It seemed as though all you could do was nod, the sound of your synced breaths and skin-on-skin reverberating in the air surrounding your intertwined frame. All you could think about was San, so full of San, his scent, his warmth, his secure hold. San, San, San. The man noticed the sudden trance consuming you, moving his head back to hold your face in his palm, waiting until your eyes focused back on him to speak again,

“There you are,” it was barely a whisper, but you released a deep breath you’d unintentionally been holding, muscles relaxing despite the hurried pace of his hips pounding into you, “’m gonna fill you up, yeah?” Though you were on the brink of delirium, wanting nothing more but San’s thick cum deep within you, you remained quiet, watching as desperation seeped into his expression. “Please, baby—fuck—please let me, let me make a mess of you.”

You ran your fingers through his damp locks, scratching at his scalp to watch the feline eyes droop further. “Begging looks good on you,” you giggled, noting his slowed pace as he staved off his orgasm, a creamy ring of white forming around his cock.

An exasperated whine escaped his throat, his hips betraying him as they chased a pleasure he’d been delaying, “you’ll look so pretty full of my cum, you’ll take it so well.”

The furrow of his eyebrows, pretty pink tinting his skin and fingers trembling where he replaced them at your nape, you couldn’t find it in you to refuse him anymore, the familiar tingle of your impending orgasm breaching your brittle mask of nonchalance.

“Give it to me, Sannie, I’ll take it all.”

That was all San needed, the nickname blurring his vision as he stuffed his length into your cunt, pelvis pressed against your clit as he painted your walls with sticky ribbons of pearly white, his cock throbbing while he fed his load into your womb. You watched his eyes flutter shut and mouth form a perfect ‘o’ as he used your warm hole to milk himself of every last drop, graced with the opportunity to watch him unravel for only a few moments before he dragged you into his body, tucking your head into his neck while he grinded his twitching cock into your cum-soaked pussy. It was so much, so warm as he flooded your insides with his seed, a thin stream dribbling out of your stretched entrance while he shot a few more pathetic spurts.

You tangled your fingers into the short locks at his nape, reveling in the untamed, successive moans San let out into your ear, the mix of his deep baritone and high-pitched whimpers leading your pussy to clench around him. And despite the building overstimulation, he started up a steady rhythm once again, pulling out before slamming back inside. You felt the thick cum flooding out of you, only to be fucked back into your needy cunt. An orgasm you’d thought had dwindled away built right back up as San’s cockhead pounded relentlessly into your g-spot, thighs clamping around his hips as they guided you towards the edge.

You clung to his shoulders, hesitantly pushing your head back when he’d gripped the hair at your nape, shaky breath blowing against your skin as he watched you melt in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, “gonna come for me?”

“mhmm,” your cunt pulsed sporadically as he pumped it full of his sensitive cock, and he leaned down to pepper kisses over your eyelids.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” he muttered over the delicate skin, his smile dripping with sweetness once you’d done as he asked, faltering slightly when your walls finally clamped up around him, “that’s it—fuck—that’s a good girl.”

Vivid flashes of colour painted your vision, muscles spasming in San’s hold as you finally tumbled over the edge. He coaxed you through it with languid glides over your trembling walls, honeyed voice mumbling praise into your ear while ecstasy rocketed through your body, going completely silent through the first wave before a broken moan ripped through your chest. Your cunt squelched with the added slick, a mixture of your release and San’s simultaneously being fucked into and out of the used hole, and San wanted nothing but to spread you open and swallow your combined taste until you squirmed and thrashed under him, pulling at his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs. But exhaustion was apparent in your eyes, body going limp in his arms as you finally came down, spasming and whimpering while weakly pushing at his bicep.

San didn’t pull out, but simply slid his whole length back inside you and stilled, waiting until your features relaxed before leaning in for a kiss — slow, deep, breaking apart to plant a succession of feathery pecks over your pouted lips.

As he tucked you closer once again, nuzzling your nose into his pulse point, you wondered if this was how Choi San treated all his women, lulling them into a false sense of security before ripping their heart out of their chest, leaving them with the bitter memory of what could have been and the retreating shadow of his broad frame. But one peek over his shoulder, you took in the wordless conversation shared between the two guards, bewilderment and questioning glinting in their widened eyes, frantic hands flailing at their sides in an attempt to dissect the situation. The peculiar scene eased your concerns, and the steady heartbeat of the man you’d longed to hold you for so long laced the air around you with a comforting aroma.

Twisting his head, San studied your dazed expression for a few moments before you’d met his eyes, earning you an easy smile and dimpled cheeks that sent your heartrate on a frenzy, and with your chests flush, San’s lips only smiled further at the realization. The man had warned you about the recklessness of trusting him, and while you knew it to be as such, you were content to live in this warm aura of comfort he’d provided you so long as you could bare witness to this side of vulnerability unknown to many. And even if this moment were to be fleeting, leaving you to grieve the short-live tenderness instead of revel within it, San’s overwhelming warmth and the fervency of his embrace would eternally linger, casting a comforting glow on any desolate, bitter days to come.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#cromernet #choi san x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #san smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #choi san oneshot #choi san scenarios #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #san imagines #san scenarios #choi san imagines #choi san angst

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therichantsim · 1 month

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Hey guys. I've taken a hiatus from simblr. Well, social media in general because I was chronically online. I'll pop in to post art. I wanted to focus more on my art and taking better care of myself especially now that I'm about to be a grandmother. I've been walking daily. Last week someone ran a red light and side-swiped me totaling my Mini Cooper but I walked away so, I'm extremely grateful. My baby girl celebrated her dirty 30, and my ex-husband and I helped throw a baby shower for my son and his fiance. Baby boy Tobias is due in October on my birthday. Fun fact: both myself and my future DIL's mom have the same birthday. Pictured: First, my mini at the scrap yard RIP. The front was messed up too because when I got hit I was spun around and knocked into another car. 🥴🥴 Second and third, my son, daughter, me, and my ex-husband. Yes, my daughter is the boss of all of us. Leo's and their main character energy.

Fourth, me, DIL, and my Son.

Last is the decor for her garden-themed baby shower.

My granny is having her 90th and then my siblings and I are all born in October. In between that, I have two group art shows lined up. Still hoping to hear back from that big gallery. I'll be back when things slow down.

#Everyone says we all look alike and that me and my ex look like siblings.#non sims #I miss my Blackburns but they'll be back eventually

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some-beans · 1 year

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Hi! I wanted to request dormleaders with a reader like Millie from helluva boss?

yes 100% yes but god i'm bad at answering these fast 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

✎...pairing: twst dorm leaders x millie!reader ✎...themes: hints to murder, mentions of blood, reader is fem with she/her in mind ✎...enjoy !!

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄

ngl a little freaked out

given your horns and tail, and the vague/slightly tad bits of what your line of work is, it's safe to say riddle was very weary of you

but, i suppose that lessens up when he sees you respecting the queen of hearts' rules

lowkey loves that fact you fit in with the red aesthetic tho

also loves when you easily whip Ace and Deuce into shape

riddle feels surprisingly comfortable with you after the overblot incident due to the fact you simply held onto him and allowed him to cry, and get it out of his system

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀

ma'am

he laps up ALL the love and affection you give him

such a smug bastard [ affectionate ]

also kind of "he asked for pickles" but it's more that he's just lazy

definitely respects the shit out of tho

girlboss over here

is so impressed when he witnessed you take down, like, 15 of his housemates like it was riding a bike

did i mention cuddles??

cuz you are now his fav pillow

yeah nah, you're not moving until he's awake

well, i mean, you can cuz not gonna stop you, but ready to then deal with a grumpy lion later on

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋

flustered yet intrigued

you said you did some bodyguard work and know how to deal with problematic customers??

. . . do you need a job??

but in all seriousness, very much becomes your malewife

man legit folds at any and all affection you give him, big and small

very surprised when you help him get more contracts for him and he swoons lowkey

something to do with the fact you're from hell or something

he didn't really pay attention cuz azul's brain had crashed from the smile you sent him

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌

oh our sweet sunshine baby

you honestly end up taking over jamil's job at this point

jamil cried tears of joy over this

you can easily calm kalim down and divert his attention back on track

and easily dispose of any hitmen *ahem*

he definitely buys jewellery to decorate your horns

you casually mentioned your, uh, job once, and let's say kalim is grateful that he's on your good side

𝐕𝐈𝐋

you're like a slightly more violent cheerier version of rook in a sense

but also somehow less intense too??

ugh whatever

your bright red skin does intrigue him

and your makeup is quite impressive

. . .

what do you mean you have naturally smooth skin?? had no acne too??

vil may kind of reprehend you for your country accent, but quickly shuts the fuck up from the wicked glare you give him

epel snickered to himself when say that happen

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀

you are intense

but in a good way??

you have successfully bamboozled idia shroud

it confuses

he has heard of imps before bc duh ofc he has

he's watched too many manga and shit to not know what those are

you two very much give "he asked for pickles" and "girlboss + malewife" vibes

gets spooked when you don't bat an eye to the gore when watching horror series with him

may have prayed once or twice

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒

at first, he mistook you for another dragon fae cuz of ya horns and got really fuckin excited

tho lowkey sad once you explained you're actually an imp from hell

still jazzed about the horns and tail tho

loves to share stories and whatnot

. . . kinda concerned when you mentioned a job that left your leg in a bear trap

yeah

malleus may have almost asked to . . . talk to your boss

#💌 some beans requests !!#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #millie!reader #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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shinakazami1 · 1 year

Text

TSP FERNATOR THEORY – THE ROLE OF NATURE IN THE STANLEY PARABLE

Oh gosh, I took this so seriously but hope someone will enjoy my rambling ;w; Just will say it here - this essay is game interpretation, it doesn't talk about Fernator AU (only mentions it).

Contents

0. What is Fernator AU?

“Stanley, this fern will be very important later in the story.” (Confusion, Bucket Destroyer & Figleys Endings – Fern)

“It's all out of my control now.” (Skip Button)

“Yes, I have something very exciting to show you!“ (TSP 2 Expo)

“And Stanley was happy.” (Outdoors - Freedom Ending and Memory Zone)

“The office could use a bit of decoration.” (Other plants in-game, Games Ending, Epilogue)

Conclusions

(Click 'Read More')

0. WHAT IS FERNATOR AU

Fernator AKA Fernnarrator AKA Fernie is my TSP AU where the Narrator takes the form of the Fern and gets moved into the Bucket.

His form can change into any plant, either through a conscious decision or subconsciously, based on his emotions. While some of his flowers blooming can fit the conventional flower language, he creates his own based on his own bias for the plants.

The AU isn’t purely cosmetic – depending on his and Stanley’s relationship before the discovery of Narrator being the Fern, it splits into 3 main pathways.

Each one of them has different ending alternatives and on top of that, the AU has a linear story.

This post will NOT be focusing on Fernator AU - instead, it will talk about the plants of the Parable and my theories about their meaning. These do influence Fernator AU as a whole but I will leave AU talk for another time if anyone would be interested.

Instead, let’s talk about the two main inspirations for the AU: Fern and The Skip Button.

1. “STANLEY, THIS FERN WILL BE VERY IMPORTANT LATER IN THE STORY.” (Confusion, Bucket Destroyer & Figleys Endings – Fern)

This Fern is one of the few plants in the game and the only one mentioned in dialogue.

Its placement in the Confusion Ending is a set-up for a joke: something gets mentioned, said to have a big importance and then gets forgotten. Maybe that was its whole purpose - a gag about misplaced foreshadowing or there is more to it.

A reverse situation is the Broom Closet – it can represent the “show, not tell” rule in storytelling where an object isn’t mentioned through text but more through actions. Narrator is displeased with that and on the third reset in a row after interacting with it, the Closet gets temporarily boarded.

That changes in the Bucket version– you can come in it as many times as you want and Narrator doesn’t get mad at Stanley (which overall is a theme in post-Skip).

So, these two are a perfect contrast:

Narrator doesn’t even mention the Broom Closet at first. However, it ends up getting new unique lines and gives long-term effects on the story (boarding the door).

The Fern gets mentioned in the story but doesn’t show up later in the ending.

However, the plant does appear in the alternative of Confusion – the Bucket Destroyer Ending.

“We're the ones that matter Stanley! Classic characters from the first game.”

Each of the objects in this picture symbolises a person in Stanley’s life:

the Broom Closet = Player, since in the original version, if you stay longer, Narrator talks about them;

the pencil sharpener= 432 – in lore, madness through never being given a pencil to sharpen;

Stanley’s computer= Boss, due to the orders;

Wife mannequin;

Baby cut-out (might also represent Stanley’s kids);

Adventure Line ™ – it isn’t a person but is said to be conscious;

and the Fern.

(EDIT: Beau in Stanarr server also said that the mugs on the table could symbolise the Employees while the Baby could be The Essence of Divine Art. That could potentially mean that Adventure Line™ could also symbolise curiosity - just like, while TEDA seems to be a conscious being, might just be human creativity. )

We already have the Line ™ from the Confusion Ending. Other objects could have been used for this scene but somehow, it is the Fern that ends up being showcased. It could be just due to it belonging to this pathway but it could be also something else.

“You see, your friends and I are concerned for you, Stanley.”

He could be meaning himself just as the voice – after all, the separation between him and his friends is not that uncommon. He does use the word ‘friend’ positively only in the UD version of the game. He calls Stanley his friend only once and then, proceeds to call the Bucket and Stanley friends a few times, making it obvious the man projects on that object.

Here though, Narrator is against the Bucket - so, why couldn’t he start to project on something else? That way, he could visually show the group of friends with himself.

So you know,,, Fernator real,,, maybe,,,,,,,

(Big thanks to Chris from Crowsx3 Discord for reminding me about this next part)

I was also reminded that Fern makes one more appearance - in the Figley Ending, Confusion Ending room.

You get to this room after a Red-Blue door choice that doesn't matter at all, leading to an open door. It perfectly blends so many parts of the game together - the choice between two pathways, the illusion of the choice and also brings something new - backtracking. In most of the game, we are unable to do so - the doors close behind us and that's it. But, just like in Confusion - Narrator wants to backtrack, to change the pathway, for one last adventure with Stanley.

Maybe that was the importance of the Fern. For it to show up when Narrator wants to do something fresh, something new, WITH Stanley.

"Oh, I want more memories, Stanley! I want to keep going!"

In the end, he wants to retire and move on. If he does and only leaves his recording, if he stays with everything TK has done - that's up to a debate for another time.

But one thing is known - we all remember the Fern, even if it doesn't heavily impact the story. Unless you know - Narrator took the form of it and then-

Ok ok, but this was the nice task – now let’s talk about The Skip Button.

2. “IT'S ALL OUT OF MY CONTROL NOW.” (Skip Button)

I will talk about the Memory Zone later – here, I want to focus solely on the Skip Button room.

The Skip Button plant is the only thing in the Parable that shows actual ageing. Sure, there are some other symbols of time passage - i.e. clocks, and scratches on objects but nothing else shows decay besides this one single plant.

Changes happen in Skips #5 and #6.

In Skip #5, Narrator says it’s been a week or two. I know that people have done the math on how much time passed through each skip takes but we will base it only on the plant alone. While a week is too short for a plant like that to show signs of severe dehydration, 2 weeks is more plausible.

In Skip #6 - when he says he had stopped counting once it was over a year - the plant is dead.

Death is overall a bit of a theme in the Parable – the Countdown, Museum, Apartment and Zending especially have a lot of lines about Stanley’s death, which should cause permanent effects. Instead, the game just resets, not making any deal about it. This plant, however, does not return to its original form.

In Skip #13, concrete falls on it, leaving the plant trapped for the rest of this pathway.

I think the room overall (together with the plants and the clock) symbolises Narrator’s psyche.

The first few Skips are alright for him - sure, the time in-between seems to grow but he still thinks it is a good idea. He starts to panic and begs Stanley not to press the button in Skip #4 and in Skip #5, both the plant changes and the lights dim down. This is when he has been left for those two weeks all for himself and just sounds so tired - and with each skip, another part of his psyche breaks.

The clock stops working and falls around #8 and #9. It’s still long since in #6, Narrator where he says he lost count but he might have just exaggerated it, only losing it in these runs.

After such a long period in solitude, any mind would start to decay - the plant, the pipes letting the water escape through them, the fire alarm going off (since batteries are low), the walls getting destroyed with time… Together with how silent Narrator gets at times, I genuinely believe this whole section is us being in his brain.

But then in Skip #15, (after the sunlight in #14) this happens:

These skips are special because they are a glimpse of hope. Sunbeams, birds chirping, new life in the form of plants showing up – just for it all to disappear next Skip.

While the last time we hear Narrator talk is in #11 (The end is never), this feels like he is trying to talk to Stanley indirectly. The destruction of the ceiling feels like an attempt to break Stanley free, which, unfortunately, was a bit misplaced since we don’t have the jump option (curse you, jump circle for gatekeeping them / silly).

These can mean several things.

Narrator hopes that the situation would soon end, as mentioned in the previous part.

It could also show that he is making new ideas and growing. I think it would be a poetic way of personal growth. It is visible in the Bucket version of the game - lack of Red-Blue doors, Countdown becoming silly birds ending, him calling Stanley his friend through the bucket - he wants to change for the better.

“You are not beyond redemption. You may change, and you may become more, so much more than you were before.”

And what better way to show that than through physical growth?

Even if his mind, in the end, becomes the sandy landscape we all know - he had tried to get better and, in some way, succeeded.

I sometimes wonder if the New New Content & Bucket parts of the game are what Narrator wants to turn the game into during these Skips. How he wants to acknowledge Stanley, show that he cares for him and that he matured.

But, let’s go back a bit. The New New Content happening during these skips in Narrator’s mind are a cute theory but, it’s just that - a theory.

What is real though is the game content, like the plants in the TSP 2 Expo.

3. “YES, I HAVE SOMETHING VERY EXCITING TO SHOW YOU!“ (TSP 2 Expo)

This part alone has 4 new plants that were never seen before in the rest of the office (they later make an appearance again in the Bucket Apartment Ending).

Three of the plants have some resemblance to the one in the Skip button - a long office plant put in a pot, while the smaller ones seem similar to the Fern.

(Small note: these plants are based on real-life ones that are common in offices and are low maintenance but I am too tired to figure out their types. Possibilities from a bud: “the first one in the basket is prob Dieffenbachia Seguine, down in middle is calathea makoyana, low right kentia palm”. )

Interestingly, the whole Expo is red-themed so, to compliment that with the opposite colour - green - could seem like it’s a bolder move. It to be fair isn’t - there are a lot of greys, whites and browns that tie everything together, not letting this become a Christmas-themed event.

Expo gives us a lot of new and fresh Narrator ideas - the Bucket, Figleys, and Infinitive Hole. I think these plants also deserve a mention - they all tie perfectly to the theme of Narrator’s growth.

He wants to be better, to please Stanley and I think, maybe, to fit in more. He could have reused the same plant from the Office but no - he made new ones.

And just like the Broom Closet - they never get acknowledged in the dialogue.

Show, not tell.

4. “AND STANLEY WAS HAPPY.” (Outdoors - Freedom Ending and Memory Zone)

Stanley felt the cold breeze, blablabla, you know the drill by now. Most of us will remember the current Freedom Ending - lots of grass, some trees, blue sky…

But that wasn’t always the case.

The 2011 Mod had a way different ending screen.

The difference is probably due to the limitations of this being a mod but comparing it with the future renditions, it might portray how Narrator had gotten softer throughout the games.

In this one - the outside world is urban. You went out of the building you were mind controlled in into a town of some sort. It doesn’t look too appealing. Trees without any leaves, very short grass - it is SOME freedom but it feels rough. Just like the only other outdoor area in the Games Endings (more about it in the next part).

The newer versions, however, are WAY different.

More saturated colours, some rock roads, trees, and mountains in the background - nature is ALIVE and well. Just like Stanley is, being freed, in Narrator’s eyes.

Because it is Narrator who chose to make this the end screen. It is just visible, time and time again, how much this man adores nature. Sure, he might be scared about the open world (next point, again) but he could have just remade the buildings from the original. But he chose not to - instead, upgrading it into something more beautiful.

This isn’t just an ending for Stanley - it’s an ending for HIM.

I think that’s why Memory Zone is just so similar, in my eyes, to Freedom in this aspect.

“(...) I made something special and tucked it away here where the game’s developers won’t find it.”

Some things do not match - the tree types seem different, the sky is a different colour, and small flowers pop here and there that aren’t in Freedom.

But there is a key element that does match - mountains.

These two areas may be connected - Memory Zone seems to be on a higher standpoint, maybe on a hill rather than a mountain but due to just that, it is possible they are both connected, just in different parts of the world.

Memory Zone is special to Narrator - it is supposed to show his achievements and happiest moments. It would make sense that it was placed in a similar area as Freedom - just hidden so that the other game developers Narrator mentions, would not influence it.

The Maintenance area of the Memory Zone, however, is everything Narrator tried to repress. That is why he might not remember the reviews in there - it’s all hidden in his subconsciousness.

“I don’t recall this part of the Memory Zone before.”

Narrator had been probably working on the Memory Zone way before he shared it with Stanley. It was his safe space, or so he thought. The memory in the name seems to be the most important clue - it’s not like some remembering zone, history zone or something - it’s memory.

And memories like to get hazy.

As I mentioned - to me, Skip Button's room is a visual representation of Narrator’s mind, at least a part of it. And since it’s a part of this area - I headcanon the whole Memory Zone to be that.

Contrasting with the wild flora of the main Memory Zone, the maintenance seems very run down and secluded. The colours in Memory Zone are already desaturated in comparison to the rest of the game but this part looks dirty thanks to the focus on browns and greys. While some of the lovely nature is in there - birds, a big water pool, the trees are dead.

These dead trees, just like the Skip Button tree or 2011 Freedom Ending ones might be a pattern for Narrator when he is not in his best shape.

Once again, the game shows just how important the nature aspect seems in the key part of the story. Narrator made the conscious decision to change the Freedom Ending and probably also had some saying about the Memory Zone, until the parts he wanted to repress that got run down.

Narrator keeps on repressing things a lot throughout the game. He shows denial and shifts the blame - on Stanley, the Player or the reviewers. At the end of it all - during Skip - he finally realises his flaws and mistakes.

But that realisation happened way too late.

Maybe that’s why he later tries to separate himself from that Memory Zone, putting it in the Executive Toilet.

Or maybe, it’s some not-so-hidden poop joke. But that’s not as important.

So let’s get to the rest of the game.

5. “THE OFFICE COULD USE A BIT OF DECORATION.” (Other plants in-game, Games Ending, Epilogue)

Besides Fern, there is another plant that keeps on being with Stanley a lot. It is there, never in the foreground but it’s always there. It’s like a hidden companion - maybe, as a symbol for not so hidden one.

This plant shows up in most of the Left Door pathway to the Boss’s Office - 5 times in different rooms:

desks 431- 436,

desks 418-424,

left-right door choice,

Meetings Room,

and the entrance to Boss's office.

It also shows up in rooms we see around the pathway:

room with 456, 457 doors,

413 room,

Executive Bathroom

and two in the room with Elevator Music.

The plant shows up 4 times in Confusion Ending (including the earlier mentioned 456, 457 area)- and thinking how the Fern is also there makes me just feral. Narrator joins Stanley on his little adventure through the unknown territory - so he inserts himself in the story.

In the Right door pathway, we get through the first 3 from the Left door and 2 more - the Loungue and the Games Ending.

The Games Ending has very different alternations between the game version but one thing is stable - nature in the open words games.

“I wonder what he found.”

In 2011, once again, nature is quite dead and dried up. RIP all the plants in this version of the game.

The next alternations, however, take a different approach and make the plants more alive.

The 2013 version uses Minecraft as it outdoor area.

Narrator doesn’t focus at all on the nature aspect - more on the crafting one which is fair, he is a storyteller and a game designer.

In Ultra Deluxe, there are two areas - Rocket League and Firewatch.

Rocket League won’t get that much attention from me - it’s just a typical grass for sports fields. The Firewatch, however, is a direct parallel with Minecraft. And it’s due to it being open-world.

This brings me to the last issue with Narrator and nature - he likes it quite a lot, but it HAS to be limited for Stanley.

Freedom makes you stuck in a cutscene, you can only go to mines in Minecraft due to no jumps, Memozy Zone has barriers, so Stanley has one path to follow, and most plants are potted- expect, for one thing.

And it’s the plants that show up in Skip #15.

I think it’s no coincidence that in the Bucket runs, the Red-Blue choice is off-limits. I think it’s due Narrator not wanting to go through things that hurt. But they hurt not only him - they also hurt Stanley.

We could focus on the fact that each of the Games runs ends up with Stanley being trapped in the 2011 version. But I think that lack of freedom to explore beyond the main area - the set path, the game, is what got Narrator more, in the end. Maybe he is scared about full freedom and lack of full control over the story and Stanley.

And maybe that’s why the Epilogue seems to be a never-ending desert. It’s Narrator’s last attempt to give Stanley the true freedom they both needed.

“An epilogue would be fun. Wouldn’t it, Stanley?”

(Shoutout to a Rammy who gave me the idea to talk about this screenshot.)

The desert, for me, fits the Sandman story (no, not just the song though now it is playing in my head so I hope it will play in yours, too). It shows up at the end of the Skip run and just like the room itself, I think it keeps on symbolising Narrator’s mind.

Once a mindflow, where his thoughts could drift anywhere they pleased became quite stagnant. He fell in hibernation or the mind was just no longer there.

The Sandman brought him the sand and let him rest, cope with the near eternity of solitude.

And to think, during it, Stanley uses wood he finds in this place to bring some light. Lighting up the neurons that still are active.

And this one last time a plant in any shape is present - it is there to serve Stanley.

Narrator, I see you. You probably never left because you are unable to but, you still care about Stanley.

And we care about you.

6. CONCLUSIONS

(painting in the background: The fairy grotto, 1867)

I could mention EVERY single plant in-game: all the nature paintings, plants in Demo and all the Infinitive Hole nature backgrounds, apple in Pink room, try to get through every plant and try to find its significance but at the end of the day- this whole thing is over 3k words IOSFAIHOSAFHIOFSA

I know this post didn’t talk much about Fernator. I could talk about how Narrator’s need for control and being in a confined space makes him want to be in a Bucket that he also projects a lot onto. How plants often symbolise his psyche, show up in important parts of the office and as the only other visible living being besides Other Stanley and Mariella, maybe, just maybe, Narrator, who seems to not be human, might have decided to take such form, for comfort and safety. But I will leave that for another time.

So if you reached this point, I hope you realise that Fernator AU is a superior AU to the point it’s canon /silly/nsrs /j (,,,, or is it / silly)

If you are reading this - thank you so much for reading this ramble or just skimming through it. I do appreciate you.

Thank you and-

“I'm out... I'm out... I'm done! It's over! Thank you for playing! Your input was extremely valuable.”

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weemssapphic · 2 years

Text

Patrón (Songfic)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Words: ~1.5k

ao3 link in title

‘Cause now you’re hittin’ up my phone and you’re lookin’ way too good

I’m bored of being alone and I know for sure you would

You hadn’t wanted to go to the staff Christmas party. Parties weren’t really your thing, and especially being the new normie teacher that year, knowing the events that had transpired at the end of the previous school year, many of your new colleagues still harbored a not-so-secret animosity towards you. Spending an entire evening cooped up in a room full of people who were hell-bent on avoiding you like the plague? No, thanks. You were content to settle into your quarters for the night with a bottle of wine and a good book when your phone began to ring, the screen reading Larissa Weems.

Curious as to what your boss would want of you, after all, classes had ended for the semester, you picked up.

“Principal Weems?”

“Please, Y/N, outside of school hours it’s perfectly fine to call me Larissa.” You could hear the smile in her voice and couldn’t hold back a smile of your own.

“Larissa,” you conceded. “Is something wrong?”

“You tell me. I heard from Coach Vlad that you won’t be attending the Christmas party tonight?”

“Uh, no,” you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “Parties aren’t really my thing. And it’s not like anyone wants me there anyway.”

There was a moment of silence, then Larissa’s voice came through much softer and quieter than before; “well I would love to have you there.”

Your ears perked up at that, heart fluttering hopefully. Larissa Weems wanted you at her Christmas party? You’d had a crush on the statuesque blonde since the moment you’d first laid eyes on her, but she was your boss - you hadn’t dared hope she harbored any feelings towards you other than a distant professional kindness. In fact, with how much everyone else seemed to hate you, it always surprised you when Larissa showed you any kindness at all.

“Are you still there?”

“Sorry, yes,” you managed to choke out, trying not to sound flustered. “I guess I could come.”

“Excellent,” you could hear her radiant smile through the phone. “It begins in an hour, try not to be late, darling.”

You hung up the phone, feeling exhilarated - then the anxiety hit, as you looked up and met your own eyes in the mirror across from your bed. Your hair was a disheveled mess, you looked like you hadn’t slept in days, and you were wearing old, baggy sweats. You had exactly an hour to go from this to at least semi-presentable.

You managed just in time, opting to slick back your hair, do some light makeup, and slip into a classic black dress that would have to make do for the occasion. It was just in time that you slipped down the corridor and towards the double doors of the main hall where the party had just gotten started.

After 1,2,3,4 shots of Patrón, you could be my baby

Heads turned when you slipped inside the main hall, and not in a good way. The other teachers mostly avoided your gaze, some nodded at you politely, one or two forced a strained smile your way. Great. This is exactly why you didn’t want to come. You were going to need alcohol to get through this night, and lots of it. A quick sweep of the room confirmed that Larissa was nowhere to be seen yet, so you made a beeline for the open bar that had been organized for the event and ordered a shot of tequila, then another one. The bartender raised an eyebrow at you but obliged, a slight smirk on his lips.

You turned from the bar to admire the room - you had to admit, Larissa had outdone herself. It was as if Santa had vomited over the main hall - there were Christmas lights strung along every pillar, every surface covered in wreaths and decorations. Christmas music played softly over the speakers. Even the catering was Christmas themed. It was almost cozy, save for the hostile atmosphere.

A flash of blonde in the corner of the room caused you to whip your head around. There she was, beautiful as ever. Her silvery dress was encrusted with jewels at one hip, red as the lipstick on her lips. Her hair was in its usual updo, she wore white gloves with red and green embroidery. Festive, you thought with a smirk. Your eyes raked up her bare calves, over her hips, her chest, finally her face. She turned and made eye contact with you, a bright smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and made her way towards you, hips swaying deliciously.

Like the Christmas lights you’re turnin’ me on, spin me ‘round and play me

“You made it,” Larissa sounded breathless, placing a gloved hand onto your shoulder. Your skin burned at the contact and your face turned red - you couldn’t tell if it was from attraction or the tequila. Your blush wasn’t lost on her. Her smile only widened and she leaned in to you. The scent of her perfume overwhelmed you, floral and clean. Your eyes fluttered closed involuntarily, a heat spreading between your legs. You clamped your thighs together as you felt Larissa’s thumb brush against your cheek.

“Are you alright, darling?” Your eyes snapped open to see Larissa smirking down at you - she knew exactly the effect she was having on you. “What are you drinking?”

“Uh, tequila,” you muttered, trying to compose yourself. She quirked her eyebrow, amused at your choice of drink, turning to the bartender, “two shots of tequila, please.” It was your turn to be amused.

“Cheers, darling,” you clinked your shot glasses together and she downed hers in an instant, her cerulean eyes meeting yours again.

Tequila burned in your throat, warming your insides, doing nothing to assuage the hammering of your heart in your chest as Larissa’s eyes landed upon your lips, her own lips parting as the tension between you two became palpable.

“Dance with me?” you hoped you sounded hot and sultry, not desperate and drunk. To her credit, if you did sound desperate and drunk, Larissa ignored it, taking your hand and leading you to the middle of the room. You could hear some whispers carry above the music as you passed; if you had cared to look around you would have seen the gazes of your colleagues, some confused, some rather murderous. “Do not pay them any attention, darling,” Larissa’s warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. She had to bend her neck down to reach your cheek and placed a chaste kiss there. “I will deal with them in the morning.”

You leaned in, laying your cheek on Larissa’s chest and wrapping your arms around her neck, allowing her hands to rest on your hips and swaying with her to the music, acutely aware of how her fingers crept closer and closer to the small of your back, how her thumbs ran smooth, rather comforting circles around the area around your waist.

Now I’m feelin’ a little bit tipsy, I wish you would kiss me all night long

Right under the mistletoe, so what are you waiting for?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, you were sure Larissa could hear it. You noticed as you were dancing how close you were getting to the mistletoe at one side of the room, surely she had noticed as well.

Panic was setting in. Hours before, you had been so sure you were in for a quiet evening. Your crush on Larissa Weems had been just that - a silly little crush on your boss, who definitely did not like you back. And now? Now you were wrapped in Larissa’s arms, the mistletoe coming closer and closer, so tipsy that you weren’t sure if you were imaging the way that Larissa was looking at you with bedroom eyes, or if this was all one great big practical joke.

The two of you stopped under the mistletoe. You looked up, cheeks flushed, breathing shallow. Your eyes met Larissa’s. Her pupils were blown, her face otherwise unreadable.

“Well,” you were breathless, your voice barely audible over the music. “What are you waiting for?”

Bright red lips crashed hungrily into yours, devouring you. At once, her tongue begged for entry into your mouth as she asserted her dominance. You moaned into her mouth, which only spurred her on as her hands came to cup your cheeks in her palms.

Suddenly you turn around and we’re standin’ face to face

Santa, can I unwrap one gift and take her to my place?

You pulled away, reluctant, breathing ragged. “Larissa?” Your core was heating up with desire.

“Yes?” her lips were swollen, lipstick smeared, her own desire written plain as day on her face.

“Get me out of here.”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal weems #wednesday #wednesday netflix #fanfic #oneshot #x reader #principal weems x reader #this is the first thing i've ever posted i am a nervous wreck #Spotify

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bookmyballoons · 7 months

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5 Personalized Birthday Party Decorations To Impress Your Loved Ones

If you want to make your loved one’s birthday extra special, here are a few personalized birthday decorations. For innovative birthday party themes, visit Book My Balloons.

#personalized birthday party decorations #birthday party themes and decorations #Balloon bouquet theme Birthday decorations #Barbie Theme Birthday Decoration #Boss Baby themed decoration #butterfly themed birthday decorations #Candy Land Theme Birthday Decorations #customized birthday party decorations #birthday party themes

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fictional-crushes-unite · 2 years

Text

Cheater, Cheater

Keys x reader! Based off an idea by @loliakeoghan23

Before the story of Free Guy begins, reports of a hacker stealing user codes pile up to the extent that Antwan enlists Keys to track the culprit down or risk losing his job

TW: Cursing, sexual themes, actual crime

The furious clacking of the keyboard’s tiles echoed around the room as Y/n’s eyes fixated on the screen, finger whirring as she fired repeatedly at the digital avatars.

The Harlequin-style character shot in accordance with each click, sending the surrounding players to the ground.

“You’re pretty good at this,” the chat crackled to life through her headphones as the player count dropped. Y/n rolled her eyes at the condescending tone and flicked down her mic. “I’m no expert,” she replied coquettishly in a sugary voice. “Just playing for fun.”

Clearly it was the right move, as the guy seemed to gain more confidence from her answer. “Your boyfriend help you rack up all those levels, babe? Pretty high score for someone who’s using it for rec.”

Jeez, that was predictable, Y/n smirked, used to the ‘smooth’ lines of Free City’s most frequent players. Judging by his skin and gamer tag, this dude was either some geeky teenager or a thirty-year old who was still dependant on his mother.

Pulling up a sidebar, she started implementing lines of code into the program, mining through the available data as her opponent kept obliviously blabbering on. “I’m just saying, there are hardly any gamer girls that get this far. And the ones who do are like, threes at best.”

Y/n grimaced, stalling long enough for the information to transfer before discreetly moving her character into the enemy’s line of fire, yet not enough so it looked purposeful.

The gun sound effect mixed with the guy’s triumphant exclamation brought her back to the game, where a heavily decorated YOU LOSE floated over the image of her opponent’s avatar dancing idiotically.

“Sorry, baby, tough luck,” he crowed, more focused on collecting the onscreen rewards to realise his entire financial information log had been compromised. “We could do this again sometime, I could give you some pointers?” he added hopefully.

“Thanks, but no,” Y/n sighed, double checking the info transfer before exiting the match. The game disappeared into it’s small window, revealing the clear numbers of every purchase ever made with his account.

Sliding her headphones down around her neck, she started scrolling down each date and timestamp until she got to the core signup information. Free City’s account creator was sketchy from the beginning, with little to no credit security, yet every player needed bank information to join. It was like they were ASKING to get hacked.

“You spend a surprising amount of money on video games for someone with no income, Mr...Brandon,” Y/n mused aloud as she copied each code down and encrypted them. “What would your mother say if she knew you linked her debit card onto your account as well?”

“I really hope you learn your lesson from this, honey” she tsked,

_____________________________________________

“Keys, Keylime, K with a capital E, what is up, man?” Antwan called from behind his desk.

Keys hesitated awkwardly as the doors slid closed. “Um. Hi. I heard you wanted to talk about something?”

Antwan hopped up, his jacket swishing as he made his way around the table. “Well, I was just thinking about you, bro! I wanted to see how you were doing, ask how’s the wife, you know,” he shrugged.

“I’m not married?” Keys protested weakly as Antwan wrapped his arm around his shoulder. His boss nodded, clearly not interested.

“Right, right, that’s cool. So I had a little question I wanted to run by you, being the smart little nerd you are.”

He opened his mouth to respond, before Antwan kept on talking.

“I was talking to my dudes in Account Security, that boring stuff, yeah? And usually those meetings are a total snooze. But this week, they had some new stuff to blab about. You got any complaints about bank info being whisked away?”

Keys frowned. “Yeah, uh, we got like four this week. But I checked through the player data base and there’s no record of any breakthroughs.”

“Hmm. See, that’s the fun thing. I know that there’s a hacker, with a cute setup in a dingy basement somewhere, and they’re smart.”

Antwan tapped the side of his head. “But I, my geeky little man, am smarter. Which is why I’m assigning you to finding our fun little thief.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Keys closed his eyes, trying to process what he was saying. “You want me to find a hacker, who could be literally anywhere in the world? Don’t you have a security team for this kinda thing?”

“Aw, bro, those guys are pathetic. Besides, you’re more than capable. Think of it like a mystery, Detective Hair Gel, assigned to you from the King himself.”

“You’re kidding.” Keys deadpanned.

Antwan smiled, pulling Keys along with him to the large windows at the back of the room. “Look out there, bro,” he said seriously, gesturing to the city beneath them. “There are people out there in danger, losing their hard earned money to this secret villain. Don’t you feel the urge to defend your fellow dudes?” he asked seriously.

He turned to stare at Keys, a momentous look on his face. “This mission, if you so choose to accept it, will make you a hero.” Suddenly his whole expression changed. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll have you fired.”

“Antwan, what-”

“Nice talk, man,” Antwan said nonchalantly, shooing him out. “Good luck on catching the hacker!”

“-but I’m not-” Keys started, before the door slammed in his face. “-going to catch the-damn it.”

_____________________________________________

Keys collapsed into his chair, sending it spinning in lazy circles around his cubicle.

Mouser looked up from his own desk, a scrutinising look on his face. “What happened in there, man? You left and came back looking like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

Keys groaned in response. Tilting his head back to the ceiling to avoid Mouser’s inquisitive gaze. “Antwan’s making me track down this prick who’s stealing user codes.”

“Oh, man, that’s awful.” Mouser chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” Keys griped. “My job is riding on tracking down some deadbeat loser.”

Mouser shook his head. “A genius deadbeat loser. I’ve gone through some of the user complaints, and there’s like, nothing there.”

Keys sat up. “So what, I can’t track this guy,” he put down a finger for each point. “We have no idea how he’s managing to get in the accounts,” Another finger. “And finally, my career is on the line if I can’t figure this out.”

He shrugged, exasperated. “I’m screwed.”

“Man, you can do this,” Mouser argued, leaning on the divider between the desks. “Use the MIT smarts.”

Keys glared at him.

“I’m serious! This dude is pretty good at taking advantage of idiots, right? So act like an idiot and pull a full whamo on him”

“So what, you want me to just parade around in hopes that this one specific hacker decides to hack me?”

Mouser shrugged. “Sure. Catch a fly with your web of smarts, I guess.”

“Thanks, man,” Keys sighed.

_____________________________________________

Y/n hummed along to the music playing on her speakers, nodding her head to the beat as she swiped through the Free City menus.

“-and the haters’ gonna hate hate hate,” she sang along quietly, clicking on her avatar. The pixelated figure appeared on screen, along with the customisation menu. Scrolling down, she settled on a lower grade cutesy costume, and selected the Online Play option.

Y/n leaned forward in anticipation, fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. As the dial up appeared on the screen, she paused her music and lowered her headphones over her ears.

When the game finally kicked in, she immediately noticed the classic “I’m-an-angsty-teenage-boy” combo, and sighed in disappointment. Easy marks, with next to no security whatsoever. Sad.

She barely had to do anything, letting the appearance of her character do most of the work as the players shot and fired in accordance.

As she entered in the code, her phone rang, loudly blaring from beside her. “Shit!” she muttered, scrambling to shut it down, quickly entering the last line of numbers before quickly exiting the lobby.

Pressing the button on the screen, she exhaled, letting some of the tension roll off her. Putting the phone on silent, Y/n pulled her headphones back on and reentered the game.

_____________________________________________

From across the city, Keys sat forward, startled by a security error in the mainframe. A small mistake, only a couple letters misspelled, gave him a pinpoint of someone entering through a backdoor.

“Bingo,” he grinned, typing in the error location.

His avatar appeared onscreen, in his default customisation, as he entered the lobby address into the game bar.

He inhaled deeply as the screen displayed the loading symbol, plugging in his earphones and focusing on the screen.

_____________________________________________

mister-mk86 has joined the lobby

The words popped up at the top of the screen, momentarily distracting Y/n from the current menus in her inventory.

She scanned over the player bio, looking for any irregularities that could equal a bot or scammer. Coming up with nothing, she exited the profile and focused on the game.

new message from mistermk86

Y/n groaned. Predictable, really. The lobby had gone down to significantly less players, all newbies or bots at this point. She clicked on the message.

Hey

“Wow. How eloquent.” Y/n scoffed, pulling up her keyboard.

_____________________________________________

Keys stared at his screen, watching the typing indicators in the message board.

rebelfan is typing...

Hi there

He smirked, quickly typing a response.

_____________________________________________

mistermk86 private match?

She rolled her eyes, but clicked on the invitation.

The icon over her character appeared, showing the game type and weapons menu. Navigating it easily, she selected her defaults and began playing.

Part 2----> Coming soon

#keys x reader #free guy joe keery #free guy #joe keery free guy #joe keery x reader #free guy x reader #walter key #keys mckey #keys mckey x reader #x reader #fic #x reader fic

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koco-coko · 3 months

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I am Sasa | Ikevil OC fic

-> "May he who loves not others love himself."

Tags: OC backstory, OC exploration, child abuse, lots of abuse and dark themes, canon level darkness and angst, oc is agender (uses they/them), oc is autistic, self esteem? zero

Word count: 1765 (4 pages)

author's note: IM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY POST THIS RAHHHH i hope everyone loves sasa (theyre so very traumatized and will make elbert worse)

@natimiles @olivermorningstar (i promise i'll make a tag post someone just remind me please)

Sasa didn’t remember most of their life. There were faint traces of memories– of tiny hands working away at some sort of substance, and of course the whippings that left their back a painting of red marks– but Sasa didn’t care to remember. The good (the young woman who often offered her food rations to all the kids) the bad, (the terrible boss with his cane and whip), and even the mediocre. All of it, Sasa simply couldn’t find a reason to put the energy into those things.

But there was one memory they could clearly remember.

Most of those faint glimpses into the past were stuck down in those dark basements. Occasional glimpses of light only existed when the doors opened, but the sound of nobility laughing soon followed. All except for one time.

One time, when Sasa was just a child, Sasa was brought up from the depths of the basements and up the spiral staircase lay a mansion. Sasa remembered having to shield their eyes from the sheer light of it. Even stranger, the man with his whip and cane seemed to treat them kindly, as much as he could muster, until he sent them off to the maids.

Then, those kind ladies who refused to speak to them (instead whispering in a foreign language and handing her pitiful looks) took them to a round-shaped piece called a tub. They were stripped and thrown in, and the ladies worked at them diligently. The cooing and awe only continued from there.

Then, after washed and dried, they were off to a seperate room to change into something other than the usual dirty shirt and torn trousers (or perhaps it was a dress. Sasa never weighed themself with details all too well). There, in the room with candles and a comfortable bed, with blue and gold decorating the walls, white plates of food and medicine on the bedsides… There, where laid before them was a black and blue dress, gold accenting the hems with a white gloves next to it…

There, there was a mirror. Sasa had never seen themself before that day.

They never noticed how their baby blue hair had been dyed a slate navy due by the grime and dirt (no wonder the maids took so long), they never inspected how golden their eyes were, and they never realized how calloused their hands and fingertips were.

Sasa looked into that mirror and saw nothing.

Of course, the figure of a child was there, but nothing that Sasa could recognize. Sasa never felt particularly human, in that sense. They didn’t loathe the scars, nor the branding of an intricate butterfly on the palm of their hand, but they couldn’t find anything to admire. Their hair was simply hair, their tanner skin was simply skin, and their eyes were eyes.

It was a body, a vessel. A tool that Sasa felt no sympathy or affection for.

The way that dress was so tightly pressed into their skin would forever haunt them. Sasa wanted to rip it apart, but a lingering worry about retaliation left them to suffer. It was not as if they truly cared about whether their eye was bulgened with a cane, but the thought of seeing only with one eye made them wary of that outcome.

Before they left, Sasa stared into the mirror once again. Nothing to be loved or hated in that reflection, but there was something.

Something overcame their senses and reason. Something made Sasa’s feet, clad in the most uncomfortable and shiny shoes, move on their own accord. Sasa reached out for the mirror and took their reflections hands. For a moment, that same something had left Sasa and they pulled away from the surface.

But their hands were stuck. Sasa pulled again, but there was no give. So, this time, they pushed forward. This time, their wrists had been completely consumed by the reflective void. The man with his cane and whip was speaking outside the door, and Sasa felt something push them once again. Sasa, with their breath held, flung themselves into the mirror. It happily swallowed them whole.

Inexistence was the only way to describe it. They felt their being, they were still alive, but there was no physical form confining Sasa. It was freeing– but just for a moment.

Sasa’s body came back into existence fairly quickly, but this time, they were looking in on the room. From the mirror. Sasa ran their hand across the glass, and it was oddly satisfying how it bent under their touch. Sasa turned around, only to find thousands– millions of mirrors! There was no floor, and yet they could walk. There was no air, no sky, yet they could breathe freer than they ever could in that dingy basement. There was only the reflections of worlds better to come, of homes and families and secrets. Sasa stopped at one particular spot, watching with what seemed to be interest in a family with a girl, boy, father, mother… They spoke like them. For once, Sasa understood what people were saying! The mother approached the vanity, fixing her lipstick and none the wiser that her reflection was staring back at her.

How desperately Sasa wanted to reach out and say hello in their mother tongue, or just let someone know they existed… But the yelling of that terrible man called them back, and Sasa sprinted back to the mirror she came from. Despite failing their escape, the thought lingered. Even the possibility of leaving was enough to ignite a long-gone hope.

The man with his cane and whip kept yelling as Sasa pulled themself from the reflective pool of the mirror. It was oddly difficult. Sasa had to grip onto the frame, then scratch the wood floor in an attempt to desperately pull out of the mirror. Then, finally, they flung out and landed upside-down by a corner table. The man finally barged in, just as Sasa fixed all that they had messed up.

Sasa could never understand what they were saying– some strange noises called English– but after being thrown into another man and woman’s carriage it was quite obvious. They always acted so friendly while they inspected every mark and scratch, then just like that they were back in some basement with screams and groans and horrible smells.

The memory blurred into a mesh of pain and hunger after they saw the stairwell they’d soon be thrown down and forgotten in.

But strangely, this memory always lingered. It stood there for years, unmoving and unchanging. Sasa could always recall the temperature, the clothes they wore, the amount of freckles on the blonde maid… They hadn’t remembered that well in so long. What stood out most was the mirror. They would always think about the mirrors, what they saw in them, the family who spoke their language…

When everyone had been sent to sleep (that was a nice upgrade from the last basement– these ones actually gave them time to nap), Sasa stayed up. It was difficult considering the laborious work, but intrigue had eaten them up. Sasa explored each work stall, examining each one. Most were just filled with tools and beakers, but there were a few with personal items. A family photo, a bit of eyeliner, some child’s tube of candy…

And there it was. Just up the stairwell was a window. Not a mirror, but Sasa knew it would work. Glass was glass, and Sasa could see their reflection on the surface. They were far older now, the same age of the nice young woman years ago, and they looked so… Eh. Sasa couldn’t care much about themself. They never did.

That didn’t mean they would try to leave again. Sasa reached into their reflection, holding it gently. They reached deeper into their own hands, deeper, longer, and suddenly their neck was gone. It was a bit harder now, especially considering how they had to crawl to get their torso in, but it was the same as they remembered.

It was surprisingly easy to escape that place. Nobody would suspect a window, would they? Especially one that was left unbroken. It’s not like they could put a notice out in the news, either, nor could the couple tell their friends. (Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? A meek little thing like them escaping with no trace left?)

It was the first time Sasa ever roamed the streets. It was the first time Sasa waved hello to others. It was the first time for a lot of things, but most importantly, it was the first time they ever painted.

Sasa never wanted anything, because they needed to paint. There was no other way to put it. At first it was just because they had found some forgotten paint buckets on the street and a whim carried them to finger-paint on the wall nearby, but soon enough it was an obsession. Sasa never cared for themself, but with painting, they could finally care for something else. The litter in the street, smog from factories… It all made sense when that brush hit the canvas…

Some people even came to watch her paint, nobles and commoners alike! They weren’t fans, but they were interested in the strange… person (woman? man? Even Sasa didn’t know). It was funny to watch people follow them, craving to see more of the chaotic process called ‘Sasa trying to understand what the world is.’ Still, it seemed these portraits and murals garnered enough attention for money to be earned, and money meant they could buy more paint! Oh, and food and water, I guess…

The days went on like this, spanning years even, until a butler in a suit and gloves approached them, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Behind him, a sorrowful young noble with the blondest hair and bluest eyes Sasa had ever seen. The noble wandered around aimlessly, or would’ve, if not for the butler taking his arm like a parent would a reckless toddler. “You wouldn’t happen to know a Sasa Smirnov, would you?” he asked in that foreign language. Thankfully, Sasa had gained a much better grasp of it over the years.

Sasa looked the pair up and down, then nodded. “Azt hiszem, igen. Sasha vagyok.” It was an automatic response that only got an unamused look from the butler and curiosity from the nobleman. Sasa coughed, then repeated in such a thick accent that it hardly made a difference. “I think… yes. I am Sasa.”

Finally, the blonde nobleman spoke. “I’ve… I’ve heard you’re a wonderful painter.”

#koco talks ikevil #ikevil oc #ikevil oc sasa #ikevil oc: sasa #ikevil elbert #ikevil alfons #ikevil fic

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uniquedalloondecorator · 1 year

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andydrysdalerogers · 9 months

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Presley ~ A Curtis Everett Au ~ Part Four

Curtis Everett x OFC Presley Adams

Synopsis:

Curtis Everett is a hard working man. As the head of the mob of Concord, he does everything he can to provide for his wife and children. His life is perfect. Until it's not.

After a devastating accident, Curtis is alone with his children and needs some serious help.

Presley Adams needs to find work and fast. Running from her past she just wants to lay low and earn enough to get her out of town. Until she starts working for Curtis as his live in nanny.

As she falls in love with this family, can she stop her past from finding her? Or will her past be the end of the Everett reign in Concord?

Book two of the Five Kings of Boston series

Warning: themes of a mafia lifestyle; SMUT; possessive tendencies; murder; death; age gap;

A/N: taglist is open!

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Part Three

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part Four ~ The Present

Presley

I should have made rules for myself.

Don’t stay in one place too long Don’t create connections Don’t fall for your boss.

Had I done that, maybe I wouldn’t be where I am.

But on the other hand, I wouldn’t be where I am.

It's been a few weeks since Curtis and I decided to date each other. A few wonderful weeks of soft touches, hidden kisses, longing looks. Curtis was everything I ever wanted. The complete opposite from my former life. A life which I had yet to tell him about. I didn’t want him to hate me or worse, turn me in. He said I could trust him, for him to be my safe place. I want to believe him.

He’s shared a lot with me, including his life with Anna. He still misses her but not as much since I came into his life. We would sit in his story, cuddled together near the fire and he would tell me how they met, how they fell in love, how she was a princess of another family.

He had no idea that history might be repeating itself.

It’s the Christmas season and the manor was decorated beautifully. The main living room was formally decorated with a tree and white ornaments and accents. But the family room’s tree was decorated by the kids. Everly, Joshua and I spent hours making paper chains and hand print glitter ornaments. Josh had seen a cranberry and popcorn chain, so I very carefully handed him a needle. We had everything decorated for when Curtis came home. His smile when he saw the room and how excited the kids were to show him everything, it was everything. When they went to wash up for dinner that night, he kissed me so softly and whispered, “thank you.”

Adam had also made gingerbread cookies for the kids to decorate. They loved that. Curtis walked in as I was finishing mine and laughed when he saw I had some frosting streaked on my cheek. Adam had gone into the pantry, the kids were still working away so Curtis took advantage to kiss the frosting away. The man is going to kill me one of these days.

Now, it was Christmas eve, and I was in my room getting ready for dinner. Curtis said that Clint and his family and some friends would be joining us, and I was nervous. After our talk, I had started joining the family at dinner, but I wasn’t sure if I was there as the nanny or as something else. We hadn’t exactly told anyone together. I smoothed out the red skater dress and fixed the ribbon that tied off my curls to the side of my neck. I heard the doorbell, and I knew it was time, regardless my own personal feelings.

The kids were already downstairs, Clint’s wife Laura offering to watch them so I could get ready. She has become a godsend. She had known the kids since they were babies and was able to help with insight after their grandmother left. Once I made it down the stairs, I went to the family room where the Barton and Everett kids were playing. Laura came over with two glasses, handing me one. “You look beautiful Presley.”

I took the champagne glass and took a sip. “Thanks Laura.” We chatted while we waited for Curtis and Clint to finish whatever they were working on. The doorbell rang again and one of the house staff that had been hired for tonight opened the door. A dark haired man with a beard and petite woman with a small bump came in.

Curtis walked out of his office just at that moment. “Andy! I’m happy you made it.” He shook hands with Andy while giving a kiss on the cheek to the woman. “Let me introduce you.” He walked the couple into the room. “Andy, I’d like you to meet Clint’s wife Laura and Presley... my... nanny.” I knew he could see the flash of hurt in my eyes. He kept talking, if anything to save face. “Ladies, this is Andrew and Rory Barber of Newton.”

They shook hands with us both and I excused myself to check on the kids. I looked back to see Andy staring at me with a look I couldn’t describe. I shook it off and kept going to the kids. The boys had some Legos from their toy box out and the girls were playing with some dolls. I used the moment to pull myself together. I shouldn’t have expected anything more than what just happened because Curtis wouldn’t kiss me in front of the staff, or his children so why would tonight be any different? When they called us to dinner, I made sure to sit as far away from Curtis as I could and made sure that the children were attended to.

I just wanted the evening to end.

Curtis

I fucked up.

I know I did.

Why? Why couldn’t I just say that Presley was my girl? I wasn’t ashamed. I had no reason to be. Except that she was still being paid to care for my children. The same children who are falling in love with their girl who plays with them, helps them with homework and cares for them the way a mother should. At the table, my Kitten sat as far away from me as she could. I earned that slap in the face. I tried to catch her eye, but she blatantly ignored me.

I needed to speak to her, if only to say I’m sorry. To say I didn’t want to expose her to another mob boss when her own history is a mystery to me. As dinner finished up, Presley excused herself to use the restroom. I waited a moment before I followed her. I surprised her as she opened the door, and I pushed her back in.

“Mr. Everett, what are you doing?”

Ouch. I guess I deserved that as well. “Kitten, please don’t call me that.”

“I’m just your nanny, sir. That’s what I’m supposed...” I cut her off with a kiss. I needed to feel her against me, safe in my arms, to center myself.

“I’m sorry Kitten.” I nuzzled against her neck, breathing her in. “I’m sorry. We hadn’t talked about us, and I panicked and...” I looked into her glossy blue green eyes... “fuck I’m sorry.” I went to kiss her again, but she stepped back.

“I can’t do this right now.” Her lips trembled. “I need to go back out there and make sure that the children are ok. You have guests, you should pay attention to them.” She moved around me, but I grabbed her wrist.

“Please, can we talk about this once everyone has gone home? Please, Kitten, I want to fix this.” I pleaded with her. I don’t like that she’s mad. My kitten is rarely upset but the heartbroken face I see is one I have seen before. When she told me that she wasn’t good enough for me.

She searched my eyes, looking for the truth. “I will speak with you later... Curtis.” I let go and she walked out. At least she called me by my name and not my title. I took another moment before I went back to the party.

Dessert was brought out, along with coffee and tea. I asked Clint and Andy back for a cognac in my office. As I poured, I realized that this was my chance to tell the truth. “How’s Rory with the pregnancy?”

“She’s good,” Andy replied with a smile. “Twenty first week and it’s a healthy baby boy.”

“Hey man, congratulations,” Clint said with a pat on his back.

“Andy, that’s wonderful news. You’ll make a great dad to a great little boy, I’m sure. We can only hope he gets his mother good looks,” I say with a smirk.

“Ah, fuck you man. I’m an ace,” Andy said, flipping me off.

I laughed. “Well, here’s to you, Rory and your baby boy,” I raised my glass in salute. We took a sip before I cleared my throat. “I wanted to speak to you two about something that has come up.”

“Everything ok, boss?” Clint looked concerned. Well at least he didn’t already assume he knew what was going on. Andy had a smug as shit grin on his face and waited to hear what I had to say. Fucker.

“I wanted your opinion on me dating again?”

Clint looked stunned. “Really? I mean, that’s great to get back out there. I would want to vet any woman just in case...”

I put my hand up to stop him. “There isn’t a need for that Clint. You already have.”

Clint furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Fuck, this is hard but here goes nothing.

“I am pursuing a relationship with Presley.”

I never knew what they meant when they said the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. I do now. I took a sip of my drink and waited.

Clint threw back his drink. “Boss,” he started, “she’s just a kid.”

“She’s twenty three,” I replied calmly.

“And we know nothing about her,” he argued. “We don’t know anything about her. What if she was sent in to spy or hurt the kids?”

“Enough,” I barked. I turned to Andy. “You read her file? The one Jensen pulled?”

“I did,” he said calmly. “Have you?

“No. I wanted her to tell me herself. She seemed terrified of being found, which concerns me. She kept telling me that she wasn’t good enough for me, that if I knew the truth, I would make her leave.”

“See, boss, that’s a sign.”

Andy shakes his head. “No, Clint, that’s not why.” He looked at me. “I think it's smart to wait for her to tell you. And I can guarantee, she’s not a threat to your family. If anything, it's a blessing for her to be here.”

I frowned. Was my Kitten in danger? “Ok, then, Clint, have security updated to treat Presley as a member of the family and not just the nanny. We may need to put on a search for one in the future.”

Clint nodded. “Are you sure, boss?”

I shrugged. “She loves my kids, Clint. And I care for her. I’ll protect her.”

“She’s not Anna, sir.”

“I know she’s not,” I snapped. “But I can do for her what I couldn’t do for Anna.”

After everyone left for the night, I walked up to the kids' rooms. Joshua was already asleep, once again half under the covers, hanging from the bed. I shook my head a chuckled quietly before putting him back into bed and tucking him in.” Good night, son,” I whispered with a kiss to his forehead. I walked over to Everly's room and heard whispering. I peeked into the room to see Evie in Presley’s lap. My baby girl had tear tracks and red eyes and I grew concerned until I heard my Kitten’s sweet voice.

“It’s ok Evie. Joshua was just teasing. You have been the best little girl in the world. Santa will visit but only if you sleep, baby.”

“But Joshie said...”

“Don’t listen to his teasing.” She kissed my little girl on the crown of her head. “Your daddy is so proud and happy with you and that’s all that matters. Josh was just being naughty because that’s what big brothers do.” She hugged her tight.

“Are you proud of me Presley?”

“Of course I am. You’re my special favorite little girl. Think you can sleep now?” My girl nodded and Presley tucked her in. “I love you Evie.”

“Love you too Presley. Night, night.”

“Good night princess.” She walked out and closed the door. I grabbed her hips and pinned her to the wall, covering her mouth with mine in a deep kiss. She moaned into it, allowing me to taste the sweetness of her mouth. When we came up for air, she tried to push me away. “Curtis...”

“Kitten, I’m sorry, please baby, forgive me.” I kissed her gently and she melted against me. “Presley, please.”

“We can’t do this here,” she whispered. “I don’t want to wake the kids.” She closed her eyes. “Can we just do this tomorrow?”

“No.” Her beautiful eyes snapped to mine at my refusal. I couldn’t let this last a moment longer. “No, Kitten because I won’t be able to sleep knowing how angry you are with me. No, we’ll talk about this now.” I lifted her into my arms, her legs going around my waist, arms as I carried her to my bedroom.

“Curtis...”

“Shut up Kitten. You need to listen to me.” I closed the door and then set her by my bed. “We need to talk about what happened tonight.”

“What happened tonight was you denying what I am to you! You didn’t even have the courage to talk to me about it before hand so it wouldn’t feel like a slap in the face. This is why I wanted to go slow. This is why I haven’t opened up to you. Because I knew you would be ashamed of me!”

“I am not ashamed of you,” I growled back. “You’re right that we should have talked about this but I just haven't had the time.” I ran a hand over my hair and down my face. “Presley...”

“No, let me out of this room,” she demanded.

“I already told you that we have to talk about this,” I replied through clenched teeth. “Now, if you just wait for an explanation...”

“Can’t wait to hear what lie you come up with,” she scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. My Kitten has claws and for some reason, I like it.

I grabbed her chin, not with force but just enough pressure that she understood. “Stop interrupting me, Kitten.” I felt her swallow, saw the terror in her eyes. No, I didn’t want to scare her but here we are. “I’m going to let go but I want you to hear my words, ok?” She nodded slightly and I let go, placing my hands on her waist. “Sweetheart, I talked to Clint and Andy about our situation.”

Presley stilled and then I felt a tremor go through her body. “They...umm...they know? About us?”

“They do now.” I pulled her a little closer. “I wanted to tell them earlier but there was never a good time.”

“You’re not ashamed of me?” I could see her eyes become glossy.

“God Kitten, of course not. I’ve been trying to figure out how to keep you, how to protect you. I wondered how this would look to the other Kings in this area.” I moved to cup her face. “I want to take you out and let everyone know I found a new princess. But I had to run it by my closest friends and advisers. Andy just went through this with his wife, fighting for her. The other kings, well, they are wrapped up in their own lives and I am not as close to them as I am Andy.”

“He was looking at me,” she said, and I stilled. “It was like he knew who I was right away.” She reached for her necklace, but I stopped her.

“Tell me, Kitten. Tell me why you are scared. Did someone hurt you?” I searched her eyes and could see the fear. “Presley, I’ll protect you. I don’t care about your past. I care about who you are now. My princess, my queen.” I kissed her hands. “I can’t lose you, Kitten.” I looked at her eyes and it broke me. She still didn’t trust me. I was losing her before I had her. I dropped to my knees. “I’m yours Kitten, all yours.” I pressed my forehead into her middle. I hadn’t felt so weak or vulnerable since Anna died.

She owns me.

She runs a hand through my hair and I hum at the sensation. “Please Kitten,” I plead.

She cups my chin and tilts my head up. “I’m yours,” she whispers and my whole body sags. I stand and cup her face. Her beautiful, captivating face and I lower mine to kiss her lips.

She's a drug and I’m addicted.

I deepen the kiss and wrap my hands around her thighs and lift her up, wrapper her legs around me. I walked over to my bed and climbed in with her under me. She feels so good under me.

My Kitten.

Presley

His weight is on me and my god, does it feel good. I’m not innocent by any means but it's been years since I had been with a man. He lets go of my lips to kiss my neck and shoulder, his right hand under my leg to keep me close to him. I can feel his erection and I shiver. His other hand is in my hair, and he tilts my head to give him better access. “Curtis,” I moan.

“Fuck, do I love my name on your lips, Kitten.” I can feel his hand slide up my dress. His hands are warm, rough but he touches me like I’m glass. I tremble and sigh and he stopped. He lifts his head to look me in the eye. “If you want me to stop, just tell me Kitten. I’m yours Kitten, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

I’m falling for this man.

I tilted my hips up to rut against him and he groaned. He kisses me hard and I moan in his mouth. He takes advantage to taste my mouth and God, does he taste good. I put my hands over his hair. It short but feels so good. I can feel him grasp the zipper on the side of my dress and pull it down. My blood heats, my heart thumps. He’s going to see me, and I’m scared.

“You’re trembling, kitten. Do you want me to stop?” The look in his eyes is of concern, of protection.

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “My body...” I swallow, trying not to cry. I don’t want him to see the scars.

“Ok, Kitten, I’ll stop and just hold you, okay?” He has sincerity in his voice, compassion in his eyes. He does care for me.

“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Please Curtis, don’t stop,” I whimper. I reached up to pull him down to me and kiss him this time. He’s surprised but quickly melts into it. Into me. I reach for his buttons, and he tilts up, pulling away so I can unbutton his shirt. I get three undone before he grabs the back and pulls it off his body. I swallow when I see his tattoos. They always peek but I’ve never seen them fully. His ink is beautiful, and I trace it with my finger. He sits up and pulls off his belt and unbuttons his slacks. I still on his bed, watching this wonderful man.

He stops and gently pulls the top of my dress down my arms, showcasing the matching red lace bra I have on. A positively feral look passes his eyes as he sees me for the first time. He bends down to kiss the tops of my breast and I arc at the sensation. The scruff on his face gives a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips. He stops to look at me. “Kitten, you are beautiful.” He kissed down the center of my chest and pulled the rest of my dress off. And fucking growls once he sees the matching panties.

Curtis

I’m a dead man.

I need to be, to explain why I am in heaven right now. She is a goddess in red lace. Her dark hair is spread over my pillows, her blue green eyes ablaze with desire. “Oh Kitten,” I whisper before running my nose of her skin. I wrap my arms around her and roll us, so she is on top of me. Her hair tousles down like a curtain around us, and I smooth it back behind her ears. I run my hands from her waist up to her neck and I feel what I think are ridges on her skin. “Presley...”

“Please,” she pleads, “I promise I’ll explain just, don’t stop.” Her eyes are shiny but desire is still there.

I would do anything for her. I would give her anything she wanted. She has that power over me. She is my north star, my compass, the center of my world.

I would burn the world down if she asked.

“Yes, Kitten, I don’t want to stop either.” I reached up to kiss her and I moved to unclasped her bra, releasing her magnificent breasts. “Oh fuck, kitten.” I ran my thumbs over her nipples, raising them to stiff beaks. I looked up to check in with her, but she whimpered at my gaze, obviously needing more. I chuckled and sat up to suck on one gently. She cried out at the sensation, and it made me go to full hardness. Her warmth was over my cock, and I could feel her.

“Curtis,” she mewled as I rutted up to her, “baby, please, I need you.” And now I’m feral. Hearing her call me by that pet name just set me off. I flip her onto her back, and I lower my head to the apex of her thighs. Her panties have a wet spot on them from her arousal and I need to taste it. I run my tongue over her covered pussy, and she shudders.

“Is this ok, Kitten? Can I taste you?” She nods and I smile. I pulled down the lace panties down her legs and held them up to my nose, inhaling her scent. She still smells like strawberries and vanilla, and it triggers my own arousal. I want to drool at the sight of her bare pussy, but it has to wait because I need to make my Kitten feel good. I kiss her inner thighs, biting them gently to tighten the coil I know she was feeling in her core. I place a kiss right over her core and she bucks her hips wildly. I grip her hips to hold her still and I lick around before finding her little clit and sucking on it gently. “Fuck, Presley you taste so good, baby.”

“Oh Curtis, feels good,” she pants. I smile before I continue to lick all around her beautiful pussy. I bring one of my hands close and use a single finger to tease her. She tries to move but my other hand continues to pin her down. I slowly sink my finger in, and Presley lets out the most gorgeous moan I have ever heard. I suckle her clit and feel her clench around my finger as I pump it slowly in and out. I know I have to stretch her because I don’t want to hurt her. Her sweet essence is pouring out of her and I use it to add another finger. I hooked my arm over her hips to ground her. “Curtis, Curtis,” she chants.

“I’ve got you baby, its ok.”

“I’m going to cum, Curtis. Oh god.” She fists the sheets as I continue to fuck her with my hand.

“Let go, come for me Presley, I encourage her, and she squeezes my fingers so hard I’m sure they’ll pop off, but I know it will feel fan-fucking-tastic around my cock. She cries out my name over and over as she cums and my god, it is the most beautiful sight I have ever scene. I slow my motions as I bring her down from her high, kissing her thighs, then her belly. I continued back up until I saw her face. “Hi Kitten.”

She gives me a tired smile. “Hi,” she replies shyly.

“Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to,” I say, and she shakes her head. “You gotta talk to me, Pres. I have to know what you want.”

“Fuck me, Curtis.”

Presley

“Fuck Me Curtis.” I need this man. I need him like I need air. “Please, Curtis, don’t make me beg.” I would beg if I had to. Because he just took me to heaven and back and it was only with his fucking fingers and mouth. I need more.

He’s a drug, and I’m addicted.

He sits up and finishes pulling off his slacks and boxers, letting, what has to be, the most beautiful cock I have ever scene. I swallow because, I’m not really sure he’s going to fit. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a brand new box of condoms. I giggle, I can’t help it. “What’s so funny Kitten?”

“Expecting to score Mr. Everett?” He growls and I know it's because of his name. He opens the box and pulls a foil packet out. Within seconds, he rolled it on and now caged me under him.

“Think you’re being cute, baby?” I nod and he smirks. “Tsk, tsk, Kitten, now's not the time to play cute.” He fists his cock and leans down. “I’ll take it slow, baby but it will be hard. I want you to feel me for days.”

Oh.

My.

God.

He settles in between my legs, and I can feel his cock nudging at my entrance. He’s rock hard and larger than I’ve ever had. My mouth goes dry. He’s going to destroy me. “Curtis...”

“Any time you want me to stop Kitten, just say the word and I will.” He kisses my forehead. “You trust me?”

“I... I trust you.” And I do. I know he cares for me. Curtis smiles softly and lifts my left leg up and over his hip. He runs the tip of his cock through my folds and I moan at the sensation. Curtis gently pushes into me, and fuck, is he big. The stretch is unbelievable. It fills me so well. I suck in a breath, and he stops.

“Baby, talk to me, are you ok?” Curtis’s eyes are filled with worry.

“You’re big,” I gasp. “So. Good.”

The bastard chuckles. Before I can speak, he withdraws and thrusts back into me. He’s thick and it's wonderful. It was like he promised. He is slow but powerful. Every stroke into me is hard and deep. I can feel him deep in my belly. I moan with every thrust and my eyes roll to the back of my head when a particular thrust hits the perfect spot. I dig my nails into Curtis’s arm as the waves of pleasure move through my body. “Oh, fuck baby, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. Are you wanting to cum, kitten?” I nod, because I can’t trust myself to open my mouth without screaming at top volume. “Be a good girl, Kitten and use your words.”

“Y-yes, please.”

“Good girl. Cum,” he orders, and my body explodes into euphoria. I feel my blood sizzle with lighting as my orgasm rushes through. “Presley,” Curtis moans. “So tight baby, ah fuck!” I feel him pulse into the condom, his movement erratic and slowing. He finally stops and all you can hear is our heavy breathing. He kisses my lips and then my forehead. “You are a goddess, Pres.” He eases out of me, and I feel so empty. He goes to his bathroom to get rid of the condom. I can feel myself falling asleep. All the emotions of the evening, all of the exertion of the night, is catching up to me.

Curtis climbs back into bed and pulls me into his arms. “Sleep Kitten.”

And I’m out.

Curtis

I feel a small hand touch my nose. I twitch and blink slowly to first see that Presley is in my arms, facing me. The second thing I see is my daughter standing next to the bed. “Everly?”

“Morning Daddy. Why is Presley in your bed? Was she not feeling well? I like to cuddle with you when I don’t feel good,” she says with an air of facts.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

My little blonde angel has caught Presley in my bed. I calm myself before I answer her. “Yes,” I lied. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

“Oh. Okay.” Everly smiled. “You’re a good daddy to take care of Presley. She’s my best friend.”

Well shit. I can feel Presley starting to wake. “Evie, why don’t you head down to the family room and see if Santa came? But don’t open anything until we get there, ok?”

She nods very big. “Ok daddy.” She turns from the room, and I look down to see Presley’s eyes open wide and looking up at me. I press my lips to her forehead.

“Don’t panic, Kitten. We’re ok.”

“Oh, why didn’t I go back to my room?” She closes her eyes and leans her head into my chest.

“Kitten, are you ok?” Her statement hurt a little, but I know it's because we were just caught by my daughter. I needed to stay calm for Presley’s sake.

“No,” she lifted her head, “I’m not because I don’t know if I can look in your daughter’s eyes anymore. This is not how I wanted to tell her that I was dating her father.”

Relief flooded my system. She wasn’t ashamed of me, she was nervous about talking to my children. “Kitten, we’ll be honest with them ok. Their father likes their nanny and is going out with her.” I watch her chew her lip and reach for her necklace. I cover her hand and stop her from fidgeting. “Talk to me, Presley. I promise, we will get through anything.”

She closed her eyes and when they opened, her beautiful blue green eyes were swimming in unshed tears. “Please don’t hate me,” she whispered as the first tear fell.

“Sweetheart...” she stops me with a kiss.

“I’ve never felt more protected and cared for in my entire life until I came here.” Presley swipes at her face to get rid of the stream of tears. “My name is not Presley Adams.”

That was not what I was expecting to hear. "What?"

“Presley Adams is the name I give to hide from my family. My real name is Amelia Giovanni. My father is Mario Giovanni, head of the crime family in New Jersey. I’m his only child.” She blinked as more tears fell.

My memory snapped that that day a month ago when I had a meeting with Mario Giovanni. He was on a terror because his kid had disappeared. His daughter, his princess.

The lost princess of the Giovanni family is in my arms.

“Presley, why did you run away?” I needed answers. I need to protect her. History can’t repeat itself. But as much as hearing that Presley is not her real name, her next sentence would put my world in a spin.

“Because he tried to marry me off to a sadistic man and when my mother tried to object, he killed her.”

Oh, fuck.

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